[Ignoring, for a moment, the fractured comic canons and focusing on the condensed Hollywood and/or television versions of these men ... here are some randomized brain squeezings that are, I confess, hideously oversimplified.]

Bruce Wayne: Old money, and effortlessly presents himself as such. Inherited his fortune. Adroit in complex high level social situations. Virtually never shown working on drafts one, two, or three of any given Batman device; his breeding prevents him from experimenting (and risking failure) in public. Though he’s deliberately charming, he’s careful not to appear too intelligent in front of others, because (a). acting like the smartest guy in the room is impolite, and (b). he doesn’t want to inspire the possibility that he might be Batman. His alter ego is, in some respects, the personification of a psychotic break. He stuffs the evidence of that break into a body-armored suit in order to contain it, and direct it outside the limelight of his public life.

Tony Stark: New money, and struggling to present himself as otherwise. Used his brains to build his fortune (sort of). Socially alcoholic which conveniently hides the fact that he’s not really very socially adroit; saying whatever’s on the tip of his tongue does not equate manners or suave interaction, though it does make for snappy dialogue. Likes technology much, much better than he likes people. Prefers to be left alone to tinker with his inventions, and presents a public face only as a matter of professional necessity. Acts like the smartest guy in the room because (a). he is the smartest guy in the room, and (b). he isn’t innately social and doesn’t realize (or care) that it’s rude. It’s easy to act arrogant and careless with a drink in his hand, but he doesn’t drink and fly — because the suit is more interesting than the alcohol. A bona fide nerd/genius who is conceited because he’s earned it, and up to a certain point, he has nothing to hide; his alter ego is not a physical representation of some deep-seated psychological failing. If anything, his suit-identity is something he flaunts with pride, as evidence of his long-doubted capacity for good.

Bruce Banner: No money, and consequently an itinerant fugitive. An employee/researcher for larger institutions (the university, the military), he has no means to manage his problematic alter ego. Though hypothetically the most powerful of the three fellows mentioned here, he’s also the most vulnerable and the most pathetic, because his condition is partly dependent on factors that are beyond his control. His attempt to rein in that alter ego is pitiful to watch; it’s a tragic parody of a man grappling with ordinary aggression or anger issues. He is ashamed of the Hulk — doubly so because he does not know if the hulk is a facet of his own self or a secondary entity he hosts.

More on HULK, since I just watched it last night: The Hulk emasculates Banner in all the ways that are most important to him, even as its release gives him quasi-godlike power. When Hulk’s in charge, Banner can’t think. He can’t articulate, and he can’t analyze. And to add insult to injury, even when Hulk’s not in charge Banner can’t get “too excited” since the reboot has tied the Hulk to his heart rate. The strangely de-sexualized Hulk is essentially an icon of uncontrollable, hyper-masculine violence that’s been imposed upon a tidy, sensitive, horny little man with a conscience.

Hulk isn’t a creature made for critical thinking or even communication beyond the simplest syllables; so when I hear complaints about how the Hulk movie isn’t as sparkling as IRONMAN I am forced to ask, well, what do you expect? The big, green, barely verbal man-child isn’t cut out for snappy dialogue or fine thinking.

HULK SMASH. HULK not do QUANTUM PHYSICS or SEXY BANTER.

As new trailers to INCREDIBLE HULK show, at the end, yes — you get a minute and a half of Tony Stark being Tony Stark all over the place. For a minute and a half, the screen crackles again as this egomaniacal billionaire snarks up to the sulking General who made the whole mess happen. It’s a minute and a half of dialogue that tells you as much about the general and Tony as you know about everyone else who’s appeared in the previous 90 minutes.

And maybe, as some have suggested, that minute and a half should’ve gone after the credits. It does feel jarring, after spending so much time with (a). HULK SMASH or (b). the quietly oppressed and gently nerdy Bruce Banner. I didn’t really mind it though, and I was glad to see Snarky Stark out on the prowl again.

All in all, the movie was perfectly enjoyable and sometimes, here and there, it was even a little bit sparkling. It wasn’t IRONMAN, but don’t forget: It wasn’t supposed to be.