Superhero movies are not for everyone, but if you love them or are an occasional partaker, let me, from the outset, reassure you. “Avengers: Endgame” is not bad. It’s a satisfactory treat. Someone told me recently that there have been 22 films in the Marvel franchise, a factoid I haven’t bothered checking, and I estimate I’ve seen about half of them, so I’m not a rabid fan (and Endgame is tastiest for such fans) and I was adequately scooped up and carried through three hours. Recent Marvel movies such as “Thor: Ragnarok” were appalling, inlaid with idiotic script slabs or dialogue, but the Russos oversee a solid, sometimes ingenious, plotline, and the characters are expertly drawn by a super-stellar cast. In saying that, only Robert Downey Jr. triumphs in his role of Iron Man (one of my favorite superheroes in my comic books days of half a decade ago); Jeremy Brenner also shines as Hawkeye; the rest intelligently at least rarely put a foot wrong. The grand narrative pictures our world halved in population by super-super-villain Thanos and the mighty Avengers needing to take huge risks to redress this situation. The action scenes are mega and kinetic and impressive. All up, a fine paean to the Marvel world, except for two notable flaws. Firstly, Alan Silvestri’s swelling orchestral music reminded me why I left the middle of last century behind. And Chris Evans redefines wooden with his Captain America performance. Take the kids, okay? Don’t expect revelation, but.
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