Reaction Shots: Goodbye Dragon Inn. Hello Snyder Cut
Plus The Noah Berlatsky Award for Terrible Take
The Snyder Cut Redeems Superheroes
Justice League was the kind of cinematic flop that would leave many delays. One of them was the DCEU not expanding further than Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman, staying in the shadow of the Marvel Cinematic Universe that has been ubiquitous in the landscape. And it was a rush job, with Joss Whedon taking over directing duties, rewriting the script multiple times while Zack Snyder had a family tragedy to tend for. The humor, so derived from Marvel’s superheroes quipping every ten minutes, was often misplaced. The characters were underdeveloped, and the assumption that to understand every narrative chunk through multiple preceding films - Man of Steel, Batman v Superman and Wonder Woman - was already cemented. Justice League was so rushed that Warner Bros spent $70 million or so to cover Henry Cavill’s mustache from Mission Impossible Fallout with ghastly CGI.
That’s also the estimated budget to revamp the film under Snyder’s unadulterated vision, after years of fans campaigning for such a cut to be released in public. Zack Snyder’s Justice League is here, and it is four hours long, with an intensely muted color palette. What’s undeniable is that the Snyder Cut is vastly (but not radically) different from the theatrical cut. It trimmed much of the quips, allowing for some of the heroes, particularly Flash, to take this mission seriously. Each character, especially Cyborg, is allowed to have a more susceptible arc and motivation. And for the two hours added, the film is split into parts and restrained to a 4:3 aspect ratio, it explores only one thing: how (not what, when, and why) do superheroes matter?
Your opinion of the Snyder Cut may depend on what you think it represents. So far, we’ve heard that the Snyder Cut was something that’s finally fulfilled by the ‘toxicity’ of a passionate fanbase. We’ve heard that it serves as a substantial counter-argument against the current slate of superhero movies that takes the artistry of a distinctive filmmaker seriously. Or in one case, a film that redeems itself from expanding the narrative of the only minority lead actor, that he was expended in the theatrical cut. Personally, what the release represents, had Warner Bros trusted Snyder more, with him being further aware of his instincts, is that it’s a better expression than what we had in 2017.
Zack Snyder has the ability to make an immersive image out of a decent idea, but they come across as pompous and bare-bones in execution. That is why much of his oeuvre felt unconvincing. His Justice League, however, is light on a few, except for the one about why superheroes are essentially born from myths, that they’re god-like titans. I remember when a commentator preferred Justice League to The Avengers, who says that the latter’s heroes there are basically like characters cut out from The Real Housewives. The drama is sometimes trivial, primarily because they just get pass along pop culture references like normies. Meanwhile, DC’s statuesque characters save the world because that’s what they’re meant to do.
Snyder does not just prove that they are our saviors coming out of the sky, but that they are beyond human. One of Wonder Woman’s better functions is to explain the mythos surrounding the mother boxes that Steppenwolf - a middle manager to Darkseid - try to take, so that his universe can take over Earth, and in consequence, 50,000 more planets. It’s demonstrated by this romantic scene of Amazonians, Green Lanterns, and Atlantians defending their land as if it’s on the verge of resembling paintings like Dante and Virgil in Hell. Flash, who has another function beyond being the comic relief, transcends time by running through the slowest of slow motions. That’s one side of the dichotomy and this works, with the Academy ratio enhancing such intrigue. The other half of it is in the heroes, whose personal motivations are challenged that they have the altruistic status to take it seriously. Cyborg thankfully has much more depth, sometimes focused on his relationship with his scientist father. We see flashbacks of how his body is overwhelmingly robotic, with only a face to suffice. His near-perfect physicality and intellect make him capable of absorbing all possible information and seeing the end of history several times over. Bruce Wayne is on an introspection trip to revive Superman, after their fight in Batman V Superman, that’s basically a schoolyard fight. The Flash’s looking to save his father from prison, in spite of his protestations, but his running is more powerful than he’s less of a quip-man and more of a person who sees the world, much like Cyborg, with many possibilities that he can take advantage of the best moment.
The Snyder Cut is not without its flaws, however, and it less derived from his tendencies than the demand of long content. Given that the majority of the film is meditative, some parts tend to lose their overall effect. Lois Lane is just used as a stand-in for anyone who misses Superman and she disappears once he returns from the dead. The ending, which is another BvS-styled Knightmare that features Batman and the Joker together, contradicts the tone that the cut was going for, instead needlessly promising to world-build into another franchise. It’s part of a conveyor belt, so expecting another part once it succeeds would be inevitable.
The most important part of the Snyder Cut that makes it infinitely superior to the Whedon release is that he manages to make heartfelt optimism more plausible. Granted, there is no revelation that is comparable to the unicorn dream in the final cut of Blade Runner that allowed a radical hint of its hero’s identity. But the depth of each character, previously undercut by studio interference to meet lopsided standards, is there and it’s made for somebody who wants to believe that this group can be capable of being a protector. Whedon presumed that a bright, but flat aesthetic bouncing off the heroes’ color is sufficient enough to communicate that tone. You gotta have faith that it’ll work. And as Batman tells Alfred, he’ll put that over reason. And it works.
Movie of the Week: Goodbye Dragon Inn (2003)
The Snyder Cut was released to HBO Max and I can’t help but think, it would be more than its value’s worth had it been screened at a movie theatre. They occupy the majority of the timeslots when nothing else big is playing for now, with a passionate fanbase that could result in a significant box office return. As a traditionalist who believes that experience is more impactful than streaming, Goodbye Dragon Inn, released in 2003 and directed by Tsai Ming Liang, was made for me.
There are movies about the process of movies. There are tons you can find about developing a screenplay, directors fighting over power-hungry executives, and actors losing themselves on set. But there are few are about moviegoing, and at its core, they are pretty whimsical, because cinema itself plays into a fantasy. Tsai avoids that and the viewer spends 88 minutes observing the final day of a Taipei theatre, The Fu-Ho, showing its last screening of King Hu’s 1967 wuxia epic Dragon Inn (hence the title). We meet several characters: the limp female caretaker who looks after the venue and its facilities; a Japanese tourist who watches the movie, as its audience declines, and several other patrons, who behave in a way any moviegoer would have been familiar with.
I emphasize the relatability of Goodbye Dragon Inn, because there are many behaviors beyond what I’ve mentioned that I’ve seen that reminded me so much of what happens in a movie theatre. The ability to literally see yourself (not in terms of quota-fulfilling representation) is a cathartic feeling that Tsai captures really quietly. The hint that Fu- Ho’s bathroom is somewhere for men to hook up increases its dimensions. The long hours one has to take - especially if you’re one of the few employees - to ensure that the place is clean, the projectors keep operating adds another dimension. However the industry is declining and whatever the trends they’re chasing, the adventure of watching a movie in a giant venue, with surrounding seats, is a nuanced, if not, an optimistic thesis. And it stays forever, because of the memories.
As tempting to write about what makes Goodbye Dragon Inn palatable to a normie, it is not beholden by relevance. If you’ve ever seen director Tsai Ming-Liang’s films before, minimalism is his forte. Shots that stay there for more than two minutes, usually in large yet empty spaces, permits its subject to have a complex identity, rather than the presumed dichotomy of dread and nostalgia. The Japanese tourist bothered by the irritating patron, while trying to get close with another man - much to his annoyances - makes for some comedic value. The contrast to Dragon Inn’s maximalism to the emptiness of the screening is precise. In Goodbye, it feels like we didn’t waste any of our time.
The Noah Berlatsky Award for Terrible Take
Uhhh… phrasing.