End Game Analysis

What an experience Endgame was.  After over twenty movies, the sequel to Infinity War has finally wrapped up everything in the Marvel Cinematic Universe- or at least wrapped up this part of it.  The MCU will probably continue until we're wiped out by self-aware sex robots, but this phase brings to a close both the overarching threat of Thanos/the Infinity Stones and the character arcs of many of the founding Avengers.  That's a tall order, but it does so with a level of spectacle and entertainment that deserves respect.

And yet, I have no idea how I feel about the movie as a whole.

I supposed I should say that I felt entertained throughout most of it, and on occasion even felt some emotion.  Endgame is well-made in a lot of ways.  Yet, at the same time, the film covers so many different characters and tries to close so many arcs that the whole thing isn't exactly a coherent, unified vision where everything works.  The best made ensemble movies, such as Seven Samurai, manage to give each character adequate attention while also connecting everything to the main plot and theme(s) of the movie.  Endgame, with half a dozen times as many characters as those movies, doesn't have that luxury.

Because of that, it felt like there were too many moving pieces for me to call this entire movie great or bad or decent or disappointing or whatever else.  I don't know how to think of it as a whole.  So, instead of trying to force some grand analysis of Endgame, I will instead go into what did and didn't work for me.  There's plenty of each.

Of course, THIS MEANS THERE WILL BE SPOILERS.  Enjoy!

WHAT I LIKED

Scott Lang Waking Up

Maybe the real Paul Rudd has a quantum universe he hides in to prevent aging?

I felt mixed about the beginning of the 'five years later' part of Endgame.  You hear in passing that the loss of so many people ruined society, but you don't see it.  There's a sense of mourning in the air, but the consequences of the loss itself is not fully dramatized on screen.  The one scene we get is Captain America leading one support group meeting, and it's a good scene, but we never get a sense of how long Evans has been doing this or how it came about, or even if part of why he's leading the support group is because so many therapists and counselors got snapped away.  After this scene, the support group is never brought up again.

This is an odd way to bring up a sequence I like, but I mention my issue with the beginning because Scott Lang returning to the normal world does a great job of addressing the loss that I think the rest of the beginning of the movie could've done better.  Naturally, the sudden absence of 50% of life everywhere means that society would face a massive crisis- when doctors, farmers, teachers, firefighters, trade workers, social workers, sanitation workers, etc disappear, that's not something you recover from quickly.  The remaining 50% of people would face a collapse brought about by the sudden absence of so many people who do their part to help keep society running.

That's why I like this sequence.  Lang running through that abandoned San Francisco neighborhood, in which we only see a teenager on a bike left, shows a serious consequence of what such a mass loss of life would actually do to a city.  Then, when he eventually finds a memorial for some of the disintegrated, we see these monuments have countless mourners somberly remembering their loved ones.  It's been five years, but the gap left by the deceased is still there.  Lang desperately looks for his daughter's name, hoping with all his heart she isn't on the list, and because of Rudd's sincerity, I'm hoping she's still alive just as fiercely as he is.

Then we have the reunion.  What's so well-done is that the scene takes its time.  Scott and his daughter recognize each other, but it still takes her a moment to truly accept that's her dad standing at the door.  Meanwhile, you can see in Lang's eyes an indescribable joy at seeing his daughter, but also a shadow of melancholy for having missed an entire five years of her life.

This plot thread is great because it does exactly what this part of the movie should do.  It really looks at the weight of the destruction caused by the Thanos snap, and it does so without the sometimes irritating MCU need to almost always undercut a dramatic moment with jokes.

Revisiting Classic Moments

Actual photographed meeting of Disney executives for this portion of the movie.

The elevator scene from Winter Soldier.  The beginning of the first Guardians of the Galaxy movie.  The classic "Avengers assemble" moment from the first team movie.  The MCU is full of some truly iconic moments that will stay in the popular imagination for a long time.  In revisiting these scenes, the Russo Brothers made a move best described as... not "bold" per se, because milking nostalgia for all its worth is hardly a daring formula, but  ambitious.  The movie going back through these moments could have come off as cringy, but they did a good job of adding something interesting enough to most of these scenes that they didn't feel to me like fan service only for the sake of fan service.

