Finishing Chapter One . . . Again

When I was younger, I had a poster hanging above my computer (okay, it really was the family computer but I sure used it more than anyone else). The poster showed Snoopy sitting on his doghouse with a typewriter in front of him. Above him were the words: "It's exciting when you've written something you know is good."

Man, what I wouldn't give for a poster like that again.

Today, I finished Chapter One of Fallible and Flawed (my book about superheroes and 9/11) again. I finished it the first time a few weeks back but had some problems with it. First, it was WAY too long (over 50 pages) and it kind of lost focus after the first 20 pages or so. So, I decided to split the chapter in half, toss some unneeded sections away and add a new one that focused it better. Today, I finished that chapter. And, if I do say so myself, it's pretty good.

That may sound conceited, but it isn't really. I'm just saying that it is better than the original version (it's only about 15 pages). And, just like Snoopy said, it is very exciting when you've written something that is good. It just feels right, like all the stars have lined up just for you or something like that.

I can't wait to see Chapter Two!

Watching the Watchmen

In this post I discuss Watchmen at length. I include several spoilers for both the book and the movie. If you do not want them spoiled, you might want to skip it.

On Saturday, I went to see Watchmen. My purpose in going was research. The last chapter of Fallible and Flawed is going to be about Watchmen, the graphic novel, so it was important for me to see the movie. I'm glad I did, because they made some significant changes that speak directly to my thesis. But more on that later.

Honestly, I was expecting to dislike the movie, largely because I have never actually decided whether I like the book or not. I fully respect what Alan Moore and David Gibbons succeeded in doing with the book, but the whole thing made me feel very uncomfortable. The story is extremely dark and very violent. To top that off, it has a very low opinion of humanity and, more than anything else, that really got under my skin. So I was surprised that I actually enjoyed the film.

That being said, I don't really recommend it. It is kind of like The Passion of the Christ. Both of them are very good movies. They are exceptionally well made and have the ability to reach their audience in profound ways. However, they are both extremely difficult to watch. The violence in Watchmen is over-the-top (it is so gut wrenching in a few places that I actually gasped), the sex and nudity are as explicit as they can be without getting an NC17 rating, and the story is a real downer. It isn't really a fun experience.

So you may be wondering why I enjoyed it if is was so bad. I think that the only answer to that is that I knew what I was getting into and, even more than that, I knew what the story was trying to say. I have no idea what someone without any background in the novel or the philosophical debates around it would think of the movie. My guess is that they wouldn't get it and, as a result, would hate it. But that is just a guess.

The story is a perfect example of post-modernism. It is an incredible example of deconstruction focused on what really lies beneath the mask of a superhero. Alan Moore said that he wrote the book as a statement against hero worship. He said that he couldn't believe that anyone would trust their lives or their salvation to some of these "heroes" and he set out to show that heroes aren't all they're cracked up to be (incidentally, this dovetails nicely with my recent post about flawed heroes ). And so the book is an examination of what it would be like if superheroes existed in the real world.

The story, which takes place in an alternate 1980s universe where America won Vietnam and Nixon has been elected to a fifth term (he asked Dr. Manhattan to intervene in Vietnam which won the war within a week and, as a result, became so popular that he got the term limits repealed), focuses on a group of masked "heroes:" the Comedian, Dr. Manhattan, Nite Owl, the Silk Specter, Ozymandias, and Rorschach (for the uber-fans out there, yes, I do know that it is actually "Nite Owl II" and "Silk Specter II"). Of them, only Dr. Manhattan, who was created in an accident in a nuclear physics laboratory has any super powers. And, due to the Keane Act passed by Congress years earlier, only Dr. Manhattan, the Comedian, and Rorschach are still active - Dr. Manhattan and the Comedian because they are government sponsored, and Rorschach because he refuses to give up.

The heroes are amalgams of popular superheroes. Both Rorschach and Nite Owl are parts of Batman. Dr. Manhattan is a take on Superman. And the Comedian is something like Captain America in that he goes to war for the country and has the government's backing. But the most important aspects of these characters are their problems. That is what it is all about, and to miss that is to miss the entire crux of the story.

