When last we left our hero…
Note: In the previous essay, I laid out the groundwork for how I would approach telling a Superman story, making the claim that I'd rather have it as a movie than comic, though now that I think more on that, I think either could work. It'd be more gratifying to see it on the silver screen, but if we're just imagining things, I'd like a free trip to England while we're at it. And an agent to sell my book. And a free pass to Disneyland for me and my family. And, um…I dunno, a gift card to Barnes and Noble. I guess I have pretty low expectations for my wildest dreams. Onward. Superman is in shambles: His costume has been torn up by the aliens, and the blast that dropped him into the middle of China has depleted his powers. It's daytime, so the sunlight helps him to feel a bit better*, though he's still struggling to keep himself going. He's given up on trying to fly, and his powers like x-ray vision and super hearing are on the fritz. He can't move at super speed, either. He can speak Chinese (the guy speaks basically every language on the planet, since he can study and memorize at super speed), so he asks for a phone. He manages to place a call to Martha. She is surprised to hear from her son on the phone ("Clark! I didn't know you knew how to use a telephone…" kind of moment). "Mom! I'm…I'm in trouble. I need…" He hesitates. The moment of difficulty--the hardest moment he's had to face so far, is this one: Acknowledging that he can't do everything himself. "I need your help." "What do you need?" Martha writes things down, then hangs up, only to call the hospital in Metropolis and asks after Lois Lane. As she's talking she's on her computer, accessing her bank account--not particularly robust--and without hesitation books a flight from central China back to Metropolis, entering Clark's information into the fields. Just then, the hospital connects back, saying that Lois is in surgery, as her situation has become more complicated and dangerous. Martha hangs up, calls back Clark, and says, "Lois is…" "Is she okay?" "They're looking after her. But you should get home as soon as you can, Clark. She's going to need you." Not truly a lie, but Martha clearly can't bring herself to tell full truth to her son. Clark gets to the airport--wearing some clothes generously gifted from the Chinese couple that found him in a smoking crater in the middle of a field**--but as he's walking up to security, he overhears some American tourists that are headed home, freaking out about the fact that one of them lost her passport. Clark looks around, patting himself, indicating that he doesn't have any identification. He swallows and looks around. There's no choice: He has to try to sprint through at super speed. It's the only way to get on the plane. He takes a deep breath. He glances about, looking for openings. A moment arrives. He starts to run. The guards shout, putting hands up and telling him to stop. Clark is desperate and muscles forward, only to be brought to stop by some angry airport police who are armed. Clark gives up, is placed under arrest, and taken to an interrogation room. An investigator comes in and begins to talk to the handcuffed Clark Kent. They argue a bit about whether he's Superman for real, only to have Clark realize that he had helped the investigator and his family during the opening montage. He says what happened, which makes the investigator realize that Superman is really here. He releases Clark and ensures that Clark gets on the plane. As he gets on, Clark says, "Thank you." "It's good to be able to help a god," says the investigator. Meanwhile, Martha is back in Kansas, watching the news. A TMZ-style tabloid program comes on, talking about a hot tip that just came in. The two irreverent hostesses say, "Have you heard about this guy? Clark Kent--award-winning reporter--has apparently plagiarized his award-winning report. And here he is making out with a woman while his girlfriend is in the hospital!" "How low can you go?" asks the hostess. "Who knew that a sleazebag could be so good looking?" "Honey, you haven't seen my ex, have you?" Then the woman laugh. Martha is out of the house, TV still on, running to their old pickup truck. She gets in and drives toward the interstate, which says Metropolis 100 miles***. Clark, meanwhile, is trying to get his powers to work with some x-ray vision when a stabbing pain makes him gasp. The person next to him gives him a wary look and scoots a bit farther away. Massaging his shoulder, he tries to be patient. It's clear that this--of all things--is rough on him. Martha Kent is anxiously awaiting at the Metropolis airport, looking around pensively. She's whispering, "Meet me by baggage claim 4, Clark, meet me by baggage claim 4," getting weird looks from people as she paces about. Clark, meanwhile, is shaking his head and grimacing--he's in pain. His super hearing is starting to come back, though it's in fits and starts. He hears his mom. He feels some of his strength returning…and it's a good thing, too. Getting back from an international flight requires that he pass through customs^. This time, he's successful in moving quickly enough to avoid notice, arriving at Martha's side, sweating and grim-faced as he clutches his shoulder in pain. "What's happening?" "Clark, are you okay?" "No. We need to get to the hospital." They clamber into the pickup, but not before Clark's super hearing picks up his name. He sees a person watching the clip we saw earlier. He looks at his mom in shock. "What is