Let's look at the elevator scene for example, perhaps the most celebrated moment from Winter Soldier.  Captain America and his all-American ass get onto the same elevator with the same people he fought before.  It's tense.  I honestly expected a remix of the first fight scene, which would've been a pretty transparently empty attempt to repeat that beloved moment just for the sake of repeating it.  Then Steve "America's Ass" Rogers whispers "heil HYDRA", which not only subverts the expectations of the scene, but shows how much he has changed.  The old, more innocent Captain Dummy-Thicc would've never thought to use such a tactic.

All of these revisited moments bring something similar to the table.  Professor Hulk trying to blend into the battle of New York by "smashing" things nearby fails hilariously, as Banner has now found an inner peace that makes him feels no need to lash out with destruction.  After years of treating the Hulk like a curse, he finally found a way to embrace his gift, which was really a part of himself the whole time.  These scenes are still shameless fan-service, but they're shameless fan service that are justified with interesting twists that allow us to see how far the characters have come in clever, entertaining ways.

Two of my favorite moments from the time travel to the past, however, had nothing to do with revisiting classic scenes.

Parental Reunions

I'm just glad they found a way to make The Dark World relevant.

A lot of online movie buffs have talked about how a recurring theme in the MCU is daddy issues.  Thor, Black Panther, and Star Lord all have them.  Perhaps none have been covered more throughout the MCU than Iron Man's, however.  In the early movies, Iron Man recalls how distant and uncaring his father seemed.  Yet there had always been some ambiguity, as well.  Toward the end of Iron Man 2, Stark discovers his father's secret plans for the future, revealing his dad had a lot of hope for his son despite their issues.  In Civil War he recalls the last time he saw his parents before they left, then turns on Captain America and Bucky when he finds out the latter killed them.

Things change after that for Tony, however.  He becomes a surrogate father to Peter Parker in the first MCU Spiderman movie, then a biological father in this movie.  In the former he jokes that he's become like his father; in the latter, it's confirmed.  He values his daughter more than anything and wants to be there for her, yet duty calls.  Just like his father, he cannot put the good of the world aside for his own happiness.  So, when this scene finally comes, Stark talks to his dad with a profound understanding of the greater good vs personal happiness question that is at the heart of every good superhero movie.  It's a wonderful moment that brings Stark's relationship with both his father and himself full-circle.

My other favorite parental moment is, of course, Thor's reunion with his mother.  Thor has had quite the character journey throughout the MCU movies.  Even after the events of the first Thor movie got him to think about more than himself and his lust for battle, he always had a confident bravado to him.  It makes sense- he is the strongest Avenger next to Hulk and Captain Marvel, and never experienced a hard personal failure the way other heroes in the MCU had.  He loses his parents in Dark World and Ragnorak, but both are outside of his control; his mom dies when he isn't around while his dad basically dies of old age.  But in Infinity War he is powerless to stop the loss of half of his people, including his brother Loki and friend Heimdall.  Then, after immense pain brought about by all he has lost, he finally gains Stormbreaker and defeats Thanos.

Yet, due to Thor's need to gloat in the moment of victory, Thanos still manages to snap his fingers.

That would mess anyone up.  There's a reason Thor is the most sullen Avenger at the very start of the film, and why the beheading of Thanos brings him no joy.  There's a reason why he's retreated from the world after the weight of his failure and grief come crashing down on him after revenge brings him nothing.  He is completely lost.  His mother recognizes that, and gives him the support and guidance only a loving parent can.  It helps snap Thor out of his funk, restoring his warrior spirit and allowing him to fight Thanos in the biggest rematch since Conor McGregor vs Nate Diaz 2.

Captain America Wielding Thor's Hammer

FUCK. YES.

I don't have anything thoughtful to say, this moment was just fucking awesome.

The End of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers

Feeling cute rn, might give a satisfying end to the journey of MCU's two biggest characters idk~

I remember at the end of Infinity War how surprised I was at the fact they actually had Thanos win.  When Bucky evaporated, my jaw actually dropped.  The grim, somber silence was the perfect choice for letting the scene unfold.  A couple supporting characters popped and I felt a deep sense of surprise, despair, and grief for all those we were losing.  Then Black Panther disappeared, and I thought to myself "aren't there already rumors of a second Black Panther movie in the works?  Hmm, maybe his sister will take over!"  Then more and more prominent characters disappeared, and I realized that this is a fucking comic book series that could never let something like this stand.

