Joss Whedon knows how to make a sequel. All you do is just make the exact same movie as the first one. It’s fine. Nobody cares. It’s what most people want anyway. The hundreds of millions will roll in and it’ll be well-earned because this is some entertaining garbage. Whedon is a clever writer who understands exactly how to tickle the nipples of superhero fans. He crafts grand entrances for new characters (adapted from the comics), carries us through ambitious action scenes in which he constantly keeps us refreshed on seventeen things that are happening at once and beats the audience to almost every joke about how ridiculous it all is.
The results of modern day CGI effects are mixed at best. At its least inspiring, CGI proves, by negative example, the old saying that less is more. It dazzles our eye for about a minute and then the coldness sets in. On the upside though, filmmakers now potentially have that limitless freedom that comic book artists enjoy. They can level cities, throw characters at us who make no physical sense and then throw those same characters clear through a brick wall. With genuine affection for the old Marvel comics source material, some warmth to offset the digital cold, Whedon and company here take all of that and say “Let’s go.”
For one last time, at least. Joss Whedon says that this is his final Marvel movie and I can see why. Whedon, who’s created a few much-loved universes of his own, has only one idea for an Avengers movie (amidst severe internal strife, the Avengers fight to save the world and completely destroy a city or two along the way). Now, he’s made it twice. Fans love an encore, but it can’t go on too long. When that happens, the warmth dies and the coldness takes over—and not even Captain America’s shield, Tony Stark’s armor or Thor’s hammer can fight that.