(I won’t even expand on a turn at the end ripped from a Hallmark movie, Christmas visuals and all, that was so galling I’m still not sure it happened.) Romance has the potential to be heartwarming and expansive in superhero stories, but here it just feels claustrophobic. Why? She doesn’t miss her Amazon sisters, whom she can never see again, more? It’s been about 70 years and she still hasn’t moved on from Steve? There’s something deeply sad and predictable about a female superhero so tied to a single man she’s willing to lose her powers for him. Instead, in 1984, Diana’s non-erotic yearning for Steve has become the entirety of her identity. And then there’s their utter sexlessness, an especially damning reminder of the way this genre fails to take into account one of the most beautiful aspects of being human. Sure, Gadot and Pine once again have a charming chemistry, but his character’s return from the dead - in which he, basically, takes over some poor guy’s body - sparks more questions about the gaps in logic. It is so stilted that when Diana finally vaults into action against a darkened sky, using her glowing lasso to ride lightning bolts, I felt not an ounce of awe. Superhero films too often rely on mystical items to fuel their narratives, but a magic rock that grants wishes like a gleaming monkey’s paw? It’s hackneyed, as is the stilted dialogue that unravels the story to begin with, starting with Diana’s voiceover outlining a thinly drawn exploration of her Amazon race. What has attracted me to this character over the years - the femininity of her mythos and how it emphasizes the maternal, how her strength is conveyed in both fight scenes and more emotional exchanges - feels poorly developed in this utter mess of a plot. Meanwhile, the magic rock ends up setting the stage for major global unrest (and a genuinely weird accounting of Middle East politics). Barbara - whose story as Cheetah is well told in Greg Rucka, Nicola Scott and Liam Sharp’s run on the character that kicked off in 2016 - transforms from nascent friend to villain all too quickly. But things take a turn when wannabe oil tycoon Maxwell Lord (an over-the-top and preening Pedro Pascal) strolls into the story with a rank ego and daddy issues. The easily frazzled and comically clumsy Barbara gets some fringe benefits, too - she wishes upon the rock to be like Diana, suddenly achieving a power and confidence beyond her wildest dreams. At first, it unknowingly grants Diana her great desire: to see Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) returned to life (sort of). As she begins to develop a friendship with a co-worker named Barbara Minerva (Kristen Wiig), Diana’s life as both a museum curator and undercover superhero is disrupted by the arrival of what is best described as a magic rock. In Patty Jenkins’s candy-colored rendition of the ’80s, 1984’s Diana (Gal Gadot) finds herself lonely and isolated - both by choice and circumstance. The disappointing sequel highlights not only the dire state of the live-action superhero genre in film, but the dire state of Hollywood filmmaking as a whole. Sadly, all that glittered in the franchise’s first outing is gone in Wonder Woman 1984. Perhaps its lopsided universe was not perfect there were lackluster villains and a noticeable absence of racial diversity and sensuality, and the sequel had to contend with a significant jump from WWI-era Europe into early 1980s Washington, D.C. Its time-skipping story offered a way to expand the superhero genre’s usual plot beats - which was desperately needed - and arrived buoyed by an excellent cast. Its empathetic predecessor is likely the most beloved and critically successful of the slate of beleaguered DC Comics films. This sequel had almost everything going for it. Wonder Woman, also known as Diana Prince, is one of the most dynamic of DC’s mainstay comic characters, but you’d never know it watching Wonder Woman 1984. We are republishing it on the occasion of Wonder Woman 1984’s Christmas Day premiere on HBO Max. This review originally ran earlier this month. The disappointing sequel highlights not only the dire state of the live-action superhero genre, but the dire state of Hollywood filmmaking as a whole.
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