Oh ... grr. ARGH.
Or, How I Pissed Off My Entire FList (Except One And I Know Who You Are)
Yeah, so ... I saw The Avengers. Um. It was ... okay, mostly?
(This is not a joke. This is not a test. Sorry everyone. I didn't want to bring the Debbie Downer to the squee party, she just sat there on my shoulder the whole time and made really good points that I couldn't dismiss. So, I'ma write some down and try to get to grips with the whole thing. But you don't have to read it! Avert your eyes! Run - run while you still can so that you'll still like me! SAVE YOURSELVES!!!)
There will be spoilers for the movie below. Obviously.
First up, I will say the good: it wasn't bad. It was shiny and kaboomy and, uh, shiny, and it got the job done, picked us up at A and delivered us firmly to B. There were moments, genuine moments of oh hey, that worked amidst the flow of so, hey, that happened.
Second up, I will make disclaimers: I fully recognise that it's a prerequisite to Turn Off Brain, Munch Popcorn with these kinds of things. I likewise recognise that my failure to do so is mine alone, and not the fault of the shiny, shiny screen. Furthermore, this is the result of a single watching, and subsequent conversation with my brother and sister-in-law, who I saw it with. I'm sure I missed Things.
Also, and this is important: I love every single one of you who loved it and have already squeed all over the place about it. Love. You all. I don't want to be some elitist killjoy shouting smugly that the emperor has no clothes just to be that guy. Besides, I suspect the emperor is wearing spandex ... he's just not quite pulling it off. This is - I'm frustrated. I wanted to love it. I didn't. This is me working through that, and any thoughts anyone who's actually reading this has are welcome (as long as it doesn't boil down to, "Just turn your brain off and enjoy it," because that ship has sailed). Also, a lot of this may simply come down to personal taste, and that's okay. Because everyone else appears to be off their nut about it. It's not that I don't understand why (or at least I think I understand why), but clearly I don't quite share everyone else's criteria. I'm trying not to just react against the overwhelming glee that's radiating off the internet like midsummer noon off asphalt, but if there's an occasional petty push-back in this, that's probably what it is, because I'm contrary that way.
Third up, I will talk some more about the good: by and large, I liked the Hulk. I actually never bothered to watch either previous Hulk incarnation, but I have yet to see Mark Ruffalo ever be a bad casting choice. (He even pulled off the Token Angst Moment of I tried to kill myself with dignity - which is more than I can say for its inclusion. See next section*.) The rapport which formed between him and Tony worked for me, the pathos and the humour and the shared intellectual and emotional language they spoke. (This also laid the groundwork and emotional logic (aka "motivation") for the one single choice of action that I can remember that made in-story character sense to me.) The two Hulk-on-demigod physical humour gags were amusing, too; I appreciated that. Especially by that point in the runtime.
Other than that - Thor had a moment or two where I sensed the gravitas of a maturing demigod. The hammer felt heavy and integral to his character, rather than silly, as it did have the potential to be. Loki had charisma and woobieness enough to smooth over most of the glitches on his end of things. Their connection didn't feel contrived (I haven't seen Thor, either, although I'm guessing that contributed to their relationship this time around). (And the meta for it is phenomenal, and on that note, the fandom as a whole is incredible. Overwrought and epic and fervid and darkly whimsical, everything the concept has the potential for and that the movie aped, and by far the best thing I've got out of this whole encounter. I may never revisit the movie, but I'll stick around the fandom for a while.)
There were a few team moments that found the sweetspot. And everyone was very pretty. The effects were accomplished. There were some cool things. As I said, the movie got the story from A to B, in a reasonably workmanlike and not-unpleasant manner; I was never on the edge of my seat, but I wasn't being dragged along by my nostrils either. And, um - oh! Victor got to show off his New Yawk cop accent, whee! Hi Victor! Thanks for making Dollhouse more watchable! And, well ... everyone was pretty? Yeah, okay, this is where I run out of Funtrain. So.
