Tag Archives: Comics

The Watchmen and the Phantom: Not as Good as the Original

Several months ago, this showed up in my Facebook feed:

And I thought to myself, there’s nothing quite like a sequel to degrade one of the greatest stories ever told on the stage.

You see, I have a long love affair with the Phantom. I have had since high school. I’m not certain why. I think that the poignant story and the magical musical score simply enchanted me. I went to see the Broadway production during my undergrad days, and was absolutely in stunned silence at the beauty of the production. Technically, musically, artistically, the Phantom is a masterpiece.

And the issue isn’t that I’m closed-minded to adaptations and new presentations. To the contrary, I was moved nearly to tears by the film adaptation of the show that arrived in theatres a few years ago. Of course, Webber was instrumental as a writer of the film production, as well. And, in fairness, Webber is the driving force behind the new show. It’s just that some things can’t be improved upon.

Of course, the same thing goes for prequels. DC Entertainment recently announced a set of prequels to the greatest graphic novel ever published, the Watchmen. My stomach turned. Was this a blatant attempt to capitalize on an amazing work of art? Simply because they own the rights to the story and the characters, they think that they can add to what was already a complete story simply to make money? I confess that I had a similar reaction to Love Never Dies. Was Webber selling out for money? Surely, if an artist were to ever have a comfortable income, Webber would.

A friend and fellow comic collector told me that it was a surety that I would at least read the Watchmen prequels, just to see what they were about. I responded that I wouldn’t read them on principle. Truth be told, I likely will scan one in my local comic shop. I may even put the DVD of Love Never Dies into our Netflix cue, as it is apparently living on DVD due to it’s poor reception in theatres (although I have read at least one opinion that the show’s theatrical demise was unfortunate). Part of me hopes that the Watchmen prequels are received poorly, as Moore has said that he accomplished everything he intended to in the original collection. Moore reportedly isn’t happy about the project, and I don’t think he was a fan of the film, either (for good reason…it was a disaster).

Still, the two projects are different in that, with Love Never Dies, at least the original writer is responsible for the project’s creation. And, I have to admit, from a design perspective, the show looks intriguing.  I think, however, that I’m just stubborn enough to eschew both projects, simply because I don’t want to give in to what I see as selling out amazing work in order to make profit from the original.

Am I doing myself a disservice in my stubbornness? Would you see/read either of these? What do you think?

The Nature of a Hero Part III

DC Entertainment is doing something very interesting. I mean, besides the New 52. Take a look:

Besides the fact that this is good charity work, and the fact that it is an excellent quality video that sort of gives me chills, there’s something really fascinating in the way DC is packaging this initiative rhetorically.

First off, we’re drawn in by the images of the Justice League characters, ones that are recognizable to even those not engaged in comic books (and leaving me very much in mind of the recent animated series intro.). The video is immediately evocative as a “person on the street” video can be: we see honesty, people admitting that they’ve never been needed, but that they have been needy. People self-absorbed, answering their phones. The video is poignant: the school girl remembering when she didn’t stand up for someone in her class being bullied is a time when she was needed, but didn’t react out of fear. This is something to which all of us can relate.

Then, the video moves into the ideal that we hope for ourselves: those who “didn’t think,” and “just went.” These are the heroes, those who reacted despite their fears, and who were a positive influence in a situation. I love the story of the man, taken out of context enough that the bulk of the events remain a mystery, re-telling how he went down on the ground beside someone in order to be with her, to help her get up again.

Then, of course, the video makes its pitch, calling us to action, calling us all to be heroes, and re-connecting us with the images of the iconic heroes that inspire us. The video confronts us with a situation, and gives us another chance to react without thinking, to put fear or misgivings aside, and to be a hero to someone. Even if from a distance. Even if our actions are never known. We’re given an opportunity to reach the ideal.

