BLERD AT THE MOVIES
REVISITED #1: "Marvel Studios' Doctor Strange" Brought Magic and the Multiverse to the MCU First5/7/2022 Marvel's current interest in the multiverse was five years in the making, thanks to director Scott Derrickson's take on the Sorcerer Supreme. Benedict Cumberbatch as Doctor Stephen Strange in Marvel Studios' Doctor Strange (Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures and Marvel Studios | 2016) Welcome to REVISITED, where I return to movies I either haven't seen in awhile or forgot that I even watched. (Pretty much what's advertised on the tin, you know?) In the inaugural edition, I look back at 2016's Doctor Strange, just in time for this month's Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. Here, I discuss Stephen Strange's character arc, the movie's treatment of life and death, how I'm feeling going into Multiverse of Madness, and more. AUTHOR'S NOTE The following post contains spoilers for Doctor Strange. Although I imagine most of you have seen this movie once or five times before, I don't wanna be a jerk and not warn you about the spoilers, especially if you haven't seen the movie beforehand. So, if you haven't seen it, I recommend bookmarking this post, watching the movie, and coming back once you're done. Title: Doctor Strange Where to Watch: Disney Plus What's It About?: The fabulous life and illustrious career of brilliant neurosurgeon Stephen Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) comes to an unexpected end when a devastating car accident leaves his hands mangled beyond repair. Desperate to practice medicine again, Stephen seeks out alternative forms of healing, a physical journey that soon transforms into a spiritual one upon meeting the Ancient One (Tilda Swinton), a powerful mystic who mentors Stephen in the art of magic. As Stephen progresses in his studies, dark forces are amassing and looking to destroy the mortal and magical worlds, forcing the former neurosurgeon to use his newfound abilities to protect the fabric of the universe. Marvel Studios' Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness | Official Trailer (Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures & Marvel Studios | 2022) If you think about it, it was only a matter of time until the Marvel Cinematic Universe had to reckon with the multiverse. 2019's Spider-Man: Far From Home hinted at its potential existence, but last year's Spider-Man: No Way Home saw the multiverse come crashing into the main MCU -- and, along with it, bringing multiple Spideys and a cacophony of his most famous cinematic villains. (No Way Home doesn't compare to the spellbinding visuals and tightly-constructed storytelling of the Academy Award-winning Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, of course.) However, that is not the first time the multiverse's existence was hinted at in the franchise. Although No Way Home, Loki, and What If...? have made steps in defining the multiverse and the consequences of breaking down the barriers separating universes, it was 2016's Doctor Strange that introduced the concept of a multiverse to the MCU, and what it sorta/kinda looks like. In the film's most visually arresting sequence, the Ancient One (Tilda Swinton) demands the physically and emotionally weary Stephen Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) to open his eye, and the results are appropriately mind-melting and psychedelic. To try and describe the scene to you would be a fool's errand; it's like describing an acid trip nine days after you've come down from the high. (Funnily enough, Strange wonders if the Ancient One has dosed his cup of tea with drugs. "It's just tea," she replies nonchalantly, "with a little honey.") I encourage you to go onto YouTube and search for a 1080p-version of the "Open Your Eye" sequence. If you have Disney Plus, even better; you should be able to stream various Marvel movies with IMAX Enhanced quality and in 4K Ultra HD, and it did improve my rewatch of Doctor Strange. Doctor Strange is one of the few Marvel films that have successfully retained the visual sensibilities of the comics while also imbuing its own flair to the visuals and aesthetics. It also remains one of the few visually resplendent and creative Marvel Cinematic Universe entries to date -- and this is a franchise with almost thirty movies under its belt. In terms of visuals and aesthetics, Doctor Strange is the crown jewel of the MCU. In the six years (!) since its release, Marvel has yet to top the trippy, mind-bending vision of horror filmmaker Scott Derrickson (Sinister, The Black Phone)'s origin story feature, but next month's Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness seems up to the task. (It also helps that Sam Raimi, the beloved director of Tobey Maguire's Spider-Man trilogy, the cult classic Evil Dead trilogy, and the underrated Drag Me to Hell is in the director's chair this time.) Narrative-wise, Doctor Strange exemplifies the strengths -- and weaknesses -- of the MCU's storytelling formula. One of the biggest complaints about Doctor Strange (the character) is that he's just Tony Stark, except if Stark chose magic over creating a suit of armor. To be fair, it's not difficult to see the similarities between Strange and Stark; both are arrogant, self-absorbed people who tend to treat others around them horribly. Both Stark and Strange start their respective origin story films as the worst versions of themselves, riding the wave of their own hype and overlooking how their behavior affects those closest to them. Doctor Strange devotes time to scenes featuring Strange humiliating a fellow colleague (Michael Stuhlbarg) for misdiagnosing a patient and Strange turning away the one person who devoted time and energy to taking care of him after his accident: Christine Palmer (a criminally underused Rachel McAdams), a colleague-turned-ex-girlfriend. Needless to say, Strange isn't the kindest guy to be around. Compared to Stephen, Tony is a saint. But, the unflattering pre-superhero personalities of Strange and Stark is the only similarity the two characters share (in the MCU, that is). Not that this matters much, but I'm not a fan of 2008's Iron Man or its 2010 sequel, Iron Man 2. Part of the reason is that Stark's character