FILM REVIEW
ZACK SNYDER'S JUSTICE LEAGUE
Dir: Zack Snyder
Zack Snyder's cut of the 2017 Justice League movie sits at the nexus between the Donner cut of Superman II and Snyder's own extended edition of Justice League's much-derided predecessor, Batman v Superman. Although director's cuts of movies have existed for a long time, the 2006 re-edit of Superman II to fit the vision of original director, Richard Donner, was the first time a movie had been effectively remade and rewritten with unused footage and the removal of any scenes added by the director who took over the project. Ten years later, Zack Snyder used the home release of Batman v Superman to signficantly extend the running time and clarify the near-incoherent narrative of the theatrical cut.
Snyder's re-edit of Justice League does a little of both: it removes all trace of Joss Whedon's contribution to the 2017 release and uses its massively extended running time - doubled, in fact - to add missing character motivations and give the story room to breathe. Like his Batman v Superman extended cut, it improves on many of the fundamental shortcomings of the original release. However, just as the Donner cut simply turned a bad movie into a different kind of bad movie, Snyder's Justice League may be different from Whedon's cut, but whether it's a better movie overall is an open question.
The most notable difference between the two cuts is one of philosophy: Zack Snyder doesn't do irony, whereas Joss Whedon depends on it. Whedon more than anyone was the man who gave shape to the modern Marvel movie, adding a hefty dose of sarcasm, self-awareness and relatability to his Avengers Assemble in order to unify the tonally disparate movies preceding it into something approaching a singular direction. Subsequent movies took Whedon's baton and ran with it, to the extent that it has become a de facto feature of the franchise that nary a dramatic event can occur without a quip to undermine it.
By contrast, Zack Snyder is absolutely sincere in his storytelling, for better and for worse. Whereas Marvel treats its heroes as overpowered protagonists in action-comedies, Snyder takes the idea of superhero comics as the modern form of ancient mythologising very seriously indeed. On the surface, the characters suit this interpretation very well: Superman, as an all-powerful being descended from the heavens, has obvious Biblical allegories. Wonder Woman ties closely into the myths of Ancient Greece and Aquaman builds on stories of the sunken city of Atlantis. Marvel's movies are pure popcorn entertainment - a theme park, as Martin Scorsese would have it, fun but entirely without meaning. Snyder's approach sacrifices some of the fun in search of a little more depth, building in an underlying commentary on the human condition in the same way as the myths of old.
Snyder's cut has moments of levity, far more than might have been expected, in fact, but those moments work within the world of the movie rather than trying to break it. As with many of the changes between the two cuts, this has up and downsides. The removal of any trace of winking irony gives back the movie's sense of scale and drama. Marvel movies typically span worlds and galaxies, but none have felt as Big And Important as this. When the movie talks of the death of a god bringing about an existential threat to mankind, Amazons and Atlanteans, Snyder is leveraging a deeper history of mythology and culture to give his movie weight. These are stories many of us in the Western world grew up with: they connect on a deeper level than your average cape 'n' cowl.
On the downside, what is lost in the disposal of all Whedon's work are some of the small grace notes he specialises in. Batman advising a self-doubting Flash to simply save one person and go from there is the sort of delicate, human moment of relationship building which Snyder has little interest in. Whedon's ironic sensibility, when deployed gracefully, has the benefit of lightening dialogue which can become exhausting portentous under Snyder's hand. Anyone who has seen Whedon's Justice League recently - as I did, the night before Snyder's version came out, meaning an entire six hours of viewing across the span of a day - will notice that many of his punchlines have been cut or changed. When, in Whedon's cut, Aquaman claims the strongest man is strongest alone and Bruce Wayne notes that's the opposite of what the expression says, it gives a heavy scene a small but welcome lift off the audience's shoulders. Snyder's Bruce Wayne takes Aquaman's statement at face value, keeping the stakes intact but making the scene, and subsequent film, that little bit more laborious by never breaking the glower.
