A strange thing happened to me this last July while watching Captain America in the theater. Now, for the record, as much as I love dour, arty pieces of misanthropic pretension, I also can appreciate the ecstatic high achieved while sniffing the fleeting fumes of a throwaway Hollywood Blockbuster. I look forward to the summer movie season and try to see as many of these glittering baubles on the best possible digital screens with the most eardrum damaging sound systems available. I can grin like a contented idiot while the earth burns as well as the next American, but after the earnest, workmanlike origin of Steve Rogers was taken care of, I found myself beginning to become irritated and impatient.What followed from the midway point was nothing more than a bunch of formless action montages with no discernible purpose other than to get our hero frozen in ice, effectively setting up next summers The Avengers. Marvel has done a hell of a job establishing their palatable universe of dashing cads and genetically deformed do gooders, but after, what is it now? 346 films in the last 4 years? I finally realized that my brain was shrivelling up inside my skull and retreating back down my neo-cortex in an effort to permanently lodge itself in my rectum. All these wannabe blockbusters and force fed franchises amount to so much shiny dross that is exactly good enough and definitively no better. All that star power and opening weekend calculation castrating our inability to critically assess how unnecessary it is for these stories to be told. Walking out of the theater after the obligatory Marvel post credit sequence that concluded Captain America, I felt drained of all interest or enthusiasm for superhero flicks specifically, but on a larger scale, for the summer movie season in its entirety and all that entails.
Back in June of 2003, America's Hulk fever was positively boiling over. Well, that's how I remember it in any case. Our nations collective movie malady cooled off quickly upon its release as most were bewildered and bored by Ang Lee's atypical approach to the burgeoning genre. His psychological art house take on the subject matter went over like the proverbial fart in church as even a cinema snob as open minded as myself couldn't wait for it to be over so I could rip it apart on the car ride home. But, like all interesting films, something about it stuck in the back of my mind and it begged to be revisited, an impulse I kept at bay until recently acquiring the bargain price bluray.
While far from a misunderstood classic and chock full of narrative flaws, there is considerable merit to be found in its obtuse insistence on being taken more seriously than some silly superhero movie. First, the Hulk isn't really a superhero, certainly not in this film at least. He's treated as the personification of bottled up, unchecked emotion resulting in the amplification of explosive rage. A post traumatic stress disorder case throwing a gargantuan tantrum that not only can't be controlled, but will horrifically escalate if you have the temerity to attempt to. While I can understand the thematic appeal a man with such a bifurcated emotional life would hold to a film maker as delicate as Ang Lee, it doesn't necessarily guarantee a compelling film story. The problem lies in the presentation and the format. On a comic page, you can visually accept a 6 foot man violently transforming into a 15 foot green behemoth. There is a consistency to the image. It's a drawing, none of it is real, therefore, in its own universe, it is all real. When Eric Bana becomes the Hulk in the film, it is painfully evident it's a special effect. Subsequently, we cease to believe a man and his complex oedipal issues are lurking inside this pixilated creation bounding from one side of the screen to the other.
Also... Note to Hollywood: Nobody cares about the Betty love story in a Hulk movie. The Hulk is more than enough visually and thematically for an audience to deal with. There is no need to tack on a paper thin romance that will never find resolution. If you're going to keep putting the Hulk in movies, please stop shoehorning this worthless character in there and forcing whatever brunette actress is enjoying a streak of employability at the time of its filming to stare wistfully at a tennis ball held aloft by a stage hand. Connely isn't nearly as bad as Tyler was, but she's pretty damn dull and Bana, who was so astounding in Chopper, is sadly milquetoast in this as well.
So what does work? The transitions are amazingly inventive. For the first half hour, the film is a hallucinatory blur with one scene cleverly melting into the next. It feels propulsive and exciting, so when Lee starts to lose steam, applying the technique less and less as it progresses, the movie suffers and begins to drag. Really beautiful stuff for a while though and his nature photography in the desert is stately, restrained and wonderfully cinematic. While I think the effects detract from ones ability to take any aspect of the story seriously, I do like the cartoonish look to them and feel the Hulk comes across as fully realized, just not believably integrated with his flesh and blood counterpart. The dogs look good as well with an interesting mutation design and Nolte's powers mix it up with a varied take on the dangerous allure of science run amok.
Speaking of Nolte, he's far and away the best thing about this picture. He gamely tackles this unglamorous role and imbues it with a mountain of palpable world weariness. It's the flip side to his role in Affliction, in this case he's the purveyor of the paternal abuse and positively swirling with conflicting emotions and motivations. It's actually a fascinatingly drawn character and Nolte colors it with a great deal of nuance, humor and humanity. I'd also like to single out Josh Lucas, who seems to be the only other person in the film who knew how to approach their role. He's deliciously smarmy and aggressive. A fun villain who has a great exit, but leaves too soon.
The ending though, is truly something to behold. Most Marvel films botch the conclusion, leaving you shrugging in disinterested dissatisfaction. Hulk however, wraps things up with an audacious, experimental exercise in conveying conflict resolution by the expulsion and transference of emotional pain. An interesting choice to be sure and one that decidedly disappointed action fans. I find it more and more interesting every time I watch it. It begins like a play, boldly focusing on Nolte and Bana in an enormous hangar with only two spotlights illuminating them. There's a stark intimacy to the scene and playing off Nolte, Bana finally comes alive in the role. After Nolte commences with some memorable speechifying, the scene electrically switches settings with the stunning motif of these two titans travelling through the clouds in fresco flashes of painted images. Easily my favorite visual idea in the film and it culminates in a billowing cloud of repressed rage and sadness being annihilated by the military. I flat out love everything about this bizarre and overtly psychological denouement.
So yes, it still has problems, but it dares to be unique and challenging. In this era where the studio system has the assembly line production of superhero films down to a fine point, I miss a film like Hulk. I miss not knowing what I was going to get going in, even if I was less than impressed by the results. I'd rather someone swing for the fences with their own vision than simply point and shoot, part of a committee approach resulting in one homogenized and carefully practiced product. Even if it's a "silly superhero movie", I want art out of it, not soap.
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