Director: Scott Derrickson
Writers: Jon Spaihts, Scott Derrickson, C. Robert Cargill
Cast: Benedict Cumberbatch, Tilda Swinton, Mads Mikkelsen, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Benedict Wong, Rachel McAdams
115 mins.
2016
The Marvel juggernaut has become such an entrenched cultural institution that any commentary comes with baggage. Part of me loves the cavalcade of colorful superheroism that hits our multiplexes several times a year, and part of me is disturbed by Marvel's safe and easy placating approach, a dilemma I wrote about at some length a few weeks ago. Doctor Strange is yet another perfect embodiment of that dynamic. We have yet another endearing story with incredible atmosphere hobbled by safe narrative choices and tepid drama.
Doctor Strange is about a white man. The whitest of white men, Benedict Cumberbatch. After suffering a crippling accident that precludes him from going any further in his career as a hotshot surgeon, he has lost his sense of purpose. His journey in search of healing leads him to one Ancient One, as portrayed by Tilda Swinton, and this whitest of white women proceeds to instruct this whitest of white men on the practical value of Eastern mysticism.
I'm being glib, but the racial politics of Doctor Strange aren't great. When your story about the power of Eastern cultures has three white people as its central figures--Mr. Strange, Ms. One, and Mr. Kaecilius, the rogue villain--it's clear that you're not fully or properly engaging with the subject matter. Marvel made some strong moves with genderbending and pivoting certain characters' roles, but they try to cover over the whiteness of their movie with a few lampshading lines of dialogue, and that's not good enough.
That the film only engages with its subject matter at the surface level is perhaps its greatest failing. This isn't a film about mysticism that happens to feature a superhero, this is yet another vanilla superhero story with mystical trappings. The biggest culprit is the film's pacing. American action films, superhero movies especially, tend to be paced breathlessly. This style exists in stark antithesis to the East Asian cinema that Doctor Strange is drawing upon for its inspiration and subject matter. The Chinese and Japanese cinema I'm familiar with tends to be far more restrained, contemplative, sensory. This pacing lends a gravitas to every character interaction and allows us to linger in certain moods. Thematically, Doctor Strange is about a Western, scientific, live fast die young superstar who must discover the power in self-abnegation, meditation, and circumspect consideration. Unfortunately, the movie resists making that transition along with him. It's snazzy, and it's digestible, but it severely undercuts the story that it purports to tell. In fact, there is only one shot in the entire film that felt adequately ruminatory: the very first moment, a solemn establishing dolly shot of what appears to be a monastery at night. The careful framing, the stillness, and the soft tinkle of wind chimes--these ought to have been the cinematic tools of Doctor Strange.
What we get instead does a disservice to the characters as well. I like Strange as portrayed here well enough. He has a few genuinely interesting moments,* like his indignant crisis in the wake of killing a henchman, a qualm that no Marvel hero has displayed until this point. His hubris, snark, and goatee are all familiar (cf Stark), but there's a caustic brittleness to his determination that sets him apart. Unfortunately, his characterization only comes through in bits and pieces between gags and fights. We see him learning, and we see him being taught, but it all happens too expeditiously for anything to resonate. We don't get to see any of it sink in. Frankly, it's far too easy for him to become a magic master. He cites years of slavish study and practice for his medical skills, but holds his own against a juiced up dark magic user in his first real magical combat after, what, a few months of education? This is all the more troubling in that it hearkens unflatteringly back to the thematics of the brilliant white man appropriating Eastern cultures and immediately being the best at them.
*The neverending nature of the Marvel model seems to encourage characters with a few defining moments rather than a full dynamic arc--just enough pizzazz to make you crave their next appearance.
One moment about halfway through Strange's training sticks out. He'd been having trouble with making his sling ring open up a portal, so Ancient takes him to Mt. Everest, tells him he needs to focus better, and strands him there to die. Classic inscrutable sensei move. From there, our perspective remains with Ancient and Mordo as they wait to see if he will make it back alive. Although this creates a nice, if cheap, bit of tension, we're missing out entirely on Strange's side of this lynchpin moment. What does he do? How does he defeat his demons? When does he accept his situation? How does he make a choice? These questions are the core of drama, and they're elided by the structure of the scene. All we know is that Strange got better: we don't know how. That's the equivalent of me saying to you, "A guy was put into a life or death situation, but learned how to use magic to get out of it." That might be interesting in and of itself, but it's not exciting or engaging or meaningful. Storytelling is about the journey, and Doctor Strange whisks right past crucial moments in order to get us to the badass destinations faster.
