IT MEANS HOPE... HOPE FOR RELEVANCE: THE IMPORTANCE OF MAN OF STEEL TO SUPERMAN'S LEGACY (part one)
Introduction
In the public discourse, one of
Superman’s most well-known aliases is ‘The Man of Tomorrow’, yet the character has faced varied criticism of
irrelevance to contemporary society. The ‘perfect good guy’ found in Superman
was no longer the superhero to the Western world, in particular American
society, wanted in response to 9/11. The American people were in shock, hurt
but angry, the cape-wearing superhero looking for good from evil was not
welcome and unbefitting for a world tainted by violence and uncertainty. This
may have been because historically, Superman had been associated with
conservative principles such as American cultural and nationalistic imperialism
(“Truth, Justice and the American Way”), religious undertones and traditional
masculine ideals or it may have been that in 2001 the American People wanted
something more from their heroes. This thesis evaluates how the essential
portrayals of Superman in the post-9/11 era illustrate not only a parting from
these ideologies but also how the character may persist as the Man of Tomorrow
in this new world.
Chapter 1: Portraying the American Monomyth in Superman Comics and Films
To understand the position of
contemporary Superman, this chapter will observe the character’s chronological
trajectory in popular culture. According to Larry Tye’s statement, as seen in
the introduction, Superman holds cultural significance equivalent to John Wayne
and Jesus Christ. In that, he embodies the traditional values that make up the
quintessential American identity. Therefore, the primary focus here is
determining Superman’s character as a symbol of national virtue and hope.
Lawrence and Jewett (2002) reasoned that the national monomyth is a secularized
version of the Judeo-Christian community redemption tales. They expand on this
through what they deem an Eden-like state that the superhero of any given tale
hopes to restore in the community; as they note:
We see small communities of
diligent agrarians, townspeople, or members of a workgroup together in harmony.
Then a disruption occurs, one that calls into question the effectiveness of the
institutions designed to cope with such challenges. Because those institutions
and their leaders conspicuously fail, the mythic vision dictates with clarity
that a superhero must act before any likeness of Eden can be restored.
(Lawrence & Jewett 2002: 22-3)
The threat to this Eden always initiates
the action of the American monomyth. Superman, both in the comics and films, contends
with criminals who disrupt the peace. For the character, the Eden fantasy could
refer to the humble upbringing he received under Martha and Johnathan Kent.
Surrounded by love and harmony, he embraces this as his true home. In Max
Landis’ comic book miniseries Superman: American Alien (2016),
Superman fights a grievous battle against the invading supervillain, Lobo, who
taunts the almost-beaten hero by naming his history of killing “many
Kryptonians” (Landis, 2016). Superman regains strength and replies with, “I’m
not from Krypton; I’m from Kansas” (Landis, 2016). This is important as it
shows the hero of this narrative, on the verge of losing the physical
confrontation with an invading force, restoring order to his conviction and the
land he fights for at the point he embraces his American identity. Famed for
its rural surroundings, Kansas, specifically Smallville, where Superman was
raised, can be attributed to the character’s Edenic fantasy. Moreover,
Superman’s most recognised storylines are emulations of Christ’s life, from his
upbringing by humble, mortal labourers to his death, whilst battling a monster
named Doomsday in The Death of Superman (Carlin, 1992), and his eventual
resurrection in the direct sequel The Reign of the Supermen (Carlin, 1993).
