In cinema, there are ties that can be stronger than blood. Franchises which, against your better judgement, become a part of ones life and manage to express what is a vital part of the individual who becomes so obsessed with them, drawing the viewer into their worlds and attracting them to even the weakest entries.My entire life, I have been a Batman-guy. I watched the '66-series when I was a little kid, confusing the camp with genuine heroism (I guess if you are 5 years old, a crime fighter clad in nylons who is able to climb a building with the help of only a rope, effortlessly, is a truly amazing thing). When I was a bit older, I watched Tim Burton's first Batman movie on TV and re-watched the VHS countless times.
The moment Batman Returns hit, I was in utter awe of this dark, grotesque world that seemed like a marriage of silent films and my own dreams. And then, of course, came Batman, the animated series. I started to read comics. I got into Watchmen - and Alan Moore, while Batman lost his battle against the now world-famous rubber nipples.
In 2000, superheroes seemed superfluous, not only on the big screen, but also in my life. 9/11 was only a far away threat, nuclear plants seemed stale and safe. I was, however, struggling with my own teenage angst in suburbia - I felt a bit like an outcast, struggled in school and with who I wanted to become once puberty was over. And in this climate, the second big love of my existence as a fanboy hit, and it hit hard. X-Men was, although a flawed film from todays standards, a world unknown to me. These superheroes were not alpha males with inexhaustible bank accounts, they were physically and mentally broken creatures, full of flaws and trauma. Outcasts. Loners. Losers.
Wolverine became my new avatar. Two years later, it was Nightcrawler. I cautiously took a look into the X-Men comics, but to my frustration found myself lost in ongoing storylines, scratching my head at who was who, who killed who, who dated who and who who who. I grew out of puberty and started becoming cautiously optimistic about myself and my life when Bryan Singer left the franchise for - urgh - Superman Returns, and thus had no interest in X-Men 3: The Last Stand. It took some more years for X-Men Origins: Wolverine to hit and attract feedback as strikingly negative as only rubber nipples were able to bring forward previously. Of course I stayed away as well.
All in all, it took me nine years to ease my mind on the option of going to a cinema and watching a new X-Men film, but good reviews and curiosity got the best of me. In the advert of the Fantasy Filmfest, I decided to buy myself a ticket for a late night showing of First Class, two beers and check out the entire bunch of X-Men films on DVD. I will write a lengthy entry on the entire franchise soon, but only so much: no, Last Stand is not as bad as people make it out to be, although it is messy - yes, Origins: Wolverine is inexcusable and terrible, casting the seed of doubt in my mind. But then I got to the cinema, eased my behind into a chair and had the wave of awesome wash over me.
X-Men: First Class is in many ways the best X-Men film to ever be realized, and it casts the entire franchise in a different light. It may also be the best prequel to ever be made.
The film opens with three key scenes that set the tone for everything that is to follow: a very young Erik in a concentration camp (the opening is an exact remake of the first film's opening) struggling with his powers and Sebastian Shaw, a very young Charles meeting a very young (yet already skilled) Raven, and then Charles and Raven as adults in an Oxford pub. Although the first of those three may be the best and most memorable scene (including one single cut to a shot previously not established which changes the audience's perspective of the entire scene, proving what an intelligent and skilled filmmaker Vaughn is), the pub-scene stayed with me as my favorite. Why?
Vaughn is much more than just a skilled and intelligent filmmaker. Most of all, he brings a sense of personality and individuality to his films. Most modern comic book movies seem to struggle to erase any sort of personality of its creator - think of the images of Green Lantern, Thor, Daredevil, or Captain America, and even Spiderman or Iron Man. All these films have different directors, but if watched in a row, it is hard to distinguish which is made by Branagh or Raimi. They all seem to be intended as clean cut products. There are few The Dark Knights or Hulks, films that replicate the directors trademark style and prove a worthy addition to their individual canon.