Fourth up, I will get personal nitpicks out of the way: I know this is comic!verse with comic!physics, but there's a point at which my suspension of disbelief is shattered beyond my capacity to hold it together. Most likely not so for all those who successfully switched off their brains, but in my family the people who don't think like engineers think like chemists (among other things), and that backingtrack is really, really hard to shout down. So it doesn't matter how spectacular the water streaming from your hover-aircraft-carrier is, the immediate questions are "what?" and "but why?", which means the instinctive response is not "WOW!" but "uh, sure, whatever, I paid cashmoney to watch this. *cough*bullshit*cough*" It also means that the response to watching a squishy, normal human inside a metal suit get repeatedly clobbered by colossal forces is not "Haha, neato!"; it's an uncomfortable smirk, eventually culminating in a shared eyeroll, a derisive aside of "He does it with science!" and a whispered flurry of conversation about really, really perfecting those "intertial dampeners". (And that's not to mention the other two squishy, squishy humans' capacity to absorb damage, but, bleh, whatever, that's hardly just this movie.)
- Yes. I get that this is a superhero movie, and that there's an allure to just being able to let loose and revel in the invulnerableness of your characters, do the whole wish-fulfilment thing, and yes, this is definitely a suspension of disbelief issue. I was able to notice and yet not be derailed by the suit issues in the Iron Man movies. I didn't even have a problem with the electric whip thingies. But there were mitigating factors there, and I'll leave that for the part about my real issues with the whole thing.
Also, was it just me, or did the invading army of whosamits feel very Underverse/Necromongerish? I would have so lolzed (for the only time in the movie) if the redface guy at the end had turned around and been Vin Diesel. Also much more excited to watch the sequel. Because damn, I would watch that.
On a related note, Germany. Really? I mean, really? In a script that was a veritable smorgasboard of the cliché and the gobsmackingly obvious, I think Germany could be the pièce de résistance. I mean, maybe this is a staple of Cap's story, maybe it was a brilliant call-back/shout-out for those who have read the comics or seen the movie(s). I haven't. It came off quite breathtakingly smug, not to mention arrogant and condescending and slightly nauseating. Not on Cap's part, I hasten to add (he was relatively gentlemanly about it), but on the story's. I'm going for the benefit of the doubt here (which is, in my experience, usually warranted when dealing with American jingoism) and call it strikingly misjudged rather than active hubris, because in lieu of any other persuasive reason to stick around, it's enough to make me not.
And, a small thing comparatively, probably the most personal and irrelevant of the nitpicks - if you're going to bring the bro!angst, there's a fairly high bar for that sort of thing around these here parts. I mean, it worked for what it was, I quite liked how it played, but it was simply unfortunate that one of the few relationships onscreen that seemed to get any traction at all was one that I am predisposed to judge most critically. So, yeah.
*Oh, right, and Bruce's suicide thing. First, I'll be clear that I don't have trigger issues with suicide stuff. I don't have an objection to it being used as a character note, if justified. Also, I'm not saying it's not a justifiable character note for him. And like I said, Ruffalo made it work. So what's my problem? I wouldn't have one if it didn't feel manipulative. If it didn't feel like it was being used cheaply, to extract a "Whoa, dark, man," reaction rather than a genuine character insight, a respect for the tragedy of the character himself. It's a subtle thing, I guess, and it's also part and parcel with my issues with the script itself, and, well - Joss's storytelling.
I'm - well, let's just say that I'm, um, sensitive to manipulative storytelling. Storytelling that engineers - seeks to control - audience response, rather than allow the viewer to interact with the story in a way that is spontaneous and organic and individual. (Clearly, this is not a problem for everyone, but it's the quickest way to wake my brain up and boot me out of the story. The surest way to make me distrust the storyteller and disbelieve the story. *Insert side-eyeing of irony of Joss's stories' rhetoric with the way he treats his audiences here.*) For the most part it just left me cold, but using the prospect of suicide in that, however minorly, crosses some kind of line, and took me into distaste territory.
With that, I may as well get on to -
Fifth up, discussing my substantive objections: I was bored.
I. Was. Bored. What's more, I was bored within the first five minutes - the first big action set piece - and nothing subsequently re-engaged me. That's a lot of 2hr20mins to be bored for. I might even be going easier on the whole thing if I'd disliked it. (At least I'd have something, other than two fleeting nitpicks about Germany and suicide lipservice, to react against.) But damnit, I paid my exorbitant ticket price, I gave up nearly three hours of my life, I kept my distance from a bunch of (probably smelly) strangers I had to sit in a darkened room with, I put my attention into the hands of Joss Whedon and his expensive spectacle and in this day and age of entertainment currency that is a damn contract. It is a contract that I will bring all these things to the table, and he will earn it.
