Aquaman (2018) Movie Review

A Fish Out of Water

Arthur Curry had always felt different. Other kids didn't telepathically communicate with sharks or attract the attention of fish. They didn't live with their father in a lighthouse, or grow up hearing the legends of Atlantis. And they certainly didn't wonder why their mom, the queen of an undersea civilization, left and never returned. The ways that Arthur felt different continued to grow as he became an adult: he's rough around the edges, a social outcast, and has been blamed for his mother's execution because of his "illegitimate" birth. In many ways, Arthur felt like a fish out of water.

And Arthur certainly didn't feel like what Atlantis was looking for: the "one, true king."

For all of the ways he feels unworthy and out of place, Arthur has found some acceptance on land. He's joined the Justice League and saved the world. In the fishing community he calls his home, he's kind of a celebrity. And his dad and he have a great relationship, even though his father journeys down to the dock at sunrise every morning in the hopes that Arthur's mom, Queen Atlanna, will one day return. Overall, a pretty good life for Arthur Curry.

But where there's a calm sea in D.C. comics, a massive rogue wave is sure to roll in, with all of its accompanying dramatic thunder and cinematic lightning. Arthur's relatively peaceful and fulfilling life is upturned when his sea-dwelling, highly-ambitious half-brother Prince Orm sets out to form a coalition of the Seven Seas to attack the Land-Dwellers who have polluted and pillaged the oceans. Mera, the daughter of a powerful ocean king, sees the impending bloodshed and greed of Prince Orm and journeys to the land to convince Arthur to come and claim the thrown. As Queen Atlanna's first-born son, Arthur has dibs on the legendary triton of old, which would give him the power of the sea and the legitimacy to reign as the ocean's "one, true king." The only problem? No one else seems to believe in Arthur, and the ocean is about to get very, very rough.

Turbulent Seas

Aquaman is a movie about dichotomies. The land and the sea, good and evil, water and sand, and greed and sacrifice all make a splash before the credits roll. Aquaman teaches (sometimes a little too blatantly) that unity is precious, and that our differences as humanity are outweighed by our common dignity. Heroes fight for the innocent--and also learn about extending mercy to the criminals. That's some good stuff that is surprisingly dished out from D.C.'s hallowed, yet traditionally, dark halls. Here, the light breaks through the ocean's surface to give us some positive themes, even if the message's delivery ranges from heartwarming to cringe-worthy cheesy.

But there is another dichotomy in Aquaman, one that lands this tale into turbulent waters. On the one hand, it feels like a noble epic, with world-building trying to mirror Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia, or Avatar's Pandora. There are great elements: a beautiful, expansive kingdom; the search for a prophesized king; banishment, mercy, and justice. In the face of ruthlessness, Arthur tries to be a good ruler, showing sparkles of both humility and sacrifice.

The flipside of the dichotomy creates a jarring cinematic experience, however. Where Arthur shows humility, he also shows bravado that can become tiresome to watch. We might admire Arthur's decisions and (modest) character growth, but it's hard to join in the clamorous adoration we are supposed to give him. The "one true king" seems too high a title for someone who has spent the movie sneering, smashing, and swaggering his way to personal growth.

There's nothing wrong with showing Arthur's problems if the aim is to highlight his humility and maturity, but Arthur's growth remains superficial, playing second fiddle to underwater explosions, catchphrases, and CGI fight sequences. Are we to praise Arthur as the noble ruler or see him as an archetype of our own path to redemption? Perhaps a greater storyline would enable us to find harmony in both allegories, but this is one dichotomy that even Aquaman can't bring together.

False Dichotomies

Some movies get the dichotomy right. Marvel superheroes like Black Widow and Thor come to mind where the allegories of Christ-like kingliness are matched with the allegory of redemption. In Thor, we see Thor Odinson move from an arrogant, anger-fueled narcissist to a character so fueled by humility that he radiates nobility. There, we have both an allegory of our redemption from sin, and an allegory of a humble, righteous king interceding on behalf of humanity. The marriage of the two is well-executed by Thor's director, Kenneth Branagh; in many ways, Aquaman seems like D.C.'s unsuccessful version of Marvel's hammer-wielding hero.