As for his patriotic implications,
Superman’s red cape and blue suit symbolize the American flag and the ‘S’
emblem on his chest represents the quintessential embodiment of hope and
justice. Collectively, the character is accompanied by the slogan ‘Truth, Justice,
and the American way’. Throughout his years, the superhero has been featured in
many comics, films, and TV shows that portray him defending the United States
against various threats and villains, further cementing his connection to
American patriotism. Olivia Wright concurs, stating that his above-mentioned
slogan confirms Superman as “the paragon of American comic book heroes” and her
dissertation observes Superman’s longevity in American popular culture is
primarily a result of his “comic books serving as propaganda end” (Wright, 2018:
1). Her writing centres on the comics distributed during the Second World War
where the character “quickly built up a mythos of hope that provided a coping
mechanism for both younger and older readers during the war. This mythos of
hope sustained Superman’s relevance beyond 1945” (Wright, 2018: 2). Between 1942 and 1945 approximately fifty per cent of
the covers of the Superman titles prominently feature World War II. The first
of these, Action Comics #48 (May 1942), was inspired by the events of
December 7, 1941, where Superman lands a dramatic mid-fight punch to the
propeller of a Japanese biplane, effectively harming the pilot (Munson, 2012:
5-8). This Japanese combatant possesses sharpened buck teeth and his slanted
eyes betray no outward emotion. In illustrations such as these, artist Fred Ray
drew on the many stereotypic images of Japan popular at the time: Japanese as
de-personalized, diminutive, sub-human creatures with fangs and yellow skin -
without the aeroplane, a foe scarcely worth Superman’s time (Munson, 2012: 5-6).
Wright draws on the so-called Golden Age of comic books (1938-50), which “often
presented heroes and villains in exceedingly clear terms, with few grey areas
regarding who was ‘good’ and who was ‘evil’” (Wright, 2018: 4). This coincides
with what is generally noted about classical American myths:
[T]he myths of the garden
and the empire had both affirmed a doctrine of progress […] Neither American
man nor the American continent contained, under this interpretation, any
radical defect or principle of evil. But other men and other continents were by
implication unfortunate or wicked. This suggestion was strengthened by the
tendency to account for any evil that threatened the Garden Empire by ascribing
it to alien intrusion. Since evil could not conceivably originate within the
walls of the Garden, it must by logical necessity come from without.
(Lawrence and Jewett, 2002: 27)
At the root of this representation of
‘evil invaders’ was the inability of Western Eden to provide immunity from
economic and natural disasters. Lawrence
and Jewett highlight how the theme of the Garden and its inhabitants under
attack emerged in one of the earliest forms of American literature, the Indian
captivity narratives. These narratives placed non-Christian groups as the
demonic forces and called upon the predominantly white male protagonist, who
was often an upholder of the faith, to eradicate the threat and restore order
in a generally accepted hero/villain dichotomy (Derounian-Stodola, 1994;
Slotkin, 1996). Lawrence and Jewett
conclude that “The great and continuing popularity of these narratives, the
uses to which they were put, and the nature of the symbolism employed in them
are evidence that the captivity narratives constitute the first coherent
myth-literature developed in America for American audiences” (Lawrence and
Jewett, 2002: 187).
We see this in the above-described
Superman covers from World War Two, whereby “the government-funded Writers’
War Board (WWB) actively promoted racist depictions of American enemies”
(Wright, 2018: 4. See also Hirsch, 2014). A comparable phenomenon occurred with
the Afghans and Iraqis under the Bush Administration after September 11 2001.
Faludi concurs, arguing that these myths blatantly returned following the 9/11
attacks and embraced in their narratives the rhetoric that President George W.
Bush resolutely itemised in his address to Congress nine days following the
attacks (Faludi, 2007: 27-8). The former U.S. President stated that “every
nation, in every region, now has a decision to make. Either you are with us, or
you are with the terrorists” (Bush, 2001). This ‘Us versus Them’ narrative overflowed
national media channels and shaped collective American identity for almost a
decade (see Hirschz, 2002; Juhasz, 2014). Simultaneously, it was seized in the
narratives of many post-9/11 superhero films and was a narrative that was
radically embraced following the demolishing of the World Trade Center to its Ground
Zero. As Dan A. Hassler-Forest overviews, “from Spider-Man (Raimi, 2002)
onwards, superhero films have repeatedly addressed the trauma of 9/11,” either
“by de-historicizing the present through the re-creation of a New York City in
which the attacks never happened” or “by providing narratives in which
catastrophic threats against New York City are narrowly averted, thereby
re-writing this history as one of triumph instead of defeat” (Hassler-Forest, 2011:
113-4). Sam Raimi has Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire), a hero donning red,
blue and hints of white, save Mary Jane and a tramcar of children, two civilian
parties positioned opposite each other from death by the Green Goblin, who
flies in on his glider, intent on causing destruction. In this sense, it seems that in the early
stages after 9/11, superhero films offered a symbolic retreat from the
traumatic reality by negating or averting events of mass violence and
destruction. Superman was no different, as we shall see.