going on?" "It's not quite what it seems. Come on, son. I'll drive." Martha peppers him with questions about what the video and plagiarism accusations are all about. He explains the kiss; he has nothing about the article. He's not the kind of guy who needs to copy from others, after all. "Here's another piece of the puzzle," says Martha as she slaloms through traffic. "That wasn't Lana Lang." "What?" "If you were having dinner with her when you say you did, then you made out with an impostor: Lana was at my house with her mother, having a night of catching up to do." Clark is confused and clearly angry. He asks about the spacecraft that knocked him around the planet, but on that there hasn't been any reports that Martha is aware of. As they walk into the hospital, Clark wants to use his powers to hear Lois when he's driven to his knees, clutching his shoulder. Stumbling into the bathroom, Clark forces his powers to work and x-rays himself--and sees a small disc embedded in his shoulder tissue. Despite the pain, he forces his heat vision to burn a hole large enough for him to work his fingers into his own body, pinching the disc and pulling it free. He stares at it in the puddle of blood in his palm. It's the same as the one he got from the suicidal robot. Almost immediately he starts to feel better: His shoulder wound heals up, he's no longer pale and trembling, and he straightens himself. Superman is back…and he's angry. He stares a moment longer at the disc, then blasts it with heat vision. Coming out of the bathroom, Martha asks him what was wrong. He explains, then says, "We have to get to Lois." Before they get very far, the nurse at reception tells them that she's recovering from a surgery and that she can't be seen quite yet. Clark asks for the room, then, the moment he's outside, he flies to the right place. The windows don't open, but he can see her for himself. She's still unconscious and hooked up to a respirator. He stares for a long moment before returning to his mother, who wraps him in her arms. "I can't do anything for her, can I?" "We can figure out who's responsible for this," says Martha. "And make them pay." "Mom!" Clark is shocked. "What? They hurt my boy. The fires of hell aren't hot enough for their punishment, so far as I'm concerned. Now let's get you back on track." Clark hands her something and asks her to stay and see if she can't get in and watch over Lois, then flies away, returning home so that he can change out of the clothes from the Chinese couple and put on his Superman costume. When he arrives, he freezes almost instantly. "What are you doing here?" "You're being stubborn," says a voice from the shadows. Out steps Lana Lang, a strange weapon in place of her hand. "It's time to put you out of your misery." "I'm not afraid of that thing," he says. "You will be." She shoots him, which he lets strike his chest. It's another disc, and it drops him to his knees, jolting his body with pink electricity. Lana picks him up with one hand and then flies both of them out from his apartment--breaking through the roof, mostly because that's a jerk move to do--and soaring up to the spaceship that is invisible until Lana gets really close to it. A portal opens and the Man of Steel enters. Lana then hauls him into a main chamber. The moment she removes the pink disc from where she'd shot it--right in the middle of the S on his crest, of course--he instantly reacts, snatching her hand. "Who are you?" he demands, his heat vision kicking in. "Let her go, Kent," says a metallic voice. A bright light turns on, making Superman blink. In that moment, Lana breaks his grip on her and gut punches him to the far side of the chamber. Climbing to his feet, Superman straightens up and looks at the being who is clearly in charge here. "My name is Brainiac," says the android, stepping down from his command chair. "Have you received my message clearly enough? Do you despair, Superman? You should. I have gone to great lengths to make it so that your entire life crumbles before your eyes." "What do you want from me?" "Nothing. You are merely in the way." "In the way of what?" "My plans for this world." Brainiac explains that his is a mission of collection and conquest, but he has, through much observation, determined that Superman was the only thing that might prevent him from attaining his goal. He has, after all, connections to Krypton. He goes through the explanation about how he had quickly and easily discovered Superman's true identity, learned of his past, and even managed to create the Lana Lang clone. The idea was to break all of the fragile props that weren't as invulnerable as the Man of Tomorrow. When Supes asks why the explanation, Brainiac says, "Words hurt you, Superman, though very little else does. Like these: Lois Lane is about to die and there's nothing you can do to stop it." A video screen shows Lois in her hospital bed, the respirator machine nearby. Martha is snoozing in a chair next to the machine, which blinks out. Superman screams. "My control over your pathetic technologies allows me to do as I wish, when I wish. And one thing I've learned is that I never ought to overextend myself. Precision is a thing of beauty, and wasted effort is hardly precise. Why not let her own feeble body die on its own, drowning in her own sickness? I estimate she will die within five minutes. Now you see the weakness inherent in relying on others." Superman lunges away, anxious to escape, only to be stopped by Lana, whose body shifts into weapons to make for