What’s amazing about the rhetoric of this project is that it is using the secret desire that we all have for a hero to swoop in during our time of greatest need and save us when we cannot save ourselves, and it is leading us to recognize another desire that we all hold: the desire to be the hero. I remember dreaming heroic dreams of coming to the rescue of the girl in distress when I was in elementary school. Heroes have always dominated my imagination, my stories. I’m fascinated by those who place themselves in “real-life”  hero positions, such as first responders. I’ve made professional choices that have placed me in a role to be helpful to others on several occasions.

What this video leads us to conclude is that heroism is relative. That is to say, we all have the ability to be a hero at some point, to someone, in some capacity. All of us can be the larger-than-life savior, landing (metaphorically) in the midst of evil’s apparent triumph, and saving the day. Because the evil that is about to triumph over the person next to us may be small to us, depending upon our gifts and resources. What they cannot defeat on their own, we can, and vice versa.

This video is powerful because it so effectively taps into another aspect of the nature of a hero: the fact that we all have the desire to be the hero. Sometimes this is for selfish motivations, often it is over-ridden by fear, or doubt. For some, it is a driving force, and for some it is merely a whisper of conscience. But it is there, and, I daresay, it is universal to the human experience.

Perhaps that’s why the idea of a hero resonates so much with all of us.

The Nature of a Hero, Part II

I’m sort of continuing my thoughts on the nature of a hero, here, with some reaction to a recent comic book issue.

Leading up to this summer’s Avengers film, Marvel is publishing a line of one-shots called Avengers: Origins. While the art in most of the issues has been a bit stylistic for my taste, I’ve enjoyed the stories, which are simple re-tellings of the backgrounds of the heroes comprising the Avengers as they appear in Marvel comics (a larger cast of characters than will appear in the film, which will star only the most well-known of the core characters). I only dabbled in the Avengers titles when I was younger, and never collected them seriously, so these stories have been instructional for me.

I’ve purchased them a bit out of order, and the most recent issue I’ve read is Avengers Origins: Luke Cage. I remember Luke Cage as Power Man when he, partnered with Iron Fist, comprised Heroes for Hire.  I was unaware of his origin story. A former gang-banger from Harlem is what looks like the 1980’s, Cage spends time is prison after being framed for a crime he didn’t commit, although he had committed his share. A victim of racist treatment in prison, he volunteers for an experiment that is intentionally botched by a guard who hates him, and endows him with amazing physical strength and near invulnerability. Cage escapes with these powers, and returns to the life he knows: committing crimes in order to survive, all the while plotting revenge for the old friend who had framed him. During one of these criminal ventures, he witnesses an elderly security officer paralyzed as a result of his actions, and flees with this haunting him.

Ultimately, Cage discovers that he can, in fact, use his abilities for good, and decides to profit off of this as “hero for hire.” His actions haunt him, though, and he spends the next several years unable to see himself as a hero, and attempting to make restitution for his actions, until he is finally forgiven by the paralyzed security officer. Only then does he recognize himself as a hero.

Of course, comic history shows us that Cage goes on to become one of Marvel’s more well-known heroes as Power Man. This story resonated with me because it shows a different aspect of the nature of a hero: the hero who has turned from evil to do good. There’s something almost mythological in this: the street-wise fighter who knows the ways of evil but chooses to eschew them for good, bursting through the darkness in a massive display of power to save the day. There’s something amazing about the hero who has previously been on the wrong side of the law, and then repented of their wrongs and moved to a life of restoration. Theologically, this would be repentance: a changing of one’s mind, an intentional turning of one’s life in the direction of good after recognizing the evil.

Of course, not every hero comes from such a background. This isn’t a necessary qualification, although many heroes have experienced some degree of darkness in their lives before becoming a hero.

So, when confronted with the epiphany that the way a villain has been using his or her powers for evil, if that villain changes their course and chooses to do good instead, then they are no longer a villain. They are a hero. And these heroes appreciate second chances, because they’ve received one of their own. Cage escaped his prison sentence, to never be re-discovered. He chose to be a hero in his new life, and thus experienced a sort of cultural forgiveness. Again, this is a theological concept: one who has been forgiven of much, will show greater love to those around them. And this, ultimately, is what a hero does: he or she shows love to those around them, by placing their own lives at risk to save those who cannot save themselves.

