‘Shazam!: Fury of the Gods’ Proves It’s One of the DCEU’s Finest

As the loud but lithe Shazam!: Fury of the Gods commences, our hero is suffering from a bit of imposter syndrome. Lying on a couch, spilling his guts to a shrink (who turns out to be a mere pediatrician), the as-yet-unnamed superhero (Zachary Levi) explains that he’s just a kid, a dude that got lucky, that all the cool heroes already exist, and he really doesn’t belong. All of which makes him the perfect star of this sequel and this DC franchise. These movies don’t have the dour grit of any recent Batman movie, or the calculated bad boy (and bad girl) posture of The Suicide Squad. Instead, they’re just fun, clever, smartly conceived entertainment that doesn’t take itself too seriously. What a concept.

The central conceit carries over from the first movie. A quick refresher: Philadelphia teenager Billy Batson (Asher Angel), abandoned by his birth family and with a big chip on his shoulder, has been granted the power of the gods by an ancient wizard (Djimon Hounsou). He then goes back to his foster home – perhaps the most loving, supporting foster home on the planet – and finds a way to share the gift with his five adoptive siblings, who morph into adults with superpowers when the occasion calls. The premise gives both Shazam! movies a vital superhero-movie ingredient. These are underdog stories, in which the heroes are kids left behind by conventional society. Part of the fun also lies in the time-tested setup of grownups playing childhood versions of themselves (See also: Freaky Friday and 13 Going on 30, among others).

But it seems the whippersnappers took their powers from actual gods and goddesses, who are none too pleased. Enter the Daughters of Atlas: Hespera (Helen Mirren, who, bless her, seems to think she’s doing Shakespeare), Kalypso (Lucy Liu), and Anthea (Rachel Zegler). Through means that aren’t really worth explaining here, they swoop down on Philly, ready to take back what’s theirs and inflict all manner of havoc on the puny humans and their unlikely protectors, dubbed the Philly Fiascos by the leering press.

The second chapter in a superhero saga is an important one. The inaugural voyage is all about the origin myth, the hero’s journey, the rise to power. The sophomore outing has to actually do something with material. Fury of the Gods responds to the challenge by reveling in growing pains. The leader of the pack, Billy, thinks he’s a fraud, and he remains a self-deprecating wiseass; if it ever comes time to cast a Jimmy Fallon biopic, Levi is your man. Freddy (Adam Brody as an adult, Jack Dylan Grazer as a teen), is an insecure imp high on the idea of being a superhero; when he draws the attention of a female for the first time, he ends up jeopardizing the fate of the world. Mary (Grace Caroline Currey) is kind of pissed that she’s not off having fun in college; she shows up to one team meeting with a raging hangover. The point is that Fury of the Gods actually cares about this stuff enough to fold it into the fabric of the usual mayhem.

And make no mistake: that mayhem is sizable. This is one of those movies that lays waste to an entire metropolitan area without tallying a discernible body count, even as Wolf Blitzer shows up occasionally to give the movie a real-world sheen. The force of destruction is Liu’s Kalypso, who isn’t in the mood for compromising with the mortals. When she plants a mystical apple in the ground at Citizens Bank Park – Bryce Harper will not be happy – an infinite tree takes over the city, its roots encompassing entire skyscrapers, and an army of mythical beasts stomps on all the Brotherly Love. Fury of the Gods makes for dandy spectacle, its digitally rendered catastrophe the match of any such competing big-screen visions of doom. But it somehow marries the pending apocalypse to a blithe spirit, and the cognitive dissonance never gets drastic enough to ruin the good time.

Like its predecessor, Fury of the Gods is light on its feet without forcing the issue; it winks at itself, not its audience, and it has no use for cynical shock value (these movies are quite comfortable in their PG-13 designation). Even when they don’t quite make sense, which isn’t often, it doesn’t really matter; a little personality can go a long way here. Shazam! is no imposter. It’s a welcome presence in the franchise pantheon.    

From Rolling Stone US.