★★★

Marvel’s latest is…well, it’s a lot. There’s a lot to like about The Marvels but a lot more besides. That’s not to say the Nia DaCosta space epic isn’t heaps of fun. It is. Bolstered by a terrific central ensemble, The Marvels is heartfelt and funny and just the right side of zany. But it’s also a very much overblown beast and surprisingly uninvolving. What with Marvel’s ongoing determination to lather all of recent projects in computer generated excess, a failure of the plot to tether itself to anything especially material rather nulls the impact. Fans will, no doubt, find much to enjoy, to mull over and dissect. As for the more casually invested, the pleasures here are rather transitory. There’s a reason so much of Marvel’s once billion-dollar bankability now feels a distant box office memory.

Let’s not, however, be too hasty in hopping upon the negative bandwagon that has built up around The Marvels. From reports of awkward stars to absconding directors, there’s been no shortage of undue negative press. Ignore that discourse. There really is a lot to like here. Take the leads. Brie Larson offers up her warmest take on Carol Danvers yet, unpacking a wealth of emotional resonance in the process. She’s goofier and more relatable. The shift pays off. Teyonah Parris too improves on her WandaVision debut, returning to battle here as the electromagnetically charged Monica Rambeau. You may or may not remember her as being the daughter of Lashana Lynch’s Captain Maria Rambeau, one time compatriot of a pre-powers Carol. Monica is the little girl who got left behind as her idol danced among the stars. There’s much to unpack between the two.

Best of the bunch, however, is the effervescently talented Iman Vellani, a vibrant and endearingly dorky Kamala Khan. A revelation in Ms. Marvel, her Disney+ televisual debut, Vellani is exactly the breath of fresh air Marvel need right now. Something new. Certainly, Kamala is as close to a surrogate as the series has ever produced. A youngster who grew up alongside our very own big screen Avengers. There’s great fun to be had, then, as Kamala – aka Ms. Marvel – meets her heroes. She squeals on first spotting Samuel L. Jackson’s Nick Fury, having been transported into space – you can, in transpires, hear her scream – and is mortified to learn her family got to meet Captain Marvel before her. When she finally does meet the good Captain, Kamala is struck with horror. Has she breached copyright in naming herself Marvel?

Outwit the film’s interpersonal endeavours, an ultimately rote plot strings together individually winning vignettes. Velvet Buzzsaw’s Zawe Ashton plays blighted Kree warrior Dar-Benn, who plots to restore her home world by pilfering component elements from more thriving planets. Typically, the scheme depends on a long lost sci-fi artefact, dug up in the film’s prologue, and comes crashing down with a blow out, smash bang wallop, finale.

While benefitting from a lack of prosthetics, Ashton’s oft evidenced skill and depth as a performer feel suffocated here. Lost in derivative flows and laden writing. As DaCosta whirls from world to world, a sense for the superficial pervades. Time spent on a planet where the locals communicate entirely in song is great fun but far from rooted. It’s hard to care when battle commences and the bodies pile. It doesn’t feel real enough for that.

At best, The Marvels is rainy afternoon fun. Not a film to invest in but a time investment just about worth the ticket fare. Certainly, there’s more to be enjoyed in experiencing The Marvels on the big screen than will be the case when it debuts online early next year. There’s a promising tease as the film concludes but one must wonder whether Marvel still have chutzpah enough to pull it off.

T.S.