And I'd definitely be easier-going on the whole thing if he'd aimed gloriously high and fallen short, but he didn't; he aimed moderately high and hit just within his comfort zone. There was nothing daring in this movie, nothing subversive, nothing really interesting. It gave me nothing really new, nothing I couldn't come up with from reading a short character bio on each of them. It gave me six superheroes (+ supporting roles, including teh enemy) that added up to pretty much just the sum of their parts. (For more than that sum, I've had to turn to fandom, and fandom has Delivered. Not the first time, mind you.)
(On the idea of subversiveness - I did briefly, with a sort of incorrigible hope for a silver lining, entertain the idea that it was being suggested that Loki's rhetoric, backed by the Necromonger whatsits army, was an analogue for US imperialism. Which would have been an extreme bit of subversiveness, and a very one-sided representation (apt, though, for how it's experienced from the outside, as this invasion was by Earth), but still - invading to secure a precious energy comodity? Loftily dismissing and attempting to supplant the natives' ideology - even literally winning converting hearts (and minds)? Utelising superior technology, attacking from the decidedly high ground with total shock and awe tactics? Held off by a small band of scrappy paramilitary fighters who learn use the invaders' technology against them? I mean, just sayin'. Of course, the way the whole Germany thing was handled pretty much put paid to that idea, so. No.)
Why, though? Why was I bored? Good question, and I can circle my argument sum up the answer for you thus: because I didn't care.
That's actually not me being flippant. I didn't care about any of the characters, so I had no investment in them overcoming anything they faced. Nothing they struggled with, internally, had any weight for me at all, because I couldn't empathise; I couldn't tell you why it mattered to them other than the exposition I was handed. (Add to that the physical invulnerability demonstrated by everyone important, and nothing external presented as a real threat either. Not even the hover-carrier losing the spinny things that kept it aloft. I was not, at any point, in any doubt whatsoever that they wouldn't stroll through each and every conflict and dilemma as it was presented, apart from, obviously, Joss's inevitable sacrificial lamb to give everyone Something to Fight For Avenge. Which even came with its anvil-shaped lampshade.) I wasn't given any reason to care about them, nor root for them, nor any real character motivation for why they did anything.
(Except the one - the only one I remember, that I mentioned above with the Hulk, the emotional logic for the action choice. The unique bond Tony forged with Bruce, the connection and true recognition of who and what the Hulk was, rather than the fearful rejection of the "beast" like everyone else, meant that it was staggeringly obvious that the Hulk would save Iron Man, and also why. It was laid in, and it was paid off, without any need for exposition. I could see it for myself. It was a bond, it wasn't just flat banter, and I didn't need anyone's heavy-handed tell-don't-show monologuing or throw-away look-we-totally-have-history!-Budapest comment to let me know about it. It worked. Unfortunately. Because otherwise, I would accept that the limitations of the runtime and the story and the number of equal-air-time characters and suchforth simply makes it impossible to do it any other way; I would lower my expectations and soldier quietly on. This one instance clearly demonstrates that this is not true. It can be done; you just have to go the extra mile, take the risk and trust the story, the characters, and the audience.)
Hence the overwhelming prevalence of so, hey, that happened. And this while I was watching it. This wasn't even a later realisation. Best as I could tell, there were otherwise only two reasons why anyone did anything: one, because that is who they are, so that is what they do; they did it because that is who they are (as delightful an example of begging the question as you'll ever be privileged to find; I always like to think the question being begged is "what the f*#k is that premise doing in the proposition?!", but I actually don't think that's etymologically sound). And, okay, you can do that with your characters' motivations - but I'm left with no basis to engage them, only accept them as they are presented. (Oh, that noise? That would be my manipulation siren going off like gangbusters.) And two, because they were serving the predetermined plot.
There is a formula for this kind of thing. Set up/initial threat/source of conflict -> introduction and assemblage of characters -> initial distrust/discord/testing of each other -> midway threat, temporary banding together and success -> catalysing incident -> internal downer threatening ultimate victory -> final showdown and true forging of team. (The catalyst and the downer can be interchangeable. Otherwise, you pretty much need that order.) You may recognise this formula. It's every underdog team movie ever filmed. (My personal preference being The Mighty Ducks. Quack! Quack! Quack! Ahem. I think I just dated myself.) Which is fine, the reason they use it is because it works. Tropes are not bad. The problem is when you transparently force the characters to follow that plot, rather than have it arise from them. (That's plot-driven vs character-driven to you, Mr Whedon. And even with plot-driven, you can have the plot serve the characters, not the characters service the plot!)
