Review
Culture
Film & TV
5 min read

Captain America's impossible task

Brave New World struggles despite some acting heroics.
Captain America crouches expectantly beside his shield
Ready for the next review.
Marvel Studios.

Captain America: Brave New World is the thirty-fifth film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), and the fourth film focusing on the character of Captain America. It’s also something of a sequel to a passible Marvel TV series. There is so much baggage, so much lore, so much build-up to this film; a production which has the unhappy task of honouring the seventeen years of previous storytelling, setting up plot points that can be explored in future films, and giving us a satisfactory stand-alone cinematic spectacle. I wouldn’t wish such a burden on anyone – an impossible task. 

Brave New World sees Sam Wilson fully inhabiting the role of superhero Captain America, a mantle bestowed on him by his friend and original Captain, super soldier Steve Rogers. Still doubtful of his worthiness and abilities, he seeks to wield the Vibranium Shield with style. He is sent on a mission to retrieve a stolen military secret from a group of mercenaries. He does so – with a few decent action set pieces – and is rewarded with an invitation to the White House.  

The newly elected President, General Thaddeus ‘Thunderbolt’ Ross, is seeking to shed his past reputation as a warmonger by negotiating an international peace treaty. A newly discovered resource has the capability of changing the face of medicine, technological innovation, and especially warfare. Every great power covets it, and Ross wants to foster collaboration for the betterment of the planet. The gala event is ruined when Sam’s friend Isaiah Bradley, a super soldier from the Koren War who was wrongly imprisoned, goes all Manchurian Candidate and shoots at the President. 

The peace treaty is in jeopardy. The President’s inner circle is compromised. There are secrets and lies that will not stay buried. There is a shadowy villain operating behind the scenes, determined to destroy the President’s reputation. Only one man can fight for truth, justice, and the American way: Captain America. 

This is as much as I can say without spoiling the entire film. 

Not that it would matter. The film is a bit of a mess.  

Sam is proposed as an underdog (having not actual superpowers, only a suit of armour), but is shown to be essentially indestructible…he literally disables a missile by flying into it headfirst. There is no sense of tension or risk. This is not helped by lacklustre action and some genuinely appalling CGI. The plot is all over the place – a result of some rather obvious reshoots featuring green screen that even the most amateur filmmaker could’ve improved. Most of the secondary storylines peter out. New characters and introduced and given almost no personality or progression. 

The script compensates for this by giving characters long monologues where they deliver clunky plot exposition and background information. This was inevitable. To understand the plot and characters requires one to have been a careful watcher of the previous films and television shows. I was somewhat impressed how the film managed to give a gentle introduction to the casual viewer, but it is very much at the expense of pacing and character development. 

All of this is a great shame, as the performances are rather good. Anthony Mackie has always been a magnetic screen presence and manages to combine both charisma and pathos is an uncharacteristically restrained performance. Tim Blake Nelson enjoys himself as the puppet-master villain, oozing bile and sympathy in equal measure. Every minor friend and villain delivers their lines with real feeling. Bloody hell…even lovable grump Harrison Ford looks like he’s actually trying as President Ross. 

Unfortunately, no amount of charisma can make up for a film that has no sense of itself. The shambles of a plot is matched by the shambles of a theme; a sadness, as there is so much potential. Sam Wilson is one of only a handful of black superheroes, and his friendship with Isaiah Bradley is partly based on their shared experience of race and discrimination in the face of honour and duty. This was introduced in the TV show and could’ve been explored further. Sam’s lack of superpowers could have been explored, had he been put in positions of genuine peril. His sense of inadequacy and overwhelming responsibility are mentioned, only to be quickly dismissed with a pep-talk from a throwaway cameo character. The concepts of conspiracy and disillusionment with authority are hinted at, but they formed the thematic thread of the previous three Captain America films, and when this film does approach them, it is by echoing the better storytelling of previous films. 

There is one plot thread, one theme running through the story, which goes some way to redeeming the film. President Ross is haunted by his past. A patriot, a soldier, and tireless worker for American security, Ross has a past littered with sins and mistakes. His anger, his bullishness, his obstinacy (physically manifested at the end of the film), has left him all alone. His daughter doesn’t trust him, Sam doesn’t trust him, and his international partners don’t trust him. He is seeking to become a better man, working towards cooperation rather than force and violence. However, his past life and secrets continue haunt him and stall his progress at self-improvement. 

In the end, by being open and honest and taking responsibility for his mistakes, Ross does achieve a certain amount of peace. He is able to be the figure of nobility and unity that he longs to be by sacrificing his power and prestige, and truly atoning for his misdeeds. Despite all the problems with the film, this (admittedly underdeveloped) bit of character study kept me engaged. Perhaps it was Harrison Ford’s performance. Perhaps it was because we’re approaching Lent, when Christians make an extra effort to acknowledge their past mistakes and resolve to do better. Whatever it was, it furnished the film with a truly sympathetic and improving theme. I wouldn’t spend money in the cinema, but wouldn’t mind seeing it in the TV guide in the future. 

2.5 stars. 

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Review
Books
Culture
Podcasts
Re-enchanting
5 min read

The book, the ritual, and the reader

Season 7 of Re-Enchanting explores how books shape our habits and our search for meaning

Tom Rippon is Assistant Editor at Roots for Churches, an ecumenical charity.