Other movies stick (generally) to one side of the dichotomy. Characters like Wonder Woman, Captain America, and Black Panther are generally humble, just, and kind, characters that are to be emulated, and who display a royal integrity. In a small way, they point to a greater hero and king. On the flipside, characters like Batman, Winter Soldier, and Iron Man function like allegories of our need for a heart change, and the hope of redemption.

Tolkien and Arthur's Purpose

Instead of a changed man and a noble monarch, Aquaman leaves us with both a flawed fellow and a cocky king. And, at the end of the 2 hours and 24 minutes of action, that combination can feel strangely unsatisfying. But why?

I think because the producers of Arthur Curry's story want us to see it as a myth--a fairytale of epic proportions, with kings, expansive worlds, star-crossed souls, magical weapons, and a quest for restoration. For all of its epic drama, however, D.C. fails to deliver the fundamental purpose of fantasy. In the words of The Lord of the Rings author J.R.R. Tolkien:

In [good fairy-stories] when the sudden “turn” comes we get a piercing glimpse of joy, and heart's desire, that for a moment passes outside the frame, rends indeed the very web of story, and lets a gleam come through.”

This "piercing glimpse," Tolkien believes, is designed to draw us to the greatest Story. Elsewhere in the same essay quoted above, Tolkien writes:

The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories . . . [The Gospel] begins and ends in joy. It has pre-eminently the ‘inner consistency of reality’.

According to Tolkien, his contemporary C.S. Lewis, and many others, "fairytales"--and stories in general--should have a universal quality that points toward the ultimate Story. Like irreversible echoes of a far-off tune, stories of all kinds have the elements of the true, grand Story. Things that we love about our favorite books and movies (enduring love, sacrificial heroism, courageous justice, pure nobility, and tear-jerking joy) all find their highest expression and fulfillment in the Gospel. It's what we've all been trying to say through our art for thousands of years. It's what we've always wanted.

Conclusion: Coming Together

Aquaman is not a terrible movie. This post may have gone a little rough on our ocean-dwelling friend's narrative, but he has its redeemable moments. The first hour or so is excellent storytelling. Characters sacrifice for one another, and Arthur learns to extend kindness to those who don't deserve it. The message of mercy to the undeserving is arguably the best theme in the movie, rising above other positive themes like endurance, family-bonds, and justice.

But in many ways Aquaman doesn't deliver. We don' get all the goodness that stories are capable of. It falls flat in many ways, forfeiting well-planned, meaningful character development for flashy action sequences and stunning underwater animation. Looking for echoes of the True Story, you'll have to do some deep diving. It's not lost forever, but buried under the shifting sand of Hollywood plot devices. That's why Arthur remains low on my list of superheroes. Flawed guy heading toward superhero-redemption? Check. Noble king? Not quite, and the tension between the two is hard to swallow.

Ultimately, no story will ever be able to fulfill that longing, though. No matter how many times you geek out over your favorite book series, action-adventure movie, or comic collection, that excitement over the narrative will never satisfy. Believe me, I've tried many times. Like sailors who drink from the salty ocean only to find that they're even more thirsty for pure water, stories of all kinds are meant to use their best parts to make us desire Jesus. He is the perfect "one, true King," who journeyed to save an undeserving people and bring them back into His love. Although we are messed up and have messed everything up, He took our punishment and sacrificed Himself. He's Master over all, including the oceans, and the only Hero that we can depend on. In all the ways that story-time and real-life heroes fail and falter, Jesus never will.

Aquaman is not for everyone. With all of it's violence, brief profanity, and cringe-y lines, you might decide to pass up this explosion-packed flick. But if you decide to dive under the sea along with our world-saving friend Arthur Curry, I hope that you get a glimmer of longing for the true King. While Aquaman's effort to bring together two images of the Gospel didn't hold water, there is hope yet that some truth uncovered will send you sailing forward on your deeper joy in Jesus.

And that would be a story worth celebrating.

REFERENCES

Wan, James. Aquaman. Warner Bros., 2018.

Image credit: imdb.com