Examples? One my brother gave that jumped out at him as he was watching was the argument in the lab. Why are we all yelling at each other in a quite stilted sort of way? Because we need tension! Yell at each other tensely! But don't let it actually get anywhere - quick, better be attacked in our preposterously vulnerable floating fortress designed for just such a set-piece; in 3, 2, 1.... And then, for an even more random example, Thor powering up in the field after the Inspiring Speech onboard the USS Preposterous Contraption. Did he have an earpiece, or something? Did he just go, "welp, the others will probably be getting their act together right about now, as per our proximity to the final confrontation, better get my Really Determined This Time lightning on"?
More broadly (and objectionably), every (important) character was on the exact same journey, at the same time. It was actually an impressively tandem effort, or would have been, if they'd had any choice in the matter. They were, to a man (and one woman) and with barely a variation, violently wary -> begrudging -> intrigued -> suspicious -> angry -> competent -> anguished -> inspired -> determined -> Actually In Really Dangerous Danger Now -> integrated -> triumphant -> cocky -> bonded. In fact, I begin to suspect that they were all automatons with delusions of self-determination, dangling from Nick Fury's puppet strings. When at the end he says they'll all come back "because we need them to", he is directly summing up the only reason why anything at all happened in this movie. Provided, of course, that "we" is understood to be the producers, the writer/director, the Hollywood machine, and us, the cashcow audience.
You can tell me that Joss was handed a huge, huge ask and settled on the surest way to make a movie that worked. A movie that got everyone from A to B, in a fun shiny way. That he took a working formula, and hammered everything ruthlessly into that shape, added his nifty party tricks and voilà, summer blockbuster with internet-wide squee. Yes. You can tell me that, not least because I think that's what happened. But it wasn't good; it wasn't even bad. He aimed moderately high (in taking it on in the first place), calculated his range, kept comfortably inside of it, and hit the target. But don't tell me that's the work of a Master. Only a Master of Mediocrity, Darth Joss!
Okay, well, I'm going to take my cranky, demanding self off to bed now. :/
Yeah, so ... I saw The Avengers. Um. It was ... okay, mostly?
(This is not a joke. This is not a test. Sorry everyone. I didn't want to bring the Debbie Downer to the squee party, she just sat there on my shoulder the whole time and made really good points that I couldn't dismiss. So, I'ma write some down and try to get to grips with the whole thing. But you don't have to read it! Avert your eyes! Run - run while you still can so that you'll still like me! SAVE YOURSELVES!!!)
There will be spoilers for the movie below. Obviously.
First up, I will say the good: it wasn't bad. It was shiny and kaboomy and, uh, shiny, and it got the job done, picked us up at A and delivered us firmly to B. There were moments, genuine moments of oh hey, that worked amidst the flow of so, hey, that happened.
Second up, I will make disclaimers: I fully recognise that it's a prerequisite to Turn Off Brain, Munch Popcorn with these kinds of things. I likewise recognise that my failure to do so is mine alone, and not the fault of the shiny, shiny screen. Furthermore, this is the result of a single watching, and subsequent conversation with my brother and sister-in-law, who I saw it with. I'm sure I missed Things.
Also, and this is important: I love every single one of you who loved it and have already squeed all over the place about it. Love. You all. I don't want to be some elitist killjoy shouting smugly that the emperor has no clothes just to be that guy. Besides, I suspect the emperor is wearing spandex ... he's just not quite pulling it off. This is - I'm frustrated. I wanted to love it. I didn't. This is me working through that, and any thoughts anyone who's actually reading this has are welcome (as long as it doesn't boil down to, "Just turn your brain off and enjoy it," because that ship has sailed). Also, a lot of this may simply come down to personal taste, and that's okay. Because everyone else appears to be off their nut about it. It's not that I don't understand why (or at least I think I understand why), but clearly I don't quite share everyone else's criteria. I'm trying not to just react against the overwhelming glee that's radiating off the internet like midsummer noon off asphalt, but if there's an occasional petty push-back in this, that's probably what it is, because I'm contrary that way.