a more interesting fight. Superman uses a lot of his different skillset, relying on his super speed, but also his heat vision, freeze breath, and strength. At one point in the fight, he uses x-ray vision to spot the Brainiac Lana through a wall, punches through, and jettisons her into space. He follows suit, only to be yanked back into the spaceship by a weapon of Brainiac's. "Impressive, if futile," he says as he drags the resisting Superman back into the ship. "She will still die in a minute, though." This is accurate--the entire fight with Lana is at super speed, which means only four minutes have elapsed. "You have failed to save her and failed to escape." "I wasn't trying to leave, Brainiac. I still have business to do with you. I just needed to get out to send a message." Brainiac doesn't quite get what's happening when Superman flies forward and punches Brainiac in the face. Another fight ensues in which Brainiac tries any number of contraptions against the Man of Steel, only to lose ground constantly. Though he's strong, he's not at Superman's level, and he gets bested. Superman looks at the monitor. Lois is doing fine, with a doctor talking to Martha quietly in one corner. In fact, Superman can see that Lois is slowly coming to. "How?" asks Brainiac, crumpled and broken on the ground. "I thought of everything. No one is smarter than I." "Don't underestimate my brain. And, since you were kind enough to explain yourself to me, I'll do you the same courtesy before I pitch you into the black. I used that interference disc you shot into me, changing it to accept a broadcast frequency. I then embedded a message into your little housewrecker robot, broadcasting to my mother that Lois needed to be checked on immediately." "Who would hear it?" "My mother. Despite what you said, having others help is not a weakness; it's my greatest strength. She alerted the doctors and they've already got a new machine working. Lois is waking up. And you need to leave." Brainiac presses a button that captures Superman in the same force field that had dragged him into the ship the last time. Brainiac laughs and says that Superman has failed again. Then Superman begins, very slowly, to fly. He's straining in the force field, and the power of his resistance is causing the machinery in Brainiac's spaceship to break apart. Superman is straining so hard that even his Kryptonian clothing is starting to tear and rip. Blood from ruptured veins make him bleed from his nose and eyes. He looks like he's about to tear himself apart, too, when he shrugs his shoulders and spins around. The entire ship begins to revolve, faster and faster, until at last the force field breaks free, sending the ship deep into space, faster than a speeding bullet. Superman is exhausted, but he's not done yet. He flies back to Metropolis, cleans himself off, puts on some normal clothes, and buys some roses. Then he makes it to the hospital. The nurse gives him a look as he walks toward the bay of elevators. On the screen in the waiting room, a news anchor is talking about the bizarre anomalies in gravity near Earth orbit, as reported by NASA. Clark enters Lois' room in his typical bumbling way, only to be greeted by the laughter of both his girlfriend and mother. Lois is still in really bad shape, but she's alert and happy to see him. They hug and he gives her a gentle kiss. "Everything will be all right now," he says, patting her hand. A few days later, Clark walks into Perry White's office, a stack of papers in hand. "Here's my receipts." "For what?" asks White, glowering. "That I was the one who wrote that article." He points at the evidence as he tosses it onto White's desk. "Turns out that the brainiac who claimed I'd plagiarized had missed some of the meta data that showed he fabricated the article before 'turning me in'. Guess he wasn't such a smart fellow after all." "How'd you get this?" he asked "Perry. I'm an investigative reporter. You think I don't know how to chase down a lead?" "This is impressive, Kent." "Thanks. Lois did almost all of it." Perry looks at him incredulously, then laughs. "That makes more sense, Kent." That night, Clark is helping Lois into their apartment ("Sorry about the new sunroof") when the light turns on. Standing in the same place as before is Brainiac Lana. She's in really bad shape, with some of her android parts sparking and hanging out of her body. She morphs her hand into a weapon and points it Superman. "You can't get away that easily," hisses the android. "Wait," says Lois, putting her hand up. "Is that the Lana you kissed?" "She kissed me, but yes." Lois eyes her. "Not much to look at, is she?" "She's seen better days." Lana growls and lunges at the two, knocking Clark over and making Lois yelp in pain. Lana pounds on Clark's face a couple of times, only to stop as electricity rips through her. The android slumps over, either dead or paralyzed. Lois is holding a taser to the exposed metal. "Get your hands off my man," she growls. Clark laughs as he gets up. "How much voltage does that thing have in it?" "I had Jimmy tweak it for me." She shrugs. "When you date Superman, you need to have a little more punch in your corner." "Thanks for saving me," says Clark, smiling. "Don't mention it. Now, will you take out the trash?" Clark nods, picking up Lana, then flying out the window. He returns a moment later. "Into the Sun?" asks Lois as she plops onto the couch, patting the cushion next to her. "Why not? I hear it's lovely this time of year." Fin. === That's how I'd tell