I was conflicted.  I loved Infinity War, and thought the ending was a bold choice even with the certainty everyone would come back.  But the MCU in general has a problem with real consequences.  Heroes almost always get their cake and eat it too, with ideas of "sacrifice" often being given lip service without actually happening in the plot.  Even when there are the occasional consequences, such as the loss of Quicksilver in Age of Ultron, the losses never come up again (I actually forgot he existed until Googling images for this article).  I worried this movie would find a fun, light-hearted way to undo the snap that would only change things on the surface.

I think in some ways that did happen, but it certainly didn't with the conclusion of Iron Man and Captain America's arcs.  Perhaps the two most important MCU characters up to this point, each could be argued to be the foundation of the MCU Avengers team.  Iron Man was the first superhero of the modern day in the MCU and was the first to help SHIELD with the Avengers Initiative, while Captain America was chronologically the first superhero and had a strong moral core that inspired others long after he became frozen in the ice.  Despite their butting of heads, their leadership and heroism formed the basis of the MCU Avengers as we know them.

That's why I loved seeing them each get a great send off.  I was devastated Tony died.  But, in a movie series where examples of bad fathers come up so often, culminating in big-bad Thanos adopting Gamora & Nebula and naming his followers Children of Thanos, it made sense that Tony, both the father of the Avengers team and a literal father, would counter Thanos's example of fatherhood with his own empathetic, self-sacrificing version.

"We don't trade lives" is the perfect quote to sum up the Avengers philosophy, and it's no coincidence that Captain America is the one to say it in the previous movie.  As already stated, he is the moral core of the team.  Like Stark, Rogers has done nothing but give and give, at immense cost to himself.  Perhaps no Avenger had consciously chosen to give up more to do what's right before the end of this movie.  With Thanos out of the way and no detectable threat left to the universe, it was wonderful to see Rogers get the life he so richly deserved.  It was also nice to see him pass off the shield to Sam Wilson.

Thanks for the great memories, fellas.

WHAT I DIDN'T LIKE

Comically Depressed Thor

"Thanos is evil? That's just, like, your opinion, man."

I dealt with a lot growing up.  Fortunately, my coping mechanism didn't involve me repeating past family demons like substance abuse, but I did become both a people-pleaser and a class clown.  The thing that people don't get about class clowns is that we often feel like we have to keep entertaining people, because if we are sincerely ourselves no one will like us.  For me, that meant until about my early to mid-twenties I couldn't be vulnerable, and if I started to become sincere, I had to find moments to undercut that sincerity with humor.

Now, I think humor in moderation can be incredibly helpful as a coping mechanism.  Realizing over the past few years how much I used humor to sometimes cope in unhealthy ways doesn't mean I've avoided comedy/jokes by any means.  Everyone needs to laugh and be silly sometimes, and humor during times of crisis can be a life-saver.  At the same time, however, we shouldn't use it as a shield to avoid vulnerability or reckoning with our traumas.

All of this is to say that I felt post-time skip Thor's pain was used far more as a joke than it should've been.  To be clear, I'm not saying Thor's scenes should've only been serious, melancholy explorations of all the grief and guilt he carried with him.  This is a comic book movie meant for entertainment.  At the same time, though, it seemed like almost every line and every action from Thor up until he sees his mom was meant to evoke laughs.  On top of that, during the few moments where we got a glimpse of what was underneath, there would be an immediate goofy follow up right after that made sure the vulnerability wouldn't stay.

I felt intensely embarrassed for Thor throughout the movie.  Not because there's anything embarrassing about being fat or depressed, but because the film treats this stuff as a punchline.  I would've loved to have seen a more earnest exploration of his pain that didn't feel the need to constantly undercut any emotional depth with constant jokes, as if the filmmakers were trying to say "hey, we don't wanna be unhappy for even one full minute, here are some jokes to avoid emotional discomfort of any kind!"

I know I've said this twice already, but I really wanna emphasize that I'm not looking for Thor to be dark and brooding in this movie.  This isn't Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy.  But other superhero movies like Spiderman 2, X-Men First Class, and Wonder Woman show you can be sincere while still having a good time.  It would've been nice to see more of that for Thor in this movie.

Edgy Hawkeye

"I've changed, Natasha.  You can tell by my new haircut and the fact I use a sword now."