Third up, I will talk some more about the good: by and large, I liked the Hulk. I actually never bothered to watch either previous Hulk incarnation, but I have yet to see Mark Ruffalo ever be a bad casting choice. (He even pulled off the Token Angst Moment of I tried to kill myself with dignity - which is more than I can say for its inclusion. See next section*.) The rapport which formed between him and Tony worked for me, the pathos and the humour and the shared intellectual and emotional language they spoke. (This also laid the groundwork and emotional logic (aka "motivation") for the one single choice of action that I can remember that made in-story character sense to me.) The two Hulk-on-demigod physical humour gags were amusing, too; I appreciated that. Especially by that point in the runtime.
Other than that - Thor had a moment or two where I sensed the gravitas of a maturing demigod. The hammer felt heavy and integral to his character, rather than silly, as it did have the potential to be. Loki had charisma and woobieness enough to smooth over most of the glitches on his end of things. Their connection didn't feel contrived (I haven't seen Thor, either, although I'm guessing that contributed to their relationship this time around). (And the meta for it is phenomenal, and on that note, the fandom as a whole is incredible. Overwrought and epic and fervid and darkly whimsical, everything the concept has the potential for and that the movie aped, and by far the best thing I've got out of this whole encounter. I may never revisit the movie, but I'll stick around the fandom for a while.)
There were a few team moments that found the sweetspot. And everyone was very pretty. The effects were accomplished. There were some cool things. As I said, the movie got the story from A to B, in a reasonably workmanlike and not-unpleasant manner; I was never on the edge of my seat, but I wasn't being dragged along by my nostrils either. And, um - oh! Victor got to show off his New Yawk cop accent, whee! Hi Victor! Thanks for making Dollhouse more watchable! And, well ... everyone was pretty? Yeah, okay, this is where I run out of Funtrain. So.
Fourth up, I will get personal nitpicks out of the way: I know this is comic!verse with comic!physics, but there's a point at which my suspension of disbelief is shattered beyond my capacity to hold it together. Most likely not so for all those who successfully switched off their brains, but in my family the people who don't think like engineers think like chemists (among other things), and that backingtrack is really, really hard to shout down. So it doesn't matter how spectacular the water streaming from your hover-aircraft-carrier is, the immediate questions are "what?" and "but why?", which means the instinctive response is not "WOW!" but "uh, sure, whatever, I paid cashmoney to watch this. *cough*bullshit*cough*" It also means that the response to watching a squishy, normal human inside a metal suit get repeatedly clobbered by colossal forces is not "Haha, neato!"; it's an uncomfortable smirk, eventually culminating in a shared eyeroll, a derisive aside of "He does it with science!" and a whispered flurry of conversation about really, really perfecting those "intertial dampeners". (And that's not to mention the other two squishy, squishy humans' capacity to absorb damage, but, bleh, whatever, that's hardly just this movie.)
- Yes. I get that this is a superhero movie, and that there's an allure to just being able to let loose and revel in the invulnerableness of your characters, do the whole wish-fulfilment thing, and yes, this is definitely a suspension of disbelief issue. I was able to notice and yet not be derailed by the suit issues in the Iron Man movies. I didn't even have a problem with the electric whip thingies. But there were mitigating factors there, and I'll leave that for the part about my real issues with the whole thing.
Also, was it just me, or did the invading army of whosamits feel very Underverse/Necromongerish? I would have so lolzed (for the only time in the movie) if the redface guy at the end had turned around and been Vin Diesel. Also much more excited to watch the sequel. Because damn, I would watch that.
On a related note, Germany. Really? I mean, really? In a script that was a veritable smorgasboard of the cliché and the gobsmackingly obvious, I think Germany could be the pièce de résistance. I mean, maybe this is a staple of Cap's story, maybe it was a brilliant call-back/shout-out for those who have read the comics or seen the movie(s). I haven't. It came off quite breathtakingly smug, not to mention arrogant and condescending and slightly nauseating. Not on Cap's part, I hasten to add (he was relatively gentlemanly about it), but on the story's. I'm going for the benefit of the doubt here (which is, in my experience, usually warranted when dealing with American jingoism) and call it strikingly misjudged rather than active hubris, because in lieu of any other persuasive reason to stick around, it's enough to make me not.
And, a small thing comparatively, probably the most personal and irrelevant of the nitpicks - if you're going to bring the bro!angst, there's a fairly high bar for that sort of thing around these here parts. I mean, it worked for what it was, I quite liked how it played, but it was simply unfortunate that one of the few relationships onscreen that seemed to get any traction at all was one that I am predisposed to judge most critically. So, yeah.