Dr. Manhattan (the blue one) is a perfect example. After the accident, he becomes, essentially, a god. What would happen to someone who was given limitless power? Would they be able to maintain their humanity? Would they have any connection to Earth at all? As Dr. Manhattan says "In my opinion, the existence of life is a highly overrated phenomenon." As the story progresses, he moves further and further away from humanity. Visually, this is shown by him losing more and more of his clothing until he wears nothing at all.

Rorschach, on the other hand, is mentally deranged but morally exact. He enacts retribution on the guilty in the most violent manner possible, typically ending in their death. But he is certain in his morality and never wrong. When he attacks someone, you can be sure that they are, indeed, guilty. In the same way that, when Batman takes down a criminal, you know they deserved it. The difference is Batman's "one rule" to not kill, which Rorschach abandons after he tracks down a kidnapped child and finds that her kidnapper raped her, cut her into pieces, and fed her to his dogs. After that, there is no mercy for him, only justice.

The Comedian is, as Dr. Manhattan says, "the most amoral man" you have ever met. He believes that humanity is one big joke and relishes in retribution and anarchy. In the course of the movie he rapes two different women and, when one becomes pregnant, he murders her in cold blood. And yet, his actions are fully sanctioned by the government.

Ozymandias, the world's strongest/smartest man, on the other hand, is a megalomaniac that only wants to make the world a better place. This is actually brought out more in the film than in the book. In the book, he is just a very successful businessman who capitalized on his alter ego. In the movie, he working with Dr. Manhattan to find clean, renewable energy. He wants to make the world a better place but is willing to pay any price for it. In this way, Ozymandias is the most like a comic book villain. He is like Lex Luthor if Luthor's intentions were noble instead of selfish.

Nite Owl and the Silk Specter are the normal of the group, but even they have their issues. The Silk Specter has mommy issues (and daddy issues when it turns out that the Comedian, who raped her mother, is her father) and Nite Owl has adequacy issues which he compensates for with the costumes and violence.

All in all, not the nicest bunch of people. And they're the "Watchmen," those set up to protect humanity.

And, in the end, they do - sort of. To prevent nuclear war and the complete elimination of mankind, Ozymandias orchestrates a scheme that wipes out millions of people but unites the world against a common - albeit, imaginary - enemy. This was the one place where the movie differed dramatically from the book. In the book, the plot involved a giant squid and a supposed invasion from outer space. The movie, it involved framing Dr. Manhattan.

This change - which fans will no doubt debate for all time - was very interesting. It was definitely a statement, though an obscure one. It is almost a philosophic statement about religion in that Dr. Manhattan is set up as a god who is "up there watching them" and who punishes the wicked. It suggests that belief in God is just as risky as trusting these heroes - that mankind must look to itself for salvation. Very interesting given the political climate today.

As I said, this isn't a fun story, and anyone who heads to the theater thinking that it is going to be just another superhero flick is going to be seriously put out. Instead, it is an examination of what makes people heroic, what makes people villainous, and what makes people human. Like the superhero stories it deconstructs, it uses archetypes - amplified examples - to prove its point. The only difference is that these archetypes are not the nice kind.

But the most fascinating part of the movie came towards the end. In the beginning, Laurie (the Silk Specter) goes to see her mother (the original Silk Specter) about the murder of the Comedian. Her mother, who had been one of the women raped by the Comedian is unable to condemn him and actually speaks affectionately of him. At the end of the movie, after discovering that the Comedian was her father, Laurie's mother asks. "How could I condemn him when he gave me you?" Earlier, Dr. Manhattan is awed by what he calls miracles, including the fact that even someone as amoral and "evil" as the Comedian could produce someone like Laurie. Those two moments struck me as being more redemptive for humanity than the book was for me. They spoke to our ability to forgive, repent, and move past our mistakes. They speak of our ability to improve life, no matter how bad or how bleak.

So, in the end, I think I enjoyed it for what it was: an examination of humanity and heroism with all its warts and dark little secrets laid bare. It isn't an easy film to watch, but I think that, despite its flaws, it was a worthwhile experience. Just know what you are getting into before watching it.