arc never resonated with me in the way that the arcs of his fellow Avengers Thor or Captain America did even as new directors and writers continued (or ended) their stories. Iron Man 3 might be the only Stark adventure that gave the hero an impactful arc that even rippled throughout the character's final handful of MCU entries, but it -- and his heroic sacrifice in Avengers: Endgame -- will always be hampered the first two Iron Man movies (and, to some degree, the first two Avengers and Captain America: Civil War) and the way Stark's crucial lessons in humility, selflessness, and humanity are tossed aside for the tantalizing, world-building choice where Stark revealed himself to be Iron Man -- and, subsequently, capitalize further on his own popularity as a genius, billionaire, playboy, and a philanthropist. In contrast, Doctor Strange's transformation of its hero feels more emotionally fulfilling, despite it treading the same narrative grounds (and Spider-Man: No Way Home screwing up the arc because multiverse fan service). It's strange to be nostalgic for MCU entries like Doctor Strange, films that feel largely self-contained even when the franchise mythology makes an appearance to remind the audience what they've signed up for. Although it is not perfect by any means (there's two crucial aspects of this movie that merit some much-needed discussion), Doctor Strange still holds up as a strong introduction to a fascinating pocket of the MCU, and to one of the MCU's most unlikely heroes. Visuals and Aesthetics Benedict Cumberbatch as Doctor Stephen Strange in Marvel Studios' Doctor Strange (Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures and Marvel Studios | 2016) Here's a fitting meme I saw this week. While scrolling through Instagram, I stumbled across a screencap of a tweet with the caption: "No offense but all Marvel movies look like this to me now."; the tweet happened to feature a still from Spy Kids 3-D: Game Over, a movie that's been lambasted as both the worst Spy Kids movie in the franchise (clearly, they haven't seen Spy Kids 4) and as one of the worst CGI-heavy movies of the 2000s (I mean... I don't disagree.). As cutting as that tweet was about Spy Kids, it did point out one of the key issues Marvel movies have had in the past few years. When it comes to visuals and aesthetics, Marvel can be hit or miss. For every Black Panther, Thor: Ragnarok, Eternals, and Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, we get a Black Widow, Thor: The Dark World, Avengers: Infinity War/Endgame, and Iron Man 2. The addition of Marvel's Disney Plus television slate hasn't helped the movies because the visuals and aesthetics of WandaVision, Hawkeye, and Moon Knight have been great. Call me high maintenance but I love it when the visuals and aesthetics of a movie or TV show compliment the narrative not clash with it. One of the main reasons why I dislike Infinity War, for example, it's because all of the characters have been ripped away from their respective, visually appealing abodes and dropped into a story devoid of color and creativity. There is no reason for the Guardians of the Galaxy, a group of rough-and-tumble, space-traveling misfits, to be sporting such dour colors; even Rocket's fur had more color in the standalone GOTG films when compared to the muddy brown and faded white hues of his fur in Infinity War. In the teaser trailer for the highly-anticipated Thor: Love and Thunder, Taika Waititi's vision of New Asgard is more colorful and lively than the dull version Joe and Anthony Russo introduced in Endgame. (Of course, one could make the argument that New Asgard reflects Thor's despondency in the movie, and I wouldn't disagree with that.) Doctor Strange was one of the unfortunate victims of Infinity War and Endgame's drabness, the striking oranges and golds of his sling-ring portals pared down to a flatter tone and hue along with the sharp green of the Time Stone, hidden in the Eye of Agamotto. To Jon Watts' credit, No Way Home brought some of the color back to Strange's magical world, lending a twinge of malevolence and sinisterness to the purples, golds, and oranges that swirled around Peter and Strange when the two work together to cast the forbidden spell that opened the door to the multiverse. Yet, Watts' take on Strange's abilities, which is one of No Way Home's highlights, will always come off as an earnest imitation of Derrickson's vision; it comes close to recapturing what made Doctor Strange such a visually appealing character, but it doesn't always hit that sweet spot. For Derrickson, the magic of Doctor Strange is a cross between the tantalizing fantasy of Harry Potter and the brutal reality of author Lev Grossman's The Magicians book trilogy (which was adapted into a short-lived series for SyFy). A character's magic-formed shields and weapons leave sparkler trails descending to the ground or drifting off into the air while the aforementioned sling-ring portals possess a bright, fire-like color on its edge, baring a striking resemblance to a running buzzsaw. Magic makes color warp, melt, and pulsate -- sometimes all within the same shot. Take a look at Mads Mikkelsen's Kaecilius, a former magic disciple who turned to the dark side (there's always one of those guys running around, aren't there?), for example. When he finally gives himself up to the Dark Dimension, the skin around his eyes flake and peel away, revealing purple circles around his eyes. Except, the purple isn't the color of bruises or swelling; it's the color of the Dark Dimension's resident overlord, Dormammu (voiced by none other than Cumberbatch himself), and the dark purple that spreads around Kaecilius's eyes looks like an unholy, disturbing fusion between the demonic and the human. In Doctor Strange, magic is wondrous and terrifying, imaginative and all-consuming. But, most importantly, magic looks absolutely beautiful. Doctor Strange fuses the sci-fi sensibilities of the Marvel Cinematic Universe with the sprawling, colorful epicness of a high-fantasy, swords-and-sorcery adventure. When magic warps reality, buildings fold in on themselves, the streets bend and curve in wild directions, and a mere hallway can stretch itself farther and farther away from the one door you can escape