Derrickson has head spinning schemes and the whiplash you get is not your average painful regret but a breath of fresh air.
Derrickson has a spooky image when it comes to filmmaking but contradicting everyone’s expectations, his entry on MCU is the simplest, smoothest and sanest of all. It makes sense. Period. That should have been his job and he made it his until you nod to the most senseless argument of all; not the visual effects, no, never. They make more sense than you’d expect it to be, even when there is an entire world flipped upside down; literally, Scott Derrickson, the co-writer and director, maps out an intricate puzzle for us to solve that is not just a delightful but an overwhelming experience. The writing is balanced on all the aspects, the physical sequences, visual galores, enlightening conversations and humor, so smooth and smartly weaved out where laugh goes unnoticed unlike any other chapter of this franchise.
So balanced is the writing that Benedict Wong gets a final laugh, Rachel McAdams- the respect, Chiwetel Ejiofor- a clean direction and Michael Stuhlbarg- an opportunity. But above all Tilda Swinton’s captivating performance of a truly wise saint digs deeper than even Benedict Cumberbatch could. She pleads and cries like a four year old and blesses, “Death is what gives life meaning.” and you THEN completely surrender to her sorcery.
There is a jarring impact on your emotions when her voice stutters in a disappointment, not in others, no she regrets and criticizes her own inadequacies. Cumberbatch, as the inflated egoistic mastermind with of course superiority complex, comes in handy for him, his years of practice in breathing life to Sherlock Holmes has given him a partial boost, but as the film ages, you discover how different he is from the previously cloaked version of him, and that journey is intentional and frankly a curvy joyous ride- observing Doctor Strange with an awe.