My first thought as the credits rolled was, “I didn’t feel a thing.” But that’s not fair. I did feel stuff. Disappointed by the clichéd staging, lazy effects, and incoherent action of the brief opening sequence (set against an admittedly dramatic nebula-filled sky). Bemused by Ant-Man’s rambling, maybe-supposed-to-be-charming introduction about how his life doesn’t make sense — but that’s okay! Annoyed by his teenage daughter’s faux-righteous rebellion against the mean cops using tear gas to clear out a homeless encampment in the middle of the night. Dumbfounded by the fact that Ant-Man’s Father Figure has been Ant-Man's helping teenage daughter do research on the realm in which his wife was trapped for 30 years without telling said wife (or Ant Man). Queasy about how much anti-aging CGI may or may not have been lavished upon the actors’ visages. Frustrated when disaster strikes, daughter repents, and Ant-Man insists she’s done nothing wrong. Angry when the film pulls a lead-weight tone reversal in a seemingly dramatic scene in order to illustrate the difficulties that arise from a failure to communicate. Off-put when Father Figure and Wife talk about the other people they banged during their separation (“I had needs!”). Still more off-put when a sweet lil’ alien keeps asking about people’s holes — their number, uses, and emanations. Sorry for the Bad Bitch whose character trait is Oppressed Indigenous. Fascinated by the bad guy’s simple trick of slowing his speech to lend himself menace. Amused by the desperate effort to up the stakes, post-Thanos (“Trillions will die!”) And then baffled: by the reduction of a universe-destroyer to just another punch-and-hand-ray baddie, by the lame deus ex machina during the final fight, by the utter meaninglessness of the hero’s sacrifice… And yet, there it was, that thought, overarching and overwhelming: “I didn’t feel a thing.” (2023) — Matthew Lickona
This movie is not currently in theaters.