My Slice on the Snyder Cut

Probably due to my age, I put all expectations for Snyder's Justice League film in the basement. Not being an admirer of superhero movies, my girlfriend did not foresee an entertaining experience either. Even still, we decided to see it on HBO Max.

Both she and I were aware of the oft-told backstories of Diana Prince, Clark Kent, and Bruce Wayne. Comparatively speaking, Barry Allen's origins never ran across our minds. Quicker than a three-card monte dealer, the director hid his origins. Amid the movie, my girlfriend asked how Central City’s fastest guy got his powers. I could not answer. Confronting our ignorance, we turned to Wiki. Given the effort, we wondered why a superhero tale required the concentration of a homework assignment.

Martian Manhunter suffered from the same star-far and opaque treatment. Other than his name, the film did not tell us much about him. His ability to transform his appearance never cleared up some major questions about his beginnings. Grudgingly once again, my girlfriend and I agreed that the film required an Instructor's Edition. Somewhere on the pages, all the answers awaited us.

On the flip side, Cyborg’s story moved better than a car right out of the dealership. The movie established the character’s intelligence, athleticism, and charitable nature long before science enhanced his natural gifts. Although the character lamented his mother’s death and the machinery that revived him, he still maintained a caring heart.

My heart never expected a childish story could confuse me more than a Dadaist poem. Bruce Wayne’s premonitions, those surreal scenes, made as much sense as reading a book in the dark or putting a blanket over a TV screen before picking a show with a remote. The whole viewing experience reminded me of the Joker’s insane mind.

Contrary to other superhero movies, the dénouement of Justice League let a villain win. Rivaling Lex Luthor’s trickery, HBO Max convinced new and old subscribers to waste four hours and two minutes on a poorly edited endeavor. Towards the end of the credits, I stared at the screen and imagined metahumans that reimburse viewers for theft.

Bob McNeil, writer, editor, cartoonist, and spoken word artist, is the author of Verses of Realness. Hal Sirowitz, a former Queens Poet Laureate, called the book “A fantastic trip through the mind of a poet who doesn’t flinch at the truth.” Among Bob’s recent accomplishments, he found working on Lyrics of Mature Hearts to be a humbling experience because of the anthology’s talented contributors. Copies of that collection are available here: https://amzn.to/3bU8Loi.