Since watching Avengers: Age of Ultron at a packed-to-the-rafters screening at the IMAX theater here in New York City last night - which started half an hour late so the folks in the concessions line could all get seated and yes this is the kind of popcorn movie where the buying of popcorn and all its ancillary components is probably more important than the movie part - I've read a few reviews and every single one's made this point: we are not necessary here. The critic has no place, no face, no voice, against the tidal wave of manufactured monsters pouring off this particular screen.
They're not wrong. Age of Ultron will make more dollar bills than individual grains of cocaine have been snorted by its infinite cast, and that's not an altogether bad thing. It's fun! It's like somewhere between two point five and seventeen hours of relentless, exhausting fun! We've all rolled ourselves up into a ball and willingly climbed into the pinball machine and here we go, bouncing bouncing. Take every interview Joss Whedon gave before this movie came out where he talked about how it sapped his will to live and multiply that by two and that's how you're probably gonna feel by the end. I actually wish I'd bought tickets to see the movie tonight as well, just so I could've left halfway through it last night and finished it out on the second go. It will play wonderfully when switching past it on television and watching half an hour at a time.
It's too much of a lot of great things. Great things that outweigh the not-so-great things - I was probably actively rooting for a slightly higher percentage of the Avengers to get killed than anybody wanted, for instance (rid the world of me having to watch Robert Downey Jr ever again, somebody, anybody!) - but too much all the same. There were so many balls in the air it'd put a Fire Island tea dance to shame. (Rimshot.) I just wanted to give Joss a hug by the end, and tell him Dr. Horrible and his little dented cardboard props are calling his name. Come home, Joss. It's all gonna be okay.