from. It's like The Matrix, The Magicians, and Inception got together to do some shrooms and just vibe under a tree at the park; it's an unexpected combination, but it works so damn well. Even before we get a hold on the story and its main character, the first seven minutes of Doctor Strange immerses the viewer in its world immediately with a stunning patchwork of visuals that reinforce the fragility of reality (or, at least, this reality). When the Ancient One later tells Strange to forget everything he thinks he knows, that message isn't just limited to the former surgeon; the Fast and Furious franchise wishes they could disobey the basic laws of physics and gravity with the same panache and ambition as Doctor Strange does in its opening action sequence. Although it has attracted some imitators, Derrickson's original vision remains top-notch within the MCU, largely because it was -- and still is -- intensely creative and ambitious. As I mentioned before, Doctor Strange is one of the few Marvel movies that retain the visual and aesthetic sensibilities of its source material without taking away from the director's own unique style and flair for eye-popping special effects and mind-melting color palettes. Nowadays, the visual style of Doctor Strange (the character) feels less like a New Age-inspired acid trip and more like a Disney-ified imitation of Harry Potter. Now, with Raimi in the director's chair, I can only hope Multiverse of Madness brings a sense of creativity and personality back to the visual and aesthetics of Strange's pocket of the MCU. Benedict Cumberbatch as Stephen Strange Chiwetel Ejiofor as Baron Mordo and Benedict Cumberbatch as Stephen Strange in Marvel Studios' Doctor Strange (Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures and Marvel Studios | 2016) As I mentioned before, Stephen Strange shares quite a bit in common with Tony Stark. Both are self-absorbed, arrogant, successful men with a penchant for treating people around them like dirt. The first act of Doctor Strange and Iron Man devotes much screen time to each respective main character being terrible to anyone who crosses their path, and Doctor Strange takes its protagonist's unsavory qualities even further. Whether it's embarrassing a colleague or giving a half-hearted hug to a patient's family, it's difficult to see why anyone would want Strange to be a defender of anything, let alone their physician. All he cares about is his reputation, so much so that he willingly turns down patients with life-threatening injuries and conditions because they're not challenging enough for him. Initially, Strange treats the lives of the sick and injured like child's play, as if performing a crucial surgery on someone with minimal afflictions is akin to playing handball at lunch. Yet, how Strange treats the living and healthy is worse. Upon coming to in the hospital following his car accident, an angry Stephen insists he could have done better with his surgery despite the fact that his colleagues -- which may have also included Christine -- likely did their best to save his life... all because none of his colleagues could repair the severed nerves in his hands. (Oh, and PSA: Please don't mess with your phone while driving; it's not safe. You can call or text whoever after you pull over and park, okay?) Again, at first glance, Tony Stark is a saint when compared to Stephen Strange. Whereas Stark's devil-may-care, reckless, and arrogant attitude comes off playful and biting, Strange's arrogance and self-absorption is nasty and alienating. In this regard, it's difficult to disagree with Buzzfeed News's Alison Willmore's assessment that Strange is "almost too comfortable a fit for [Benedict] Cumberbatch," who, at the time of his debut in the MCU, was best known for playing cold and calculating geniuses like Sherlock Holmes in BBC's modernized Sherlock or Khan Noonien-Singh in 2013's Star Trek Into Darkness. (Not the whitewashed role I'm going to talk about here, but it definitely deserved the criticism it got.) In 2014, Cumberbatch returned to the genius-type character for The Imitation Game, a biographical drama about mathematician Alan Turing. By 2016, it seemed like Cumberbatch was being typecast as Hollywood's go-to guy for playing arrogant, genius, and/or callous men, so much so that his first SNL monologue included a playful song about the geniuses he's played on screen. Needless to say, Stephen Strange is definitely a character in the actor's wheelhouse. And, you know what? It works. Cumberbatch is definitely in his element as Strange, taking the callous, haughty genius personality of his modern Sherlock Holmes to the n-th degree. Without a doubt, a Stephen Strange before he is humbled by his mystic teachings is truly a cruel and cold-hearted man. (It makes sense why the fourth episode of Marvel's experimental animated series What If...? ponders what would have happened if Strange lost his heart instead of his hands.) To reduce Strange to a clone of Tony Stark, let alone a trademark Cumberbatch role, however, would do a great disservice to both the actor's performance and Strange's arc in the film. As I noted earlier, I think Strange's transformation from self-absorbed, brilliant medical genius to a selfless, altruistic, master of the mystic arts is handled better than Tony Stark's transformation because Derrickson and co-writer C. Robert Cargill (who collaborated on 2012's cult horror hit Sinister) aren't focused on solely turning Strange into "the Sorcerer Supreme." Doctor Strange has a more defined idea of what its protagonist should be once the credits come to a close. In most of the superhero/comic book movies I have seen, the narratives are more concerned with bringing the iconic superhero to life that they lose sight of telling a grounded, human story. In contrast, Iron Man and Iron Man 2 are more interested in positioning Iron Man as the face of the Marvel Cinematic Universe at the expense of stunting Tony Stark's character arc in both films. It wasn't until Iron Man 3 finally further sketched out Tony's character beyond the "genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist" hook that made Tony such a fan favorite, and it resulted in later Marvel movies becoming comfortable with maturing