Why I Love Zack Snyder's Justice League: A Discussion

 

 

            Anyone familiar with who I am and what this blog is will know that I am no hater of the cinema. In fact, finding fault in a film can sometimes be challenging for me. Movies are a major part of who I am, and no one wants to hate themselves, right? No. I’m just a dude who finds movies as both a means for entertainment, as well as this enveloping source of inspiration, growth, and intellectual stimulation. I am, what many would call…a nerd. Nerd culture has shifted in the last 20-30 years; we’re freakin’ cool now! It is out of this nerdy coolness that the following words, or dissertation, or tome of unnecessary proportions—whatever you want to call this crazy, insane piece of writing—has made itself manifest. For those who may not know me, or who have yet to venture through my reviews here, allow me to provide context for what I’m sure will be the underlying foundation for what you’ll read from here on out. 

            For as long as I can remember, going to the movies has been an intricate part of who I am as a person. The cinema has always felt like this heightened abode of entertaining value, a home-away-from-home sort of speak. I don’t think I’m alone in this mindset; there are many who would say that the cinema is their “happy place,” their “ultimate escape,” their "church of worship and inspiration." Would that be too extreme of a thought to have? I don’t think so; then again, I guess I’m biased. I wouldn’t say the cinema is my church, however…but it’s the next best thing. The ability to escape the real world and participate in an experience where stories are blasted across our faces—stories that reflect our own, or transport us to worlds beyond our imagination—is not only fun, but incredibly fulfilling for me.

            I’ve spent many hours writing about movies, sharing my love for them, and discussing why they work as elevated pieces of art. I truly believe that. Storytelling is one of the most basic human aspects, and the cinema just happens to be my favorite gallery to examine, explore, experience, and relish in the art and stories of our day. The reason you are here, right now, reading these very words, is because a movie has come into fruition that has entertained me…but more importantly it has latched onto every fiber of my being and has left me so fundamentally shook and utterly obsessed with what it is, how it came to be, and what it offers, that I feel inclined—nay, compelled—to get my thoughts down. That movie, of course, is Zack Snyder’s Justice League. I’m no YouTuber, and I would imagine the following discussion would play better on a visual medium, but I’m a writer at heart and in real life, so it only feels natural for me to sit at my computer and let my fingers spew out the content that by brain wishes to share. 

            So, strap in.

            Oh, and there will be spoilers throughout, so if you haven’t seen Zack Snyder’s Justice League, or any of the past DC films, just be aware.

 

            Of the many genres of film that are out there, the comic book movie has risen to gargantuan superiority at the box office. With their spectacle and insane narratives, we have connected with characters that strive to do good in worlds with fantastical evils, and they do so with a varying display of powers, abilities, and intelligence. I’ve often heard comic books being referred to as our modern day mythologies, and rightfully so. Mythology is more than mere stories, for they are narratives that serve a more profound and philosophical purpose, throughout ancient and modern cultures. Our myths are sacred tales that explain the intricacies of the world and the human experience within that world. In ancient times, people looked to the stars and the gods they believed resided among them, weaving tales of heroism that would also give explanation to simple truths like the rising and setting of the sun, why seasons change, or the reason for solar eclipses. 

            Today, comics and the characters within them serve as modern myths that remain relevant to us today as the old myths were to the ancients, because they speak to that human experience, only in a much more modern light. These colorful characters who can fly, shapeshift, swing from webs, and shoot lasers from their eyes all stem from very human aspects that are heightened in order to convey their larger themes. Take the X-Men for example: those mutant-centered narratives are merely a commentary on racial and social discrimination; Superman is a fantastical depiction of the immigrant experience; and many heroes across multiple franchises take on varying social injustices (i.e. Green Arrow, who often fought against racism and drug use).

            As an artform, films provide a visual medium that allows these fantastical and other-worldly people to play out these myths in a new way that is both entertaining while also remaining thought-provoking and relevant. For the last 13 years, Marvel Studios has conquered the box office with their sprawling cinematic universe. Each of their films have given us unique and wonderful characters, epic battles, compelling stories, and an interconnected narrative that made each film feel almost episodic, as if the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) was this giant television series played out on the big screen. The “season finale” that was Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame made cinematic history; no other comic book movie had dared to do what it did, which was to take ten years of storytelling and pay off those moments sprinkled throughout in epic, grand fashion. To this day, I have yet to have a cinematic experience like the one I did seeing Avengers: Endgame for the first time. It may not ever be topped.

            

         

           Despite their cultural, inspirational, and emotional capacity to entertain, unite, and maybe even heal, the unfortunate thing to keep in mind, though, about movies is that there is an industry that runs these narratives, a massive hamster wheel driven by the almighty dollar which ultimately has the last word on what these narratives become and how these stories are experienced. I’m not saying that the movie industry is horrible; I don’t feel like I have enough ground to say that, having no real connection to the industry other than stuffing my face with popcorn while watching their latest product. But the industrial aspect of movies means that often times money drives the narratives that are made, more so than the artists that make them, and with that also comes competition, whether it’s wanted or not.

            Marvel Studios, over their dominant reign, has found a formula that works for them, which also seems to work for the fans as well. DC Comics, on the other hand, well…maybe not so much? Now, I’m not going to spend time discussing the history of DC Comics, Marvel’s biggest “rival” if you will—there are plenty of articles out there that have covered this topic way better than I ever could. No; my goal here is to simply speak from the heart as a fan, a fan of movies, who doesn’t hold allegiance to one side or the other when it comes to comic book fandom. The information I touch on here is simply to give context for where my head is at and where I eventually want to go with this discussion. So, when I say that the DC films and the DC Extended Universe (DCEU) have struggled out of the gate as of late, I do not mean they’ve produced horrible movies, only that in trying to carve out their space like Marvel has done, their attempts have been somewhat sloppy—and there’s a reason for that, I think. 