*Oh, right, and Bruce's suicide thing. First, I'll be clear that I don't have trigger issues with suicide stuff. I don't have an objection to it being used as a character note, if justified. Also, I'm not saying it's not a justifiable character note for him. And like I said, Ruffalo made it work. So what's my problem? I wouldn't have one if it didn't feel manipulative. If it didn't feel like it was being used cheaply, to extract a "Whoa, dark, man," reaction rather than a genuine character insight, a respect for the tragedy of the character himself. It's a subtle thing, I guess, and it's also part and parcel with my issues with the script itself, and, well - Joss's storytelling.
I'm - well, let's just say that I'm, um, sensitive to manipulative storytelling. Storytelling that engineers - seeks to control - audience response, rather than allow the viewer to interact with the story in a way that is spontaneous and organic and individual. (Clearly, this is not a problem for everyone, but it's the quickest way to wake my brain up and boot me out of the story. The surest way to make me distrust the storyteller and disbelieve the story. *Insert side-eyeing of irony of Joss's stories' rhetoric with the way he treats his audiences here.*) For the most part it just left me cold, but using the prospect of suicide in that, however minorly, crosses some kind of line, and took me into distaste territory.
With that, I may as well get on to -
Fifth up, discussing my substantive objections: I was bored.
I. Was. Bored. What's more, I was bored within the first five minutes - the first big action set piece - and nothing subsequently re-engaged me. That's a lot of 2hr20mins to be bored for. I might even be going easier on the whole thing if I'd disliked it. (At least I'd have something, other than two fleeting nitpicks about Germany and suicide lipservice, to react against.) But damnit, I paid my exorbitant ticket price, I gave up nearly three hours of my life, I kept my distance from a bunch of (probably smelly) strangers I had to sit in a darkened room with, I put my attention into the hands of Joss Whedon and his expensive spectacle and in this day and age of entertainment currency that is a damn contract. It is a contract that I will bring all these things to the table, and he will earn it.
And I'd definitely be easier-going on the whole thing if he'd aimed gloriously high and fallen short, but he didn't; he aimed moderately high and hit just within his comfort zone. There was nothing daring in this movie, nothing subversive, nothing really interesting. It gave me nothing really new, nothing I couldn't come up with from reading a short character bio on each of them. It gave me six superheroes (+ supporting roles, including teh enemy) that added up to pretty much just the sum of their parts. (For more than that sum, I've had to turn to fandom, and fandom has Delivered. Not the first time, mind you.)
(On the idea of subversiveness - I did briefly, with a sort of incorrigible hope for a silver lining, entertain the idea that it was being suggested that Loki's rhetoric, backed by the Necromonger whatsits army, was an analogue for US imperialism. Which would have been an extreme bit of subversiveness, and a very one-sided representation (apt, though, for how it's experienced from the outside, as this invasion was by Earth), but still - invading to secure a precious energy comodity? Loftily dismissing and attempting to supplant the natives' ideology - even literally winning converting hearts (and minds)? Utelising superior technology, attacking from the decidedly high ground with total shock and awe tactics? Held off by a small band of scrappy paramilitary fighters who learn use the invaders' technology against them? I mean, just sayin'. Of course, the way the whole Germany thing was handled pretty much put paid to that idea, so. No.)
Why, though? Why was I bored? Good question, and I can circle my argument sum up the answer for you thus: because I didn't care.
That's actually not me being flippant. I didn't care about any of the characters, so I had no investment in them overcoming anything they faced. Nothing they struggled with, internally, had any weight for me at all, because I couldn't empathise; I couldn't tell you why it mattered to them other than the exposition I was handed. (Add to that the physical invulnerability demonstrated by everyone important, and nothing external presented as a real threat either. Not even the hover-carrier losing the spinny things that kept it aloft. I was not, at any point, in any doubt whatsoever that they wouldn't stroll through each and every conflict and dilemma as it was presented, apart from, obviously, Joss's inevitable sacrificial lamb to give everyone Something to Fight For Avenge. Which even came with its anvil-shaped lampshade.) I wasn't given any reason to care about them, nor root for them, nor any real character motivation for why they did anything.
