There is a short story by Steven Millhauser that I am especially fond of called "In the Reign of Harad IV." It's about a master maker of miniatures, who is able to recreate with perfect living accuracy objects and people in profound miniature. One day, after making a recreation of a palace (complete with furniture in all the rooms, food on all the tables, elaborate detailing in the trim and decor, etc.) the maker of miniatures decides that the last great challenge available to him as an artist is to continue going smaller and smaller, to break beneath the boundary of the visible into the unseen world of infinite smallness. It's quite a story.
There were several moments in Ant-Man that reminded me of "In the Reign of Harad IV." Moments when the infinite possibilities present in eternally descending gradations of smallness seemed so (ironically) vast and incomprehensible that it was almost overwhelming. The lesson being, I suppose, that infinity is not only a question of objective largeness, but of subjective scale as well. The Marvel Cinematic Universe has always prided itself on bigness, a universe so large that all the heroes and stories of the comics can co-habitate the space. Ant-Man let's us look at that world from a different perspective. That it is a real treat.
There is a lot to like about this movie. Paul Rudd is effortlessly charming, as Scott Lang, in a way that recalls his roles in films like Clueless, the exceptional man lurking in plain sight like a down on his luck Mr. Darcy. Michael Douglass brings an interesting gear to his portrayal of Hank Pym, the Marvel mad scientist who invented the Ant-Man technology. Even Evangeline Lilly, an actress whose work I normally find about as exciting as unflavored Jell-O, does a serviceable turn as Hope van Dyne (the daughter of Wasp and the original Ant-Man). Anthony Mackie shows up as Falcon, and it is here that Ant-Man feels the least vital, the attempt to tie this film in with the larger MCU feels totally unnecessary, and the decision to have Rudd's Lang rob Avenger headquarters seems like nothing except a set-up for the stinger at the end of the credits (a stinger which a friend whose judgment I implicitly trust said was amazing, but which I didn't totally understand). That attempt to fix the film within this larger context seems to insult the smallness that is its principle virtue.
Peyton Reed, the director, is not afraid to be funny, and there are several moments of visual wit (though the technique of showing an intense piece of action only to pan back and have the action too small to see as mundane objects react to it is over used). In tone this film feels right at home in the MCU.
Ant-Man also fits into the trend I've been enjoying in the Marvel movies of letting individual genres peak out during the connective films. Winter Soldier was a spy thriller, Guardians was a space opera, and Ant-Man is, ultimately, a heist film. A fun heist film at that.
Rating: 3.5 / 4
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