Movie Review: Ant-Man

“Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: ‘It might have been.’”

Did poet John Greenleaf Whittier, surprise soothsayer, write that famous refrain in 1856 about Darren Aronofsky’s Batman: Year One, Tim Burton’s Superman Lives, George Miller’s Justice League and Joss Whedon’s Wonder Woman?

We can only conclude... definitely.

If you reckon there are already a lot of superhero movies – too many, even - spare a thought for the wasteland of abandoned projects that never were, like the above.

We can now dump Edgar Wright’s Ant-Man into that sad, forgotten heap.

When the beloved cinephile auteur behind Shaun of the Dead walked away from Ant-Man in 2014, after eight. whole. years of pre-production, all seemed lost for the long-gestating and pint-sized picture.

Yet, unlike those other comic book adaptations, Ant-Man had the might of Marvel behind it; the studio responsible for a cinematic universe eleven films deep, with a collective gross of more than eight billion box office dollars.

Basically: there’s no way this thing wasn’t making its July 2015 release date.

And so it has come to pass, with Wright swapped out for Peyton Reed, the talented filmmaker behind okay flicks Bring It On and Down With Love. He was a smart choice, relatively speaking. Reed almost matches his predecessor in terms of energy, even if he’s not exactly blessed with Wright’s impossible bounty of creativity and filmic knowledge.

Still, while watching Reed’s Ant-Man, a perfectly enjoyable and refreshingly self-contained entry from the increasingly labyrinthine MCU, it’s hard not to mourn the movie that could have been. There are points at which you can imagine the sequences Wright must have devised with co-writer Joe Cornish to specifically suit his talents. Oh, the things we might have seen.

But, best not to dwell on the past.

This other version of Ant-Man – the real one – has its own unique delights; notably, a screenplay retooled by star Paul Rudd and Anchorman director Adam McKay. Who’da thunk we’d get a Marvel instalment from the same writer as Step Brothers? What charmed world is this? (See, it’s possible to have a half-glass full approach to the otherwise dispiriting machinations of the Hollywood sausage factory!)

Paul Rudd takes on the role of Scott Lang, a genius cat burglar with a conscience, freshly released from prison and eyed for a special project by inventor Hank Pym, played by a gloriously-goateed Michael Douglas.

Pym’s wary of his protégé, Darren Cross (Corey Stoll), discovering the technology he once used to become miniaturised for stealth S.H.I.E.L.D. operations and handing it over to villainous organisation Hydra. Unwilling to put his daughter Hope (Evangeline Lilly) through the reality-warping experience of shrinking and unshrinking over and over again, he courts the expendable Lang with the promise of redemption: become the Ant-Man, steal the tech from Cross and save the world.

Cue training montage.

The Ant-Man’s talents are surprisingly diverse. When in the suit, he can compact his molecules, making him teeny and frighteningly strong; he can speak to other ants and corral them into acting as his army; and, with Rudd behind the mask, he can be disarmingly apologetic and adorable while beating up unsuspecting henchmen.

All of Marvel’s leading men have a winning sense of humour. Rudd’s Lang, however, has the charm of a lovable loser. It works a treat. Turns out they put Ant-Man’s secret weapon above the title.

Something about Scott’s motivations is stuck in my craw though. Supposedly, Lang wants to be a hero for his already-adoring daughter (a cute, toothless Abby Ryder Fortson); a difficult task, considering his ex-wife (Judy Greer, underutilised for the record thousandth time of her career!) and her new hubby (Bobby Cannavale) don’t want him around until he can pay child support and prove he’s fully reformed.

So, Lang’s primary emotional arc is not re-earning the respect of his daughter, but rather, the admiration of his daughter’s step dad. Look, I similarly want Bobby Cannavale’s approval like any other dude, but it seems a little backwards having him dictate those terms of visitation. Doesn’t Judy Greer get a say, or is it simply in her contracts to never have agency (or more than three minutes of screen time)?

Otherwise, Ant-Man has plenty of appealing traits, including the ever-reliable Michael Peña as Lang’s literal partner-in-crime. A final showdown between shrunken hero and villain on a child’s playset is particularly ingenious and Ant-Man’s comic tussle with an honest-to-goodness Avenger is genuinely tickling. (I imagine most tussles with an ant-man would tickle, now that we mention it.)

Ant-Man stands apart from Marvel's gargantuan storytelling machine that builds towards Avengers sequels every three years. To some, because of this, it will seem inconsequential. It’s actually exactly what’s needed for the increasingly tired MCU. This is the sorbet. Imperfect and perhaps creatively-compromised, Ant-Man nonetheless reinvigorated me, and, for the first time in a while, made me ready for more. No small feat.

3.5/5

In cinemas July 16. Rated PG for mild science fiction violence and coarse language.