I thought the beginning scene of the movie was great, and I've never even found Hawkeye that interesting of a character.  It shows how devastating the snap was for him, and lets you imagine how many other people probably had their entire families except themselves snuffed out by the impartial roulette of who did and didn't die.  You can only imagine how much grief that causes him.  It makes sense that after such a traumatic event he might spiral downward in an ugly direction.

Later we hear from Black Widow that Hawkeye is killing people.  The Avengers don't wanna confront him, but it seems his killing isn't slowing down, and at some point they'll have to do something to stop him.  It makes for a good conflict.  His motivations are clearly understood- they're not justified (losing your entire family doesn't make most people mass muderers, even if the people you're killing are bad), but it makes sense.  They could've fleshed out his journey from grief-stricken to killer more, but in such a crowded movie, it makes sense to not prioritize it.

Then hope for getting everyone back is found, and Black Widow shows up to the scene of another Hawkeye killing spree and... sorta lightly chides him but otherwise just tells him about their plan.  It doesn't come up again in any significant way whatsoever until Black Widow and Hawkeye are battling for who gets to die on Vormir, with Hawkeye saying "I've done bad things!!1!11!!"  Which is true, but in the past Hawkeye and Black Widow have bonded over their dark, morally ambiguous past before.  You could remove everything about edgy-murder Hawkeye from the movie and the Vormir scene could've played out exactly the same.

This sequence should've either been more fleshed out or removed entirely.  In such a crowded movie, it may have been better to do the former, and just let the Avengers find him sad and forelorn like they do almost everyone else at the start of the movie.

But, going back to Vormir...

Death of Black Widow

 *insert that one GIF of that one guy saying "haha, this sucks man" here*

So, how about the fact that the place where the first female Guardian of the Galaxy died also became the place where the first female Avenger died?

I know the automatic response to this is "she wanted to atone for her past of violence and death!"  And, yeah, this is certainly one way for her to achieve that.  However, one thing you learn in a creative writing class is that killing a character to "redeem" them is the easy shortcut countless beginning writers will take.  There are many alternatives.  You only need to watch almost any anime ever made to see a villain's life get spared so that s/he may repent for what they've done and maybe even become a member of the team.

As a matter of fact, this is the approach Black Widow has taken at the beginning of the movie.  She's directing the team from the Avengers headquarters, making sure that even in the face of such grief and loss (not to mention disaster brought about by so many disappearances) that the Avengers continue doing what they can to help the world.  Seeing a woman who has helped save the world on the frontlines now transition to doing the same thing in a position of leadership was pretty cool.

It's a shame they have to do that, especially when Hawkeye, could've also sacrificed himself to protect the universe, further reinforcing the theme of fathers sacrificing themselves to create a better world for both their families and everyone else as a whole.  It could've helped make the movie feel slightly more cohesive by hinting at what Stark would do later.

But, this could've been more forgivable if the other prominent woman of Endgame were give more to work with...

Captain Marvel's Absence

"I'm here to kick ass and take names... in other parts of the galaxy, off-screen, unrelated to this movie."

I'd write a lot about Carol Danvers' role in Endgame, except there isn't much to write about.  In a movie where only two female Avengers are given a prominent role, it's a pretty bad look for one to die and another to disappear.  To be fair, if you count Nebula she had a decent role in the movie as she learns to further embrace her change to the good side, but that's just not enough in a movie where so many male characters get so much attention.

Valkyrie Becoming Queen

How is Tessa Thompson not in literally everything

Man, I love Valkyrie (and also Tessa Thompson in general).  She was my favorite part of Ragnorak next to Thor himself, not only for her badassery and drunken charm but because of the surprisingly substantive arc she had throughout the movie.  She goes from someone struggling with alcoholism to someone who faces her demons in order to help defend her forsaken people.  Seeing her become queen at the end of Endgame should've been an awesome moment.

And yet... it wasn't.

The problem is that this isn't something that has been built toward at all.  Her character arc in Ragnorak is her learning to face her fears and care again; it's good, but has nothing to do with leadership abilities.  She is then entirely absent from Infinity War (we aren't even told in the movie that she and half of the Asgardians survive).  Then, in Endgame, she first shows up to tell the Avengers that Thor is now depressed, then doesn't reappear until the giant battle scene toward the end.