The Million Dollar Question

I am always a little surprised when I find out that others actually read my long posts about superheroes. Obviously, I hope they will be read, but I understand why people would shy away from them. Some people have told me that they just skim the long posts or skip them altogether. And, to be honest, I don't blame them. I mostly write these posts as a way to crystallize my thoughts for the book and just get everything I'm thinking on "paper." I send them out into the ether without any expectation that anyone else will ever read more than the first couple of sentences, if that. So it always is a pleasant surprise when I find out that someone has actually read it all the way through. And I'm thrilled when I learn that someone actually got something out of it or when they ask a question because it leads me to the next post. Like this one.

 After my post on Enchanted a couple of days ago, my sister, Katie, asked me the million dollar question: why are superheroes getting darker? That question is the entire focus of my book! So I am excited for the chance to answer it (yes, Kates, I was just waiting for someone to ask).

There are a lot of ways to answer that question. The short answer is that our world is darker--or, at least, it is perceived to be that way--so our heroes are naturally darker. As I pointed out in the post on Enchanted, hero stories reflect the culture that produced them, so a less optimistic society leads to less optimistic heroes.

Just think of everything that has happened in the last decade: Y2K, Enron, 9/11, 2 wars, 2 recessions, a tsunami, Hurricane Katrina, and more! That is a lot for 10 years. Poll after poll has confirmed that people are feeling more stress and less optimism than ever before. It is a pretty dark world these days, and our heroes spring from that.

I personally believe 9/11 was the tipping point. It was a defining event that transformed American history like few others have. We already refer to the pre- and post-9/11 world. How many other events have that kind of impact?

Few people outside of comic book fandom know that superheroes have been getting darker since the mid-80s, starting with the release of Batman: The Dark Knight Returns by Frank Miller and Watchmen by Alan Moore (read my post on The Dark Knight Returns). Both of these graphic novels are products of their time. They are loaded with the cynicism of the '80s that was, itself, a backlash against the '60s and '70s. The whole point of Watchmen, which deconstructs the superhero genre, is that the power of leaders must be constantly checked. The Dark Knight Returns, which featured a disturbing caricature of Ronald Reagan, had a similar message.

The darker comic book characters began to show up in the mainstream media (meaning movies) in the late '80s and early '90s. The first indication of the change was Tim Burton's Batman. Throughout its production, Burton was said to walk from department to department carrying a copy of The Dark Knight Returns and constantly referring to it whenever a question arose. As a result, the look of the movie is very similar to the book. It is dark with little distinction between day and night. Other films quickly followed suit: Blade, Spawn, etc. All of the films released during that period featured dark, often morally ambiguous heroes.

With that background, the natural question is: are superheroes really getting darker or do we just see them that way? That is a valid question. I would argue that they are.

In the comics, superheroes have recently crossed lines they would never have crossed in the pre-9/11 world. Spider-man naively revealed himself to the public and had to sacrifice his marriage to save his aunt after she was shot by a sniper. Iron Man helped the American government hunt down superheroes and strip away their rights while starting a global war with Atlantis. Superman became a dictator and nearly wiped out half of humanity. Wonder Woman took the law into her own hands and executed a villain on live television. Batman, created a robot army and super computer to act as an overlord of the whole earth, was driven insane by a new foe rumored to be Satan himself, and was apparently killed in a helicopter explosion. And Captain America turned against the U.S. government, consorted with known criminals (specifically, Frank Castle, a.k.a. The Punisher), and was assassinated while on his way to trial.

Captain America’s death is, perhaps, the most telling of all these changes because he symbolized an earlier generation—an America that was—which cannot exist in the post-9/11 world. It is no small coincidence that, just months before the Cap’s assassination, DC Comics (Captain America is a Marvel title) featured the apparent death of Uncle Sam, their own representation of the American Spirit (Uncle Sam didn't die, though how he escaped was never made clear. After the battle, he was left lying face down in a pool of water). It is also noteworthy that Captain America’s mantle and shield were later assumed by Bucky Barnes—the Cap’s former teenage sidekick now grown into a somewhat mentally unstable assassin that has worked both sides of the fence.

