Ant-Man and the Wasp - Fatherhood

*Spoilers ahead for Ant-Man and the Wasp, along with a few other summer flicks*

Father’s Day may have been last month, but a slew of summer films have pushed the idea of fatherhood well into our current moment as well. I’ve also been heavily reflecting as of late on the father figures in my own life, from my dad to my granddads and even my college mentor whom I affectionately refer to as my “ Pitt dad.” Thus, I can’t think of a better time to talk about fatherhood, and the complicated responsibilities thrust upon fathers, and even those of us who must carry on their legacies.

While this piece will focus primarily on Marvel’s Ant-Man and the Wasp, I will also touch on a few other recent films as we delve into this topic, as there are just so many great summer dads to speak of.

Dads have been an essential component of the Marvel Cinematic Universe for as long as I can remember. Tony Stark continues to deal with the fallout of his father’s death in 1991. Peter Quill has had to come to terms with his father not being quite the man Peter thought him to be. And T’Challa’s rule over Wakanda will always exist in the shadow of his father’s legacy. Each of these father-focused character arcs forces the viewer to consider the role of both father and child. More generally, these broken relationships beg the question: what defines a good paternal relationship?

Scott Lang offers the MCU a fresh perspective on fatherhood in that his primary concern is his relationship with his daughter. Beyond all the crime-fighting and world-saving, Lang truly just wants to spend time with his daughter and see her grow into a strong and successful woman. Thankfully, he does have a good relationship with Cassie. In fact, Cassie admires her father so much, especially as it relates to his adventures as Ant-Man.

Ant-Man and the Wasp may have a lot to do with quantum mechanics, and its title may suggest a focus on the relationship between its two heroes, but the central relationship in the film is undoubtedly that of Scott and Cassie. (As a sidenote, the romance between Scott and Hope is surprisingly underdeveloped in the film, if anything.)

This father-daughter relationship is wonderfully paralleled with a slightly more broken father-daughter bond between Hope and Hank Pym. While much of the damage has been healed by the events of Ant-Man and the Wasp, there is still enough contrast between the film’s two father-daughter connections to make them worth exploring in relation to one another.

Hank spent a great deal of 2015’s Ant-Man trying to protect Hope. Of course, now she fights by Scott’s side as the Wasp. Similarly, Scott tries to separate Cassie from his superhero antics. At one point, she asks to be his partner, and he answers the request perfectly. Of course, Cassie is too young to do such a thing, but Scott specifically reassures her that she would be an incredibly strong and capable partner; he simply loves her too much to put her in such danger. Scott still remains honest with his daughter, however. She knows more about his superhero life than his ex-wife even does, and covers for her father more than once throughout the sequel. If anyone in the MCU deserves a “World’s Greatest Dad” mug, it’s Scott. I mean did you see that adventure course he built at the beginning of the film?

Scott and Hank are therefore both effective in a key part of parenting: empowering your children, especially daughters, to feel capable. Perhaps more importantly, these dads are inclusive in such a way that does not saddle their respective daughters with unwanted obligations, but instead allows them to find their own purpose. Hank spent so long sheltering Hope from the truth behind her mother’s disappearance, but eventually realized he can repair his relationship with her by including her on the quest to find Janet, who first donned the Wasp uniform alongside her husband. By including Hope, Hank has gotten her to buy in to the idea of continuing the family legacy. What I find so refreshing about the Ant-Man films is how they render family and superheroism inseparable, whereas so many other MCU films recognize family only as an obstacle.

But not everybody in this movie can just carry on their father’s legacy without pause. The film’s primary antagonist, Ghost, has a rare condition as a direct result of her father’s work. In a quantum experiment gone wrong, Elihas Starr tragically kills himself and his wife, leaving his daughter’s body in a state of instability. Ava hopes to harness quantum energy from Janet Van Dyne in an attempt to cure herself. Ava must operate in spite of her father’s work, not in awe of it. Her relationship to quantum mechanics is not filled with pride, but is instead a direct result of her father’s mistake, and perhaps just as important, his absence. Elihas is a father that has failed to protect his family, and the only thing his daughter inherited is that very burden.

Is it fair, however, to assign to our fathers the role of protector? It is certainly one society has agreed upon. This “man of the house” mentality is not inherently bad, but it is more complicated than we often consider. Ari Aster’s Hereditary, my personal favorite film of 2018 thus far, offers a unique and chilling perspective on this idea. Much has been said about Toni Collette’s Annie in the film, and understandably so, but I find Gabriel Byrne’s Steve to be the most compelling character in the film.

The movie’s title obviously refers to those demons that we may inherit from our parents, but that puts Steve in a particularly interesting position. He has married into this family, and still he must endure the same trauma and terror as the rest of his family. While Annie deteriorates, and their son Peter struggles in his own way, it is Steve who must be the glue of the Graham family. And again, that is what we so often expect from our fathers. They are the strong ones, whose resilience and stoicism pushes us through life’s difficult moments. This perception, of course, is tied up in societal understanding of gender. But as Annie continues to spiral downwards, and her relationship with Peter grows increasingly splintered, Steve struggles to maintain such fortitude. One incredibly poignant scene sees Steve simply sitting at a green light, slowly succumbing to the tragedy of his situation. Dads can be vulnerable, and oftentimes deserve to be. I am reminded of this, and I hope my dad is too, as I see him take on life’s latest challenge.

Allow me to give a quick shoutout to Bob Parr of Incredibles 2 fame (click here to read my thoughts on that film) and John Krasinki’s Lee Abbott of A Quiet Place fame— two great, seemingly invulnerable dads— as I move into the last part of this discussion. Another one of my favorite films this year is Bart Layton’s American Animals. I could write ten different pieces about the weighty themes the film tackles, but I’d like to briefly focus on Evan Peters’ Warren Lipka, whose constant pressure from his father is a driving force in his journey towards crime. Warren is a college athlete, but he quickly grows disenchanted with sports. He quits the team unbeknownst to his father, but still must maintain the lie at the dinner table. It is clear that Warren’s dad is projecting his own passions onto his son, and as his marriage with Warren’s mom breaks down, his son is left contemplating what really matters to him. Warren never really feels a need to fulfill his father’s wishes, instead viewing them as indicative of his white, middle-class existence, a life he deems boring and lacking. Of course, this attitude does not justify pulling off an elaborate heist, but it does illuminate the difficulties associated with following in a father’s footsteps.

I am lucky to have never faced intense pressure from my father, particularly in regards to athletics; a few unsuccessful stints in baseball, football, and track likely dashed any of Dad’s dreams for me pretty quickly.

Still, there is always that implicit sense that you should be following in your father’s footsteps. I come from a Jewish family, albeit not a very religious one. Nonetheless, my dad and his dad remain in touch with our Jewish heritage, and I had a phase in my life in which I truly struggled with my Jewish identity. Today, I identify as a Jew, even if religion is of no particular interest to me. For so long, I felt obligated to embrace religion just as Dad and Grandpa had, but I eventually realized carrying on legacies is much less about specific interests, and more about behavior. I carry on the legacy of the great men in my family by upholding similar values and ethics, not by attending synagogue or lighting candles on the holidays. I hope we can all be grateful for the strong father figures in our lives, appreciating their moments of strength while understanding their moments of weakness.

Until next time,

Cory Reid