I love the idea of Valkyrie being queen of Asgard (or the idea of Tessa Thompson being queen of Earth in real life), but this moment feels so hollow because in no way does any movie in the entire MCU canon build or even hint toward it at all.  Hell, even if Valkyrie had been shown in both Ragnorak and Endgame on the battlefield issuing orders and giving a quick inspiring speech at some point, we'd at least have something to go off of.  Or if during Infinity War there were a quick scene of her being the one to inspire the survivors who escaped Thanos after the scene of the movie.  Or even make it so that she is the one who convinces Thor to rejoin the Avengers in this movie.

But, no, we're given none of that.  We have nothing building toward this moment at all.  Thor could've given the crown to Krog and nothing about it would've changed.  I'm still excited to see Valkyrie be queen of Asgard, but the lack of set up leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

Closing Thoughts

We've seen the last of at least two of the big three as superheros.

Whatever the shortcomings of this movie, it was an entertaining ride with a satisfying blend of charming character moments, big spectacle, and even some occasional strong emotional moments.  It's wild to think about what has happened in eleven years. I mostly only knew of Iron Man from all the references the rapper Ghostface Killah made to him, and I remember everyone (myself included) being skeptical that the first Avengers movie would work out or that the MCU would last much further past it.

The MCU has changed the cinematic landscape.  Movie snobs used to complain when movies got turned into a trilogy; now movies have interconnected cinematic universes.  Now movie series can go on indefinitely, as we've seen with franchises like the Fast & Furious movies and even DC's movies.  It'll be interesting to see what Hollywood can do with this new approach in the long run.  Perhaps directors who grew up on the MCU will be able to take all the strength of Marvel's movies and infuse them with their own strengths that'll make this current MCU chapter look rookie by comparison.

Regardless of how I felt about Endgame, these eleven years have given me some great memories.  For all the MCU's faults, they've created some damn good movies and even all-time great superhero movie moments ("briiing meee Thaaanooos!" is one of my all-time favorite moments of superhero spectacle, and the MCU is also filled with many intimate character moments that I love).  Here's hoping the future of the MCU brings just as many treasures.

Thanks for reading!

Nerd Culture, Artistic Merit, and Criticism

I am a proud nerd.  I play video games, read graphic novels and manga, and a few weeks ago I went to Wonder Con to be surrounded by my people.  If there is someone out there who thinks they could ever beat me in a pointless trivia contest about the nerdy shit I like, especially Final Fantasy games, they've got another thing coming.

A picture of me at Wonder Con, my natural habitat.

One of the biggest debates right now involving nerd culture is whether or not video games can legitimately be considered art.  There are a ton of positions people have taken in the debate- some say yes simply because it is a form of entertainment and that's enough to qualify it as art; some say yes because they think well made games have artistic merit beyond entertainment; some say no because they don't think games have any artistic merit; some say no, not out of disdain, but because they believe the interactive nature of games qualifies it as something else instead; some don't care because they think "real" art is a bullshit concept; some don't care because they simply don't care what their games are considered, they just want to play them.

Obviously, gamers as a whole have responded overwhelmingly in favor of considering games to be art.  As for me, I fall somewhere between "yes, video games at their best have artistic merit to them" and "I don't really give a shit because 'artistic merit' is an ambiguous, ever-changing, and often elitist concept" in the way I view it.  I personally play most of the video games I do because I enjoy the narratives in them, and I think the interactivity games have between player and character can add a certain dimension to story telling that other mediums don't have.  I don't really care about the opinion of the type of snobs who debate what "real" art is.  But, since I do think games have a lot to offer as an artistic medium for people who are serious about story telling, I'd therefore like them taken seriously by aspiring story-tellers so that we can continue to see great games get made.  I've written about poignant moments in video games before, and have used video game stories and characters as examples in other posts I've written about story telling.

Yet I've also noticed an alarming double standard in a substantial portion of the gaming community.  We want to claim our games are worth the classification of "art", and therefore have merit to them.  But, at the same time, whenever someone critically examines our medium in a way we don't like- especially when it comes to serious social issues like racism or sexism- a lot of us collectively lose. Our. Shit.

 

On second thought, nah, creating a game where you beat up a woman for gently calling out sexism
in games is a totally healthy and productive form of discourse, and not at all horrifyingly atrocious.