            When I compare the current Marvel films to the current DC films—within their respective universes—both give me spectacle, both give me awesome characters, and both leave me wanting more. The biggest difference, if I were to limit it to just one, would be the level of filmmaking that is involved. Marvel, for the most part, has taken the approach of hiring talented filmmakers and allowing them the freedom to use their own style, their own voice, to create memorable stories while maintaining the narrative threads needed for the larger picture the studio wanted to weave. There’s not a lot of micromanaging going on; you can tell. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have gotten films like Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Guardians of the Galaxy, or Thor: Ragnarok, all of which fit within the larger Marvel cinematic tapestry, but also all feel completely different and individual to the filmmakers that made them. Art, in my opinion, works best when the artist isn’t limited. One could make the argument, I imagine, that there could be some artistic merit to be seen within the bounds of limitation, but artistic expression is meant to be freeing, and it’s within that freedom that true artistry—I feel—can shine. I’m not naïve, however, and I understand that these movies cost a lot of money to make and that there is ultimately a business aspect that drives their creation, but you can’t make unique art by committee; it will always feel contrived and at best, stale.

            The issue, I think, with DC’s Universe of films—despite all the good that they have had—is that the extremely talented filmmakers involved haven’t been given as much freedom as they should. It’s not like their intellectual property is any better or worse than that of Marvel’s; they’ve got the ingredients, but not the same results, and therein lies this weird paradox. It all boils down to the filmmakers and the level of freedom and trust that they’re given.

            A good example of this would be 2016’s Suicide Squad, directed by David Ayer. A brief story: I have a unique experience with this movie. About three months before its release, I got to attend a test screening of Suicide Squad. The movie was a rough cut, with most of the effects finished, but it was a complete film, and from what I learned much later, a truer depiction of director David Ayer’s vision. What I really loved about that version of the movie was its overall tone and narrative flow. Ayer managed to create this movie about a ragtag group of baddies and did so in a way that made me feel for the characters and care about the events that unfolded. It was a dark and haunting film, with moments of brevity that fit well within its purposeful pace. I was ecstatic as I watched; this was different from the colorful sheen and candy-coated fun that Marvel tended to put out. It was different, and I needed different. WE, as a viewing body, needed different. It would obviously make sense that DC would want to establish themselves apart from Marvel, and from what I saw in that early cut, I was stoked that this was the direction they were headed.

 

            What’s crazy was that three months later, when the movie was officially released, what I saw on screen was not the movie I had seen earlier in the year. What played across the screen had a lighter tone, a choppier narrative structure; the human aspect seemed to be replaced with hollow characterization, and the entire film—though still fun at times—was just a mess. Come to find out, Warner Bros., in the wake of negative feedback on past DC films, opted not to trust their hired filmmaker and instead micromanaged the final construction of the film, ultimately creating a Frankenstein’s monster of what was once David Ayer’s superior vision. 

            Even with DC’s more successful outings, like Wonder Woman and Aquaman, filmmakers Patty Jenkins and James Wan—though arguably given more freedom than others—were still met with extreme pressure to compact their vision within the many boxes the production company set for them. In a competitive world where money is to be made, I get that going up against a behemoth like the Marvel Cinematic Universe would be a daunting task, and I'm almost positive that the filmmakers aren't worrying about this competitive aspect. That's something we as fans tend to tout, as well as the bigwigs footing the bill for these epic films. But no one is asking DC to do the same thing Marvel is doing; no one is asking DC to “Marvelize” their films. If DC were to take anything from Marvel’s working model, it should be this notion of hiring talented filmmakers who have a vision, and then allowing them to exact that vision with trust that they’ll deliver. I would bet that if they had, they would have found more success than they have up to this point.

            To illustrate this in its exactness, no other example would epitomize this point better than the incredible story of Zack Snyder’s Justice League and its road to DC superiority. That’s right, I said “superiority.” Your eyes did not deceive you. Zack Snyder’s magnum opus of a film is DC’s best film to date…and for whatever reason, Warner Bros. wants to distance themselves from it at all costs.

 

            Love him or hate him, Zack Snyder is a filmmaker like no other. Out of the gate, that’s a characteristic worthy of praise in my book. I was first introduced to his work from watching the epic 2006 masterpiece 300. One of many comic adaptations that Snyder’s filmography features, 300 was my first foray into the unique visual palate of Zack Snyder. Never had I seen so much slow motion used at such a visceral rate; I loved it. Movies are a visual medium, first and foremost. Effective visual storytelling will always triumph over yakity-yak any day, and Snyder is one of the best visual storytellers working today. Every frame of his films could be blown up and placed on display in an art gallery, they’re that gorgeous. Though it’s true that his narratives and characterizations at times could definitely feel lacking, there’s no denying that when you go see a Zack Snyder film, you’re not only in for a visual feast like no other, but rather a wonderfully fun sense of storytelling that is SHOWN instead of TOLD.

            Snyder’s relationship with the DC universe can be seen as somewhat rocky, at least on the surface. Personally, I don’t feel that’s a fair assessment, not when you look at the products he's produced, but anyone who reads up on it will see that the road Snyder has had to travel hasn’t been easy. That being said, much of DC’s current success is, and should be, attributed to Snyder’s contributions. His first bout with a DC property was taking on Watchmen, one of the greatest graphic novels and pieces of American literature ever written. Adapting such an important work for the big screen was as daunting of a task as one could imagine, but Snyder’s film—though met with varying reactions—was ultimately outstanding. I say that with a small caveat; I really enjoyed the theatrical version of Watchmen when it came out, but the Director’s Cut is vastly superior to that version. At roughly a half-hour longer, Snyder’s director’s cut of Watchmen features more character development, more story development, and ultimately a better viewing experience all around—which makes for an additional feather in the cap of “trusting your filmmaker.” I would venture to guess that had DC originally released what is now the Director’s Cut of Watchmen instead, it would have done better at the box office and even better with critics.

            Snyder’s visual aesthetic established in 300 and seen in Watchmen was then infused into his next DC project, which brought the biggest name in comics to the big screen in a profound and conflicted way. 2013’s Man of Steel is my favorite Superman movie to date, and the casting of Henry Cavill as the kryptonian himself was about as perfect as you could get. Man of Steel is an interesting movie, and the harsh criticism that it got had more to do with tone and the characterization of Superman than really anything else. Snyder’s films are typically on the darker side, and his Superman movie is no different. Even the color palette of the film is darker. Gone are the days of bright, poppy pajamas and plucky Christopher Reeves (who at the time killed it as Superman and will forever be known as a legend for his portrayal). In contrast to the previously established, Snyder’s Superman came off as muted and brooding to a lot of people, which I guess is fair; people are entitled to their opinions. The truth of it is, the Superman in Snyder’s universe had a much larger story, one that was to outlast just that of a single film. It’s just hard to see that when you only have the one film to go off of.