Tony. By the end of Endgame, Tony feels something akin to a nuanced character, but, again, his heroic sacrifice is hampered by the films that came before it. This is a problem that other Marvel movies have struggled with (looking at you, Thor: Ragnarok and Captain Marvel), so this isn't unique to just Tony Stark and his overall arc within the Infinity Saga. It's also a problem that still persists in the MCU, whether it is in films like Eternals and Black Widow or television shows like The Falcon and the Winter Soldier and Loki. So I give credit to Doctor Strange for transforming Stephen Strange. Yes, Strange is still confident in his skills and intellect that he believes he alone can take on Dormammu and stop Kaecilius from destroying reality, but it's not about proving how he is better than Mordo (Chiwetel Ejiofor) or Wong (Benedict Wong), who have trained under the Ancient One much longer than Strange. Nor is it about proving how much of a better man he is compared to the bloodthirsty and disillusioned Kaecilius. Rather, in one of the most subversive and visually arresting climatic action sequences in the MCU to date, Strange takes on Dormammu by himself because he believes there must be more to ending conflicts than brutal violence. Doctor Strange is one of the few MCU entries, let alone superhero/comic book movies, that give us a clear look at its protagonist's morality, as well as their struggle to form a reasonable and sustainable vision of justice. Whereas the Ancient One, Kaecilius, Mordo, and Wong are trained warriors who have no problem treating magic as a powerful weapon, Strange sees magic as a way to crystalize his morals and seek out alternatives to brutal (mortal or magical) violence, hence the now-iconic "Dormammu, I've come to bargain" sequence. What really made me appreciate Doctor Strange on this rewatch is its willingness to let its protagonist be human. To be a cruel, cold-hearted, and arrogant man who must learn a most valuable lesson, one that not only makes him a better doctor, sorcerer, or superhero but also a better human being. In recent years, some Marvel movies have embraced this quality, but not all of them. Matter of fact, we could use more MCU properties that aren't afraid of letting its protagonists be humans rather than squarely heroes; same thing goes for its antagonists. One of the reasons I loved WandaVision, for example, was that Wanda Maximoff was never put in the position to be the hero or the villain of the story. Sure, we're still entertaining the "Is Wanda the Villain of Her Story?" conversations, but whatever side folks land on will never be satisfying. Instead, the more satisfying answer to that question is neither; she's a human being who's made mistakes and has suffered immensely (not that her suffering immediately negates the suffering she unknowingly inflicted on others). Carting characters off in the 'hero' and 'villain' categories are rarely deliver the pay-off one might be looking for. Doctor Strange firmly places its protagonist in the 'hero' category, but showing how he reached that place is far more engaging for -- and I can only speak for myself -- a viewer. Of course, grounding a protagonist in recognizable humanity -- flawed, imperfect, ambiguous, but understandable humanity -- doesn't automatically lead to better stories, it can lead to a more engaging and resonant character arc. The Tragic Fall of Baron Mordo Chiwetel Ejiofor as Baron Mordo in Marvel Studios' Doctor Strange (Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures and Marvel Studios | 2016) Truth be told, I forgot who was the villain of this movie a little while after seeing it the first time. Hell, I forgot Mads Mikkelsen was even in this movie. Now that I've rewatched it, I can see why he never left much of an impression on me and, I imagine, other viewers. Sadly, Kaecilius is a simple villain; he's got a sad backstory -- something about a dead family and the Ancient One being a hypocrite or whatever -- and he follows a gigantic CGI inter-dimensional creature, but it's nothing special. As a result, Kaecilius is yet another prime example of superhero/comic book movies failing to deliver memorable villains. More often than not we get villains whose entire personality is based around being unapologetically evil (e.g. Yellowjacket in Ant-Man; Oceanmaster in Aquaman; Yon-Rogg in Captain Marvel) that they lack depth or dimension. Other times we get villains who are humanized to the point where we have trouble connecting them to the evil they have committed (e.g. Thanos... but that's a post for another time). Kaecilius falls in the former, which makes me wonder why he was even picked to be the villain in the first place. Especially when Baron Mordo is literally right there. Another impressive character arc in Doctor Strange stems from Baron Mordo, a steadfast student of the Ancient One and a firm believer in the principles she had imparted to him. Given his physical and magical skills, I couldn't help but wonder why wasn't he initially chosen to protect one of the Sanctum Sanctorums from Kaecilius and his zealots or why he wasn't considered for the title of "Sorcerer Supreme" over the relatively new Stephen Strange. (I know what you're thinking, reader: the movie's called Doctor Strange, not Doctor Mordo.) What could have been a thankless, forgettable minor role is elevated by Chiwetel Ejiofor's confident performance as the actor hold his own when paired with either Swinton, Cumberbatch, or both. In fact, Ejiofor is more than game to match dry wits with Cumberbatch. Although he doesn't get a lot of quotable zingers and one-liners, Ejiofor is given other ways to make Mordo memorable beyond consistently delivering punchlines. What makes Mordo a memorable foil to Strange is the way in which his stinging journey from dutiful pupil to a disillusioned man plays out before the audience. Upon being confronted with the truth about the Ancient One's power source, Mordo refuses to believe his mentor would ever turn to the Dark Dimension simply for power. Unfortunately, when the truth comes to light right in front of him, Mordo's cry of "Hypocrite!" is painful. Ejiofor compellingly sells viewers on Mordo's feelings of betrayal and disillusionment at the hands of the Ancient