Vaughn seems to be able to bring this highly personal style into each and every of his films, and this is the first scene where it is completely evident - the pub is not your average Hollywood-built stage, but feels strikingly authentic. Either Vaughn brought a team in to design and built this place, or he happened to shoot this in one of his very favorite places - the pub, after all, could be located nowhere but in the UK, adding a flavor absent of every Hollywood created 'cliché pub'. This is not an american superhero movie. This is a european one (much like Hulk was an asian movie in disguise)! Not to mention the stylish clothes and cinematic flairs that clearly position this as a period piece - it is also the first superhero film to depict the early 60s and not just aping styles, but depicting them as modern as they were back then.
We are then introduced to Charles, who is... a charming and clever womanizer. And Raven, who is... a strikingly beautiful girl, attracted to her best friend, who does little to comfort her. Professor X is not an a-sexual priest in a wheelchair - he is a playboy. Raven is not a kung-fu-stripper - she is a girl looking for self-realization in love and sexuality.
To say that Vaughn has realized who these people are is an understatement: he has perfected them for the big screen. The dialogue is very reminiscent of the mix of earnest high prose and ridiculous smart-assery of comic books, and the characters manage to combine the humane and the grotesque in the right dose. This is not a film by somebody who had a job, or somebody who liked a character - this is a film by somebody who understands each and every of his characters, manages to bring a sense of individuality to even those with the least dialogue (and high praise has to be given to the actors behind the minor characters here, as they manage to portray what could have been empty puppets as rich and colored as the leads manage with the main protagonists).
So we witness the X-Men 'find' each other and themselves. We watch Erik hunt down Nazis (another one of the most striking scenes takes place in an argentinian bar - seems Vaughn has a taste for these highly intimate yet also anonymous places, as two two key scenes of a character finding what he looked for take place in bars), Raven fall in love with Hank McCoy, Hank perceiving himself as a monster, Moira MacTaggert stripping to perceive Shaw, Shaw being utterly depraved, Emma Frost taking off her clothes and one by one, a team assembling itself both around Charles and Erik.
Singer chose to see the X-Men as one big metaphor for homosexuality (logically, as the theme is close to his own personality). While Vaughn acknowledges this, he also manages to create a much broader, thus more universal statement than just 'mutants = homosexuals'. Hank is the nerd who desperately wants to find a Mr. Hyde in his Dr. Jekyll. Erik is the racial (or religious) underdog who leads a fight of vengeance against his oppressors. Sean is a slight looser, whose only power is in his voice (which he can't control), mirrored by the attractive Alex, whose anger is - once released - a force of destruction. Raven is born in the wrong body, struggling with her sexuality and her 'real form', choosing a permanent disguise as a means to be seen equal. Charles is the one who, albeit different, has come to terms with his own 'mutation', the one to unite and help them. They are no longer one specific group: they are each and every kind of losers, outcasts and underdogs; no matter why or how they became who they are, they all are equal in their difference from normality.
They are opposed by Shaw's team, a dark reflection of Bond villains. The femme fatale (Frost), the quiet assassin (Riptide), the grotesque (and deformed) right hand (Azazel) and the diabolical Ex-Nazi-colportist-mastermind. Charles - or the pre-X-Men - seem to pose little threat: in another of the films best scenes, in which the teenagers show each other their powers, they end up partying to what was a wild rock song in '62. It needs Erik to fully channel his inner James Bond to finally face them.
By the time the film reaches its climax, Vaughn has managed to convince us that there is no good or bad in this fight - there simply are different forms of existence. There are mutant rights - those who regard themselves equal to humans in rights. There is mutant power, those who think they are superior to humans and who are looking for vengeance. And there is mutant pride, those who are happy with what they are and want to be accepted as different, but just as beautiful and realized as humans. And as the film progresses to this point, I was having as much fun as I could ever recall watching a superhero movie. Ever.
This may not be as good and fully realized thematically as The Dark Knight was, but granted, The Dark Knight was not an origin story that had to introduce and set-up its characters. Aside of that, First Class is superior to every other superhero film, probably even better than Batman Returns. It is complex and layered, it manages to combine pulp and arthaus aesthetics, comic and high prose. By the end of it, Erik will move a coin, and it may be one of the most moving, painful, beautiful and haunting scenes in modern cinema.
It is the film that gave me back my faith in superhero movies, and the film to give me back my faith in the power of the outcast. Once again, the X-Men changed my life. And for that, I give them all the praise they deserve!