Aside from hordes of misogynists trying to run women off the internet (or out of campus speaking engagements with threats of school shootings) for speaking up about misogyny in games, one of the most common responses from gamers to these types of criticisms is "leave us alone, it's just entertainment!"  And yes, games certainly are entertainment, too.  But if we want our medium to be taken seriously- and it's pretty clear that most of us do- then we have to stop throwing a violent tantrum every time someone critiques our medium in a way we don't like.

Don't get me wrong, I get it.  We used to constantly be given shit for our past time, with criticisms ranging from gaming being a waste of time to it being used as a scapegoat for horrible acts of violence like school shootings.  Now, just when society is starting to take the medium more seriously, and with it also now becoming a popular activity that a substantial portion of the population enjoys, there are social critics saying our hobby has issues with sexism, or racism, or homophobia?  I just want to play video games in peace and have that be respected, damn it!

But here's the thing: we should be happy this is happening.  Because serious conversations about these topics don't happen for shit that no one takes seriously.  Has anyone ever had an in depth, nuanced conversation about race and gender dynamics in Family Circus?  Of course not, because nobody gives a shit.  The only time Family Circus has ever brought anything worthwhile to the table was when the comic was dubbed over by a PG-13 Robot created by a mohawk-sporting badass who wanted to teach that robot about the human concepts of friendship and absolute despair.

Thanks, PG-13 Bot.

We're living during a time where people are having serious conversations about video games through the lens of different social science, humanities, and social justice lenses.  When I went to Wonder Con, there were actually panels about these sorts of topics.  Panels about video games (and comics) and where they intersect with different topics like psychology, sociology, feminism, ethnic studies, anthropology, political science, economics, and more.  This isn't something that would be happening if we didn't take games seriously.

Taking something seriously as an art form doesn't only mean praising what it does well.  It means critically analyzing it, examining the medium through various lenses and trying to make thoughtful observations about what you experience.  We can't expect all of those observations to be ones we as gamers like.  And creating a shit storm each time that happens is like a teenager begging their parents for a car, getting it, and then getting upset whenever they have to pay for gas or take responsibility whenever they get into an accident.

I love gaming, and I will continue to think games have merit as an art form.  For that very same reason, I will also continue trying to think critically about games when playing them.  Including thinking about serious topics that might bring up uncomfortable observations.  Because both games and the gaming community do have some serious issues that need addressing (and subsequent action to be taken).  Not because there is inherently anything wrong with gaming or the people in it, as these issues can be found in anywhere; rather, because these games are created within societies that have these same issues.  And if we can't come to terms with the idea of games being analyzed in ways we don't like, then we have no business claiming games should be taken seriously.

But I think we should.  Because games are awesome for so many reasons, and have a lot to offer beyond only entertainment.  It's on us, as gamers, to decide if we want to recognize that, and everything that comes with it.

Fantasy Worlds and Believability

As I've mentioned before on this blog, I write fiction in addition to blog posts.  Some of the settings I write are "realistic" in the sense that everything operates in the same way that everyday life does in the real world.  There are no mystical elements involved in these stories.  Others involve crafting new worlds, worlds with their own internal logic and creatures that inhabit it.

When discussing works of fiction that take place in worlds more fantastic than our own, criticism of certain plot points someone finds nonsensical is often met with the response "of course it doesn't make sense, it's a movie/video game/TV show/etc."  This post will be about unpacking that statement; I think it is mostly a cop out, but there is also some truth to it.

As I alluded to in the first paragraph, creating worlds different from our own involve creating a new set of rules.  No matter what type of world you're creating- a fantasy land of magic and mythic creatures, a science fiction space adventure, an alternative universe where United States foreign policy actually gives a shit about democracy- a fictional universe needs its own set of governing rules that dictate how everything operates.  Let's take Fullmetal Alchemist, an easy example.

A universe where perfectly coiffed hair curls can withstand anything.

In Fullmetal Alchemist, the show emphasizes the principle of "equivalent exchange"- the idea that in order to obtain anything, something of equal value must be given in turn.  In other words, alchemists can transform and modify objects in that world, but they can't simply make something out of nothing.  When you see Edward make his staff, he's transforming the materials in the ground into his signature weapon.

