Robert Downey Jr. brings a welcome edge to this enjoyable fantasy, writes Donald Clarke
ATTEND the story of a great American genius whose fondness for drink, women and himself has often overshadowed his professional gifts. Eventually, after crawling unscathed from an apparently endless series of pile-ups, he encounters a catastrophe that threatens to end his career (and, maybe, his life). But he is resolute. Battered and befuddled, our hero sits in a lonely cell and vows to clean up his act and offer the world a tidier, more effective version of the man they thought they knew.
Ladies and gentlemen, say hello to Robert Downey Jr. 2.0.
That synopsis could, of course, also serve for the hero of Marvel's Iron Man. Originally conceived in 1963, the durable comic described how dissolute squillionaire Tony Stark (think Howard Hughes without the bottled wee) reinvented himself after capture by Vietnamese communists. Instructed to build the guerrillas a powerful missile, Stark in fact used the equipment provided to fashion a powerful metal suit with blasters in the palms and an electromagnetically modified breastplate to maintain his damaged heart.
Later - years later in fact - Stark developed a slimmer, sexier version of the ensemble that enabled him to zip about those parts of the ionosphere where super-crime thrived.
Jon Favreau's nifty updating of the story moves the prologue to a troubled section of Afghanistan. Stark, CEO of an armaments firm, has travelled there to show off his latest missile system to the military. Shortly after arrival, a rocket hits his armoured personnel carrier - can you guess what company's name is on the barrel? - and he finds himself the prisoner of men who look a little like Jihadists.
Action-movie fans need not fear another lecture about the evils of the war on terror. The middle- eastern villains, who make no mention of religion, appear to be driven by the desire for power alone, and the film's criticisms of the weapons industry are sufficiently muted to pass unobserved by all but the most hypersensitive of right-wing viewers.
Nonetheless, Stark does experience a kind of epiphany when he returns home. At a hastily convened press conference, he informs the public that his company will henceforth dedicate itself to more humane pursuits. This delights Ms Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow), his long- suffering Girl Friday, and appals Obadiah Stane (Jeff Bridges), his apparently loyal deputy. Later Pepper will remain supportive when Stane builds his own suit and attempts to annihilate Iron Man.
If you've seen the superb trailer, you could be forgiven for expecting the greatest superhero film ever. Iron Manis certainly not that, but it can't be denied that whoever thought of casting Downey Jr. in the lead deserves an extra bonus this Christmas.
The uncomfortable twinges invoked by the sight of Robert, formerly a boozer of psychotic proportions, knocking back highball after highball does lend the film a certain edge. But his performance is most notable for communicating the sheer galloping madness that would surely accompany - or provoke - any decision to embrace the superhero lifestyle. Christian Bale and Michael Keaton, both fine as Batman, made convincing eccentrics of Bruce Wayne. Their creations seem, however, like suburban tobacconists when set beside Downey Jr's swivel-eyed fruitcake.
Sadly, Iron Manis not quite so impressive when it's actually about Iron Man. The film suffers from the perennial problem that assails origin stories: too much time is spent relating how the hero got his job; far too little is taken up flinging super-villians at skyscrapers.
When the showdown between Bridges and Downey finally arrives, it feels hurried, perfunctory and disconcertingly reminiscent of last year's Transformers.
One suspects that Favreau, the eclectic director of Elf and Zathura, just does not have the flash and zip such sequences require. One longs for him to incline the camera a little more or to work a bit harder at finding new ways for it to fly past the mounting debris.
Still, everyone involved has done enough solid groundwork for us to anticipate a sequel with modest excitement. Perhaps the guy who edited the trailer could direct it.