a Superman story. It starts off in the way a tragedy could, with the montage, but I feel like the world of Superman falls apart pretty fast, enough to make it feel like it fits the comedic formula. With Superman and Lois back together, the world safe, and his reputation restored, it also fits into a classical comedy. One of the things that I wanted to avoid was having the stakes be about saving the world. Though he does that, too, Superman's final fight with Brainiac is done because he (Superman) is trying to get back to Lois. Brainiac's plan to take over the world--or whatever you want to fit in--doesn't really intimidate the Man of Steel, because if it comes to punching something out, he's going to win. I also wanted to make it so that the simplest of things--asking his mom to check in on Lois--was what saved her life. Superman was the information behind the action, but he had to rely on others to take care of it. This, to me, is the way of making a Superman story that is relatable. No, most of us don't have aliens impersonating ex-girlfriends, but the idea that someone lies about you, or that everything seems to be going wrong and there's nothing that you can do to fix it, that all seems to be applicable and fairly universal. Lastly, though I didn't really plot this out--and there's definitely more to tweak and refine (not that I'm likely to do that)--I feel like my earlier comment about "What could Superman have to say about our world now?" is the one that he emphasizes at the end: It's our connections and helping one another that will prove our greatest strength. It's a message of unity without having to be about the world coming together, as well as an idea that there's power in the humility of having to ask for help. One final thing: If I were given the chance to actually write the script, I would insist that Clark be happy at almost everything he does. Smile as he saves people, smile when he sees Lois, smile when he sees Martha--just be happy. Show the audience that he's glad to be where he is. That way, the restoration to his happiness at the end of the story makes us feel like, despite the hard times he's suffered, there's still cause for hope and happiness. That, I argue, is what the heart of a Superman story is. --- * I feel that this is an important aspect of the story, too: Disempowering Superman isn't my primary goal. Not only do we already have that story in Christopher Reeves films, but it goes against what I'm trying to do, which is to avoid the idea that Superman is unrelatable because of his powers. If I simply told a story where he no longer had his powers, then he's relatable, but he's not Superman. My own opinion is that a superhero's identity is tightly tied into the power set, and a movie about Clark Kent is not what I'd be paying to see: I want Superman to do super things. ** And, yes, that's supposed to be an homage to Clark's origins on the planet. *** I have no idea how far Smallville is from Metropolis. The distance in the TV series Smallville is 100 miles, but that doesn't make sense if Metropolis is a coastal city. We'll say 100 miles and let it go at that. ^ I feel like this scene could either be drawn out to a really taut, is-he-going-to-make-it kind of thing, or one where it's simply skipped over. It's a director's cut part to the story, I guess. ==== Hey, friends. I have been releasing essays on my website for a couple of years now at a pretty steady rate. I'm happy to do so, as it benefits me as a writer and (I hope) you as a reader. I also think that, as a writer, it's okay if I believe that my work has some value monetarily as well as emotionally. To that end, I've created a Ko-Fi account, which is basically a way to give an online tip to a creator whose work you appreciate. The idea is, you can buy them a cup of coffee. (That's what the name of the website sounds like, if you're curious.) I'm not charging for any of the content on my website; instead, if you'd like to toss me a cup-le (see what I did there?) of bucks to show your gratitude, that would be cool. I'd totally appreciate that appreciation. If you don't? No problem. We can still be friends. As always, thanks for reading! Okay, so maybe the title is slightly misleading: I don't really know how one would go about writing a Superman story. It's clear that, at least cinematically, the Man of Steel remains one of the inexplicably toughest nuts to crack. And in a world where two very well-received movies include a talking tree and a sentient space raccoon, we can't chalk it up to the tired trope of "no one can relate to a demigod like Superman" as an explanation.
I've been thinking about the cinematic universe (called the DCEU) where a movie as significant and important--despite its flaws--as Wonder Woman can coexist with the mix of weird decisions and bizarre character motivations as Batman v. Superman. And though Justice League was fine (I'm not a particularly difficult fan to please when it comes to movies, in case you haven't noticed), and I purchased the Blu-Ray and expect to get to watch it soon, I'm not enamored of it. I've wanted to return and see Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse more than I've wanted to return to Justice League, which isn't really that big of a surprise, considering who's writing this, but the difference is I actually have Justice League in my house and could put it in and watch it… I digress. What I'm getting at is the idea that Superman is hard to make personable, relatable, or intriguing in our post-9/11, post-2016 