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As I was walking home from Sam Raimi's "Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness" with two friends of mine--one of which is more or less a Marvel fan--we talked about how this one was more of a miss rather than a hit in the MCU's long lore. And while he agreed on the fact that this could've been better, he blamed its flop on the hype.

This is a movie starring Benedict Cumberbatch as Doctor Strange--arguably the super-hero with the most creative abilities in the MCU and also the most philosophical. It's directed by Sam Raimi, the mastermind behind the original Spider-Man trilogy and its theme involves multiverse travel. So, yes, of course it was hyped. But were these expectations not justified, especially considering how ingenious the 2016 prequel was? Personally, I think that while hype can raise expectations in the ridiculous, it wasn't the case with this movie. This is simply an average Marvel film. One which stretched its multi-dimensional plot too thin--even for Marvel standards.

Admittedly, while I knew this movie was going to be less than impressive as I have seen some reviews prior to watching it, I really didn't see any issues until the very ending. The only thing I was thinking up until that point was how I was going to rebuke all these critics for not knowing how to have fun again. But the abrupt breaks Raimi decided to stop his run on were so unexpected I was almost shocked. Whether it was studio interference or simply an emergency writing unraveling, I don't know. The point is "Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness" decided to cut its own cord in a brutal enough manner to sustain quite a bit of damage as if Marvel Studios' great dark shadow was breathing down Raimi's neck.

It's a shame to see such potential simply breeze through the multiverses--literally; especially considering that this movie had a plot twist early on, really building up on itself. P. S. Though--this is the Marvel movie with the best visual effects yet--and that's saying something.

As I looked at the increasingly insane scenarios these daredevils keep putting themselves through I slowly but surely came to the realization that this is a great movie. Greatness is bound to no rulebook except execution, it can take any form possible. Even if that form means having a penis-monster ejaculate all over a miniature version of the cast, plus Tony Hawk coz why not?

The exact moment I realized this is great is when I saw the risks these men--and a woman--are taking, the physical tolls this puts on them and how blatantly they laugh in the face of doom--whether that doom is a hungry bear or a testosterone-fueled bull. That being said, these real-life avengers all have their roles, some more honorable than others.

Knoxville is their Tony Stark or Captain America--but he fits the personality of the former more--as he has the ideas which sometimes go unannounced to his team in the form of pranks. Chris Pontius is the silent lieutenant, always on the giving end of things, whose charm and weird, transsexual attire paint him as almost an outside observer, or an evil mastermind if you will, as I can't help but think that most of these gauntlets are his ideas, believable considering he has a writing background.

But if you thought Steve-O was going to take the worst of hits, it's actually Danger Ehren--whose nickname is more than adequate--who I will remember the most for a particular scene involving himself tied to a chair with honey and meat all over him and a bear let loose. You can feel genuine fear on his face especially at the end of the scene when the bear started to bite at his hand and the bear-handler had to get in quickly. It gives me an idea of how these invincible titans of dumb laughs feel their youth stripping away from them so they'd better have no regrets.

But there's more than just the risks they take that make Jackass stand out more than Evil Knievel on a motorcycle; is how conceptual they make each of their stunts. Take, for instance, the scene in which they launch Johnny tens of feet into the air from a cannon reminiscent of old circus traditions. The scene is not about them launching Knoxville into the air. It's about the rise of Icarus, who rose up too fast and too high and suddenly fell to the ground. We even have a theatrical intro, told by the ever-flamboyant Pontius. Johnny is even dressed the part--wings included. As he reaches the peak of his height, in the midst of what is about to be a scary fall, he doesn't forget to literally spread his wings.

It's these little details which amount to great execution in any form of art known or yet unknown to man. In one of the final scenes, we are even treated to an actual accident as Knoxville gets a broken neck from being hit by an angry bull. You know it's real when even Steve-O stated that "not even in my darkest days" would he get in that bull pit. The danger of the stunt proves how much respect Johnny has for his crew. Like a military commander, he wouldn't make his soldiers do anything he wouldn't do and they give him mutual respect in return. And again, Knoxville was dressed as a magician performing a trick, at no point did he involve the bull in his presentation. At the end as he came out of the hospital his first concern was whether his little magic trick looked good on camera.

The level of the danger and risks these aging yet forever young pain addicts undertake here is what both excite and worry me. So, don't feel guilty vicariously watching them unravel as this might be one of the very last times you will witness them before they fade into oblivion.

Phil Burbank is a methodical and ruthless genius. His tongue cuts deep into anyone unlucky enough to cross his path. His words are chosen carefully yet effortlessly, built to dismantle and subdue those who would have the smallest chance of standing in his way. He is as smart as he is disgusting. And, he is Benedict Cumberbatch's best performance of his career.

Taking the lead role of the charismatic rancher confirms the actor's sarcastic wit is not specific only to his recurring Dr. Strange in the MCU, but rather is part of his own talent. This sarcasm might as well become his shtick, having the potential to grow unless he does a Nicholas Cage and binge-picks everything thrown at him.

But let's not get derailed.

"The Power of the Dog" could only be directed by a woman. Its perfect pace could only be designed by a feminine touch. Jane Campion unravels two hours of sustained tension which go on subdued for as long as possible. This is a patient movie, one which treats its characters with respect and gives a lot of time to their thoughts to manifest not necessarily into words, but more into actions.

This drama contains many revelations among its ensemble cast which complement each other in flawless fashion. Take the two brothers, Phil and George Burbank (Jesse Plemons), the former a well-educated but now high-society despising rugged cowhand of the land, and the latter a more feminist white collar gentleman marrying a weeping widow which Phil hates and brings her to the brink of self-destruction and step-fathering her emasculated, shy son which is perfect cannon fodder for Phil--you slowly get the picture which is just brimming with conflict and spectacular drama.

This is where the movie shines, though. It has the rare ability of resisting operatic drama, keeping its emotions and animosities subdued, yet still keeping them blunt. It's a testament to the focused skill of its director/writer who repays attentive viewing constantly, especially at the end.

Speaking of attentive viewing, it's nowhere near the level of Nolan's intimidating contraptions or David Lynch's trolling in the likes of "Mulholland Dr." This simply demands that the viewer stays put as it eventually wraps itself around to its opening line almost too good to be true: "When my father passed, I wanted nothing more than my mother's happiness. For what kind of man would I be if I did not help my mother? If I did not save her?"

The ambiguous line is made completely clear by the end. I never thought something as abstract as balance could be so satisfying.