Or: A palette-cleansing quick-hit companion piece to the behemoth review of Joker, involving yet another dark remix of superhero tropes.
A lean and, mostly, mean bit of business, Brightburn explores the (literally) high concept of a young Kal-El/Clark Kent realizing at a formative age the true destructive force he can actually be—to grisly, gripping, yet ultimately somewhat shallow effect. Directed by talent-to-watch David Yarovesky but much more promoted-ly produced by James Gunn*, one of the film’s key strengths is not attempting to “say” too much, instead offering a tidy (yet, y’know, pretty messy) little tale of Superman-as-slasher villain.
(*I’m
sure an ounce of research into production schedules could put the lie to this
interpretation, but my pet theory/head-canon is that Gunn, once and future MCU
director, threw his lot in on this film after being fired in order to work
through some stuff…)
On the whole, this blend works considerably better than the doubters might
assume, especially due to a set of secondary characters variably awed,
petrified, or in denial of our titular terror, the alliteratively named Brandon
Breyer (nice touch, that). Elizabeth
Banks in particular is, no shock, great as Ma Kent Breyer, letting her
protective maternal nature get the better of her well past the point of reason;
more on that shortly. Meanwhile, the
always-welcome David Denman makes the most out of his role as the less
sympathetic (to both Brandon and, probably, the audience), more skeptical
counterpar(en)t. Further on the margins
are a well-drawn “cool aunt” and her drinking-buddy-personified husband, played
by Search Party’s Meredith Hagner and
erstwhile Albuquerque-an Matt Jones*.
Their reactions, believable all, go a long way towards grounding the twice-tall
tale and generating some genuine stakes.
(*Could be the Breaking Bad fanboy in me, but our buddy Badger does a great job filling out his slacker-made-good [or at least -married-good] part. If you need in-over-your-head arrested development, Jones is your man.)
Tellingly, one of the least compelling characters is our titular Brightburn, which speaks to the certain shallowness that, ahem, dampens the film’s impact. It’s tough to fault Jackson Dunn, whose young age belies the convincing menace he brings to the role. Alas, menace is just about the only mode the role seems (allowed?) to have. That’s where the whole slasher-villain element is, ironically, both most fully realized and most detrimental to the movie as a whole: Michael Myers, mythically terrifying as he is, isn’t much of a character; give or take a Freddy Krueger here or Leslie Vernon there, most slasher villains aren’t. It makes sense casting Brightburn in a similar place, but in so doing, erases much of the nuance and pathos that it also seems poised to mine, especially in the relationship between Brandon and his mother, who comes off somewhere between woefully and willfully oblivious long past narrative utility.
Had a bit more time been spent in the first act fleshing out a sympathetic Brandon—who gets a few scenes, sure, but not enough to make his “turn” tragic rather than just inevitable to those who saw a poster—this motherly devotion and its outcome may feel more earned. (As another example, a storyline involving a classmate crush seems like it’s missing a beat or two.) On a greater level, the film at large might have transcended its super/horror byline, rather than merely fashioning it. As it ultimately stands, it’s a tight and tidy, grim and gruesome exercise that feels, well, like it’s an exercise: Brightburn elevates its premise to a point, but coasts once it hits the clouds.
Also (Spoiler-Man, Spoiler-Man, Says Whatever…):
-One noteworthy aspect that bolsters the film’s horror cred while also potentially alienating some would-be converts is its gore, which is…impressive. Jones’s character suffers an especially visceral demise, but there’s some ocular trauma that the squeamish may understandably want to shield their own eyes from.
-On the superhero side, meanwhile, there’s a fascinating flaw to be mined from the film’s MacGuffin, the space-beacon-thingamajig that essentially triggers Brandon’s break. It’s an interesting idea, but one that smacks of some narrative expedience—as well as making the devolution of the character largely a byproduct of an external force, rather than the maybe-more-compelling illustration of, say, a bad day of bullying eroding and eating away more realistically at a simultaneously vulnerable and dangerously powerful being like Brandon.
-I feel like this review has come out more negative than I intended, so a point worth going out of my way to praise is the film’s downer ending, which is supremely, darkly satisfying. (Weird, trying to offset negativity by praising negativity, but I suppose that says more about me than the movie.)
-Nerd NookTM: Most of my gripes about this concept’s execution are likely—and, more than likely, unfairly—informed by exposure to comics, particularly Irredeemable, Marc Waid’s epic-in-every-sense take on the Superman-snaps story, which mines a lot, probably too many ramifications out of its premise, but is well-worth at least 80% of the time you’d spend on it; or, to a lesser extent, Red Son by Mark Millar, wherein Kal-El lands in the U.S.S.R. instead of the States, and explores what that particular arena’s nurture might look like without stooping to jingoism, caricatures, or even too-tidy relativism. Both worthy reads that offer more nuanced alternate spins on the Superman mythos.
The Andreview Hargablog 