One -- and, eventually, Strange. Strange's victory against Kaecilius and Dormammu isn't triumphant; how Strange defeated Dormammu went against everything Mordo was taught, and that's the final straw for him. In a way, Mordo walking away from Strange towards the film's end was reminiscent of Harry Osborn feeling betrayed by Spider-Man after his father dies in 2002's Spider-Man. It has the feeling of being betrayed by your hero -- or the people you're taught to view as heroes -- and having your whole world crash. No wonder Mordo returns, armed with new weapons and some dope locs, for Multiverse of Madness. Strange destroyed his reality and he won't sit back and let him destroy countless others. Kaecilius wishes he could have been this compelling. The Serious Business of Life and Death Tilda Swinton as the Ancient One and Benedict Cumberbatch as Stephen Strange in Marvel Studios' Doctor Strange (Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures and Marvel Studios | 2016) Recently, an interesting argument surrounding Marvel's television series and films has arisen: Marvel has a maturity problem. In March, YouTuber Pillar of Garbage uploaded a video called "Moon Knight and Marvel's Maturity Problem," a video that focused on Disney+'s newest MCU series Moon Knight (At the time of this posting, the limited series has just wrapped and all six episodes are available to stream on the platform) and Marvel's seeming inability to embrace quote-unquote 'mature' elements such as blood and graphic violence (because, apparently, that makes media mature... I guess?) in the way that the Marvel-Netflix collaborative project did with shows like Daredevil and Jessica Jones. While I don't agree with every aspect of that essay (For the record, I don't find Daredevil and Jessica Jones mature for their inclusion of blood and violence; rather, I think those shows are mature because of how they approach complex subjects like alcoholism, sexual assault, religion, retributive justice, and mental health without skirting the issue completely or coming to a simplistic conclusion about them.), I do think it raises a discussion worth having. Whether it is due the corporate mandates of the Mouse in the High Castle (a.k.a. Disney) or due to a genuine inability to recapture the mature tone of their Netflix project, Marvel Studios does struggle to approach mature subject matter in a way that respects the intellect of their audience and engages them meaningfully. In some cases, I do believe they have. For instance, Moon Knight has found visually and narratively inventive ways of depicting Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) and what it is like for someone to live with DID, despite the show's unusual reluctance to actually use the term DID. Another example can be found in a movie like Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings as Tony Leung's Wenwu became convinced that he could bring his deceased wife back through mystical means, giving audiences a snapshot into how people struggle to process their grief and accept the loss of loved ones. With that said, these moments happen every once in awhile for Marvel; it's not consistent enough, which, I believe, is what viewers like Pillar of Garbage would like to see more of. (Granted, I think this concept of "humor = immaturity/violence = maturity" is faulty... but agree to disagree, of course.) As I rewatched Doctor Strange, however, I was really moved by the film's treatment of life and death. In comic books and their movie and TV adaptations, the question of whether superheroes should kill has become a pressing one -- even moreso in the wake of last year's global Movement for Black Lives uprisings, which led to commentary regarding superhero media as a form of copaganda. In the same year Doctor Strange was released, Warner Bros. released Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice, which became the subject of controversy due to Zack Snyder's flagrant disregard of Batman's famous "no guns, no kills" rule. Some criticized the creative choice as further evidence that Snyder doesn't understand the characters he's been hired to adapt for the big screen, others argued that Batman resorting to killing is in line with the character's transformation into an older, brutal vigilante. Regardless of where you stand on the choice, the conversations it raised led to a bigger, necessary question being posed: Why don't heroes address the moral and psychological implications/consequences of taking a life? Doctor Strange decided to tackle this question in a more authentic way when compared to Batman v Superman (which essentially had Ben Affleck grunt, "I failed this time, but I won't fail in the future.") and the other major superheroes vs superheroes movie Captain America: Civil War (which started with the complex introduction of the Sokovia Accords and then devolved into "Protect Bucky Barnes at all Costs!", then ricocheting back to the fraying of the already-fragile relationship between Tony and Steve Rogers). In one scene, Strange kills one of Kaecilius's henchmen in a pretty clear case of self-defense, but rather than just move on, he is deeply disturbed. Although he knows that the henchman was a threat to himself and to Earth as a whole, Strange hates that he had to take a life; it goes against his values as a doctor and a person, but Mordo and the Ancient One coldly overlook this. They argue that Stephen was only acting logically and pragmatically, but he already knows that. Pragmatism doesn't make what Stephen did right, and he rejects that conclusion, much to the chagrin of Mordo and the Ancient One, who harshly judge him for understandably feeling troubled by killing another person in any context. It's a refreshing contrast from other comic book/superhero movies that see heroic and villainous characters enact near-cartoonish levels of intense violence and destruction without a care in the world. As viewers, we've been trained to associate violence with a superhero's idea of proper justice (I guess that explains why people are more than willing to forgive Hawkeye for going full John Wick on a bunch of nameless, faceless Japanese criminals in Endgame, but I digress.), so much so that it is never questioned, much less by the actual