The cult of the all-American superhero is a great thing to behold. A plucky, good and kind boy with no potential for greatness becomes a plucky, good and kind megaman with the potential to be mistaken for a shaved gorilla and a whole new jaw line. Our appetite for these Nazi busting, Soviet slapping men in tights is remarkable. The superhero: a direct product of the Second World War and the Cold War, and yet still so captivating even today.
Gotta love some jaw.
Captain America was born out of the fear of Nazi Germany and the growing Soviet threat – the idea that there could ever be something worse than Hitler – was terrifying. In this film, we have Hugo Weaving as Schmidt, or Red Skull: a bonkers megalomaniac with a rubber face mask and a penchant for the supernatural. Schmitt wants to access powers beyond his ken, namely Odin’s crystal cube, a source of what appears to be a kind of nuclear energy except it is of course bright blue and crackling. Captain America is little Stephen Rodgers: a boy from Brooklyn who wants nothing more than to serve his country if it wasn’t for his asthma. A chance encounter with an exiled German scientist gives Rodgers his chance, and with a few injections and ‘vita-ray’ therapies, he emerges a hero, destined to greatness, yet never losing sight of his all-American morality.
Of course, we all know what happens next. Captain America dons the scarlet boots and blue stockings and runs off into the wilderness to challenge Schmidt and his Hydra empire to stop him from taking Hitler’s place as the great evil of the world. He performs acts of bravery, valour and courage, all with a golden tan, perfect teeth and slicked back hair. Helpful, that regeneration gene or whatever it is that seems to prevent his locks from slipping.
And yet, Captain America is, dare I say it, a little different to the average superhero. He doesn’t have a moral dilemma – he really is just a NICE guy. There is a lady, Agent Carter, but there is no on-screen action bar one bittersweet kiss. The Captain leaves the lab not a crime-fighting extravaganza, but a theatrical one, consigned onto Broadway while they try to work out what the hell to do with him. The symbol that is Captain America is due to a large publicity tour, not due to legend and hearsay and great public acts. Even Schmidt’s power source: Odin, is a little off the beaten track of ancient Egyptian/Christian/Alien artifacts. And a happy ending? Well, that is for you to decide.
Tommy Lee Jones is his usual acerbic old man self, and Hugo Weaving does his doomsday best. Particularly enjoyable to see was Toby Jones, cast as the morally dubious scientist Zola. With his terrific ability in acting, he was suitably slimy and twitchy without rising to the great heights of Weaving’s ham. Dominic Cooper too proved his ability to be a smarmy git as Howard Stark (father of Ironman’s Tony). Into aviation, women, and trying his best to make things fly that really shouldn’t fly, Stark is a strange mix of Delboy and Q, complete with woeful little moustache.
Captain America is not a brilliant film. It will not change your life forever, nor make you want to rush out and buy the comic. But it is enjoyable. A good day out; a cinematic equivalent to a fairground. You don’t necessarily think you should go, or that you even want to, but once there you have a great time pretending your brain cells don’t really exist. It is the kind of film where there is really not that much fault to be found – a truly everyman film. Oh, and if you do stick it out to the end, you will be rewarded with an unexpected and wonderful surprise…