Over the next three months, Warner Brothers will release two separate blockbusters starring super-dudes who zip around in red suits emblazoned with lightning bolts. “Shazam! Fury of the Gods,” a sequel that trips over its desperation to amuse, needs the running start over “The Flash.”
Not only does its lead character have lower brand recognition because of his inability to outrun a speeding trademark lawyer, he’s also spent eight decades searching for a reason to exist. In 1941, two years after he was created, the character (known then as Captain Marvel) was the subject of a copyright infringement lawsuit by the publishers of Superman, who claimed that he was a knockoff with identical powers. Decades later, when he attempted a comeback, Marvel Comics stripped away his name with a cease-and-desist. Even here, within the safe space of his own overlong and clangy movies, he flails for an identity. Should he go by Thundercrack? Zap-tain America? The returning director David F. Sandberg’s one good idea is centering the character’s anxiety on his redundance — a super-clone weighed down by impostor syndrome. Spin the jagged M of his lightning bolt horizontally and Sandberg could claim it stands for Captain Metajoke.
Two hours into his second movie, our hero (Zachary Levi) finally adopts the moniker Shazam!, which stands for his ability to channel the combined abilities of the gods Solomon, Hercules, Atlas, Zeus, Achilles and Mercury. Tweedy types, myself included, might grumble that Solomon and Achilles aren’t technically gods — and that, for consistency, Mercury should really be Hermes — but what’s the point when a guy with the supposed wisdom of Solomon opens the movie bleating, “I’m an idiot!”
The problem with Shazam! — let’s do without the spirit fingers for the rest of this review — is that the character used up his best ideas in the first movie, which came out in 2019. For his debut, Sandberg and the screenwriter Henry Gayden were graced with low expectations and a wallop of tenderness and wit. All they had to do was endear us to young Billy Batson (Asher Angel), a 14-year-old runaway who ka-pows into his magical alter ego (Levi) whenever the boy yells, well, you know. The heart came from watching the lonely child embrace his foster family and, ultimately, share his powers with five other orphans; the laughs came from the body-morphing comedy of seeing a teen in an adult-size skin suit realize that with great power comes the ability to buy booze. If the Avengers are swaggering mall cops who maintain order for the purpose of selling T-shirts and toys, Shazam is the juvenile delinquent shoplifting their dignity.
Levi boasts a dopey, roguish charm associated more with Super Bowl beer commercials than super-tights. He’s a good physical comedian, especially when he gnaws a breath mint like a bunny. Yet, as the child version of Shazam nears 18, the character can’t stay moronic forever — and there won’t be anything interesting about him once he matures. To stall for time, his character arc is merely a bunt. (As best I could figure, he has to either unite his family … or learn to let them go?) The script, by Gayden and Chris Morgan, a longtime “Fast & Furious” scribe, clutters the bases with over a dozen distractions: six super-siblings at two age stages, three Greek gods, a half-dozen breeds of mythological beasties, two parents, one wizard, and one weak romance between the goddess Anthea