I watched The Avengers, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Avengers: Infinity War, and Avengers: Endgame in 48 hours—a feat that I deem to be both embarrassing and impressive, as it means I was dedicated to the task at hand for 10+ hours. And in defense of my grand show of sloth, I have not much to say, except that I was battling a nasty head-cold, and that it was the weekend. I’m mostly disgusted with myself for doing it, and I might be even more so, if I hadn’t wrung this article out of the whole experience.
I’m sensing that might become a defining characteristic of this publication: I can’t help but to look at common or ubiquitous or popular elements of culture and deconstruct them. That’s where Modern Anxiety is hiding. It’s in plain sight, waiting for someone to point at it with alarm and say, “something isn’t right here!" To the chagrin of many, I’m sure, I am at that pointing finger.
In this instance, the Marvel fan doesn’t want me to shake their fandom (or at least attempt to), and the person who cares not for Marvel, doesn’t even want to hear about it in the first place. Well fuck me! Who am I even writing this for? I suppose, if I may reference the welcome article, I’m just doing it to clear my head, before the Avengers tear it to pieces from the inside out.
So, what do Marvel’s Avengers mean to us?
This is the question I ultimately hope to answer, and it is the question, in one form or another, that buzzed around me like a gnat while I watched all four films. I suppose the question can be applied to Disney’s other massive fantasy franchise, Star Wars, as well as the Walt Disney company itself. But for the sake of preventing the subject of discussion from becoming too unwieldy, we will stick to Marvel.
I reckon, that to understand what The Avengers mean, we must first flesh out what The Avengers are. Let’s keep this simple. First, a majority of Marvel’s characters are quintessentially American. Second, they are in essence, Gods.
American
American because, well, every hero comes from, or now works for, America. Even Scarlet Johansson’s Black Widow, the super-power-less Russian born spy, works for America, and acts as a sort of immigrant American Dream story.
The most American of them all has got to be Robert Downey’s Jr.’s Iron Man, because nothing says America like a guy who describes himself as a, “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”
Gods
Gods because, well, they can do and withstand all sorts of crap that regular humans can’t. Thor—the least American (and the most Norwegian) Avenger—even refers to himself as a God. And since Thor’s powers don’t exceed the powers or abilities of the other superheroes, it is fair to say that his peers are too Gods, or at least God-like before their mortal form ages them out of the superhero game.
Nation + Gods = Mythology?
So is that it? Is this our mythology? The Avengers at least behave similarly to the legends of the Roman and Greek deities—always getting tangled up in bullshit they seemingly could have avoided.
A key distinction, however, is that the ancient cultures used mythology to explain the origins of the natural world, and thus enforce the significance behind their own cultural practices and rituals. The Avengers do no such thing.
They can’t. We’ve learned too much about the universe. We do not accept good stories as a replacement for unknowns. Which again leads us to that frustrating question that started this whole thing: what do the Avengers mean to us?
I guess I’m so bothered by this because…
I like The Avengers.
There is a reason The Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) has grossed a world record $22.5 billion from 23 movies, second to no other franchise.
The movies are entertaining. Thousands of people have worked to ensure the stories are air-tight, thrilling, funny, heart-warming, and heart-wrenching in the proper balance. And in those 48 hours, they were a nice escape from a nagging sickness, provided a healthy dose of adrenaline, and an inspiring, child-like sense of wonder.
And I didn’t want those feelings created by these characters and these stories to end. I wanted them to represent something more. I wanted them to be something besides an engine for making cash hand over fist.
Perhaps that’s an unfair expectation to put on any film. I’m satisfied with indy horrors when they make my ass-cheeks clench in fear; and with blockbuster comedies when they make me laugh. Why should Marvel have a different standard?
Because Marvel takes up a disproportionate space in our collective psyches. Robert Downey Jr. has been Iron Man since 2008, and Disney+ has already released three Marvel series in 2021. And this may only be the tip of the content iceberg we’re heading straight toward.
Disney isn’t going anywhere. Marvel isn’t going anywhere. We could be looking at a century of superheroes ahead. Our children’s children might be able to rack up a year of screen time just on Marvel programming, and still have more to consume.
Should we not be panicking with the knowledge that those future hours and dollars spent will yield nothing but time passed?
Do these stories give us anything?
In the end, my search for significance has only led me to a much more devastating discovery; the Avengers do nothing but promote the already mind-boggling backward zeitgeist we exist in. They are little more than a meta celebration of the celebrity and of entertainment itself; in fact, Martin Scorsese has even gone so far as to say that Marvel movies aren’t cinema.
