Jack Burton Wishes They'd Iron Out the Flaws in IRON MAN 2

Like Favreau himself, this film needs to lose the fat and get some action in its life.


This is Jack Burton in the Pork Chop Express, and I'm talkin' to whoever's listenin' out there.

Caught Iron Man 2 recently. I guess it’s the “official” kick off to the summer blockbuster season. And to build on that football metaphor: the receiving team took it all the way to their opponent’s ten-yard line. Where they fumbled. And the kicking team recovered the ball.

So what does that mean? I have no idea. I think that it’s not good for the movies though. Whole lot of spectacle, not a lot of scoring. Okay. I’m going to go ahead and drop the football shenanigans.

Anyway. So Jon Favreau, of he-who-must-cast-himself-in-every-single-movie-he-directs fame, returns to helm the lackluster, slow, plodding, and oftentimes boring Iron Man 2. Sure, we get more eye candy in Scarlett “How Do You Spell That?” Johansson in the ultra-cool and ultra-tight Black Widow outfit. But it’s really not enough. And after her last foray in comic book filmdom, the justifiably-maligned Frank Miller ego-trip, The Spirit, you’d think she would just lay back and kind of do the movies she’s good at. Like Lost in Translation or Ghost World or whatever she’s famous for. I really can’t remember.

It’s not that she’s bad in this movie, it’s just that, well, there’s not much for her to do. And not much for anyone to do. The movie kind of rehashes whatever you thought was cool about the supremely superior first Iron Man. There are suits, there’s Robert Downey Jr. as the narcissistic and entertaining Tony Stark/Iron Man, and there are cool special effects. But nothing really works together. We get more of Tony Stark, but he comes across as more annoying than cool. He’s hiding a secret from his “loved ones,” and more than anything, I caught myself wondering: why isn’t he just being straight with everyone? Why not just admit it? And I think that this stems from a serious flaw in how his character is translated in the script and in the performance.

The main flaws in this incredibly-flawed film are in the lack of overall tension. Nothing seems to be drawing the viewer in during the hour-or-so between the beginning and end. Mickey Rourke’s version of Whiplash is rather hokey, Tony Stark is annoying, Don Cheadle kind of fades into the background, Gwyneth “I named my child after a fruit” Paltrow is kind of interesting, but at the end of the day she doesn’t seem authentic in her role as a personal assistant/love interest-turned-CEO. The big bright spot of the film rests squarely on Sam Rockwell’s shoulders. As Justin Hammer, Rockwell has his charm on full blast. He’s funny, he’s satirical, he’s absolutely awesome. So there is that, at least.

But there’s too little action in what should be an action-packed film. There’s too much melodrama that isn’t handled well—at all. Nobody is interested in the issues brought up, and they’re not handled with any depth or weight by Favreau anyway. While the film has some enjoyable parts, I’d say skip this unless you could see it at a reduced rate. What’s the point in IMAX, too? The climactic battle is a bore.

I think I’d rather rewatch the first Iron Man on mute and add my own dialogue a la Mystery Science Theater 3000. Until next time, Pork Chop Express is signing off.