MCU or Cinema of Attraction?

Ryan Reynolds (Right) and Hugh Jackman (left), the upcoming stars of Deadpool 3.

Recently, I was fueling my brain with the internet’s worst takes on Twitter when I came along a tweet discussing Hugh Jackman’s return to his influential role as Wolverine in the upcoming MCU project Deadpool 3. In the most Ryan Reynold’s tweet of all time, the actor meta-textually references the production of the film, Deadpool’s role in the MCU, and most significantly for the comic book fandom, Hugh Jackman triumphantly declaring his appearance in the film with a “eh, why not?” Naturally, this sparked a wick in the comic cyberspace leading to a nuclear bomb, and the resulting explosion has prompted questions in the community. There’s the natural chitter chatter excitement, fans hypothesizing, etc. but the tweet that prompted this article was one stating, clearly with a unique form of comic fan adrenaline infused into the text itself, that Hugh Jackman, will in fact, be wearing his classic yellow suit from the comics. Fans rejoice! Babies laughter fill the room! The clouds part and sun finally shines! Wolverine will be wearing a costume in a film!

The tweet in question.

Alright, I apologize for the condescending tone. I too am a massive fan of comics and will whole heartedly admit that I have, and will most likely continue, supporting the comic book film industry. I’m human, I grew up with Spider-Man, if I see Tobey and Andrew on the big screen I’ll shell out for a ticket. However, when I went to my local theater on that fateful day, I wasn’t just eagerly waiting for Andrew and Tobey, thereby ignoring the rest of the film for a special guest appearance. Rather, I approached the theater with the same mindset as any other time I would walk through those doors, that I am coming to see a film worthy of analysis. I was looking forward to the cameos, but didn’t partake in a viewing experience more akin to birding than watching a movie, where the audience member becomes a hunter for the special moment rumored to appear somewhere in the endless forest of a film. In other words, especially in the light of the Hugh Jackman confirmed wearing costume tweet, I have noticed a slight shift in how audiences are approaching mainstream blockbuster films. Now, viewers aren’t eagerly awaiting a film, but a moment. “When will we see Andrew?” or “when will he put on the Wolverine costume?” are dominating thoughts for the comic obsessed fan, not “how will this story play out?” In this way, spoilers are even more significant. Catching a glimpse of the wrong info isn’t just spoiling a single moment, but the entire viewing experience, as that experience has been boiled down to waiting for a select few spectacles while the plot flies by. The comic fan that posted the breaking news of Jackman’s classic costume is waiting for Deadpool 3 not out of excitement for the film, but for proof that Jackman can actually wear the classic costume on screen. Thus, viewing a blockbuster comic book film is reminiscent of watching a vaudeville performance in the cinema of attraction, where audiences attended theaters not for a story, but proof that their wildest fantasies can become reality.

While I am a snobbish film student, I’m not the type to force my own viewpoint onto others, so to all the hunters out there, continue your expedition for the spectacular frame. However, for those who do subscribe to a similar thought process as myself, I would like to investigate the nature of viewing in the context of comic book filmmaking, and what this new gaze highlights about the contemporary film landscape. This “gaze” is one primarily focused on moments, spectacle, and attraction. While blockbusters have always been about spectacle, one can still appreciate the filmmaking mastery in Jaws or the emotional payoff in E.T. (Spielberg is the master of blockbusters, what can I say?). Meanwhile, one of the biggest strikes against the MCU, and thereby contemporary blockbuster filmmaking, is the lack of filmmaking prowess, over-reliance on cameos, and weak storylines. However, all of that doesn’t matter to those who employ the so called “gaze of attraction.” Again, the modern MCU obsessed fan harkens back to audiences of the cinema of attraction, viewing films not as art but as proof fantasy could be brought to life through the medium of moving pictures. However, this new gaze seemingly doesn’t even require movement anymore. What gets fans excited can be captured in a single frame, leak Hugh Jackman in a wolverine costume and suddenly Deadpool 3 becomes a lot less interesting. We saw what the movie was about months prior, so why even bother attending a screening? Again, while blockbusters were never about artistic integrity, I don’t believe they were ever counterintuitively lowering the engagement of critical filmmakers, critics and viewers. What we see today is spectacle, but a different sort of spectacle, one that is so far removed from film that it makes one wonder if they need to see the movie in the first place. This isn’t blockbuster filmmaking, it’s building a film around a moment designed to hook those with the gaze of attraction.

This becomes more interesting is when examining how these moments are crafted. For a case study, we can turn to Black Adam’s post-credit scene, a technique in modern filmmaking that only further cements my argument. How many people do you know that went to see Venom 2 just for the post credits scene? Or better yet, looked up the scene on Youtube and skipped the film as a whole? I know I was apart of the latter, and the fact that the cinematic landscape is helmed by these types of attraction based films is depressing. Returning to Black Adam, the post-credits scene has the big reveal of Henry Cavil returning as Superman! Huzaah! But, wait…wasn’t he already Superman?

See, what makes this reveal exciting, for those it worked on, is not within the text of the DCEU, but the business surrounding it. Cavil appearing from the fog is significant not because his character was explicitly removed the story, but because of the major controversy surrounding the actor himself. From being the leading man for the quickly fragmenting DCEU to supposedly being fired from any and all related productions, Cavil’s departure from the franchise was sloppy and jarring. Meaning, the reveal is genuinely shocking for those in the loop, but for all of the wrong reasons. These fans are excited because a film company screwed up and tried placing a band aid on top. Simply put: I’ve never seen a film so directly integrate reality into text for spectacle. The reveal is meta-textual, as the film is aware the only reason this twist works is because the fans know the surrounding controversy that very business caused. In this way, the post-credit scene is a spectacular commercial, somehow satisfying the fans who sat through two hours of mediocrity for a two minute scene while simultaneously convincing those same fans to stick around. The greedy fingers of capitalism have dug deeper into film than they ever have, and I’m afraid this development will only continue as these universes, and their surrounding deals, become overly complicated.

I’m not writing this piece with the intention of bashing comic book fans, or decrying yet another way in which blockbusters overshadow the little man, but rather to examine the changes in ways audience view films. This evolution, or de-evolution, is interesting to note and be aware of. Hopefully, your next blockbuster will be one attended out of genuine interest, not because the over-barring companies behind these products (and yes, they are products at this point) convinced you to be hypnotized by two minutes of spectacle in a two hour mediocre, passionless piece of content.