Black Widow (2021, Dir. Cate Shortland):
That is such a powerful journey to see anybody take, but certainly to see a woman onscreen represented in that way: a flawed superhero with a gray moral compass coming to terms with what’s happened to her. It’s definitely shown some sort of path for these other female superheroes to be able to walk down.
—Scarlett Johannson
Of all the major characters in Marvel’s ever-growing cinematic universe, Natasha Romanoff, a.k.a. Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) has received the shortest shrift. Since her introduction in Iron Man 2 (2010), she’s been shunted to the side while others have received their own standalone movies, shows or origin tales. (Even Jeremy Renner’s Hawkeye, who is only just now getting his own show, at least has had an actual family to interact with.) Amidst the wave of female-centric superhero stories over the past decade (Wonder Woman, Captain Marvel and Harley Quinn in the cinemas, Supergirl and Batwoman on TV), Natasha has been curiously absent. Then again, as a former assassin accustomed to living in the shadows, Black Widow has always been more cipher than character. She’s been a level-headed team player, tortured semi-love interest, sardonic independent operator or concerned den mother, depending on the whims of the movie she’s appearing in.
Even if it weren’t delayed by a pandemic, Black Widow would have a belated air about it, given that Johansson’s character bravely sacrificed herself in Avengers: Endgame two years ago, and received a one-minute elegy for her trouble, while fellow Avenger Tony Stark was given a funeral and requiem befitting a head of state. But if Natasha was always fated to be left out of the spotlight, a standalone Black Widow movie at least offered the chance to balance the scales a bit and flesh out her character, for optics’ sake if nothing else. (See? We do care about all our female heroes.)
Adhering to its hero’s more grounded skills, Black Widow begins in relatively realistic fashion, taking its cue from Jason Bourne spy thrillers. After an Americans-like prologue that chronicles Nat’s brief residence in the US as part of a fake “family” of Russian spies, the movie fast-forwards 21 years to the aftermath of Captain America: Civil War, Nat on the run from the powers-that-be, seeking refuge in austere Scandinavian and Eastern European locales, the mood measured rather than rambunctious. When she settles down with beer and soup in a beat-up trailer to watch Moonraker, it’s as if the filmmakers are telling us: Yeah, we’re not going over the top this time. But soon enough her past comes calling in the guise of her former “sister” Yelena (Florence Pugh), an assassin recently freed from mind control and now requiring assistance. Before you can say “sibling rivalry” the two of them are duking it out Bourne-style in a grungy Budapest apartment, and fleeing Yelena’s brainwashed comrades via a motorcycle-car chase that’s refreshingly down-to-earth if not especially inspired.
Like Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the Marvel entry it most resembles, Black Widow considers the morally gray side of heroism, as Natasha confronts the consequences of her past misdeeds as a state-sanctioned hitwoman. Well, sort of. Apart from a single flashback in which she’s complicit in the death of a little girl (who we later discover wasn’t killed after all), scant detail is provided about how wicked she was in her former life—Marvel must keep things family-friendly, after all—so when Yelena taunts her, “I’m not the killer that little girls call their hero,” the moment doesn’t carry much of a sting. Nevertheless, Nat and Yelena find common ground with a shared target from their pasts: the loathsome Dreykov (Ray Winstone), the man who programmed both of them to be heartless (and mindless) assassins. To locate and take out Dreykov, they’ll need the assistance of their erstwhile fake parents: Alexei (a bloated David Harbour), a.k.a. Red Guardian, Russia’s answer to Captain America, and Melina (Rachel Weisz, looking waxy, as if she’s been pickled in super-soldier serum), an icy genius and trained killer from the School of Dreykov.
During its middle third Black Widow enters sit-com territory as Natasha reunites with her surrogate family. Director Cate Shortland throws in snarky banter and comedic beats, attempting to emulate the off-handed, ingratiating humor that fellow Antipodean Taika Waititi brought to Thor: Ragnarok, but there’s a big difference between semi-comical demi-gods and psychologically damaged assassins. When the subject of hysterectomy comes up (all of Dreykov’s hitwomen are forced to undergo the operation), it’s used as a tone-deaf punchline, and a “family talk” of jokes and insults over dinner, punctuated by a mind-controlled pig doing pratfalls, is written and staged with all the verve of a Big Bang Theory episode. If the material is second-rate, at least the actors are game. Harbour finds slivers of humor and pathos in the soused-up, washed-up Alexei, whether he’s boasting about the one time he kicked Captain America’s ass, or slurring the lyrics to Don McLean’s “American Pie” after too many vodkas. (Black Widow‘s musical choices, including a glum angsty cover of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” over the title credits, land with a thud.) Likewise, Pugh makes the most of her underwritten part, allowing flashes of humanity and uncertainty to peek out from under her cynical veneer, even if her dialogue mostly consists of wisecracks delivered in a wobbly Russian accent.
But what about Black Widow—you know, the title character? Her primary purpose seems to be empowering her fellow misfits to break free of their pasts (accomplished mainly by calling Alexei an idiot and Melina a coward), but any deeper understanding of her own demons isn’t forthcoming. We shouldn’t be surprised: Marvel has always preferred wise-ass, extroverted heroes over more internalized characters like Natasha, and the Marvel house style of one-liners and safe thrills makes for an uneasy fit with Black Widow‘s desire to be a thriller with emotional underpinnings—not that the emotional underpinnings explored are all that intriguing. While Johansson displayed glimmers of sass and poignance in previous movies, here she’s mostly bemused and stoic. WandaVision showed that Marvel has the capacity to delve into the psyches and souls of its female heroes; it’s a shame that Natasha doesn’t get similar development here. Her throw-downs with Taskmaster, a masked nemesis who mimics her movements, only accentuate her own lack of personality: take away the fancy moves, and what’s left? Only quippy insights about her character that are strictly meta, such as Yelena poking fun at her fighting poses (“I mean, they’re great poses, but it does look like you think everyone’s looking at you all the time,” she smirks).
The proceedings briefly spark to life when Natasha finally confronts Dreykov, who controls an army of brainwashed lovelies around the world (a set-up ripped off from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service). While the film is none too subtle about Dreykov’s villainy or misogyny (“The only natural resource the world has too much of…girls,” he sneers), at least it gives the story a feminist backbone, as Natasha, Yelena and Melina must band together to overcome their wayward father figure. Otherwise, Black Widow lacks dramatic snap: there’s lots of bickering and tears shed, but no clashing loyalties or messy doubts impinge on the increasingly cartoonish action. “Don’t let them take your heart,” Melina warns Natasha at the beginning of the film, but Natasha’s heart is never in doubt throughout.
Echoing other franchises like Bourne, Bond, and Mission: Impossible instead of forging its own personality, Black Widow eventually devolves into deafening over-the-top spectacle that appropriates the worst excesses of the Bond movies (Moonraker, indeed). The climax sees yet another exploding floating fortress, Natasha surfing along bits of debris whilst in full free-fall, and even a cameo by a Bond girl (Olga Kurylenko, wasted in a near-mute performance). By the time the CGI dust has settled, Natasha is dutifully returning to her lonely corner of the Marvel universe to die, with Yelena positioned to assume her mantle in the obligatory post-credits teaser. And isn’t what this is all about, in the end? Black Widow is less a story with an original approach than a stack of reshuffled cards; its ultimate reason for existence isn’t giving an overlooked character her due, but propping up a new, younger successor. So the franchise hamster wheel turns. ■
