In the grand scheme of all movies ever made—including, say, F.W. Murnau’s exquisite 1927 silent film Sunrise and the totally useless 2015 Entourage movie—the line between a super-awesome Marvel movie and a bad one is cellophane-thin.
It is as wildly hopeful about the matter of romance as canonical greats like Borzage (“History Is Made At Night”) and Murnau (“Sunrise”) and Powell-Pressburger (“A Matter of Life and Death”) and bluntly meta about the edifices of its very premises.