            Need I remind you that I am speaking mainly as a fan, who is basing this discussion on my own opinions and what I’ve learned from reading up on the experiences in making these films. The way I see it, the fact that Man of Steel is what it is shows that DC, at one point, trusted Snyder enough to make a Superman movie knowing it would fully be within his style. Remember, he’d already made a successful—though polarizing—movie for them in Watchmen, which is arguably a darker film than Man of Steel, tonally. So, to then trust him with Superman—and what would eventually be the foundation of their cinematic universe—speaks initially to the aspect that they started out with some semblance of confidence. So, what changed?

            As did Watchmen, Man of Steel opened to mixed criticism from both fans and critics. Snyder’s Superman was vastly different than what people expected. Henry Cavill’s Clark Kent was flawed; he was new to the superhero game, he caused mass destruction in battling Zod, and what people disliked most was his inevitable disposal of Zod, breaking the kryptonian baddie’s neck before he could kill more innocent people. Cavill’s performance in that movie is fantastic, and for me this new take was fresh and exciting. As a whole, though, no movie is perfect, and I don’t think Man of Steel is perfect in any sense. However, I do feel that it’s an amazing film for what it is, and that it does something new with a character that has been around for over 80 years. It also does something extremely important, something that would ultimately pave the way for DC to establish themselves apart from Marvel in their respective cinematic journeys: it established a true sense of mythology. (More on this later).

            Snyder would go on to make, yet again, another divisive superhero film, only this time it was in continuation of the larger cinematic universe. It was clear by the time Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice was announced that DC had handed their cinematic universe over to Zack Snyder, or at least the foundational aspects of that universe. Touting one of the biggest brawls in comic book history, the battle between Batman and Superman was not only epic in scale, and highly anticipated, but the surrounding narrative in the movie leading up to their fight, and the aftermath, is intricate to the remaining larger theme of directorial freedom I want to express.

            It’s not news that Batman v. Superman was divisive. It introduced a hardened, jaded Batman who had no qualms with killing people, a Superman that was even more dour than in his last movie, and a narrative that felt jam-packed and confusing at times. Hardcore fans loved it; many people didn’t, including critics, which in the world of movie-making can have a huge sway on what you do next. Of those who did not particularly like the film, Warner Bros. was towards the top of that list. BvS made a ton of money, but not nearly as much as Warner Bros. was hoping. Considered a failure in their eyes, the seeds of doubt were now planted in their cinematic captain. 

            For what it’s worth, I loved Batman v. Superman, (you surprised?), however there’s another caveat to that love. Although I found the theatrical version as really fun, it’s the Ultimate Cut (Snyder’s Director’s Cut)—once again—that is vastly superior. The Ultimate Cut is more cohesive, and brings clarity to some of the points that seemed confusing in the theatrical cut. A lot of that, once again, stemmed from character aspects. The Ultimate Cut gives more clarity to certain character moments; you understand their motivations better, which then enhances the narrative as a whole. Sure, it’s a longer movie, but had Warner Bros. released the Ultimate Cut, I would venture to guess, once again, that it would have done better, critically and financially. More people seem to voice that they prefer the Ultimate Cut to the theatrical one, and I’m proudly one of those voices. It’s funny—maybe trusting your audience should be more important than trusting the critics? Just a thought…

            When it comes to the DC Extended Universe, what Snyder did with Batman v. Superman wasn’t to just give us another superhero movie. The man had a five-movie arc in mind, and BvS was to be an integral part of that narrative leading up to what would potentially be a trilogy of team-up movies. On a larger scale, what Snyder did with BvS ultimately shaped what we now know as the DCEU. You remember that first Wonder Woman movie that broke all those records, was a cultural phenomenon, and was beloved by everyone? Well, it was Zack Snyder that first cast Gal Gadot in the pivotal role, and who gave Wonder Woman her big screen debut. His brief introduction and characterization of Diana Prince has now been established in multiple films, two of which he didn’t direct. Oh, and that AWESOME Aquaman movie? Remember that one? Snyder was the one who also cast Jason Momoa as Arthur Curry, making his Aquaman debut in a brief moment in BvS. Ezra Miller’s Flash—who’s solo film is in production at the writing of this—was also Snyder’s doing. BvS also maintained the tone established in Man of Steel and doubled down on the darker aspects because of the introduction to Batman within this universe; continuity in style says something. Batman v. Superman has done more to set up the DCEU than most want to recognize. It’s not a perfect film, as established earlier, but it truly represents the power and influence a visionary filmmaker can have. 

            From Watchmen to Batman v. Superman, what seemed abundantly clear was that Zack Snyder had a specific vision for each of the films he wanted to make, and with each iteration WB grew more and more hesitant. That hesitation seemed to bleed over into other projects, like Suicide Squad (2016), issuing in this committee feel to filmmaking that just didn’t work. Love it or hate it, you’re at least going to have some semblance of consistency with a director exacting their vision. But when that vision is micromanaged, it could wither and become undesirable—a hollow and frail representation of something grander. All of this eventually came to a head with DC’s big team-up movie: Justice League, which is where this whole rambling discussion is leading to.

            The important thing to remember here is the relationship between filmmaker and the art. Business aside, nine times out of ten you’re going to get a better product when you give a visionary the freedom to exact their vision, at least in my book. It’s a risk for sure; take for example one of my favorite filmmakers of all time: M. Night Shyamalan. Most of his works are all original pieces, so having studio interference wasn’t really an issue. Having that level of freedom gave the world The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable, two masterful pieces of cinema that will forever stand the test of time. Then again, that same level of freedom also produced The Happening, which is…well…let’s just say it’s not that great. This level of trust is a dice roll, but one—I think—is worth taking every time.

            But as for the story of Justice League, that tale goes beyond just making a movie, and it’s the eventual journey that led to a visionary director being able to exact his vision, years after it was mutilated, that ultimately fed my love for what—I truly feel—is the best DCEU film.

 

            For those who might be reading who are unfamiliar with what the “Snyder Cut” refers to, who don’t read up or follow the goings-on of movies and their creation as intensely as this nerd does, I’ll try to sum up the experience the best I can based on what I’ve read and seen in interviews. 

