Marvel has a billion dollar knack for mining the rich storytelling potential latent within a good ol' messy family legacy, particularly of the patriarchal sort:
Iron Man with his dead Daddy issues.
Thor and Loki with their dead Daddy issues.
Spiderman with his dead Daddy/Uncle/Mentor issues.
Black Panther with his dead Daddy issues.
The over-riding, most enduring characteristic connecting them all has been this particularly repetitive dynamic.
It's no wonder that Carol Danvers seemed to have a shitty flashback Dad, too.
Either way, as far as an easily and successfully repeated formula is concerned, Marvel's corporate nature demands that they stick to what works. This gives the viewer the benefit of an ever-increasing scope and scale, but it also lends to a diminished interest or investment in the overall point of it all.
Because, in the end, who really cares? We know how this plays out. Daddy's good lessons stick and the more troublesome aspects of his legacy will be confronted and overcome.
And no matter how adept the director, the cinematographer and the screenwriters are, their grand vision will ultimately have to fit within the confines of this formulaic 'legacy' because it works.
And if it works, often to the tune of recouped billions, don't fix it.
*easy peasy, chicken's greasy*
That being said, I have to admit that I did go in to a 1:30pm viewing of Shang-Chi and The Legend of The Ten Rings, in a nearly empty theater, with a different set of expectations than what is usually held for a typical MCU production.
I knew about the retcon and the introduction of the familial dynamic and Wong. That's the Marvel stuff. The formulaic dictates of the bean counters who could care less about anybody's high-falootin' auteuristic ideals; cuz if it don't make dollars, it don't make sense.
But I wanted the spectacle. I wanted to see what could be done with all of that corporate money if the cast and crew and creators looked like the characters they were working to bring to life.
I wanted to hear their story. I wanted to see it, blown up large, gloriously crafted and filmed and presented from Destin Daniel Cretton's specific Asian-American point of view.
I wanted to see what he saw, feel the sense of awe and appreciation for his culture, his people, as a far-flung member of his Diaspora, shaped by his experiences here in America.
I wanted to see a super hero movie about an Asian character, brought to life by an Asian-American director in the same way that I wanted to see an African character, Black Panther, brought to life by an African-American director, Ryan Coogler, before him. And I wanted to see it for the same reason.
At their core, these characters are highly problematic, but let's be clear, these are American creations. They were never intended to be presented as faithful, or even positively uplifting expressions of their true cultural origins.
Each of them, Shang-Chi and T'Challa, The Black Panther, were created by white men in the early 1970's, along with the likes of Luke Cage and Misty Knight, and were solely intended to profit from the culturally relevant blaxploitation era of films, along with Bruce Lee's growing popularity and the introduction to many inner city communities to Hong Kong's rich movie-making history and the 'kung-fu' flick.
As a result, many of their early appearances in the comics during this time were poorly handled by creators who clearly had little else to draw from other than grotesque caricatures and harmful stereotypes.
The thing is, even with a relatively reasonable acknowledgment of these characters problems in latter years, much of what was harmful in their depictions remained, particularly since they were typically relegated to minor appearances and most often given over to white, male content managers with no interest in exploring their importance to those fans who saw themselves in these characters potential.
Black Panther's true depths weren't explored until Christopher Priest did a deep dive into the character in 1998's Marvel Knight's Black Panther, which ran until 2005. Much of his world-building during the series was, in fact, subsequently used to help craft the MCU production.
I have previously noted how surprising, at least from our perspective as fans who are fully aware of the potential inherent in diverse story telling opportunities, how long it took for a character like Black Panther to receive such a big production and promotional push from a corporate entity solely focused on money(this suggests a sort of blind sense of toxic self-gratification, but, you know, capitalism, so, whatever).
It was no wonder to me then, following its success, that in quick succession Marvel dropped Captain Marvel, an 'all-woman' production co-helmed by Anna Boden, and announced that Shang-Chi had been greenlit.
Oh, so now you want some of that 'other' money?
Well, I gave them some of mine, fifty bucks worth, thank you very much, and I truly was not disappointed. I enjoyed the show. The spectacle.
I got what I paid for.
Keep it coming.
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