And that's just the comics!

The change has also occurred in the movies, culminating in The Dark Knight, which is, arguably, the darkest superhero film of all time (incidentally, The Dark Knight was not based on The Dark Knight Returns. The primary influence of the movie was The Long Halloween which featured the rise and fall of Harvey Dent and The Killing Joke which established the darker, more evil side character of The Joker).

The change has even been noticed by the mainstream media. Not long after the release of The Dark Knight, CNN ran an article answering the question: "What's with Batman's Voice in The Dark Knight?" (for those who haven't seen the movie or Batman Begins, its predecessor, Batman speaks with a deep, rasping voice that is markedly different from his Bruce Wayne voice--this is one of the biggest complaints people have about the movie). In the article, CNN tracked the history of Batman's voice, showing that it grew deeper as the character grew darker. It also observed that it really can't go much deeper than in The Dark Knight.

So the characters are darker. What is fascinating about the change, however, is how they grew darker.

Beyond the darker world inhabited by its characters, Tim Burton's Batman was darker largely through its villains. Nicholson's Joker was one of the first comic book villains to actually kill people on the screen. Not only did he kill people, he killed a lot of people, often in gruesome ways (e.g. burning a man to death and poisoning people with Smilex, his personal toxin). His body count would be the envy of Freddy Kruger, Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, or any other slasher film monster.

The Dark Knight, however, made things darker by making them more realistic. The superhero films of the '80s and the '90s were extremely stylized. Burton's Batman, for example, was filmed entirely on a sound stage using models. Even the fighting in the movie was stylized to the point of being fantastic. By comparison, The Dark Knight was filmed almost entirely on location (specifically, it was filmed in Chicago with a little sound stage work done in London) because director Christopher Nolan wanted it to be "realistic and gritty." He wanted the audience to be able to picture themselves living there and most would argue that he achieved that. No one could picture themselves living in Burton's Gotham.

One of the best illustrations of how The Dark Knight was more realistic than Burton's Batman was the scene that showed Bruce Wayne stitching himself up after a fight. He was wounded--by a dog, no less! When he turned his back, the audience saw that it was covered with scars. The only scar Burton's Batman had (besides the obvious, psychological ones, that is) was given to him by Catwoman in Batman Returns. Unlike Burton's Batman, Nolan's Batman can actually be wounded.

The realism has also been amped up in other superhero movies as well. It was the whole point of Hancock (the movie lost its way towards the end but the script actually kept up the "realistic superhero" bit all the way through). And it was the original basis of the Heroes TV show. In fact, one of the biggest concerns of comic book fans is that some of their favorite characters, such as Thor, won't do well in this new, more realistic world--they fear that audiences won't accept a living god in the same world inhabited by the latest incarnation of Iron Man (this is, arguably, one reason why the new Hulk movie didn't do as well as others).

It isn't just superhero movies, either. The "realism" factor has infiltrated just about every aspect of popular culture. Cloverfield was a "realistic" take on the mega-monster story (there is a fun 9/11 allegory that goes along with Cloverfield but that will have to wait for another time). And look at the new James Bond. In his latest incarnations, Q, the most unrealistic part of the series, is noticeably absent as are the gadgets that made Bond famous. And in the TV show Lost, there are no good guys or bad guys. They are just human.

An interesting study in the "more realistic fantasy" of modern movies can be found in the latest version of Beowulf that came out a couple of years ago (the motion-capture one). In the original poem, Beowulf is portrayed as perfect. Again and again, the poet extols his virtues and frequently makes comments like "this is why Beowulf was a great king" and so on. The movie, however, spun the story in a very different direction.

Instead of the paragon of strength and virtue that is described in the poem, the new Beowulf is arrogant, greedy, and deeply flawed. As Hrothgar, the king before him, did, Beowulf succumbs to temptation that eventually leads to his downfall. And, at the end, the viewer is left with the question of whether Beowulf's heir apparent will fall into the same trap.