I’m not sure how this plays into my fictional explorations of the nature of a hero, but it must somehow, because I think that this is as critical as it is inspiring.

Photo Attribution: Zach Dischner 

The Nature of a Hero

Image of Batman and Robin shadows on a sign. Image used under Creative Commons.Just before our daughter joined us a couple of months ago, I finished Part I of the novel that began brewing in my head during a train ride about two years ago. It began as an interesting idea about a dystopian future scenario, and blossomed from there for a year or so, percolating slowly in the back of my head before it became a workable idea. Then came the mind-map. Then the plot outline. And, finally, I finished the rough draft of Part I this Fall. If all goes according to plan, now that I’ve let it sit for a while and I have an idea of what adjustments I need to make to the overall plot, I’ll pick the manuscript up again next week.

I was procrastinating picking it up again, though, I have to be honest, because the weight of the project feels overwhelming at times. Sometimes, when a project begins to feel that way, you have to shelve it temporarily until you can re-discover what made you passionate about it originally. I have managed to re-discover that, fortunately, a couple of times over the last week or so.

Its no secret that I tend to be a sucker for police procedural dramas. Probably because I’m convinced that I could never write in that genre, and so I respect those who do that much more. Karen and I watch The Closer together, and were just finishing the second disc of season 6 late last week. In one episode, Brenda is forced to give a suspected murderer immunity for his confession in order to catch another murderer. During the confession, the first suspect admits to a brutal double homicide, but Brenda and her team have to release him because of the immunity agreement. At the end of the episode, Brenda finds a loophole in the immunity agreement clause about police protection for the suspect. She and her team drive him to his home, a notorious neighborhood for gangs. The other gang members know that the suspect has broken their rules by the murders he committed. Brenda and her team leave the suspect alone with the gang members, who are obviously about to administer their own form of justice.

This sparked conversation with Karen and myself. Initially, I commented that I didn’t think I had a problem with it, because the suspect was unrepentant of committing the worst of crimes (one of his victims had been a little boy), and thus justice was being carried out, despite the system.

However…

Over the weekend, Karen was watching an episode of CSI (who knows which sub-series…this isn’t one I watch with her). She expressed that she was troubled by one of the characters, because that character had an opportunity to save a criminal from falling to his demise in an episode, but let the criminal fall instead. She expressed that this was done with a similar motivation as Brenda had in leaving her suspect behind in the episode of the Closer. Justice, in its most succinct and complete form, was done. The law, however, was not upheld. This bothered her.

I remember the Batman being confronted with the chance to let the Joker fall to his death in the Dark Knight. Despite knowing that the Joker was the most terrifying and calloused of homicidal maniacs, Batman tried to keep him from falling.

Of the three examples, Batman seems more the legitimate hero to me, because he acted under the assumption that any life, even that of the Joker, is worth saving. This presupposes that no human being is beyond redemption…that we all deserve one more chance. As noted elsewhere by my fellow-blogger Katherine, Batman frequently acts under this presupposition, at the expense of himself and his own reputation (hence his decision at the end of the Dark Knight, in which he tells Gordon that he can be whatever Gotham needs him to be). This is acting counter to heroes who are functioning more as anti-heroes, such as Moore’s The Watchmen. Early in that graphic novel, Rorschach imagines a scenario in which the depraved public beneath his watchful gaze will look to him and cry for help, to which he decides, “…and I’ll whisper, ‘no.'” Rorschach has taken on the role of administering justice himself.

It seems that being a hero involves giving grace, acting beyond what normal individuals can do to preserve all life, trusting that the system will judge, and not taking it upon oneself to administer justice. That is the difference between a hero and an antihero, a self-sacrificial, mysterious savior and a vigilante.

