What Is Iron Man Without Its Post Credits Sequence?
Even devoid of its most famous bit, it's a refreshing watch
I think it’s easy to forget how, before 2008’s Iron Man and the post credits sequence that famously introduced Nick Fury, the idea of the Avengers and the wider world of the expanded universe, just how rare it was that comic book characters got to interact like that. For the most part, they existed on tiny islands in a wider world of comic book mythology, with their trajectories controlled by whatever studio had claimed a fiefdom of their rights. Marvel, trying to escape the grips of bankruptcy, had offered Sony the option to buy movie rights for all of their characters back in 1997 for $25 million, a bargain bin price in comparison to the billions that would eventually be made from them. But Sony declined, only having dollar signs in their eyes for Spider-Man. Who knows what would’ve happened had they chosen to purchase the whole stable.
If there was a reference to some wider inhabitation of super beings, it was delivered as a joke, like the “Dr. Strange?…But it’s taken!” line from Spider-Man 2 or the cheeky “This is why Superman works alone” quip from Batman & Robin. And perhaps most importantly, it gave the comics industry an upper hand in the playing field of fan recognition. Trapped within their own unique franchises, movies would never be allowed the creative toy box of the comics. So one could only dream about what it would look like if Tobey Maguire’s Spider-Man took on, umm, Eric Bana’s Hulk. Those kinds of encounters would remain firmly within the pages and the fans’ imaginations.
A lot has been said about how that one line about the Avengers initiative wouldn’t just change the course of Marvel storytelling, but blockbuster superhero narratives and, hell, Hollywood as a whole. It’s rare to find a series that hasn’t at least dipped its toes in the ultimately simple franchising concept of “Hey, what if you could see that one super guy you like hanging out with that other super guy you like?” Everything from The Conjuring to the Fast and the Furious to a misguided reboot of Universal monsters like The Mummy have tried to re-chart Marvel’s course to varying levels of success. Without it, I wonder what the state of film looks like today.
I also wonder what Iron Man looks like, as to watch it now almost makes it look old-hat in comparison to the empire it birthed. Sure, there are little tidbits here and there about some unexplored pieces of a fictional world, tantalizing to the comic aficionados in the audience who nudge their friends and say “Oooh, that’s (insert morsel of Marvel’s labyrinthine story here.)” But the whole thing is fairly centered around Tony Stark’s journey to being a good guy. There are no cameos from Captain America or Thor, nor do we have any sudden reshoot additions of Thanos waiting around. Instead, the emotional arc is clear - Tony Stark, head of a company with a very dubious output and enmeshed in a sense of self that allows him personal abscondence from whatever pain it may cause, has to both clear his conscience and work toward actually creating something worthwhile.
2008’s blockbuster summer season would kick off with Iron Man but despite a reputation that’s only grown with Marvel/Disney’s bank account, it wasn’t its most famous film. That honor would go to The Dark Knight, which not only made, like, SO much money, but was a cross cultural powerhouse, an emissary of the now very familiar discourse: “Comics book movies can be more than popcorn flicks. They can be actually good.” Add an unforgettable performance by Heath Ledger as Batman’s archfiend The Joker and you have maybe the most praised superhero film of all time.
It’s also a film with the exact opposite aims for its leading billionaire character. While Tony Stark has to figure out how good and selfless of a guy he has to become to save the world, Bruce Wayne must reconnoiter his own self-drawn moral laws and figure out what lines he’s able to cross to stop the Joker’s terrorism. Superhero films have always worn their escapism on their sleeve, but reminding everyone of what Dick Cheney had been espousing for the last seven years gave The Dark Knight a bit more societal clout. It was an “important” film in a way that Iron Man wasn’t.
The Dark Knight is good. Very good. But despite its leaps on a macro level, the little bits like the ending resignation of the hero, are painfully familiar, even when it was released. Whether its Spider-Man or various X-Men films or even the Batman adaptations that pre-dated The Dark Knight, the superhero industry’s bread and butter has tended to be that of the ultimate outsiders. Their masked lives and public lives are complicated and if they ever really tried to breach one with the other, people would (and usually do) get hurt. Tony Stark, though, riding high off turning his life and company around, refuses to accept this Golden Age rule. Instead, he tells the whole world “I am Iron Man” as a mic drop moment, the ultimate in having-your-superhero-cake-and-eating-it-too.
If the movie had ended like that, without a tease for grander stories once thought impossible onscreen, I think it makes for a very cool standalone film. Angst, and not Robin the Boy Wonder, is a superhero’s most recognizable companion. By liquidating this in the moment of plot resolution, we’re granted a personal reconciliation that few other comic book do-gooders have been afforded on film. Sure, it will likely be undone by the time a sequel rolls around, but Tony Stark at least briefly shedding the constraints of how these movies usually end and embracing every sense of victory is a little exhilarating.
The post credits scene of Iron Man has usually been pointed out as the crucial piece that sets it apart from its caped brethren, but I think the final declaration makes it special, too. There is no solemn vow to a loved one before slinking off into the night, nor is there a tortured realization that happiness is rarely an option once you decide to start calling something a “Batarang.” Instead, there is one charismatic man’s attempt to bring himself full circle, iron and all. Tony Stark’s double life had already been lived when he was solely a man, as he tried to ignore the impact he left on the world. In this brief moment, before he’d have to tangle with an entire militia of famous costumed pals, Tony Stark found his peace.