            By 2017, Marvel had established their universe pretty well, and had up to this point a couple of team-up movies—The Avengers—under their belt. Like a well-oiled machine, they were pumping out money-making movies like there was no tomorrow. Warner Bros. and DC were still trying to get their universe off the ground, and with the mixed success of Batman v. Superman, the top execs were afraid that their jobs were up for grabs. Snyder’s long-term vision called for the first DC team-up film to come into play following the events of Batman v. Superman. I think part of this was that WB wanted to get a team-up movie out there to compete with the Avengers, but from what I’ve read it seems like Snyder’s vision had always called for the Justice League to appear when it did.

            Where Marvel took time in setting up their characters with their own individual movies before bringing them together in the first Avengers film, DC’s only real solo film that would play into a Justice League movie was Man of Steel. Wonder Woman came out before Justice League (2017), but that movie took place well before all the others, narratively, so we won’t count that here. Personally, I was fine with DC’s quickened approach. As a fan, I wanted DC to do something different; they didn’t need to copy Marvel—they just needed to do their own thing and do it well.

            Snyder began production on Justice League in 2016 for a 2017 release. Mind you, he was coming off of a very divisive film with BvS, and was dealing with a studio that wasn’t too happy with where their universe was going. From a business standpoint, I get wanting to change things in order to right the ship or to get better, but the level of micromanaging and pressure put on their filmmakers was an equal contributor to their lacking success. They were not without fault, which is strange because they seemed to want to place all the blame on Snyder, which isn’t fair. 

            In the midst of all this uncertainty, Snyder and his wife Deborah—who is also his production partner—suffered a devastating loss when their daughter took her own life in the midst of Justice League’s production. With all the workplace pressure, and not to mention the unimaginable loss of a child, Snyder eventually left the project to spend more time with his family during this crisis (although there were rumblings that WB actually let him go in light of this, since they wanted to move away from his direction anyway). What the actual truth is, we may never know, since there are multiple versions of this event. However, what’s important is that for personal reasons, Snyder separated himself from the movie and inevitable change was on the horizon. The loss of anyone’s family member is heartbreaking, and clearly it was important for Zack to step away and to be with his family. I don’t blame him, and though I was bummed to see him leave the project as a fan, as a human being I was more sad for his impossible loss and hoped for the best for him and his family.

            Warner Bros. then enlisted Joss Whedon, who had directed two Avengers films for Marvel and who had been previously brought in to help write a lighter version of Justice League before Zack left, to come in and finish directing the picture—a choice that fans initially seemed okay with. On paper, sure; here was a proven director who showed he could handle a big team-up movie and it would seem like his stewardship would be a good fit. However, as it turns out, things weren’t as great as they would have seemed. Over the last year, new insights and accusations have been made by members of Justice League’s cast and crew concerning Whedon’s conduct on set, not to mention the expansive over hall of the film itself. Details are sketchy at this point but what is very clear is that things were not so rosy and wonderful after Whedon took over.

            Before leaving, Snyder had shot close to five hours of footage and had essentially completed his narrative, creating a rough assembly cut of the film before walking away. His film was tonally dark, which seemed in line with his previous films, and was extremely long and ambitious to say the least. This was to be the first of a trilogy of Justice League films, and Snyder went all out. Warner Bros. didn’t want that, so they had Joss Whedon come in and reshoot most of the film. Of the five hours Snyder had originally shot, Whedon used maybe 30-40 minutes’ worth—the basic plot points remained, essentially. He then reshot everything else to infuse more comedy and a lighter tone, per the studio’s direction.

            What was eventually released to theaters was a two-hour movie that was tonally all over the place and inconsistent to the previous films, was narratively choppy, and not very cohesive by way of character development. It had really great moments, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it, because I did at the time. Was I aware of these glaring disparities? Sure, but I had fun with that movie, despite its flaws. Was there an inkling of a desire to see what the movie could have been had Snyder been able to complete it? Absolutely, and I wasn’t alone. What followed the release of 2017’s Justice League, and throughout the next three years, was a lively campaign to restore the original director’s vision—a campaign that spawned both an extremely positive community that worked towards amplifying a good cause, as well as a toxic fanbase that chose hostility over support.

    

    

            #ReleaseTheSnyderCut was a campaign that started with the fans. These were voices that wanted to share their desire to see a director’s original vision brought to life. The growing momentous wave that was #ReleaseTheSnyderCut was something fascinating, and I followed each nugget of news about their efforts as any fan would over the years. The funny thing was, at the time, this swelling of fans were basing their efforts on an unconfirmed notion. Was there really a “Snyder Cut” out there? At the time of the original movie's release it was all speculation. The intricate details regarding where the production was at the time of Snyder’s departure weren’t as well-known as they are now. The infamous Snyder Cut was nothing more than a whisper in the dark, a phantom rumor, a hushed and solemn prayer by faithful followers of the visionary filmmaker. For years the debate raged on as to whether or not there was a cut of the film out there that truly captured Snyder’s vision. Warner Bros. constantly snuffed the fires of faith, stating that there was no Snyder Cut, and that even if there was, it would never see the light of day.

            The movement didn’t like those answers, and the campaign efforts moved beyond simple tweets and posts. At the height of its powers, the #ReleaseTheSnyderCut campaign used its momentum and voice to amplify awareness of mental health, raising money to donate to help suicide prevention. Mind you, these were fans who connected with a filmmaker, who felt for him and his family due to their recent loss, and used their fandom to do some good in the world. It’s inspiring to me to see what art can do, and what overwhelming positivity can create in a world full of so much hate and meanness. That meanness, however, wasn’t lost on this movement either, which is unfortunate. There were pockets of the #ReleaseTheSnyderCut clan who felt they were robbed, often tweeting out derogatory and hurtful things towards those involved in making the movie that was released to theaters. This level of toxicity is not okay on any level, and the dichotomy between these two perspectives was engrossing to view and keep track of; for a lover of film and a hardcore fan of cinema, the #ReleaseTheSnyderCut campaign was exciting and also terrifying.

            As fate would have it, a global pandemic struck in 2020, and Warner Media’s new streaming service, HBO Max, was in dire need of content. It would appear that the stars strangely aligned, for in summer of 2020 it was not only announced that the mythological “Snyder Cut” was, indeed, real—but that it would be made available for all to see on HBO Max. Zack Snyder was going to get the chance to release his version of the film with his initial vision intact, making this movie-to-be an unprecedented event in cinematic history…and this nerd was stoked beyond belief.