Since the 9/11 attacks, there have been
two significant cinematic interpretations of the Man of Tomorrow. However, as
this section of the chapter will indicate, the representation that Superman
garnered during this social and political upheaval struggled to associate the
character with that distinction. Superman Returns (Singer, 2006), for
example, saw Superman (Brandon Routh) revisit Earth after a five-year absence to
find that the world had moved on without him. He attempts to reestablish
himself as relevant by saving countless lives from large-scale destruction and
even almost dies to prove that he is worth having around. An action sequence
even involves the superhero stopping an airliner from crashing and saving the
passengers. As before, during the outcry against Pearl Harbour where Superman
had been used to rejuvenate morale, the character had become a symbol of
‘antiterrorist Americanism’ in which [he] potentially could still ‘serve an
important social role’ (Pollard, 2011: 85). However, unlike the rave attention
Superman had during the Second World War, the post-9/11 film featuring him in
glorious action scenes proved a disappointment in terms of box office revenue.
Critically, it was deemed less as a timely, twenty-first-century update of the
Superman mythology and more as a relic from the past; Salminen remarked that
the film returned the character to a “moderately conservative position” (Donovan,
2013: 2). The reason, I argue, why the film failed is because the post-9/11 era
continued to portray Superman as a ‘perfect being’ with the black-and-white
Cold War political mindset highlighted by Podair. Such a model of the perfect
being has become outdated for many contemporary audiences. The fallout from
9/11 changed these attitudes and demanded a call for a different Superman.
The following Superman feature, Man
of Steel, attracted an equally polarised reception. Acclaimed comic book
writer, Grant Morrison, creator of the miniseries All-Star Superman,
unenthusiastically considered the film as “a bit ‘seen it before,’ no matter
how hard they tried to make it a little bit different” (Truitt, 2013).
Undoubtedly, the film embraced the post-9/11 aesthetic. This is most palpable
in the controversial climax. Large Kryptonian ships soar through the sky and
crash into several skyscrapers of the Metropolis. The Kryptonian pilots don
black attire and, beforehand, stream threats to the public through television
screens. Excesses of fire and debris ensue, bystanders are engulfed by the
falling buildings and even as Superman flies in to save citizens from his
enemy, General Zod (Michael Shannon), the damage to the city is devasting. Despite
depicting a supreme being flying in blue and red, the imagery appears not just
familiar but also visceral, painfully so to those who experienced September 11,
2001.
The core of Man
of Steel’s narrative is an exercise of the self. As Cavill’s Clark Kent
attempts to determine his role in the world, he wanders across the American
country. In terms of identity construct, Superman/Clark Kent/Kal-El is, I
contend, not the main character. Rather it is what and who is around him, each
working to mould his identity, that is most important to Snyder’s retelling of
the superhero’s origin. Throughout
his wanderings, the film highlights the various religious and political
cyphers. In terms of nationalistic imagery, Snyder embraces cognitive
psychology[1][2], where one
can note the American flag in key scenes of Clark’s journey. The first is a
flashback to his childhood at school, struggling severely to accustomed to the
Earthly atmosphere; a glimpse of the flag can be seen as part of the classroom.
This infers that national identity is channelled into Clark’s (or Kal-El, as he
is referred to throughout most of the film) psyche from even this young age,
helping him to be moulded into the patriotic icon that Superman is generally
accepted as. In another scene, the skirmish against Zod’s
sub-commander Faora-Ul (Antje Traue) in Smallville ends with a Kryptonian
ship departing to escort the injured militia away. As it hovers and then
departs, prominent graffiti of the flag on a building can be seen in the bottom-right
corner of the shot, on the ground, where Superman remains. These visuals imply
that Clark’s Kryptonian identity is being abandoned in favour of his new one as
an American citizen. One can argue that whilst the cheerless tone highlights an
interpretation that is foreign to what we commonly understand about Superman,
the decipherable imagery remains. With the recurring imagery of the stars and
stripes and the visceral, allegorised-9/11 imagery in the Metropolis
destruction, Snyder alludes to the ‘City on the Hill’ metaphor. Plucked from
John Winthrop’s sermon in his 1630 expedition, the metaphor was used to urge
the countrymen to treat the new America as the ultimate paradigm of Christian
living and goodness to serve as an example for all. For 400 years, this analogy
has become embedded with American identity and is the belief that the nation is
the embodiment of this light and hope. That hope is embodied in Superman’s
iconic ‘S’ on his costume, saying it stands for “hope” in his native language.
