Cinema 2011 #54: X-Men: First Class

It’s been over a decade since Bryan Singer’s X-Men effectively relaunched the cinematic superhero as a viable movie commodity. While remaining loyal to 40 years of increasingly outlandish source material, Singer centred his mutants around the usual suspects of the Marvel universe, following the popular kids of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters and their suped-up adventures in upstate New York. With some slick CGI, Halle Berry in skintight leather and two gravitas growling British thesps to lend it some weight, his solidly entertaining origins flick unleashed a new wave of spandex-clad superstars upon an audience of financially flush Generation X-ers ready to relive Saturday morning cartoons on the silver screen. 10 years and three sequels later, the X-Men franchise was looking distinctly X-pired, after the critical acclaim of number two (X2) was tarnished by a disappointing third (The Last Stand) and ill-advised spinoff for Hugh Jackman’s rascally poster-boy, X-Men Origins: Wolverine.

But after the success of JJ Abrams retro Star Trek redux, that boldly went back to the drawing board where 10 films and 30 years of cinema had gone before, there was new-found interest in Stan Lee’s wunderkinder. As mutants by their very nature are adaptations of the norm, we get X-Men: First Class, a genetic blend of prequel, retrograde revision and swingin’ 60s origins tale, under the eyes of Matthew Vaughn’s direction. Vaughn is very much in vogue after striking big with the last year’s riotous Kick Ass, and together with writing sidekick Jane Goldman, knows something about bringing a fresh appeal to the very crowded market of costumed heroes. And while their efforts fly high, they never quite reach first class.

Magneto was pretty adamant that paper did in fact cover rock

Their story involves the beginnings of the bumpy relationship between the two leaders of mutantkind, James McAvoy’s mind-bending Charles Xavier and Michael Fassbender’s metal-morphing Erik Lehnsherr. We begin with a young Erik displaying his metalwork in a concentration camp in Poland, watched by Kevin Bacon’s sadistic Sebastian Shaw, a mutant who’ll go to any length to develop the boy’s powers, and finding rage to be a potent trigger. On the other side of the world, Charles is living an affluent life in the family mansion, but already showing altruistic intent as he welcomes the shapeshifting Raven into his home. A speedy cut to 20 years later and the grown-up Chuck is finishing his PhD in groovy Oxford, chatting up girls, chug chug chugging pints between punts and ignoring Jennifer Lawrence’s filled-out Raven’s romantic pinings. Erik is still disgruntled with his lot and jetsetting around the globe, on the hunt for Shaw and taking out Nazis with his linguistic prowess, metallic abilities and impeccably tailored suits.

Their paths converge when Moira McTaggart (Rose Byrne), a CIA spy on Shaw’s trail, discovers the existence of superpowers beyond the USA and Russia, and convinces the powers that be that a team of pepped-up heroes may be just what Uncle Sam needs to tip the Cold War in his favour. And so Erik and Charles build up a squad of moany teenage do-gooders, with powers ranging from incredible adaptation, ultrasonic vocal chords and dainty butterfly wings. And boy, do these teens get angsty, with constant complaints about how hard it is to be an all-powerful demigod and still pull off that bouffant beehive. And with so many characters on the team, and the two male leads chewing up the screentime, several members don’t get to share the limelight, with Lawrence’s Raven/Mystique particularly underused as a character who, despite actually being played by everyone else, really stood out in the first three movies.

Shaw’s Hellfire Club fares far better, gearing up for the dawn of a new mutant led mankind by fanning the flames of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Bacon is electric as Shaw, able to knock back every blow against him both literally and dramatically, and is ably backed up by January Jones’ psychic ice queen Emma Frost, Jason Flemyng’s teleporting Azazel, and a henchman who’s gifted with some windy weaving but no discernible dialogue. The baddie team makes for far more entertaining viewing, better developed and allowed to kill as the mood takes them, turning their enemies into ex-men. Their exploits are far more violent and take the series into darker territory than we’ve seen before, with Azazel’s solution to a crowd of CIA goons in the Langley HQ a particularly inventive way to get over the hurdle of security guards.

But numerous problems dog the film, with some shoddy CGI a major blow to a story in which the flash bang wallops are just as important as the characters. Pacing is also a mess, with the first hour rushing forward so quickly you don’t really get to enjoy the build-up, and there’s a constant sense that the younger mutants should be doing something more than sitting on a couch, moaning about being super. McAvoy and Fassbender are both, groan, magnetic as the leads, and almost lift the film above its flaws. Fassbender is particularly gripping while hunting Nazis at the start, but it all falls apart for when he slips into his native Irish brogue as Magneto O’Reilly in the last ten minutes, in a move that is so distracting you’ll be surprised he isn’t digging deep into a bag of Tayto while he’s at it.

All in all, a rushed, but promising, start to a new chapter of the X-Men.

3 ½ Likes.