As Beowulf prepares to go to fight the dragon that is his own offspring, he says something very interesting to his queen. "Keep a memory of me, not as a king or a hero, but as a man: fallible and flawed" (that is where I got the title of my book). More and more, that is how our heroes are being portrayed.

So, now the question is, "why?" And this brings us back to 9/11.

9/11 changed the American perspective of what makes a hero. In fact, over the past seven years, the question of what makes a post-9/11 hero has been a big focus of the media, both mainstream and popular. It has showed up in news and talk shows, in popular movies and television, in politics and celebrity life, in documentaries and cartoons, in high literature and comic books. It even showed up in Disney's Bolt! The consensus is that even the most fallible and flawed character can be a hero if they selflessly give of themselves for others.

In his book, Heroes & Villains, Mike Alsford defines it this way: "The hero confronts the otherness of the world and seeks to overcome it, often via a willingness to set aside their unique powers thus rendering themselves vulnerable" (pg. 39 - read my earlier post on Heroes & Villains). The idea is that heroes, real heroes, put themselves in harms way for others.

The definition is not new. The post-9/11 twist is that heroes no longer have to be golden gods. They can be imperfect--even villainous, at times--and yet, still be considered heroes because, when the time comes, they give up all their selfishness and inhumanity for the greater good.

If you think about it, it makes sense how 9/11 would bring about this change. Think about 9/11. What do you remember? There are the images of the towers. The people falling to their deaths. The smoke and the fear. And then there is the image of the smoking field where United 93 crashed in Pennsylvania. And there are the firefighters and police officers racing towards the inferno. And there are volunteers, lined up around the nation to give blood. And there are the politicians, coming together for, perhaps the first time in memorable history, to find common ground. And there are the soldiers, going off to war.

9/11 and the subsequent War on Terror were filled with images of heroes. But they weren't clothed in costumes and they weren't masked, and they often made mistakes--the fact that 9/11 occurred at all being the first. They were human. They were fallible and flawed.

It is the haunting images of those heroes that ground modern superheroes in reality and make them darker than ever before.

Why We Need Batman

I had three fascinating experiences at the Batman panel (called “No Rest for the Dark Knight”) of the 2008 San Diego Comic-Con: I met Jerry Robinson, one of the original creators of Batman and the creator of “the Joker,” I had the opportunity to ask a panel of Batman writers and artists how much current events influence their writing (short answer: “not much”—I’ll try to write more about this later), and I heard probably one of the most passionate—and intriguing—defenses for the Dark Knight that has ever been given.

The defense for Batman came during the Q&A session after the main panel was over. A young man stood up and asked the panel if they ever foresaw a time when Batman would use a gun or even be tempted to use a gun. The response was a vehement “NO!” The writers looked horrified at the very thought.

The young man persisted that, perhaps it would be an interesting story device to have Batman even consider the idea. Before the thought could fully come out of his mouth, the writers universally shot him down again.

For the next couple of minutes, the writers stammered through a couple of answers, and then Grant Morrison, author of the recent Batman, R.I.P. series (green suit in the picture), summed it up.

“Once you give Batman a gun, he just becomes another soldier,” he said. “We don’t need another soldier. WE NEED BATMAN!”

Since the panel, I have thought a lot about Morrison’s words. From a strictly realist sense, they are pretty funny: why do we NEED a fictional character that dresses up like a bat? But from a mythic sense, his words are quite profound.

A few decades ago, Joseph Campbell, a famous mythologist, declared that the mythic hero was dead. Essentially, he claimed that the world was changing too rapidly to allow humanity the chance to form core belief that lead to established myth and heroes. Morrison’s comment suggests that Campbell was wrong (indeed, academics for the past decade have disputed Campbell’s claim, pointing to the wealth of popular culture heroes as proof).

Morrison’s insistence that we NEED Batman, coupled with The Dark Knight’s recent critique of modern society, seems to strongly suggest that the mythic hero is alive and well, but has evolved from a religious character to one of popular culture.


“He’s the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now...Because he’s not a hero. He’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector...a dark knight.”
~ The Dark Knight (2008)
The closing line of the movie

Originally posted on Saturday, August 9, 2008