Along with being sturdy action flicks, I give credit to the Iron Man series for solving one of the biggest problems of superhero movies since time began.
The problem: When the masks come off, most of these films grind to a halt. The superhero’s real life alter ego is usually a bore-and-a-half. The most interesting thing about him is that he puts on a mask. He’s awkward or stiff or tortured and the superhero suit is the only skin in which he’s comfortable. That can be fertile ground for a good story (I’m not saying it isn’t), but most movies deal strictly in the cliches. Even the best Batman films—and there are some great ones—can’t make Bruce Wayne very unique or interesting (the villains in Batman movies consistently steal the show). We’ve been dealing with this forever.
But not in the Iron Man movies.
First off, it dispenses with the whole secret identity business. Tony Stark is Iron Man and the whole world knows it.
Secondly, Tony Stark is funny. He’s the audience’s eyes, ears and mouth. He jokes about everything in cynical fashion. When something ridiculous happens, he knows it and he’s got a wisecrack cocked and ready to fire. Robert Downey Jr’s Tony Stark is almost a meaner, more modern descendant of William Powell’s Nick Charles in the Thin Man films.
This take on Iron Man isn’t exactly Hamlet, sure, but it still takes a real actor with a real personality. Downey pulls it off and does it so comfortably that we don’t bat an eye when many of the action sequences in Iron Man 3 feature him not even wearing the armor.
The plot here is some junk about a vengeful weasel, once slighted by Stark many years ago, who comes back to give him trouble. He destroys Stark’s lab and his nicest beachfront home. Then he kidnaps his girlfriend (Gwyneth Paltrow) and eventually kidnaps him as part of some goofball plot to take over the world or something, I don’t know.
I probably couldn’t pass a pop quiz on what the hell was going on, but I still enjoyed it.