The reason that this connects with my novel is that the nature of a hero is what I’m attempting to explore. Its a complicated question, but one that I’m passionate about, and, with these discussion points having been brought to my attention over the last few days, I’m ready to launch back into the manuscript now.

Being excited is a good thing.

Image attribution: Brett Jordan under Creative Commons.

Heros Hidden in Plain Sight

Ever since the hidden teaser for next summer’s Avengers movie at the end of Captain America: The First Avenger, I’ve been anxiously awaiting the full trailer with almost as much anticipation as I would await a movie. This week, I was treated to its unveiling:

Now, I’ve had some debate with others about just how good of a trailer this is, and how good of a film the Avengers may or may not ultimately be. I think its a trailer with promise, of the same promise that I thought Thor’s trailer showed: this movie could go either way, good or bad. Of course, Thor turned out to be amazing, as did Captain America, as did both Iron Man films before them, and I feel confident about the Avengers because it has been set up correctly; that is, it will have what the X-Men never did.

I’ve said before that I’ve been more of a Marvel fan than a DC fan. I’ll admit, though, that the New 52 have tested this resolve, as I’ve become quickly hooked on series that I’ve never collected previously. Still, I think the two universes fill very different story-telling needs, and speak to different cultural trends. DC gives us (especially in the re-boot) the classic hero to fly in and save the day when all else seems lost, a symbol of hope that would otherwise be absent in a dark situation (the plane is plummeting toward the baseball stadium, but Superman shows up and performs the impossible to prevent the unthinkable). Marvel’s characters have always been less of the traditional super-hero, and held more realism that is in touch with our day-to-day existence with all of its angst and fallacies. Even visually, the casual observer will notice the difference: fewer flowing capes in the Marvel universe, and more armor-clad heroes struggling with demons like alcoholism. While DC will always be known to have given us some dark characters (i.e.: the Batman), and the exploration of the fragile anti-heroes by which all others are judged, the trend toward gritty realism tends to lie with Marvel.

While watching the trailer for the Avengers with me, Karen made an interesting observation to this effect: there are more public identities in the Marvel universe. For example, in DC Comics, Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Lantern…all have secret identities. All conceal themselves in some way to prevent the world from discovering that Barbara Gordon, for example, is really Batgirl.

Conversely, the world knows that Tony Stark is Iron Man, and Professor X is in charge of a school for “the gifted,” in which Jean Grey operates under her actual name. Others, like Thor, have no need for a secret identity. The Fantastic Four are all public personas. The world even knows that Bruce Banner is the Hulk.

I think that this again speaks to the ability of Marvel’s characters to connect more deeply to a culture at the time in which it exists. America is more than tired of a lack of transparency in public figures, and the public feels burned by a few too many secrets kept by those that they elected.  The general thought process of those in leadership, whether it is leading a country, a business, or a volunteer organization, is that the people below you on the chain of command (or the general public), to quote a famous line from another movie (ironically dealing with similar topics), “can’t handle the truth.” And, while certainly intelligence gathering and secret keeping are necessary in governments in today’s world, there is significantly more kept from public knowledge that could easily function within public knowledge.

DC Comics superheroes frequently fight not only the bad guys, but also the perception of the public that they are “vigilantes.” Often on the run from law enforcement just as they’ve finished saving the city or the world once again, they are faced with suspicion: if you’re the good guy (or girl), why won’t you show us your face? While Marvel certainly has its share of secret identities and those officially held in disdain by the government (such as the X-Men), other heroes…often the ones of which we immediately think when we speak of Marvel Comics, make their identities known to the world. In fact, the Avengers are an organization sanctioned by the government for most of their comic book history.

I think Marvel continues to meet us where we are better than DC, to help us feel more connected to its heroes. DC seems to focus on the heroes far above the rest of us mortals, those who know things we don’t know but act always to save us, to use that knowledge responsibly. One is a more classic image of a hero, the other more modern. I think both are needed, though, and I enjoy reading both for different reasons.

What do you think of when you think of a hero? Which characters speak to you more, and why? I’d love to hear your opinions.