The Opposite of Deep Thoughts About Wonder Woman: Not Exactly a Film Review

Day 5 of my 30-day writing challenge

As I mentioned yesterday, I saw “Wonder Woman” last night. I went with my older daughter and her Aunty Cris. We had our 3D glasses, a bag of popcorn, a full theater, and an expectation of some serious girl power. We were not disappointed.

I’ve already written about my childhood identification with Wonder Woman (Underoos were my generation’s cosplay), so I won’t belabor that, but instead jump right into my impressions of the movie, in no particular order:

  • Princess Buttercup grew up to be an Amazon general! That’s the best news I’ve had in weeks. Can Snow White grow up to be our next President?
  • I miss Westley, though.
  • Speaking of Westley, who would you rather have wash up on your remote island: Carey Elwes or Chris Pine?
  • I gotta give Carey a slight edge, just because (as has been pointed out many times), there are too many darn Chrises on movie screens these days.
  • Chris Pine, it’s not that I didn’t believe you as Colonel Trevor. It’s just that I kept wondering when Scotty was going to beam in.
  • Speaking of Star Trek, I know I’m not the only one to feel that Chris Pine’s almost-nude scene was payback for that gratuitous scene of Alice Eve in her underwear in Into Darkness. (J.J. Abrams must not have gotten George Lucas’ memo that “there is no underwear in space.”) Karma, thy name is Patty Jenkins.
  • I’m a little bitter that male actors can have acne scars and still be romantic leads, whereas for women a scarred complexion is the kiss of death . . . or is somehow correlated with being completely evil. I’m looking at you, Dr. Poison.
  • I’m still trying to formulate my thoughts about this – and I’m sure I’m late to the party here – but I appreciated that Diana seems to have a distinct origin story from some of the male heroes I’ve seen lately. She had an idyllic childhood; she isn’t weighted down by some primal tragedy and / or some angst-ridden need to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders. She’s not a case study in PTSD, on a morally dubious quest for vengeance, nor does she have to suffer and die for the sins of humanity. She’s pretty darn sure she’s innocent of the violence around her, and she’s equally sure that she can do something about it that doesn’t require her own death (even temporarily). Just because her moral righteousness is naive doesn’t mean it’s not appealing, and her confidence and lack of cynicism come across as perfectly admirable and (given her innate abilities, honed by training) both gifted and earned.
  • Also in the category of very quasi-formed thoughts: I wonder if Diana’s heroic arc, with its refreshing lack of martyrdom, will be more appealing to some feminist and womanist theologians than Superman’s more overtly Christological arc. Don’t both schools often critique the very idea of redemptive violence and suffering, given the burdens that trope can place on the female body in general and the African American female body in particular?
  • I really would have preferred Diana’s boyfriend to live through the movie, though I appreciated that he wasn’t “fridged” for the sake of sending her on some dark night of the soul (as often happens with girlfriends and wives) but instead choose his death as a result of his own heroism. I’m just kinda tired of disposable love interests.
  • To be fair, if one is an immortal goddess in a world of mortals, everyone has an expiration date. For whom does the bell toll? For every boyfriend EVER.
  • Please, gods of the DC Universe, don’t make Wonder Woman romance Batfleck. That’s not a thing in the comics, is it? Just the thought makes me throw up in my mouth a little.
  • Also, Superman is off limits. Nobody messes with Amy Adams, and if she wants that pajama’d slab of beefcake, she’s allowed to have him.