THE SYNDROME

I saw The Incredible Hulk (follow up to Marvel's brainy 2003 first try) on opening night last month and, walking out of the theater, all I could think was, 'how could the people who brought us Spider-man 2, arguably the best comic book movie ever made (alongside Iron Man) produce such an underwhelming, clunky sequel for a franchise they hoped to revive?' (My thoughts are just that eloquent.)

I thought Ang Lee's version of the Big Green Angry was better. But there's no point fighting over the actors: Bana versus Norton or Connelly versus (lovely but oh-so flimsy) Liv Tyler. The real issue is, as always, the writing, namely, how the Hulk narratives deal with the monster lurking inside physicist Bruce Banner or rather (at least in the film adaptations) how they don't.

The Hulk conundrum takes inspiration from Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which was a story that commented on humanity's infinite, hidden capacity for evil. In essence, both tales ask: if even the most righteous human heart contains Pandora's box, what would happen if we unlocked it?

So, why doesn't the Hulk work again? The problem is more evident in the second film than in the first: we simply don't believe that the Hulk and Bruce Banner are the same person. Of course, this is part of the terror inherent to Bruce's condition; it transforms him radically into a supposed polar opposite -- a hideous, raging monster. In truth, however, Banner's radical physical metamorphosis is not the most terrifying aspect of his problem.

The more horrific and tragic concept at the heart of the Hulk is that this monster has been lying dormant, suppressed inside Banner all along. The scientist doesn't turn into the Hulk, he is the Hulk and always has been. A flash of anger merely rapes Banner of socialized restraint, revealing a pre-existing ugly truth.

In 2003, the fact that Eric Bana's pre-accident Bruce was snarling and moody helped hint at this idea; The gamma radiation in essence exploits an existing tragic flaw and unleashes its terrible, destructive power. In 2008, Norton's Bruce is a gentle, earnest man who treats his anger whimsically. If it weren't for a pack of baddies pantomiming kicks and punches, in addition to a watch that beeps inanely as it measures his rising heart rate, an audience member would have no legitimate reason to suspect that Bruce is actually becoming angry.

Given a man so mild, it's hard to accept that the Hulk is at all related -- and he has to be for the awe and upset to kick in. Once you reach the point where the Hulk becomes an alien stand-in, a mere temporary placeholder for a more believable being, you begin to take him for what he really is: a big green piece of CGI that likes to smash shit. That's fun and all but ... once the credits roll, I just don't care.