If someone in that show were suddenly able to make objects materialize out of nothing, then you'd want an explanation for how that happened.  Yes, alchemy is basically magic and defies our laws of physics, but the world of Fullmetal Alchemist still has its own set of rules that it is expected to follow.  Hell, if someone were to suddenly bust out an iPad when the technology of that world is about equivalent to the technology of the early 20th Century, you'd want an explanation.

And that is where the "it's a _____, of course it's not realistic!" idea falls apart.  Yes, we shouldn't hold our entertainment to our own laws of reality.  But fictional works need to hold up to their laws of reality, otherwise that is inconsistent writing, even if other elements of the story are awesome.

A big example of this sort of inconsistency from a work I like (I prefer to pick apart works I like so that it's more analysis than complaint) is from The Walking Dead.  As this article tells us, one of the main rules about zombies is that their eyesight is poor and their sense of smell is strong.  We see that confirmed when Rick decides to cover himself and his pals in zombie remains to walk through the streets... but then we see it broken later when they avoid zombies by hiding under cars.

Then Daryl does something badass and all is forgiven.

A common response to this criticism is that the walkers spot the humans first, and then they use the ol' sniffers to track out whether they are human or not.  But that goes against the rule mentioned above, which specifically says their eyesight is "poor" but they have a "strong" sense of smell.  That would mean that their smelling ability is stronger than their sight (unless the meaning of those words have changed recently), and therefore the hiding trick they used shouldn't have worked.  It's a vague, inconsistent trait that helps kill the believability of their world- again, not because it is "unrealistic" by our terms, but by the terms the show sets up for itself.

These inconsistencies can make us feel less like we're watching something unfold in a different world and more like we're watching something unfold in a clearly fictional one.  Now, different inconsistencies bother people to different degrees, and what some people consider plot holes others don't.  For instance, I find a lot of the so-called plot inconsistencies everyone usually brings up about The Dark Knight Rises to be unfounded, and a lot of the actual inconsistencies didn't bother me much.

"No one noticed Bruce Wayne in the European cafe!"  Oh, right, because a billionaire who is well known in his own town will definitely be globally recognized.  Just like how you would totally recognize the CEO of Walmart or Target if they walked by you right now!

So, yes, some things take some people out of the movies, while those same things don't take others out.  Some aren't taken out of the experience because they don't think the inconsistency is a big deal, while others don't think it's an inconsistency at all.  That's fine, because we all interact with fictional worlds in our own ways.

The main problem with saying "it's a [comic book/fantasy/sci fi/etc] [movie/game/TV show/etc], don't think about it" is that it's dismissing the fact that these types of works have the ability to be immersive and take people to a different world.  A well crafted world with consistency is a fantastic thing.  When you say "don't think about it" you're encouraging people to not immerse themselves, to not critically engage with what they enjoy.

Now, that all being said, not everything needs an explicit explanation.  A movie that comes to mind is the movie Midnight in Paris from a few years back.

They never once explain how Owen Wilson keeps finding work!

In the movie, Owen Wilson is a writer who is visiting Paris with his fiance.  He loves it there, particularly because it was the home of many ex-patriot US writers during the modernist era of the 1920s.  One night, while on a walk, he ends up transported to 1920s-era Paris and gets to meet Ernest Hemingway, F Scott Fitzgerald, Zelda Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Salvador Dali, and others from that time period.  There is never an explanation given as to why Wilson (and, later, someone sent to track him) are able to travel back in time.

The thing is, the movie is still establishing a set of rules.  The movie shows us early on that time travel is possible in that universe, but everything else about it is realistic.  No one shows up with a light saber, or mind reading abilities, or a positive opinion of any M Night Shyamalan movies.  That is a universe that permits time travel in certain vehicles to the past, and the movie never adds extra fastballs into the mix.

So an explanation isn't always necessary.  In the original Star Wars trilogy, they established how the force functioned as a power, but not what it actually was "scientifically" speaking.  Everyone loved the movies, and then the prequels came up with a sci-fi explanation as to what the force was.  It wasn't a bad explanation, but it wasn't an answer people were clamoring for to make further sense of the universe.

So, in the end, what is arguably most important is establishing a clear set of rules that the works within that universe follow consistently.  Analyzing and picking apart fiction can be fun, and certainly helpful to anyone trying to create their own.  Critiquing and contemplating entertainment can help give us a deeper understanding of it- or at least that's what I tell myself to justify all the time I spend over-analyzing pop culture.