Sam Raimi and the Maddening Marvel Machine

I used to keep up with every new Marvel film. This was for a few reasons. It was partly because my two close friends were both longtime comic book fans. We went to all the new releases together in high school and college, and it was a way to bond with them and share their interests. It was also partly because I genuinely enjoyed most Marvel films, and found them to be fun, exciting and, occasionally, even moving blockbuster fluff. Among a couple other personal standouts—such as Shane Black’s Iron Man 3—James Gunn’s Guardians movies are, in my opinion, earnestly great. I own physical copies of both, and I have revisited them on numerous occasions. (For what it’s worth, I think Gunn is the only Marvel hired hand who reads as having a true investment in the source material, and has been able to balance quippy humor that is actually funny with an affecting emotional core to true success.) Finally, it was partly because I used to like keeping up with the Marvel output as “important” cultural touchstones, quality aside; to be able to talk about them and stay in-tune with the zeitgeist, while also fortifying myself with the necessary context to sufficiently deride them if I felt they were worthy of derision (and they often are).
But as the two-parter Avengers films reared their dual hydra heads before the onset of 2020, I had grown weary. It began with Phase 3 and Captain America: Civil War, which I found to be a joyless, tedious, overlong slog. I didn’t care much for the Doctor Strange movie that followed. I thought Captain Marvel was a joke. I was left cold on almost everything else, or I received them warmly on release and found them to have since soured in my memory or upon a revisit.
I am now just about completely detached from the Marvel industrial complex. I didn’t bother with any of the streaming series that you now need to watch to know what’s going on in any of the Phase 4 films. A friend and I walked out of Black Widow last fall with only 20-30 minutes remaining, and after the film had already received two other walkouts during our screening. I didn’t watch Eternals or Shang Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings because I thought I’d do myself a kindness. I got about halfway through Spider-Man: No Way Home when it hit VOD before I decided to do myself another kindness and—since I was in the comfort of my home and had the ability to do so—simply turn it off and go to bed.
But, as many others have been doing for similar reasons, I rolled out for Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. This was because I was lured by the promise that (yes, you guessed it) Sam Raimi was directing. Despite how often distinctive directors are brought on to helm Marvel films—in order to drum up interest, excitement and the promise of something new, only for their signature marks to be completely watered down beneath the studio’s tried-and-true formula and innately conservative bent—some of my colleagues were still purporting the film to be surprisingly good. And not only that, but that the Evil Dead and Tobey Maguire Spider-Man director’s abilities shined through the whole affair. Much has already been retrospectively said with regards to nostalgia for Raimi’s commitment to treating source material with earnestness, and when it came to Spider-Man, Raimi—a comic book fan—fundamentally understood what makes a superhero film. Even if he might not have nailed his portrayal of the webbed hero, the director, complemented by his flair for heightened melodrama and cartoonish camerawork, invited us into Peter Parker’s world and demanded that we believe in it.
Fans of Raimi, like myself, have been desperately vying for new directed work from him following the lackluster Oz the Great and Powerful nearly a decade ago. Since then, the beloved genre director has largely favored the producer’s chair. Beyond helming one episode of his (great) Evil Dead spin-off series Ash vs Evil Dead, two episodes of a show called Rake and a three-part episode of a Quibi project called 50 States of Fright, Raimi has produced a slew of little horror films, including Don’t Breathe and Don’t Breathe 2, Crawl, Fede Álvarez’s suitable Evil Dead remake and, most recently, Umma.
But after original Doctor Strange director Scott Derrickson cut ties with the sequel production due to the usual reason directors part ways from a Marvel film—“creative differences”—Raimi was brought on to raucous, if nonetheless cautious, reception. On the one hand, we were suddenly about to receive the first Raimi-directed feature in far too long. On the other, it was for a Marvel film, where Raimi’s eccentric style was sure to be subdued. In the end, I did find that the director’s touch shines through the syrupy, convoluted mush here and there. His signature exaggerated camera movements, his wacky horror sensibilities, an Evil Dead reference, a truly fantastic cameo from Bruce Campbell. One particular sequence of humdrum exposition dump, which might have otherwise been delivered in a completely unremarkable dialogue exchange, became, instead, a montage of inspired edits and transitions between two characters in different locations. It’s not ingenious, but it’s a simple and effective way to convey mundane information while keeping the visuals engaging and the audience, in turn, engaged.