(Except the one - the only one I remember, that I mentioned above with the Hulk, the emotional logic for the action choice. The unique bond Tony forged with Bruce, the connection and true recognition of who and what the Hulk was, rather than the fearful rejection of the "beast" like everyone else, meant that it was staggeringly obvious that the Hulk would save Iron Man, and also why. It was laid in, and it was paid off, without any need for exposition. I could see it for myself. It was a bond, it wasn't just flat banter, and I didn't need anyone's heavy-handed tell-don't-show monologuing or throw-away look-we-totally-have-history!-Budapest comment to let me know about it. It worked. Unfortunately. Because otherwise, I would accept that the limitations of the runtime and the story and the number of equal-air-time characters and suchforth simply makes it impossible to do it any other way; I would lower my expectations and soldier quietly on. This one instance clearly demonstrates that this is not true. It can be done; you just have to go the extra mile, take the risk and trust the story, the characters, and the audience.)
Hence the overwhelming prevalence of so, hey, that happened. And this while I was watching it. This wasn't even a later realisation. Best as I could tell, there were otherwise only two reasons why anyone did anything: one, because that is who they are, so that is what they do; they did it because that is who they are (as delightful an example of begging the question as you'll ever be privileged to find; I always like to think the question being begged is "what the f*#k is that premise doing in the proposition?!", but I actually don't think that's etymologically sound). And, okay, you can do that with your characters' motivations - but I'm left with no basis to engage them, only accept them as they are presented. (Oh, that noise? That would be my manipulation siren going off like gangbusters.) And two, because they were serving the predetermined plot.
There is a formula for this kind of thing. Set up/initial threat/source of conflict -> introduction and assemblage of characters -> initial distrust/discord/testing of each other -> midway threat, temporary banding together and success -> catalysing incident -> internal downer threatening ultimate victory -> final showdown and true forging of team. (The catalyst and the downer can be interchangeable. Otherwise, you pretty much need that order.) You may recognise this formula. It's every underdog team movie ever filmed. (My personal preference being The Mighty Ducks. Quack! Quack! Quack! Ahem. I think I just dated myself.) Which is fine, the reason they use it is because it works. Tropes are not bad. The problem is when you transparently force the characters to follow that plot, rather than have it arise from them. (That's plot-driven vs character-driven to you, Mr Whedon. And even with plot-driven, you can have the plot serve the characters, not the characters service the plot!)
Examples? One my brother gave that jumped out at him as he was watching was the argument in the lab. Why are we all yelling at each other in a quite stilted sort of way? Because we need tension! Yell at each other tensely! But don't let it actually get anywhere - quick, better be attacked in our preposterously vulnerable floating fortress designed for just such a set-piece; in 3, 2, 1.... And then, for an even more random example, Thor powering up in the field after the Inspiring Speech onboard the USS Preposterous Contraption. Did he have an earpiece, or something? Did he just go, "welp, the others will probably be getting their act together right about now, as per our proximity to the final confrontation, better get my Really Determined This Time lightning on"?
More broadly (and objectionably), every (important) character was on the exact same journey, at the same time. It was actually an impressively tandem effort, or would have been, if they'd had any choice in the matter. They were, to a man (and one woman) and with barely a variation, violently wary -> begrudging -> intrigued -> suspicious -> angry -> competent -> anguished -> inspired -> determined -> Actually In Really Dangerous Danger Now -> integrated -> triumphant -> cocky -> bonded. In fact, I begin to suspect that they were all automatons with delusions of self-determination, dangling from Nick Fury's puppet strings. When at the end he says they'll all come back "because we need them to", he is directly summing up the only reason why anything at all happened in this movie. Provided, of course, that "we" is understood to be the producers, the writer/director, the Hollywood machine, and us, the cashcow audience.
You can tell me that Joss was handed a huge, huge ask and settled on the surest way to make a movie that worked. A movie that got everyone from A to B, in a fun shiny way. That he took a working formula, and hammered everything ruthlessly into that shape, added his nifty party tricks and voilà, summer blockbuster with internet-wide squee. Yes. You can tell me that, not least because I think that's what happened. But it wasn't good; it wasn't even bad. He aimed moderately high (in taking it on in the first place), calculated his range, kept comfortably inside of it, and hit the target. But don't tell me that's the work of a Master. Only a Master of Mediocrity, Darth Joss!
Okay, well, I'm going to take my cranky, demanding self off to bed now. :/