characters caught up in violent situations. Rarely is such an association questioned in any piece of mainstream media, let alone comic book/superhero movies. The way in which Strange is vocal and proactive about his principles and values not only humanizes him and lends the film an unexpected level of emotional realism, but it also makes him a far more compelling character. With heroes and villains, the audience is expected to suspend their disbelief and simply buy them as good or evil, so I appreciate it when a piece of superhero media upends the notion of good/evil and/or right/wrong. After all, humanity and the human condition isn't this neat and clean, so to lean into the ambiguity of that experience and explore a person's morality with greater depth is always interesting to me as a viewer. It's also a stronger indication of maturity than a simple shot of blood spatter. About the Whitewashing... Tilda Swinton as the Ancient One and Benedict Cumberbatch as Stephen Strange in Marvel Studios' Doctor Strange (Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures and Marvel Studios | 2016) I'm sure, reader, you already know the story but in case you may not remember here's the shortened version. Doctor Strange was met with controversy from the beginning due to the casting of Swinton, a white British actress, as the Ancient One, a character who has been portrayed in the comics as a Tibetan man. As a result, the Media Action Network for Asian Americans publicly criticized the casting choice as whitewashing since Derrickson and Marvel Studios made the conscious decision to erase the Ancient One's Asianness. It is worth noting, however, that the Ancient One has embodied the "magical Asian" stereotype in the comic books, and Derrickson and Supreme Leader/Marvel Studios head Kevin Feige saw Swinton's casting as a means of combatting the already-racist undertones of an outdated character. But casting Swinton only made things worse. In addition to eliciting a strong response from comedian Margaret Cho, who reached out to Swinton via e-mail to discuss the controversy, the recasting of the Ancient One came with additional, uncomfortable implications for Marvel Studios to deal with. By transforming the Ancient One into an all-powerful Celtic woman, Derrickson and Marvel played into the falsehood that the same stereotypes that aim to harm marginalized people of color also affect (white) women, not to mention the falsehood that race and gender are mutually exclusive identities. Moreover, the concerns Derrickson and Marvel had about the Ancient One reinforces the fact that the Doctor Strange comics of the 1960s and 1970s were always prejudiced toward East Asian people; the comics depicted East Asian people and culture through an Orientalist lens, something Derrickson was fully aware of going into co-writing and directing the film. Despite his awareness of the Ancient One and Wong being victims of Orientalism in the comics, Derrickson's film, sadly, plays into the Orientalist vision of the East as the mystical opposite of the rational West through both its production design and through Strange's own beliefs about the Ancient One and Kamar-Taj. Needless to say, you can't fight off Orientalism with Orientalism. Personally, I wish the Ancient One was played by an East Asian man, woman, or non-binary actor. Not only would it have given Derrickson and Marvel Studios a genuine opportunity to combat the underlying racism of the Ancient One character, it would have also given them an opportunity to deliver stronger Asian representation. Remember, Doctor Strange came out in 2016; it wouldn't be until five years later when audiences were introduced to Simu Liu's Shang-Chi, the first male Asian protagonist in an MCU feature. Furthermore, 2021 also saw Marvel sign on its first Asian female filmmaker, Chloe Zhao, to co-write and direct Eternals, the first MCU film to feature an Asian female protagonist, Gemma Chan's Sersi. Regardless of how you feel about Shang-Chi or Eternals, I think we can all agree that Doctor Strange gave Marvel Studios its first real opportunity to begin course-correcting the issues the franchise has had with their depiction of Asian and Asian-American people and their cultures within their television and movies. The fact they waited five years to not only introduce two Asian protagonists but to also allow Wong more time on his own is disheartening, to say the least. Unfortunately, we cannot go back in time. Swinton made two appearances in the MCU as the Ancient One, both of which took place before the release of Shang-Chi and Eternals, respectively. Although she was great, it was difficult to watch Swinton and not cringe. Having that background knowledge of the Ancient One, as well as the knowledge that Orientalism likely affected Derrickson's choice to rewrite the character as a Celtic white woman, just makes Swinton stick out like a sore thumb. Here, you have an actor who is on top of her game, playing a character that simply wasn't meant for her. It goes without saying that whitewashing remains a massive issue in the American film industry, one that extends beyond casting. Just because significant gains have been made in Asian representation in the last few years does not mean Hollywood has retired from the whitewashing business. If Marvel, and the entire film industry overall, is serious about their commitment to diversity, they need to re-examine the methods they have utilized to exclude and erase the marginalized, and that includes whitewashing. We Can't End This Post Without Talking About the Orientalism... A glimpse into mystic arts training at Kamar-Taj from Marvel Studios' Doctor Strange (Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures and Marvel Studios | 2016) In another fitting Instagram post I found this week, @spacetomboy shared in her stories a screencap of a tweet from @scriptlett that contained the following truth-bomb: "Western storytelling is a fascinating extension of colonialism because we assume it's how stories should always be told." This truth-bomb immediately reminded me of an argument Edward Said put forth in his groundbreaking book Orientalism. To Said, the Western film industry reinforces "the stereotypes by which the Orient is viewed [...] into