When Snyder does do humour, it trends as over-the-top as everything else in his repertoire. Ezra Miller's Flash fills the archetypical jester role and is saddled with most of the movie's jokes. Unfortunately, the character is written so broadly that he's an annoyance more often than a relief, exemplified by his big introductory set-piece in which he rescues his future girlfriend from a car crash, a scene ridiculous to the point of obnoxiousness (Cyborg's introductory act of heroism is unfortunately just as ham-fisted). Snyder's embracing of myth, archetypes and tropes is all well and good, but some have been discarded from the storytelling lexicon for a reason: 'driver is distracted by dropping his sandwich' is one which did not merit a return. The funniest moments are unintentional: my new favourite character in a comic book movie might be the woman who discovers Aquaman's discarded sweater and takes a big sniff of it while an Enya-esque chorus chroons in the background. A young woman getting high off Jason Momoa's discarded clothing might be the most human moment in the entire four hours.
Moving away from knitwear-related deviancy, Snyder's obsession with the grandiose undercuts his movie in other key moments. There's a sweet scene between Martha Kent, Superman's adopted mother, and Lois Lane, his widow, where they bond over their grief before Martha tenderly presses Lois to start living her life again. Unfortunately, the moment is undermined by the subsequent reveal that Martha was not Martha at all, but a character imitating her to set up a big reveal later. Snyder's inability to trust the audience or leave anything unsaid is an unfortunate trend throughout: after witnessing Wonder Woman save the day (in an early, terrible action scene which ought to have been cut from both versions of the film), was there really a need for an additional minute of footage where she tells a schoolgirl that she can be anything she wants to be? Such empowerment messages are more meaningfully conveyed through actions, not words.
The extra footage is the proverbial blessing and curse in a similar vein. Characters like Cyborg in particular greatly benefit from the time setting up the character's history and relationships. He may still be somewhat one-dimensional, but his place on the team feels more earned by the attention given to him. The main villain, Steppenwolf, is also improved through greater focus, though not nearly as much as the improved CGI, which makes him look more alien and thus removes the disconcerting uncanny valley effect which marred his original portrayal. The likes of Ben Affleck and Jason Momoa benefit for no other reason than the movie offering more of their already tremendous performances: Affleck is my favourite screen Batman. Only Gal Gadot suffers as the increased time exposes her limitations when asked to do anything but interact warmly with her fellow actors. Her scene with Alfred fussing over tea is a joy - Jeremy Irons' grumpy and acerbic take on the character is as delightful than ever - but her range of expressions and reactions does not serve her so well elsewhere.
Once the initial hype dies down, the question of whether Whedon or Snyder's version of the movie is the better one will come down to small preferences. Whedon's version was never as bad as its detractors accused it of being and is tighter, more nimble, more pleasurable to look at (where Snyder saturates his colour, Whedon boldens) and more nuanced in some respects than Snyder's cut. Snyder offers a more focused and personal vision, a great sense of scope, a better soundtrack (no half-hearted co-opting of Danny Elfman's Batman theme here) and gives the characters and plot more room to breathe and touch on themes of loss and isolation. He also entirely cuts out the helpless Russian family from the climax, which will be a huge sigh of relief to anyone who knows what I'm talking about. Whedon's is the blandly competent, focus-grouped cut. Snyder's is the flawed artist's cut. Take your pick - I suspect many did so long before Snyder's version was even released.
For the most part, the substance of the two movies is the same. All the key scenes are shared with only cosmetic differences. In relation to Snyder's other work, the improvement between one Justice League and another is far less than between the theatrical cut of Batman v Superman and the extended home release edition. That movie's more complex plot meant it was more severely damaged by the cuts required to get it into cinemas. The extended cut not only added character depth and atmospherics, but crucial plot points which allowed the movie to narratively and thematically cohere, albeit while retaining a number of notable flaws, in a way the theatrical cut did not.
Justice League's template 'superheroes team up to defeat invader' plot neither allows nor required such essential additions. It is indulgence through and through, but for those dismayed by Snyder's larger vision for the DCU going unfulfilled, that's no bad thing. Snyder's ambition in offering a grander and ostensibly adult take on the superhero movie brought welcome variety to a blockbuster landscape drowning in Marvel and Disney's oppressively accessible fluff. If this second version of Justice League is the last of it, it deserves a celebration even if, as always with Snyder, the end result is more interesting than actually good. [ 5 ]