Moreover,
whilst erasing the prefix ‘super’ that would “hint at the sort of
self-assuredness that has become unpopular in American culture” (Donovan, 2013:
23), the title preserves the word ‘man’, referring to how the attacks provoked
and justified ‘‘the superpower’s hypermasculinity and militaristic response’’ (Cilano,
2009: 210). This iteration of Superman’s muscular physique is on display
frequently enough to be considered a glorified display of hyper-masculinity[3].
Far from being overtly sexualised, the body is instead in motion of purpose.
The redesign of the classical suit by James Acheson and Michael Wilkinson
offers an exhibition of Superman’s muscular physique, particularly in the
action set pieces. As Steve Neale notes, “Male bodies are stylised and
fragmented by close-ups, but our look isn’t direct, it is heavily mediated by
the looks of the characters involved. And the looks are not marked by desire
but rather fear or aggression” (Neale, 1993: 18). This Superman fits that
description. If one thing has always remained the same about Superman over the
character’s eighty-five-year career in comic books, television serials and
movies, it is the way he is the ‘ultimate man of action’ (Donovan, 2013: 24).
As Alvin Schwartz wrote, Superman is always in the moment, he always acts (Schwartz,
1997: 204). Cavill’s Superman replicates this, in that he rarely shows any
emotions, and even then, only aggression or mild frustration. This coincides
with President George W. Bush’s address to the nation on the evening ensuing
the attacks: “The pictures of airlines flying into buildings, fires burning […]
fill us with disbelief, terrible sadness and acquired unyielding anger” (Bush,
2001)[4].
The Twin Towers were raised to the ground with thousands of lives lost and much
more impacted. America instantly felt grief; the sense of loss at one of
Manhattan’s most recognised buildings was accompanied by the loss of a symbol
of prosperous ideals and virtues, a threat to their way of life and a direct
attack on American soil to the American people was intolerable to the western
world[5].
This echoes the fact that barely a month after the attacks of 9/11, eight out
of ten Americans supported the invasion of Afghanistan as punitive action
against Al Qaeda (Moore, 2001). Similarly, in 2003, seventy-nine per cent of
Americans were in favour of invading Iraq, their support for the war founded on
the fear of Saddam Hussein’s 26 purported weapons of mass destruction (Pew
Research Center, 2008). Bush, who “had never professed to know much about
international relations or world affairs” (Brown Tindal & Emory Shi, 2013:
1145), was suddenly “thrust onto centre stage as commander-in-chief of a
wounded nation”, one who was “eager for vengeance” (2013: 1145). Superman in
Man of Steel mirrors this ‘eagerness for vengeance’ as he is frequently shown
to be provoked into violence against Zod once the villain threatens something
close to him. This is evident when Zod attacks Martha (Diane Lane), Superman’s adoptive
mother. Superman transpires here as a ‘man of action’ in his choice to break
Zod’s neck. The film frames this decision as the only plausible course of
action, without suggesting the possibility of a compromise. By portraying the
act of killing this way, the film dispenses with any shred of idealism it had
left for a character so closely identified with American optimism. It “serves
as an exclamation point on the hard-right-leaning ideology that the film has
been building up during its running time” (Salminen, 2017: 22). In the
polarized post-9/11 climate, even the ‘emblem of our brightest, kindest selves’
(Morrison, 2012: XV) cannot afford to show idealistic consideration to those
who pose a threat to society.
PART II COMING SOON...
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