For better or for worse, Zack Snyder has become one of the most divisive names in blockbuster filmmaking working today; to some he is a misunderstood visionary, and to others he represents all of Hollywood’s greatest evils. Never shying away from subject matter and source material that invites polarising responses, his films are grand, personal, and immediately identifiable. In retrospect, it seems inevitable that when he turned his eye to some of pop culture’s most iconic and established figures, people would respond with less than unanimous adoration. People have very established ideas of how these characters should be represented, arguably to the detriment of their potential.
My personal relationship with Snyder’s DC films has been a tumultuous one to say the least, I enjoyed Man of Steel on release but over the years grew less fond, and I had never had much love for Batman v Superman. Rewatching these films in preparation this week I found my opinions had changed massively and I especially came to love Man of Steel for everything Snyder’s Superman (Henry Cavill) represented about forging your own idea of hope. With the last few years in mind, the implication that these films were ever less subtle than reality feels almost comical. With a newfound respect for Snyder’s approach, I went into Zack Snyder’s Justice League excited to see where he was going to take these characters in the wake of Superman’s death.
From its opening moments, Justice League is coloured by that loss, acting not only as a literal signal that earth is unguarded but a warning to the audience that the hope Superman represented is at risk once again. The film takes this not as an excuse to regress into the dour and depressing but to instead a chance to forge ahead into something new. An early action scene starring Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) saving a group of schoolchildren is as exciting and heroic as any superhero has ever been. When we are reunited with Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck), recruiting League members to create a world safe without Superman, it is an incredibly rewarding parallel to the paranoid rage driving him in the previous movie. This is the framework through which we are introduced to the remaining Justice League members and though the vague threat of an unnamed something on the horizon feels somewhat underwhelming as a motivator, it is an effective way to foreground the undeniable goodness of these new recruits.
A significant amount of this film’s four-hour runtime is spent putting the team together, but to its credit, these characters are so charmingly drawn and unique in their personal starting points that the film doesn’t remotely drag. Each hero gets a fun introduction: with The Flash (Ezra Miller) starring in the slow motion scene Zack Snyder was born to make. But, the unequivocal standout is Ray Fisher’s Cyborg. Aptly described by Snyder as the heart of the film, Cyborg’s position as the bridge between humanity and the alien as well as his genuinely moving story about rebirth and forgiveness ground the film emotionally in a way it absolutely needed. The Flash’s story though less significant also makes for a really powerfully cathartic moment in the final act. Despite the critical insistence that Snyder’s DC movies were somehow hindered by going straight for the big teamup, the feeling of watching the Justice League come together from all over because of Kal-El’s sacrifice is incredibly satisfying on its own and there is very little about these characters that would be better served by having had their origins played out for two hours beforehand. The character work in this movie is a joy to watch, and though he does not have as much screen time as I would have liked, I think even skeptics will appreciate where Snyder takes Cavill’s Superman. The performances are all well utilised and well directed even from actors I haven’t traditionally been a fan of. Ray Fisher is an absolute standout and it is vindicating to see Ben Affleck’s Batman as an out and out hero.
A longstanding criticism of Zack Snyder is that he has always been more interested in creating striking images than compelling stories, and while I can’t say I agree, this film is regularly an epic visual experience. The narrow aspect ratio leads to framing more reminiscent of comic book panels than maybe any other superhero movie, finding a really effective balance between larger than life action and grounded drama. It’s a stunning film to look at and even the stretches of big CG action are staged with an impressive awareness of scale and character. It is a shame that this wasn’t able to be seen on the big screen, because it is a popcorn blockbuster in its purest form. While Snyder’s strengths as an image maker are the one thing that have never really been in doubt, even when compared to the rest of his filmography there are some unforgettable compositions and sequences here — Snyder’s fascination with the human body as a weapon is right at home in his staging of superhuman action.
As what is likely Zack Snyder’s last DC movie, it’s a shame that there are so many threads that will never be followed up on, but it is also a very fulfilling conclusion to the ideas of the movies that came before. Where Man of Steel and Batman v Superman engage with Superman as an existential and ultimately inhuman threat, Justice League makes his humanity absolutely unquestionable. Even if we never see what happens next, the League coming together at all is an incredibly rewarding payoff to Snyder’s promise of creating a world where the classically hopeful Superman makes sense, where sincere hope is earned and not assumed because it’s simpler than reality.
It would be strange to not mention the unusual path this film took to the screen, but there is little to say about Joss Whedon’s version besides everything it proves for the strength of Snyder’s vision. There is a charm to knowing the story of how this came to be, tragic as that story is and it provides an indelible level of triumph to its existence. Without attempting to read any minds, the retroactive addition of a billboard for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention that mirrors a moment in the film’s climax does suggest some kind of personal catharsis in this film’s release for Zack Snyder, and it’s very hard to root against that. Cyborg proclaiming “I’m not broken, and I’m not alone” brings the films themes of connection and acceptance to a really powerful peak, and ultimately I hope the legacy of Zack Snyder’s Justice League will be a reminder of the value of taking things as what they are, not what we wish they were.
Snyder’s film is not perfect, but it is an infinitely more sincere expression of its ideas and themes than Whedon’s, shaped by focus groups and studio mandates and already dated snark could ever hope to be.
