Review: ‘Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness’

In 1961, following a period of consistent stagnation and spurred on by the success of rival publisher DC, the publisher then known as Timely Comics launched a new line of superhero books under the supervision of writer and editor Stan Lee, simultaneously rebranding itself as Marvel Comics. Where DC had been able to revive their characters from the “golden age” of superhero comics, Lee and his collaborators were met with the challenge of starting fresh to create a slate of heroes capable of rivalling Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. Lee’s approach was two-fold; first, he drew from the company’s history as a publisher of pulp and romance comics, creating heroes with real world problems and real world drama. Second, they prioritised the idea of the shared universe, creating a continuity with a real sense that any of these characters could cross paths at any moment. While not the first to the punch, that almost all these characters inhabited the same city worked in their favour to create a world that felt consistent between issues.

This approach worked incredibly well, capturing the attention of a new generation of fans and embedding Marvel’s heroes into pop culture, advantaged by Lee’s abilities as a salesman. One of those fans was a young Sam Raimi who would channel that love of comic books first into Darkman after failing to secure the rights for pulp hero The Shadow, before his vision for a sincere, classical take on Spider-Man landed him the once in a lifetime directing job. Following some time away from the genre after the lukewarm reception of 2007’s Spider-Man 3, Raimi’s return to the space as director of Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness was in his own words provoked by the thought “I wonder if I could still do it.”

Multiverse of Madness finds Doctor Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) in the emotional aftermath of Avengers: Endgame, though the character’s role in the recent Spider-Man: No Way Home does not go totally unmentioned. The script, rewritten by Loki writer Michael Waldron in close collaboration with Raimi reframes Strange’s confident assertion that “there was no other way” in the recent Avengers movies as the source of unsettling doubt regarding his role in their consequences, building a somewhat loose thematic bridge from the first film’s interrogation of his arrogance. It is in this emotional space that we, along with Strange are introduced to young America Chavez (Xochitl Gomez) and launched into a chase across the titular multiverse, though one that splits most of its time across only two universes.

Though always beloved, Raimi’s original Spider-Man trilogy is often praised now specifically for what it does that modern superhero movies don’t. Their specific, inventive direction and romantic heartfelt tone are a far cry from the Marvel Cinematic Universe which even at its best trades in familiarity and snark. With Multiverse of Madness, Raimi searches for a middle ground. A self professed fan of Doctor Strange from a young age, he mines the character for a depth that while simplistic on the surface is supported by a singular understanding of how these stories can best be told cinematically.

While the Spider-Man connection is obvious, Raimi most directly pulls from his roots as a horror filmmaker, not least in a direct homage to Evil Dead 2. Raimi’s multiverse is a fractal pattern of horror, distortion, and haunted houses with even the film’s obligatory cameos taking the form of an ineffective committee of clowns. It’s an unexpectedly nihilistic outlook that lays the groundwork clearly for the film’s shift into the downright macabre, with a third act that feels like a concerted effort to remind audiences that Raimi can by any measure still “do it.” This vision for the character is most heavily carried by Benedict Cumberbatch who builds on an already entertaining performance but most clearly revels in the opportunities Raimi provides to embody that horror.

The film is undoubtedly shot with a far greater sense of texture and reality than other franchise entries despite its supernatural direction, but more important than its simple image-making is the film’s rhythm. The sharp shifts between action and comedy that comprise other MCU films are largely not present as the film lives mostly in the frantic space between the two that Raimi defined in Evil Dead 2. Similarly, scenes are constructed with both a clear purpose and an economy of time and thought that runs counter to the franchise’s propensity for excess. More directly, this is an awareness that can be traced back to comic books themselves; with an average 22 pages of maybe ten panels each, comic book storytelling is resourceful by necessity, placing greater emphasis on images to be moved between. This is complemented by Raimi’s scrappy horror sensibilities and ultimately the result is a sense of formal urgency that drives the film even through moments that could otherwise feel like formality.

There’s an idea of the ideal comic book movie as detached from continuity, totally standalone and able to define its own world from the ground up. While this approach will no doubt lead to projects that feel more singular, it’s a pretty far cry from how superhero stories themselves are traditionally told. The interconnected Marvel universe that the company bet so strongly on in the 60s has been chugging along almost without pause for about 60 years by now and comprises thousands of stories from a similarly large number of creatives. People who tell stories within that continuity do so with an understanding that their work will become part of a larger tapestry and the most successful stories born from that context tend to be the ones that do something new with what people already know. Stories like Grant Morrison’s Animal Man, Tom King’s Mister Miracle or Alan Moore’s reinvention of Captain Britain are iconic because of how successfully they take the familiar or misunderstood in totally new directions, revealing qualities that you almost wonder how you could have missed. I have little doubt that a totally standalone Doctor Strange movie designed by Sam Raimi from the ground up would be incredibly cool, but what is most exciting about this one is the way Raimi turns to the genre’s history to show the rest of the franchise exactly what it’s missing out on.

Raimi’s reinvention of Stephen Strange is the most subtly important piece of the puzzle. With the introduction of a new backstory mirroring Raimi’s own childhood, scenes that find him struggling to balance his heroism with his love life, and the undercurrent of nervous pre-emptive guilt behind the character’s bravado, the film turns Strange into the kind of hero it’s hard not to root for. As its director had previously done for Spider-Man, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness presents its star as a real man in an unreal world and in the incalculable expanse of the multiverse, offers that knowing we are real, that our thoughts and fears are understood by the people around us, is a pretty good place to start.