The other characters suffer from the same garish functionality to varying degrees. They all fit well into the plot, and we get their deal, but we aren't quite given enough texture to care. The Ancient One comes closest. On the page the Ancient One is a rigid cliche more often than not, but the movie gives the character more depth than expected; one particular scene with Strange is more beautiful and haunting than what we're used to in the MCU. Of course, the ethereal brilliance of Tilda Swinton elevates the character fiftyfold, as is the case to a lesser degree with Ejiofor as Mordo and Mikkelsen as Kaecilius. Kaecilius is yet another entry in Marvel's pantheon of weak villains, though Mikkelsen almost elevates his character with the sheer force of his physical commitment.
Which brings us to that other most hated of MCU trends, the pantheon of tremendous actresses who are utterly wasted on the material. It's asinine. Rachel McAdams is a favorite of mine, but her character is dead in the water. She isn't damseled, but yet again Marvel has no clue how to give women dramatic depth or agency beyond accessorizing them.
I can honestly say it brings me no pleasure to have taken a dump all over Doctor Strange, so I'm glad to pivot towards what's great about the movie. That conversation begins with an enthusiastic endorsement of the film's visuals, which are exactly as good and perhaps even better than you've been told. I'm speaking exclusively of the psychedelia here--the more pedestrian effects shots like Strange's car plummeting down a ravine are pretty dumpy. It's clear where the budget went. No complaints here: Strange's urban landscape by way of M. C. Escher aesthetic takes the seed planted with Inception exactly where you wanted to see it go in the first place. As our heroes and villains wave their arms in a magical manner, structures and edifices become kaleidoscopic, organic, deadly. Bodies are crushed and flung as buildings fold in on themselves, unlocking new passages and blocking off others. Every chase and combat sequence in this terrain is as thrilling as you could hope, with the added benefit of being the best use of 3D technology I have ever seen in a feature film.**
**Which is to say, it adds a little bit to the experience rather than detracting a whole lot. Not a high bar to clear.
Those heavily advertised urban kaleidoscopes aren't the only plaything in Strange's visual wheelhouse. I won't spoil the other cool tricks, best to discover them at the movie's behest. I will say that even the core combat is incredibly well done for a Hollywood film. The wire-fu combined with Strange's conjured shield and weapon techniques are satisfying and well-built. Unlike many weightless and stakes-devoid magical combat scenes, these fights feel reined in by tangible rules and limitations. And the sparking, incandescent weaponry is just so damn cool. Had I been fifteen years younger for the release of Doctor Strange, I'd be fighting evil sorcerers with imaginary mystical weapons all the time.
The magic system presented isn't overexplained, but manages to be sensible nonetheless. Marvel has done a masterful job yet again of folding a new bizarre mythology into its already existing mythos. Although my arguments about the fluffiness of the narrative's execution still hold water, I do believe they made the right choice in pursuing a simple, pared down story structure that allows them to focus more on bringing the weirdness to life in a way that makes sense to general audiences. What exposition there is tends to be brief and painless. Perhaps the biggest infodump of the film happens as the Ancient One is flinging Strange's consciousness through a multitude of dimensions, and that exposition is made smooth by the utterly gorgeous and playful imagery on display.
It's especially noteworthy how much of this movie could easily feel wacky, but never does. These are grown men waving their arms around and prancing about in capes, but the production design grounds us in their world so concretely that we're only popped out when they visit the drab, workmanlike hospital. Even that contrast is intentional and effective, highlighting the disparity between these worlds rather than giggling at the silliness of a sorcerer standing next to folks in scrubs.
The rest of the movie has that signature Marvel polished-just-short-of-impressive sheen. Derrickson's eye for visuals outside of the effects scenes is solid enough not to draw any ire, and the dialogue is pleasant, even as this is the MCU's least funny movie since Thor: The Dark World.
Credit where credit is due: though the movie falls into so many of Marvel's typical pitfalls, Doctor Strange does break the mold of unimaginative climactic setpieces. In what I imagine will become its signature iconic moment, Doctor Strange begins to play into the tired sky portal climax cliche, but takes an abrupt left turn into an inspired battle of wits. It takes guts for a superhero movie to veer away from action during its finale, but it is the most golden age Doctor Strange choice the filmmakers could have made.
We've come to the point where we ought to accept that these Marvel movies are only going to transcend their formulas on rare occasions. Thus Doctor Strange exists as yet another incredibly fun but pedestrian movie that has spikes of poppy creativity littered throughout. If you're weary of Marvel's shenanigans this won't change your mind, and if you're still on board the Marvel train you're in for a blast. As you can tell I'm somewhere in the middle, but I'd still much rather have this movie exist than not.
2.5 / 5 BLOBS
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