It's a Hollywood tale as old as time: an ambitious filmmaker with a grand idea comes to tinseltown with a plan. Almost immediately, executives meddle with that creative vision, leading to a frankensteined product that does not resemble the original idea in any way. Audiences who see the potential of that idea are left with an unsatisfying work of art, wondering what could have been.
What would an Edgar Wright Ant-Man look like? Or a Lord and Miller Solo? Or a purely Josh Trank Fant4stic? We will probably never see the answers to such questions, and that's how it goes in Hollywood. That's why the recently released recut of Justice League, directed by Zack Snyder, is something of an aberration. After fan backlash to the original 2017 film, clamor for a rumored "Snyder Cut" grew until Warner Brothers gave up the ghost and gave the fans what they wanted.
I'm not going to spend the next few paragraphs talking about the lore or the characters in a grander context; many fan-run sites will be able to articulate it better than I ever can. What I can tell you here is, in terms of cinema, what does something like this film mean?
This four hour monstrosity is remarkable. It is a film, but it has aspects that can be seen more in arthouse films than in your usual Hollywood blockbuster. With its runtime, it flouts the rules of commercial cinema, and by chance it is uniquely suited to take advantage of the streaming medium that has supplanted traditional theaters during the pandemic.
That's not to say the film is perfect. It's not God's gift to cinema, no, but it doesn't want to be. It is, however, a vast improvement over the original film, and it's safe to say that any newcomers should avoid the original film entirely and consider this the definitive version.
Despite the many changes, at its core the story is still the same: after Superman's death in the previous film, Batman (Ben Affleck) and Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) begin assembling some of Earth's mightiest heroes to fend off an alien invasion. What sets both films apart is, first and foremost, a consistency in tone. Gone are the MCU quips that wormed their way into the 2017 version thanks to Joss Whedon's involvement. That is perhaps this cut's best feature: the Snyder Cut isn't trying to be something else, it is its own thing. We get to know the characters first (something that is no doubt alleviated by the releases of 2017's Wonder Woman and 2018's Aquaman) and the stakes are clear. Even the villain, a cartoonishly stock villain in the 2017 film, is given a backstory and motivation in this one.
While it does still suffer from being the follow-up to a mediocre, if a bit silly movie, and it suffers from Snyder's own, sometimes overindulgent filmmaking weaknesses, and it still does at least three movies' worth of heavy lifting, the end result is entertaining in its own, chaotic way.
This film does raise a number of interesting questions. It's probably safe to say that this version of the film would not be the version that Snyder would release theatrically had he still continued making the 2017 film. He was unconstrained by cinema rules or distributors or running times. What if, in the context of traditional cinemas dying, this film is part of a new paradigm in film production moving forward? What does the Snyder Cut say about fan driven efforts? How heavily will fan clamor change how a movie is made creatively? While it worked for this film (giving Snyder free reign to do what he wants), studios reacting to fan demand also has its downsides - see the last Star Wars movie for an example of that.
One can comfortably end the film at the 3 hour 40 minute mark and call it a day. What follows after that mark is an epilogue that shows audiences what a Snyderverse film would have looked like. In a meta sense, it reflects itself: the epilogue that consists of a dream of an alternate universe, is itself a look into an alternate universe - one where Zack Snyder continued working on future Justice League films. But in the here and now, reality is different: WB has shifted to telling more standalone stories with the release of films like 2019's Joker, and it's doubtful whether actors like Ray Fisher (Cyborg) or Amber Heard (Mera) will return. The epilogue, then, feels a tad cruel, a tease for a sequel that will never come.
But people were saying only a few years back that this cut will never, ever be a thing, and look where we are now. The possibilities are endless.