            In March 2021, Zack Snyder’s Justice League was released on HBO Max to an overwhelmingly positive response; a four-hour epic that removed everything from the theatrical version not originally shot by Snyder, and replaced with literally everything he had shot previously. At the writing of this, I have seen Zack Snyder’s Justice League three times in its entirety. Those are 12 hours I'm glad not to get back, because they were 12 hours well spent. Comparing it to the theatrical version released in theaters back in 2017 is like comparing Michelangelo’s David to that of a two-year-old’s play-doh stick figure. It’s an amazing film, both in scope and in execution, and I honestly believe it’s both the best DCEU film to date, as well as Zack Snyder’s best directorial outing.

            The fact that Zack Snyder’s Justice League even exists is insane to think. Looking back at its journey into fruition, it stands alone as one of the only examples of a previously removed director being able to complete his vision. It’s also a unique example of the power of fandom and how art can create a movement. Sure, there are many films with “director’s cuts” which are often just the same movie with added scenes, but this is different. ZSJL is a completely different movie experience than that of the original, and as a realized vision, it is vastly superior to the one that we got in theaters—the one fraught with competing ideals and a micromanaged production. Why? For the exact same reasons Snyder’s director's cuts are better than the originals: character development, story development, and overall direction. Ironic, isn’t it.

 

            Despite the padded runtime, ZSJL saw the inclusion of full character arcs for all of the members of the League, something the 2017 version was sorely lacking. In the original release, Bruce Wayne and Diana Prince spent most of the time slapping together a group of metahumans to thwart the overly bland and underdeveloped Steppenwolf. There was very little rhyme or reason for how or why they did this. Of the six members of the Justice League, three of them had been somewhat established before the opening credits began. New to the stage were Aquaman, Cyborg, and the Flash. All three had limited screen time in the original, although they each did have fun moments that made for a somewhat entertaining viewing experience. But I need more than that. No—WE need more than that. Today’s movie-going audience is far too intelligent to be okay with just pretty visual effects, mediocre character moments, and stagnant storytelling in their comic book movies, not with Marvel crushing it in their lane.

            Zack Snyder’s Justice League not only gives us the needed character development that was missing, but in doing so it highlighted just how unsatisfactory—and quite frankly—how unnecessary the 2017 version now would seem. I don’t want to spend time breaking down every single difference; I’m almost positive there are numerous YouTube videos that have done this far better than I ever could. No; my focus here is on what I love about the movie, and when comparing the two films, the biggest changes that I enjoyed most that seemed so unapologetically glaring involved the characters of Barry Allen and Victor Stone, the two most important aspects of this entire movie.

            Let’s start with Barry, shall we? Seems like a good place to begin, because of the two, The Flash—this Flash at least—will continue on with his solo movie which is currently being developed. The 2017 “me” would tell you that his favorite part of the theatrical version of Justice League (2017) would have been The Flash, and it’s true. Ezra Miller’s depiction of the Scarlet Speedster was funny, quippy, full of potential and promise, while also being a visual treat when running at speeds unseeable with the naked eye. 

            In Whedon’s cut of the film, Barry is meant to be the comic relief. As the youngest member of the League, his inexperience and reaction to the events that play out make him funny, sure, but they also showcase this level of naivety. His line “It's really cool you guys seem ready to do battle and stuff, but - full transparency - I've never done battle. I've just pushed some people and run away!” exemplifies this characteristic. Retooled within the full scope of Snyder’s vision, Barry Allen is portrayed in a more balanced light, and comes off as a more light-hearted person. Sure, he’s funny, and he still manages to maintain that sense of comic relief in the film, but that’s not his “role,” if you will. His presence feels more grounded, more fluid, and the humor he emits is more organic and connected to the experiences within the story. He doesn’t make jokes for jokes’ sake. (“Dostoevsky!”) *eye roll*

            As I mentioned before, each member of the League seems to get their own complete character arc in Snyder’s version, which wasn’t the case in Whedon’s. Barry, being the youngest member of the League, has this wonderful coming-of-age arc in the Snyder Cut that completely worked for me. We meet Barry trying desperately to get a dog-walking job, and then saving Iris West from a car crash (a scene which is not present in the Whedon cut, but important to the story of Barry Allen, and one that is visually outstanding). His father is in prison, framed for the murder of Barry’s mother, and their first exchange (that we see) centers around this idea of “purpose,” and how Barry seems to lack it. Barry’s acceptance into the League from Bruce’s invitation comes out of this necessity to belong, but more so out of this need for purpose. Both of these scenes are in both cuts of the film, but they work so much better in the Snyder Cut because of the tonal shift in character that Snyder gives to Barry and the eventual culmination of his arc by the end of the film. 

            I feel it’s important to note that, as awesome as the Snyder Cut is, Warner Bros. and DC have since said that the 2017 film is canon when it comes to their current universe of movies, and so the Flash’s solo movie will not acknowledge the Snyder Cut’s version of the character. Personally, I feel this is a crying shame, but I also get it. If they’re trying to distance themselves from this alternate version, then I guess it’s best to stick to your guns? Sure, I mean, why not stay with a significantly underdeveloped version of a character, especially when there’s a better version out there? Gah…just another nerd’s vocal disputations flung into the void…let’s continue…

            Barry’s arc in ZSJL sees moments of growth and acceptance, and eventually comes to a full-circle moment at the climax of the final battle. In the 2017 version, the Motherboxes get separated and everything is honky-dory; a pretty cookie-cutter ending if there ever was one. That’s not the case here in ZSJL. The mission to separate the Motherboxes ultimately fails, causing complete global destruction. But the Scarlet Speedster refuses to let this stick. In one of the most stunning, surprising, and gloriously visual moments in the entire 4-hour run of the film, Barry phases through the destruction and proceeds to run so fast, that time turns backwards. It’s in this moment that his self-actualization comes to a head, as he says, speaking to the void, “Dad, whatever happens now, I just want you to know: your kid was one of them, dad. One of the best of the best.” He recognizes that not only did he have purpose, but it was one that was important and whole-heartily “him:” “Make your own future. Make your own past. It's all... right... now.” He takes up the responsibility of a superhero and follows through with his commitment to the team. Cyborg is the heart of this movie (which I’ll get to in a moment), but Barry Allen is the soul of this movie, and the inclusion of his complete arc is incredibly awesome.

