Whatever the next Superman movie is called—Man of Tomorrow would be my choice; 2 Man 2 Steel: Turn Off the Dark Knight seems more likely—it will be sharing a school vacation with Joss Whedon's Avengers follow-up and J.J. Abrams' Star Wars. They'll all make money, presumably, no matter what they cost. They'll probably even be pretty good: Whether or not Whedon or Abrams are auteurs, they're certainly proven they know how to please messageboard-posting geeks and civilian filmgoers at the same time. There's another thing Abrams and Whedon have in common, something you can't say of Del Toro or James Cameron or Peter Jackson: They come from television.
My favorite movie this summer was a late entry, The World's End, the "Cornetto trilogy" capper from co-writer–director Edgar Wright and co-writer–star Simon Pegg. Like its forebears, Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, the movie uses a fun genre-parody platform to deliver a genuine thematic payload. As a metaphor for blockbuster season, it feels almost inevitable: For one thing, it's about putting away childish things and embracing maturity. But its plot particulars resonate, too. Pegg and his old school chums march from one look-alike, corporate-owned pub to the next, determined to believe there's something fresh about this iteration of the experience, until at last they reach the titular watering hole, and perhaps enlightenment.
The World's End withholds its supernatural/otherworldly elements until fairly late—there's a pivotal scene (spoiled, alas by its TV ad campaign) that changes the nature of the film in an instant, like when Janet Leigh gets stabbed in Psycho. That curious pacing gives the balance of the picture spiky electricity, a sense that nothing is safe and anything could happen. The movie cost only $20 million—the upper price range, Wright has said, in which idiosyncrasy is possible. In reminding us that we all have to grow up, the movie inadvertently reminded Hollywood of something, too: It's gonna need a smaller boat.
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