more and more standardized molds..." When I first watched Doctor Strange, I was still in high school, so I had no knowledge of Said or his complex (and controversial) book. I had heard of the term "Orientalism" but had no idea what it meant or what it was referring to. It wasn't until college when I was assigned to read Said and developed a better understanding of the concept of Orientalism. Now that I have some familiarity with Said's ideas, I couldn't ignore the Orientalism of Doctor Strange with the same ease I had as an oblivious teenager. While Orientalism does not contain a clear definition of the concept the book takes its title from, Said provides many instances in which Orientalist practices and ideas help reinforce the hegemonic binary of East versus West. As Said defines, 'the Orient' is a catch-all term that refers to the nations and cultures of the Middle East and Asia, a generalization that encapsulates all of the other generalizations made about Eastern cultures, religions, and aesthetics. Furthermore, Orientalism creates the generalized understanding that the East is an exotic, alluring, and mystical alternative to the rational, science-based West, which, in turn, further reinforces the falsehood that Western modernity and colonization led to a more stable, balanced, and prospering civilization. (Spoiler alert: It does not. Western colonization -- by "Western", I am referring to various European nations such as England and France -- colonization devastated traditional societies and economies outside of the West, exploiting Middle Eastern and African people and their resources.) For Doctor Strange to succeed with the protagonist's arc and its overall plot, it has to rely on the Orientalist-influenced binary of the West as the rational default and the East as its mystical opposite. As a result, viewers are treated to Strange's obnoxious assumptions about the East/non-Western religious beliefs, cultural practices, approaches to medicine and healing. (At one point, Strange sneers at the Ancient One that he has no time for "healing through belief" because he doesn't "believe in fairy tales about chakras or energy or the power of belief.") The film not only needs Strange to have these beliefs, it also needs the audience to have these beliefs. That way, Strange's transformation from an arrogant man who puts his faith in science to a selfless hero who believes in the power of magic and belief is more affecting for the viewer, because it likely mirrors the (Western) traditional journey of self-discovery through spiritual enlightenment. Although I found Strange's character arc successful because of how the film humanizes him and explicitly parses out his morality, it would be wrong to overlook how much Doctor Strange relies on Orientalism to get the reaction it is likely looking for out of its audience. And all of this is without mentioning the production design of the film. Despite being set in Kathmandu, Nepal, Doctor Strange does not explicitly work with Nepalese religious or cultural practices. Instead, it deploys a generalized mish-mash of various Eastern cultural aesthetics and ideals, as well as various Eastern religious practices and beliefs. Rather than adhering to the beliefs, ideals, and values that might be associated with Nepalese culture, Doctor Strange creates an indefinable identity soup that's charming to both the viewer and Strange himself. "The Orient was almost a Western invention," writes Said, "and had been since antiquity a place of romance, exotic beings, haunting memories and landscapes, [and] remarkable experiences." In that regard, Doctor Strange's plot is really no different from the plots of various action/adventure or action/sci-fi films of the past that were set outside of the West: take an American character out of their comfort zone, transplant them to the East where magic and danger can be found at every corner, and place them on a remarkable adventure -- in this case, the remarkable adventure being Strange becoming a magic user, and, ultimately, the Sorcerer Supreme, by learning to accept the knowledge of Eastern mysticism. It is the only way Strange can attain a higher state of being and transform into a better version of himself, let alone the white male hero who can preserve the mystic knowledge and abilities that would have likely been lost after the death of the film's initial white savior, the Ancient One. As I mentioned in the previous section, the American film industry needs to re-evaluate the methods it employs to exclude, dehumanize, and deminish marginalized people of different backgrounds, including race and ethnicity. Just like whitewashing, Orientalism is a sinister aspect prevalent throughout American cinema, and given American cinema is often a reflection of contemporary American culture, it is most definitely a pressing issue. It's difficult to watch Doctor Strange now that Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings is part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Of course, Shang-Chi is not a perfect movie and its attempt at Asian and Asian-American representation has also been the subject of conversation, but it feels more authentic and respectful than Doctor Strange's blatant Orientalism. How Multiverse of Madness will tackle this remains to be seen, but, given Marvel's track record with inclusivity and representation, I doubt it will be handled with a deft hand, let alone scrutinized at all. Welcome (Back) to the Multiverse (or, In Conclusion) Ready to enter the Multiverse? (Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures and Marvel Studios | 2022) Lest I run the risk of making you, dear readers, think I am not looking forward to Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, I'd like to assure you that I have the opposite feeling. I've been looking forward to a Doctor Strange sequel for awhile, but I would be lying to you if I said I didn't feel uneasy. Part of this stems from how Strange has been handled by different writers and directors in the MCU. Whereas Infinity War and Endgame felt like a genuine continuation of Strange's growth into an altruistic Avenger, No Way Home was an unnecessary regression to the pre-magical Strange. Prior to No Way Home's release, there was speculation