Army of A-Listers
The allure of this franchise can be mainly attributed to the army of A-listers who populate the stories. But so much star-power serves to diminish the stories themselves, and in an implicit way, it shows us what we truly value. We do not value the heroes and their tales as much as the handsome people who play them—an assertion augmented by the fact these actors, save for maybe Tom Holland and Brie Larson, we’re well known prior to their Marvel roles.
Here’s a non-comprehensive, but you-get-the-gist list of massive names that appear across the 23 films:
Robert Downey Jr., Mark Ruffalo, Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Scarlet Johansson, Jeremy Renner, Samuel L. Jackson, Josh Brolin, Brie Larson, Natalie Portman, Jeff Goldblum, Dave Bautista, Vin Diesel (voice of Groot), Bradley Cooper (voice of the talking space Raccoon), Elizabeth Olsen, Zendaya, Tom Holland, Paul Rudd, Rachel McAdams, Benedict Cumberbatch, Chris Pratt, Martin Freeman, the late Chadwick Boseman, Don Cheadle, Jeff Bridges, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jon Favreau, Sam Rockwell, Mickey Rourke, Idris Elba, Anthony fucking Hopkins, Hugo Weaving, Tommy Lee Jones, Rebecca Hall, Benicio Del Toro, Guy Pearce, Robert fucking Redford, John C. Reilly, Tip “T.I.” Harris, Michael Peña, and Michael fucking Douglas.
As exciting as this collection of talent is, one could argue that in the end, it’s wasted. These roles are not Shakespearean. These actors are not doing it for the challenge or to move you by their performances. Regardless of how fun it might be to pretend to fly in front of a green screen, the real motivation for these performers is evidently the disgusting amount of cash—a motivation which rarely leads to a movie with artistic or spiritual value.
Nothing Exists Outside Your Television
Another bewildering, but important element of these stories is how often they make reference to film and television outside the MCU.
For example, below is an excerpt from Avengers: Endgame, where a few characters are arguing over how time travel works:
Hulk (Mark Ruffalo): Changing the past doesn’t change the future!
Ant-Man (Paul Rudd): Look, we go back, we get the stones before Thanos gets them, Thanos doesn’t have the stones…problem solved.
Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner): Bingo!
Nebula (Karen Gillan): That’s not how it works.
Hawkeye: Well, that’s what I heard.
Hulk: What? By who? Who told you that?
War Machine (Don Cheadle): Star Trek, Terminator, Time Cop, Time After Time
Ant-Man: Quantum Leap!
War Machine: Wrinkle In Time, Somewhere in Time
Ant-Man: Hot Tub Time Machine.
War Machine: Hot Tub Time Machine! Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure! Basically any movie that deals with time travel! This is known!
Ant-Man: Die Hard! …no that’s not one.
Hulk: I don’t know why everyone believes that, but that’s not true. Think about it, if you travel to the past, that past becomes your future, and your former present becomes the past, which can’t be now changed by you’re new future.
Nebula: Exactly.
Ant-Man (devastated): So back to the future is a bunch of bullshit?
Isn’t that kind of insane? It’s not uncommon for our content to reference other content—sometimes it’s funny—but rarely are you bashed over the head with it like this. And what exactly is the point of these references?
It’s as if the MCU is tipping its hat to the fantasies that have entertained and distracted us before, as it saunters to the entertainment throne, and places the crown firmly upon its head.
But primarily, it blurs the line between fiction and reality—it’s easier to suspend our disbelief while watching if the characters appear to be influenced by the same culture we are. And furthermore, it enforces the idea that the only thing worthwhile in our culture are movies and TV. You’re watching the Avengers, The Avengers watch TV, and the more Marvel films and non-Marvel films you consume, the more rewarding watching the Avengers is.
It’s a gross media circle-jerk.
Cult of Celebrity + Media Obsession = ?
Combine the star-power and entertainment exaltation and you’ll find what The Avengers really mean to us: the status quo.
They are flash and bang and dizzying lights, but when the fog clears, we are right where we began: In an America, where myth factories go to immense lengths to appear that they are giving you something of spiritual or artistic worth. In an America that values aesthetic over substance. In an America that worships a hollow mythology.
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To be or not to be that is the question. To Marvel or not to Marvel? I think your article gives it too much influence. I think, like you, we watch mindless, with a head cold hoping anything will make it go away or distract us for that time period. You had 10 hours not to think about your head cold. The writing is provocative and thoughtful, better than the 10 hours of Marvel movies. Look forward to ghe next installment.
I really like your comparison between deities and the heroes.
One thing I’ve always noticed is how drastically the fandom has changed from the comic book days. This is probably due to the power of celebrity, as you mentioned. But, this is something that hasn’t entirely happened with the D.C. franchises.