I’m going to assume we’ve all seen The Avengers by now, because it was released yesterday and you have no excuses. Unless you live in America where, apparently, the collapse in the National Awesomeness Index means they won’t getting to watch Joss Whedon’s masterwork for a little while yet.
Allow me to laugh like an evil super villain. Muwhahahahaha…
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And so, on to the film or rather the whole point of Whedon making this film, which was to pose to me the most important philosophical question its ever been my thinky pleasure to conjur with. If I was going to be an Avenger, which Avenger would I be?
Now, lets not rule out Scarlett Johansson’s Black Widow, immediately, just because she’s a chick. After all, she has some awesome kung fu and she is an unstoppable killing machine of death, both of which are big ticks in her favour. But then again she is a chick and I’m not so that’s kind of insurmountable.
Of the other superheroes we can probably scratch The Hulk straight away because the big green angry machine comes with a lot of guilt, and as a totally lapsed Catholic I had to give that up. Plus, Bruce Banner’s not really in control of his mojo and there’s no point having the ability to punch out a skyscraper if your anger management issues are so chaotic you can’t actually focus on the right skyscraper to reduce to rubble under the relentless bombardment of your pounding Hulk hands.
So. Thor? He’s popular with the ladies and he is like a God or something which would definitely have it’s privileges, especially with the ladies, but I get the impression that when Thor isn’t smiting dudes with that lightning hammer life’s just a whole heap of paperwork and meetings to take and time sheets and monthly billables and all the bureaucratic chickenshit that goes with being a godking. So no, not Thor.
Hawkeye? He’s cool, and being able to shoot down alien Harley Davidsons with an explodey bow and arrow would be double plus awesome, but it’d also get a dull after a while. And you’d run out of arrows. And what are you then? A somewhat stoppable killing machine of death. Cool but no cigar.
Captain America? Pfft. I have to fly down to Sydney today to sit in the US Consulate for about eleventy hundred hours to get my W7 IRS form stamped. No they won’t fax it. No they don’t do email. Yes, Mr Birmingham, you must present yourself at the Consulate to collect your special rubber stamp even though it’s like a 2000 mile round trip. If they jerk me around this badly over one lousy tax form how bad must it be for full-time US citizens? Bad enough that the makers of The Avengers can’t even be bothered releasing the film there yet. They’re probably still sitting in a queue somewhere waiting for a tax stamp.
And that brings us to the obvious choice. Tony Stark. Iron Man. Sure he needs the suit to reach his awesome best, but what is he without the suit? The billionaire genius playboy philanthropist dating Gwyneth Paltrow that’s who. And he gets the best jokes.
So I know which Avenger I’d want to be.