            Zack Snyder’s original departure from the film was due to tragedy and pain, and that pain can be seen throughout the film as an underlying current. You can tell he was working through some powerfully trying personal moments when you watch this film, because it’s painted through the framing, color, tone, and structure of this movie. This is just my own interpretation; whether it’s true or not, I don’t know, but that’s how I see it, and it’s Barry who seems to be the cathartic release to all of that. In the end, everyone dies—even the indestructible Superman (again, lol)—but it’s the youngest, most inexperienced one who looks pain, destruction, and failure in the face and decides to meet it head on…because that’s what heroes do. We don’t get that in the 2017 version. In a way, and maybe it’s a stretch, I like to think that Barry is our (the audience’s) way into the League; for me, he’s the most relatable character. That’s saying a lot, especially when you consider that the true heart of the film is the other youngest member of the League: Victor Stone, aka Cyborg.

            Of all the characters in Justice League, the one with the biggest narrative over hall is Cyborg. In the 2017 version, Victor was more of a side character, a fun addition to the team that was solely there to be the means by which they could separate the Motherboxes in the end. Zack Snyder’s Justice League replaces this sidelined aspect for one of significant purpose. For starters, Victor’s back story is completely restored. Snyder gives us so much to work with when getting to know who Victor is and why he’s so cut off from the world. In the theatrical version, he came off as moody, but that underlying pain is fleshed out fully in Snyder’s version, to a degree that makes the choice to essentially cut it all out of the theatrical version as simply dumbfounded.

            A lot of Victor’s story is connected to his relationship with his father. Joe Morton, who plays Silas Stone, always seems to deliver, so it was good to see more of him. Silas Stone’s relationship with his son is tainted by tragedy as well—again, we see pain as an undercurrent for growth. Silas is distant from his son, and through tragedy, he saves his son’s life, but at the cost of creating a new cybernetic body. Victor is understandably depressed and resentful of his father, but Snyder gives us more time between the two to allow their relationship to flesh out, as well as more time with Victor as he works through his own emotions. In doing so, Victor’s arc feels complete and more purposeful. Not only is he now one of the most powerful characters in the DCEU, but he also feels more like a prominent member of the League, rather than just a ringer brought in out of desperation.

            Cyborg is an emotionally compelling character, and Ray Fisher’s performance is one of the best in the entire film. His frustrations for being practically cut out of the entire movie were warranted, frustrations that have recently been brought to greater light. Not only was Fisher great as a performer, but his character feels so integral to the story that, again, it’s baffling how the higher-ups at Warner Bros. thought it best to cut it all out. Cyborg’s journey from feeling lost and disconnected ends with him recognizing that though he may not be the man he was, he’s not a broken individual, and he’s not alone. It’s a beautiful moment when he has this realization while being plugged into the Motherboxes, and I get chills each time I see it.

            I’m not going to go through every restored character arc of the film; just know they’ve all improved. But it’s through Cyborg and The Flash’s character arcs that the true message of the movie is seen: there is purpose to our lives, and part of that is rising above the pain, the tragedy, and the loneliness of this world in order to see that one is not alone, that one can overcome and be defined by what you choose to be. It’s beautiful, and because we have the time to sit with these characters and experience these individual journeys, the culmination of the League being formed feels incredibly earned.

 

            I know that everyone is entitled to their opinions, and that’s great. I welcome that, especially within fun discourses around movies. When it comes to comic book movies, specifically, I would venture to guess that the most divisive perspectives lays with the depiction of Superman in Zack Snyder’s DC universe. I get it; Superman has been around for a long time, and there are varying depictions of the last son of Krypton in both the comics and on screen, large and small. It’s safe to say, though, that a majority of those depictions all seem similar to each other, with a do-gooder Clark Kent and a Superman who lives by a strict moral code. So, when Snyder introduced a Superman that was somewhat dower, who’s costume wasn’t as bright, and who actually killed a villain, it’s understandable why everyone wouldn’t be on board. When you’re so used to an engrained idea, it’s tough to see something new.

            Let it be known (I’m sure you won’t be surprised) that I loved Man of Steel. I’m pretty sure I mentioned that earlier, but it’s worth repeating. I’m not going to recap that movie or my review of it, but know that for this guy, this is my favorite depiction of Superman. I was first introduced to the character through the original Christopher Reeves film, for which I also love and was obsessed with. But MoS is a more mature take on the character, and when it came out it hit me hard. Snyder’s version of Superman is more human to me than any other version. The arc of the character wasn’t just saved for his solo film, but flies through Batman v. Superman, and culminates beautifully in Zack Snyder’s Justice League. Before ZSJL debuted, I re-watched MoS and BvS just to get re-familiar with the world and the characters, the tone and the narrative, and I’m glad I did. 

            I’ve heard some say that Superman is merely a last thought when it comes to the 2017 Justice League film, and I can understand that. When it comes to screen time, he’s barely there. Superman doesn’t show up in ZSJL until way past the three-hour mark, and in a four-hour movie, that isn’t much. But his arrival marks so many important aspects that I was completely fine with it; what we get is powerful, engaging, and purposeful. I feel like I’ve used that word a lot: “purposeful.” It’s true though. If you look at any piece of art, everything you see, hear, read, or experience is completely purposeful on the part of the artist. This is especially applicable to filmmakers, whose art encompasses so many sensory experiences. 

            Superman’s late arrival in the shorter 2017 version was not nearly as impactful. He basically shows up to kick the trash out of Steppenwolf, which is what you want to see on the big screen: Superman walloping a bad guy. But prior to this, we don’t get much of his resurrected experience, which was glossed over a bit in the 2017 version. Snyder gives us so much more to sit and stew on in his realized vision that it not only gives Superman’s arc—starting from way back in Man of Steel—so much more weight and purpose (there’s that word again), but he’s a drastically different character than the one seen in 2017.

            Let’s just get this first difference out the way: the infamous “Moustache-gate” was corrected in Snyder’s version. Henry Cavill had started filming Mission: Impossible and had to grow a mustache for that role. Unable to shave it off, he had to shoot his Justice League reshoots with the mustache, the intent being that the VFX artists would just remove it in post-production. What we got were scenes with a weird-looking Henry Cavill sporting an uncanny and disturbing upper lip that was completely noticeable and extremely distracting. Thankfully, that is all gone in Zack Snyder’s Justice League.

