Vibrant Hulk: The Green Hero at the Heart of Ang Lee’s Underrated Film

As studios have gotten better at commodifying fan knowledge and identity, nostalgic nods have turned into storytelling tools, using alternate universes to encompass as much as they like of what they’ve produced into singular canons. The relatively coherent continuity of the Marvel Cinematic Universe felt groundbreaking for a time, while the superhero films of the 1990s and 2000s laid the groundwork for what we have now. Spider-Man: No Way Home and Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness rejuvenated interest in the Sam Raimi Spider-Man trilogy, but there should be similar reappraisals of Ang Lee’s Hulk, a film which shines brighter every day in the increasingly dull sky of superhero films. Hulk’s emotional depth of character and unique visual style hasn’t been matched in the 20 years since, while the character has been gradually reduced to comic relief.
Hulk is a vivid, colorful film. Its Hulk is an inhuman green, conveying that he’s not just poisoned (implied by the fleshy combat-camo-khaki green of the Ed Norton/Mark Ruffalo Hulks) but radiating energy. Hulk looks of its time, which means there are occasional shots of military computer screens that look like they’re pulled from Command & Conquer: Tiberian Sun. In exchange, exterior shots are composed from the real world and not purely green screens—canyons, deserts, lakes, forests, even the streets of Berkeley and San Francisco are presented as real physical places with this giant green man dropped into them. A preponderance of practical effects makes the protagonist’s impact on the setting feel real.
There are also, from the opening credits, recurring close-ups of sea life, desert life, near-microscopic life. Hulk casts its eye on starfish, cacti and frogs, but also on fungi and moss, full-screen dreams and nightmares of vibrant spores and blending colors. In these shots of lab stills, of natural landscapes, of the Hulk and Bruce Banner in forests, there is naturalism and an interest in depicting the living world.
Even mundane acts of destruction feel magnificent because they feel real: An exploded sidewalk or destroyed lab have the texture of something you could experience, with the characters reacting to it authentically, highlighted by tight camera angles and creative editing that invoke panels and page-turns. Likewise, you can feel the hot blaring sun beating down in the civilian cul-de-sacs of the desert military base, the dry air scratching your throat. And, of course, the superheroics of throwing missiles back at helicopters are spectacular. But the emotion of the film comes from following Bruce Banner’s life from infancy through adulthood.
The screenplay (by James Schamus, Michael France, and John Turman) begins with Young David Banner (Paul Kersey) working for a military applied science division in the Mojave Desert to replicate the way some animals regenerate cells. Over the credits, we see him taking notes and experimenting on animals, the camera accentuating his focus—his obsession. He injects himself with an experimental DNA-altering formula, passing its traits on to his son, continuing to run tests on him without his mother’s (Cara Buono) knowledge and is concerned with unexplained side effects.