  A reader sits on a sofa with a raised leg and holds a book
Jonathan Sanchez on Unsplash.

When was the last time a book elicited spontaneous reverence from you? It’s something of a cliché to say that books take you on a journey, but sometimes a book comes along which simply demands to be read with ceremony.  

This is the experience of the writer Donna Freitas, just one of the guests welcomed onto season 7 of the Re-enchanting podcast. In her conversation with Belle Tindell and Justin Brierley, she describes how her morning routine of coffee and a book has practically attained the status of a ritual for her. Freitas describes the deliberate preparations she made for the final chapter of Alice Winn’s In Memoriam, a historical novel exploring the relationship between two young soldiers in the trenches of the First World War as their idealised understanding of war shatters and their suppressed feelings for one another play out against a shifting backdrop of class, national identity and belonging. Freitas’ ceremonial approach to finishing her book - you’ll have to listen to the episode to hear more about this - may sound somewhat unusual at first for the respect and honour that it implies is due to a book, but this notion of textual reverence finds a distant echo in the Christian faith, where the Word, living and written, is central. 

Freitas’ particular experience of faith is recounted in her book, Wishful Thinking: How I Lost My Faith and Why I Want to Find It, but listening to her description of her reading experience posed its own questions for me. At what point does habit become ritual? And how do we distinguish between them? Even as people develop individual, secular rituals to give rhythm to their lives, this does not always translate into an openness towards religious ritual. Does this mean that ritual today is understood as an individual, rather than shared, activity? Despite some evidence suggesting a revival of sorts in the Christian faith, most of the growing churches in the UK tend place more emphasis on spontaneity than ritual, but perhaps our continued desire for ritual and familiarity should give mainstream churches a reason to pause in their current approaches to church planting?  

Either way, for many of us, a home-grown ritual of an enticing cup of coffee paired with the smooth, dry pages of a book first thing in the morning may simply sound like an inviting, yet sadly unattainable, prospect. Sometimes just getting everyone and everything out the door on time constitutes an epic in itself. However, since there’s no harm in fantasizing, let’s peruse the Re-enchanting back-catalogue for more reading recommendations. 

Looking back over season 7 of Re-enchanting, I’m struck by how popular biography remains amongst our guests’ reading choices. Nadim Ednan-Laperouse recommends Heidi Barr’s autobiographical account of the near-death experience which led to her conversion from Orthodox Judaism, What I Saw in Heaven. Lamorna Ash, whose work explores the softening of Gen Z’s attitude towards Christianity, appropriately lends balance to her Re-enchanting moment with her recommendation of John Stuart Mill’s autobiography, which recounts his journey away from faith. The faith landscape in the UK is certainly shifting at the present time and perhaps the only way to truly understand these shifts is to read both sides of the story. We need to read about journeys away from faith as much as journeys to faith in order to understand the society in which we work and witness. A data scientist might call these eliminating biases, a literary critic might call it awareness of an unreliable narrator.  

Telling the story of someone’s life is at the centre of Bear Grylls’ most recent work, The Greatest Story Ever Told, in which he retells the life of Jesus through the eyes of those around him. The emergence of the faith is told from the perspective of those coming to faith, a hint perhaps that faith has to be remade, reborn, resurrected even, afresh for each person. Read Bear Grylls’ own take on his book, written for Seen & Unseen earlier this year. 

Grylls’ own work seems to have an almost essay-like quality through its short, accessible chapters and essay collections seem popular amongst our other guests as well. Lamorna Ash also recommends Pulphead by the journalist John Jeremiah Sullivan, a collection of essays spanning topics from eco-anxiety and the blues to the Tea Party and Christian rock, each giving a brief insight into the concerns and ponderings of a thousand other minds. It strikes me that such collections are the literary equivalents of hitting shuffle play, the perfect fit for those reading rituals that have to be scattered in-between other moments of activity. If you’re searching for some faith-based content for these moments, then I recommend Richard Carter’s Letters from Nazareth, a collection of meditations from the contemplative tradition written for those ‘catch your breath’ moments in the day. 

Alternatively, if it’s escapism and adventure that you are after in these moments, then take up Grylls’ own suggestion, The Wager: A Tale of Shipwreck, Mutiny and Murder, by David Grann, a true story yet wildly adventurous. For those in search of more light-hearted reading, then turn to another stalwart of Re-enchanting reading lists, C.S. Lewis, whose The Silver Chair comes recommended by NYT columnist and author, Ross Douthat. As Lewis himself said, ‘a children’s story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children’s story in the slightest.’ Perhaps it’s time to put Lewis’ own works to the test. 

Long summer days of the kind envisaged in children’s books may now be a distant memory for most of us, but with each change in season comes a new reason to pick up some reading material. I hope these autumnal days with their familiar ritual of falling leaves lead to a home-grown ritual of turning leaves for you. 

  

Some further suggestions: 

  • Letters from Nazareth by Richard Carter – Meditations on home from St Martin-in-the-Fields. 

  • Her First American by Lore Segal – An exploration of Jewish-Black trauma and solidarity in 1950s New York. 

  • seven steeples by Sara Baume – A meditative novel on the rhythmic course of life in rural Ireland. 

  • How Bad Are Bananas? by Mike Berners-Lee – Bite-sized explanations of our place in a changing climate. 

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