Once upon a time, in a century long gone bye, I was a feature writer; great, easy fun, face-to-face with press -worthy subjects; interesting, entertaining, some controversial, some fascinating individuals, but periodically I would meet, as I pejoratively referred to as “flatliners” , those I could not engage, waves of resentment, that a lifejacket could not ward off, buttressed me with every question asked; devoid of chemistry on either side; eventually, intransigently stymied, bleakly accepting my failure, pen sheathed, I fled.
Those memories returned, epically , watching “Iron Man 3”; recognizing in these traumatic times a need for superheroes, saving the world from nasty villains; iniquitous goons striving to shape the universe in their own malignant image; “Tony Stark” encompassed in his iron suit, ordained savior; Robert Downey, Jr. jittery, sleepless, bored with the tiresome job of felling evil, not to mention the weight of the “suit”; “Aldrich Killian” (appropriately slimy, Guy Pearce) and “The Mandarin” (silly, dimwitted role for Ben Kingsley). Lastly the lovely, abdominally- sculpted Gwyneth Paltrow as Stark’s heartthrob “Pepper Potts” (someone had to have been in their “cups” when this sobriquet was coined); it is an anomaly as to why this Academy Award winner bothers with films imbued with frosting instead of grit; regardless, no one since Fay Wray, has looked as good, tied to a stake.
“Iron Man 3” sheds audiences with an abundance of pyrotechnics, human torches; hilarious mid-air rescues and yes, at the risk of a “spoiler”, a happy ending. Not quite a “flatliner”, but not enough “spark” to ignite another word or thought from this reviewer.