            One of my favorite changes made in the Snyder Cut involving Superman actually centers around the other members of the League. In the 2017 version, a few members were hesitant about bringing Superman back to life. Wonder Woman was deeply against it. In ZSJL, the League feels more united in their choice to bring him back. Yes, they are wary about the ramifications of using the Motherbox to resurrect him, but the choice is unified because they all know he’s the only one powerful enough on his own to take on the evils they face. This unified choice elevates Superman to almost godlike status, which honestly falls in line with the perspective of the character seen throughout Snyder’s previous two films. Being the visual director he is, Snyder delivers a lot of subtext in his imagery, sometimes extremely on the nose. For example, in Man of Steel, Clark goes to a local church while contemplating whether or not he should make himself known to the world and confront Zod. Snyder frames him in a close-up with a stained-glass window in the background of Christ kneeling in the Garden of Gethsemane. In Batman v. Superman, the discussion of his godlike persona is heard over imagery of Superman hovering above the saved masses of a flood, and while being fawned over by those whom he saved from destruction in Mexico. Seeing Superman as a god among men isn’t a new concept, especially when considering his depiction within Snyder’s universe. So, to see this unified acknowledgement of this elevated status feels culminating in a way.

            Clark’s reunion with Lois is less awkward in the newer version, the nightmare scene at the end gives us a bittersweet tinge to his return, and his presence when he arrives to battle Steppenwolf is so emotionally fulfilling and brutal that I honestly got teary the first time I watched it. Part of that was due to a wonderful scene that was restored which takes place before that battle, one that we didn’t see in the 2017 version. In that version, it's Lois that tells Clark he is needed and that’s why he was brought back. In ZSJL, Clark knows he is needed; he comes to this realization on his own. So, in preparation, he returns to the kryptonian ship and we get what is arguably one of my favorite scenes in the entire film.

            As Clark slowly makes his way through the kryptonian ship, varying suits are revealed as the ship senses his presence. We hear voice over from multiple characters, mainly his biological father Jor-El and his adoptive father Jonathan Kent. Many of the things we hear are things we’ve heard before from the previous two films, but mostly we hear both of his fathers give advice and ultimately urging him to show the world love and mercy. This is important to note; Jor-El was always a proponent of optimism concerning what his son could do for Earth. Jonathan Kent, in Man of Steel, was more of the opposite mindset. He often told Clark that he needed to hide that part of himself from the world, because if the world knew what he was, they would reject him. Now, as Clark contemplates the fight ahead—after having been resurrected—we hear both of his fathers express the same sentiment for love and mercy…now unified. 

            It’s then that Clark chooses to forgo his traditional red and blue suit for the all-black suit. What I love about this—beyond the fact that it’s just plain cool—is that Clark’s decision to don a black suit almost comes off as ominous. We tend to associate black with concepts like death and mourning, but in Clark's case, the choice is all about rebirth and embracing his kryptonian heritage — something both of his fathers now urge him to do. Snyder's decision to have Jonathan and Jor-El's words overlap to create one cohesive message for their son is crucial to the emotional impact of the moment. Snyder’s vision is grounded on this sense of unity, and the symbolic nature of Clark’s fathers united in their message to their son is absolutely brilliant and gives so much incredible weight to Superman’s return. We feel this emotional awesomeness as Hans Zimmer’s inspirational score from Man of Steel plays while Superman—in his new black suit—blasts off into the sky and out into space. I’m getting chills just writing about it.

            Superman’s arc comes to a beautiful fruition, an arc that began in 2013’s Man of Steel. None of this was seen or experienced in this light in the 2017 version of Justice League. But, through the eyes of the one who envisioned this epic, we can clearly see that Snyder had an intended path for his Superman, and that path was fantastic.

 

            I would be remised if I didn’t take time to talk about Ben Affleck’s Batman. To give you a sense for where my head is at, generally, I’ll do the most pretentious thing I can think of and quote my own review of Batman v. Superman back in 2016, where Batfleck made his debut: 

            “I'll go on record right now and say that although I absolutely loved Christian Bale's Batman, Affleck's Batman is the best on-screen Batman to date…I think there's gonna be people that will see this Batman and be turned off by him. Zack Snyder is doing what we all want Hollywood to do and that's make something 'new.' I'm always saying that there's no originality in Hollywood any more. If you're gonna reboot something, bring a new aspect to it in order to make it fresh. Snyder did that with Superman, and he's done it again with Batman, and I tip my hat to the guy because he gave me a Batman that I can't wait to see again and again.”

            I stand by that. Affleck is awesome as Batman, and my only gripe with his tenure thus far is that we haven’t gotten a solo Batman film with his iteration. But that’s a discussion for another day.

            The Batman we got in Batman v. Superman was a drastically different Batman than the one in 2017’s Justice League. It’s so weird to think that, since they’re the exact same character played by the exact same actor. BvS’s Batman was dark, jaded, and more violent than any other Batman put to screen. 2017’s Justice League featured a Batman who wasn’t as jaded and who…quipped. It was jarring to experience that difference in tone. It was bizarre and I blame those who took Snyder’s vision and ripped it a part. *How dare you!

            One of the ways where the 2017 film seemed to fail was, again, with its character development…or lack thereof. In that version we saw indecisive characters, with Batman being the most irresolute, hopping from one idea to another. The biggest example of this is in the choice to bring back Superman, a thought that didn’t feel very confident or developed. Zack Snyder’s Justice League remedied this by showing Bruce with the goal of Superman’s resurrection in mind the whole time, suggesting a more confident and headstrong leader. (Consistency—there’s power to be had there). Though faced with reservations from the other members of the League, Bruce didn’t falter in his plan. Instead, he maintained the powerful leader that he was by convincing them all to go along—spawning their unity. 

            When you talk about character arc, it might seem difficult with an example like Affleck’s Bruce Wayne, who has been fighting crime in Gotham for over 20 years. But as I said earlier, every member if the league has an arc, even Batman. This was disrupted, however, in the 2017 version. In that film, Batman was more of a pacifist compared to who we first met in Batman v. Superman. He had no compulsion to kill, and he was not nearly as cynical. This made no sense to me when I first saw it, and I noticed it right away. Batman was my favorite part of BvS, so to see this drastic change was disappointing.