and fan theories that the Strange helping Peter from was not the real Strange, but my response to that was, "Have y'all seen Doctor Strange?" Unfortunately, the Doctor Strange of No Way Home was indeed the real Strange, but one that felt oddly out of place. The snark and arrogance was recognizable, but his choice to let the multiversal visitors who found their way to the Prime Earth of the MCU die was too harsh to ignore. Yet, No Way Home did just that. Peter was willing to help rehabilitate the numerous villains who found their way to the Prime Earth, even though the cost of doing so was immense, while Strange already gave up on them and asked Peter to let fate run its course by letting them die in their universes. (Sorry, Benedict Cumberbatch, but Doctor Strange definitely needs to be criticized for his actions in No Way Home, both magical and moral.) It was so jarring to watch Cumberbatch deliver those lines (expertly, might I add) because, as a viewer, I know that Strange would have an issue taking a life or letting someone die. As he tells Mordo and the Ancient One after killing one of Kaecilius's zealots in self-defense, "When I became a doctor, I swore an oath to do no harm, and I have just killed a man and I'm not doing that again! I became a doctor to save lives, not take them." (emphasis mine) I know that Strange hates killing; he finds it repulsive. Yet, No Way Home decided Strange would be fine with letting Doc Ock, Electro, and Green Goblin die for no reason except plot progression and character development. By juxtaposing the callous and cruel Strange with the kind and gracious Peter Parker, it's immediately telegraphed to the audience that Peter is the one you root for, that -- once again -- Peter has a better handle on what it means to be a hero and a human being than the adult heroes around him. Peter was always dismissed because of his youthfulness and naïveté by the Avengers, but No Way Home demonstrates that Peter is more thoughtful and mature than they give him credit for. It's the kind of character development that has been consistent throughout the Tom Holland Spider-Man movies, but I can't help but question why did the movie have to bring down Stephen Strange to get Peter there. An argument can be made that Strange was changed by the events of Endgame, so much so that he may have finally understood why Mordo and the Ancient One had no qualms about fighting and killing, but the movie never devotes much time to that. (Of course, No Way Home is a Spider-Man movie, not a Doctor Strange movie. But you could also make the argument that Peter didn't need Strange to open the multiverse, that maybe Xochitl Gomez's America Chavez could have made her cinematic debut in No Way Home instead...) Instead, you get a Strange who acts weirdly out of character with little to no elaboration on why that is. At best, Cumberbatch's appearance in No Way Home is a glorified cameo; at worst, it's a terrible re-introduction to one of the MCU's more morally mature characters. Yet, Marvel is coupling that Strange with the grieving Wanda Maximoff, who we last saw fleeing Westview after the events of WandaVision. Seemingly trapped in a shitty Groundhog Day of loss, pain, and loneliness, Wanda has turned to the Darkhold, that creepy spellbook she obtained in WandaVision's finale, and, now, we have no idea what its power has in store for her. Especially since she learned of her true fate as the Scarlet Witch, a moniker that had not been given to her in the MCU until the finale, and prophesies her as more powerful than the Sorcerer Supreme -- and, possibly, in any other being in the Multiverse. As of publishing this post, Wanda's presence in Multiverse of Madness has garnered mixed reception; her arc is either considered the greatest heel turn in the history of the comic book/superhero movie genre or the most repugnant, sexist moment since Age of Ultron made Black Widow call herself a monster because she was forcibly sterilized and unable to have children. Judging by the few criticisms I've seen so far, and the reaction to those criticisms, it seems is highly likely we'll continue to be terrible at talking about Wanda, grief, who we allow to be antiheroes and villains, and the mental health of women and femmes on the Internet, because... of course we will be. In a time where outrage is the norm and critical conversations are for squares, it will be a long time before I can talk to anyone else about Wanda and WandaVision without being immediately exhausted by people showing their asses -- and WandaVision has been out for a whole damn year. Maybe one day, I'll write about it, but, for now, I'd like to preserve my energy and channel it elsewhere. Speaking of which, let's talk about what I am looking forward to with Multiverse of Madness. I'm very excited to see Sam Raimi return to the world of superheroes and supervillains; his Spider-Man trilogy (yes, that includes Spider-Man 3) remains some of my favorite comic book/superhero movies of all time, but I see that his vision for Doctor Strange is skewing much closer to his indie horror roots. As the brains behind the original Evil Dead trilogy and Drag Me to Hell, it seems that Marvel Studios (and Disney) want to push the MCU further into the realm of horror, which doesn't seem too far-fetched considering that Moon Knight feels much closer to a psychological thriller/drama than a standard cape-and-tights adventure. It reminds me of the old days of the MCU, when the franchise was willing to experiment with different genres -- e.g. Ant-Man as a heist comedy; Guardians of the Galaxy as a screwball space-opera; and Thor as a Shakespearean family drama -- and take risks with the filmmakers and writers they'd welcome into their growing brain-trust. Even if it doesn't turn out well, Raimi feels like a bold choice for Marvel (and Disney), and it is nice to see they are still willing to take those big swings. The Multiverse holds an infinite range of possibilities. I wonder if it's got a good Doctor Strange sequel in there, too. Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is in theaters now. Doctor Strange is available to stream on Disney Plus in 4K, IMAX Enhanced UHD. This Blerd is Online.
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