            The Batman we see in Zack Snyder’s Justice League is still the brute we saw in BvS, but his perspective has shifted because of his run-in with Superman. Rather than bumbling through the movie, shooting from the hip like he does in the 2017 version, here he operates out of a sense of faith rather than luck—a sentiment he actually says out loud to Alfred. Bruce may not know all the answers to the crazy problems they have to face, but he chooses to operate by faith, working the problem like the great detective he is, rather than rolling the dice and hoping for the best.

           

             With all this additional time spent with these characters, one thing that became glaringly apparent, more so than I had already known, was that Batman could easily be seen as useless. Consider the rest of the league: an Amazonian warrior with powers from the Old Gods, a speedster, a cyborg capable of just about anything, Superman, and an underwater superman; Bruce doesn’t hold a candle to these gods if you want to compare power rankings and stats. This isn’t something new; I was aware of this. But in Zack Snyder’s Justice League, that disparity is amplified, but so is Batman’s purpose. He may not have superpowers, but he is—in every way—the leader of the league. The other members treat him as such, which is humbling when you look at the larger picture: power isn’t everything. Where Batman’s power lays in this film is in his ability to acknowledge his failings, and rise above them while uniting a team of people who could simply sneeze in his direction and obliterate him. 

            This version of Batman resonated so much more with me, and Ben Affleck still manages to rock as the caped crusader. With the added runtime, there are obviously more action sequences that are gorgeous and epic involving the dark knight. However, there are also moments that left me wanting so much more. When exacting his vision, Snyder threw everything and the kitchen sink into this movie. There are scenes that were meant to set up his next Justice League movies (particularly the nightmare scene at the end featuring the first interaction with this universe’s Batman and Joker, with Jared Leto reprising the role), but also scenes that were meant to set up a potential solo Batman movie—which at one point was in development with Affleck set to direct. Both scenes left me pumped for the potential that it suggested, but ultimately sad that more than likely we’ll never see those threads come together.

            At the end of the day, the Bruce/Batman we get in Zack Snyder’s Justice League feels more in-line with what was previously established in this universe, as it should. I mean, it’s Snyder’s universe after all, at this point. The final point I’ll place on this is what actually happens at the end of the movie. The introduction to this universe’s Martian Manhunter was a fun little nugget of awesomeness, but I found it telling that after all that went down, Martian Manhunter appears to Bruce to convey his willingness to assist in the battles to come, rather than any other member of the league. One might wonder “Why not tell Superman? Or Wonder Woman?” Martian Manhunter is a formidable being, one who has been on Earth in hiding for who knows how long—and yet he chooses to address Bruce, as if to acknowledge his place as the leader of the Justice League. I found that moment both awesome from a nerding-out point, but also culminating in the arc of Bruce Wayne within the Snyderverse. 

            My only wish is that we can see more.

 

            It’s been quite the ride, and if you’re still with me at this point, then you’re the real ones, and I thank you.

            The potential and desire from fans is there for more of Zack Snyder’s DC universe, of his complete vision of a five-film arc …but it’s unlikely we’ll ever see it, not if DC and Warner Bros. keeps going the way they are going. From what the news outlets say, Warner Bros. wants to distance themselves from Snyder, his cut of Justice League, and to simply focus on what they have going on now rather than what was in the past. A part of me gets that, really. With the troublesome journey that got the Justice League onto the big screen, I get why moving forward is important. Plus, I’ll admit, DC has some exciting stuff coming up in the next few years. But, I have to think that, if the mythical Snyder Cut could actually see the light of day, something that wasn’t even a possibility until this last year…why not have your cake and eat it, too?

            With the way media is changing these days, and with what Warner and DC are doing with their projects, both on the big screen and on HBO Max, I would think the possibilities are endless. From what I gather, Zack Snyder’s Justice League was a huge hit with both audiences AND critics, which is way more than you can say about the 2017 version. If that’s the case, and the fans want to see more, why can’t you do both? One way DC could do this would be to simply lean into their multiverse. Outside of their shared cinematic universe that includes the Snyder films, the Wonder Woman films, Aquaman, Shazam!, and others, DC has also dabbled in these one-offs, like the amazing Joker featuring Joaquin Phoenix. Their upcoming Batman flick featuring Robert Pattinson as the caped crusader takes place in an alternate timeline, as they’ve already stated. So, if DC is open to embracing their multiverse aspect, then there is totally potential for the Snyderverse to continue.

            My solution: throw some money at Zack Snyder to make his last two Justice League films and debut them solely on HBO Max. Working with a streaming service seems to offer filmmakers more freedom to exact their vision, simply because they’re not limited to the theater model. We’ve clearly seen that people will pay to watch a four-hour epic film, so if Zack Snyder wants to make two more four-hour epic movies, LET HIM! Put it on HBO Max; Man of Steel, Batman v. Superman, Zack Snyder’s Justice League, and JL 2 & 3 can simply be “The Snyderverse.” They don’t have to acknowledge the other films, nor would the other films have to acknowledge them. Why? Different universes, baby!

            When all is said and done, if all we get out of this is Zack Snyder’s Justice League, then I’m okay with that. I think the potential is there, and the desire from fans is there, but who knows. One can only hope.

            If it hasn’t been that apparent to you, I’ll make it painstakingly clear: I LOVE Zack Snyder’s Justice League. I personally think it’s the best DCEU film to date, and Zack Snyder’s best directorial achievement thus far. In my viewing experience, this will be the definitive version of the film; I no longer feel the need to see the 2017 version ever again. Zack Snyder’s Justice League represents a unique moment in the history of cinema and I’m just grateful to have experienced it. It’s a remarkably beautiful film with so many things to love. It has elevated my expectations for future films, and my belief that anything is possible. It’s a mature film, born out of mythology and breathed into reality through the voices of fans and by a filmmaker who loves his art. I didn’t touch on nearly everything I could have in this epic yarn (Darkseid?! A developed Steppenwolf?! Aquaman and Wonder Woman’s awesome arcs?!), but I guess that just leaves room for more discussion down the road. 

            And trust me…I’ll be talking about this movie for a very long time.

--