election world. In other words, we're in a time where our culture has created a new identity for itselves, one filled with bitterness and anger, outrage and injustice. What could Superman possibly have to say about that sort of thing? Well, a lot, I think. In some ways, the Last Son of Krypton is more crucial in our cinematic discourse than we might believe, as he's a ought to be the example of what the United States has been for the vast majority of Superman's existence: A genuine superpower. So, if I were to write a Superman movie (I'd say movie, if only because then I'd have the free reign to tell the story without worrying about continuity or fitting it into a broader mythology), I think that's the angle I would take. I wouldn't necessarily pull for the comics--in part because I don't know as much about current Superman continuity than I do some of the Golden Age stories, which probably wouldn't work for the purposes of such a thought exercise--though there are pieces of the video game series Injustice: Gods Among Us that I think makes for an interesting starting point. Here's my pitch: Make it a comedy. I mean that generically, which is to say, classically. Though there are lots of parts of the comedic structure that we'd have to ignore for simplicity's sake, I would pull on two specific aspects of classical comedy: The story is a process from social disarray to social cohesion, and I would incorporate people from all levels of society. Okay, so a quick step backwards. Have you read The Divine Comedy? It's the story about a poet named Dante who wakes up one night in a dark wood and then is invited to pass through the three potential eternities of the Catholic afterlife, Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. Dante begins having lost his way and is forced to go to the worst of all possible places, Inferno, in order to determine the greater good of his theme--namely, God's justice. It's best known as the repository of the first of the three books, Inferno, which is filled with all sorts of horrible punishments and gruesome images. When you read The Divine Comedy (which you most definitely should), you'll be hard pressed to put our modern definition of "comedy" onto it. It's not funny; it's comedic. There's a difference. Superman would need to do the same thing. Dante is a superman in Hell, mostly because he still has a corporal body and the rest of the shades do not. (At one point, they notice that he casts a shadow, which gets the shades furious with jealousy.) He is capable of leaving Hell, which the spirits of "Adam's wicked seed" can't do. In other words, he is far above them in ability, capacity, and authority. Kal-El is the same in our context. At the beginning of the movie, Superman is at the height of his powers--not quite at the level Grant Morrison will put him, but still pretty impressive. There is near universal acclaim for what he's done, including having defeated Doomsday, rebuffed an alien invasion, and managed to avert catastrophic climate change. He's feeling pretty good about himself: Lois and he have a good relationship, his mother is content and enjoys his weekly visits, and his life as Clark Kent is also going well, with some accolades for his journalism. All of this is the first five or so minutes of the movie. We can have some cool montages of him saving the day--and smiling every time he helps people out, whether it's the vintage cat-in-the-tree or stopping of a mugging--and get the sense that all's well in the universe. Then there's a mistake. Lois and Clark are having lunch in Metropolis. Clark is saying, "This is good, you know? After all we've been through, it's nice to have a simple meal together." An explosion happens across the street. Superman, of course, protects Lois and the entire diner from the blast (quipping, "That's what Superman can do" or something along the lines of him being somewhat cocky about his abilities), then zips over to save the day. It's a weird alien robot that he's never seen before--but who cares? He's Superman! He begins smashing things and moving at superspeed and doing the sort of cool action we associate with superhero movies. Though there's been some damage, Superman has taken care of all but one of the robots. A crowd gathers, cheering Superman's success as he approaches the wounded being. This one he wants information from. Grabbing the creature, which wraps its claws around his wrist as Superman hefts it into the air, Superman asks, "Where do you come from?" "I bring a message," says the creature. "What's that?" "Despair." Slow-motion effect as Superman perceives what the creature is about to do: A massive explosion tears through the robot. Superman can move fast enough to save everyone who's nearby--we just saw him do that a few minutes ago. But not when the robot holds him in place. Superman looks down at the claws holding him back, then up at the creature as he recognizes what's about to happen. The entire block disappears in a massive explosion. (Yes, this is similar to the moment in Batman v. Superman, but with one crucial difference: Superman tries to save everyone--which he totally could have done had he wanted to in the Snyder film--but can't. That's really important.) Superman is left with only the portion of the robot that he'd protected with his hand, a silver disk that glows with a pink light. Superman looks around, dismayed at what happened. He, of course, is unscathed, but there are dead people all over the place, as well as countless wounded. His ears are still ringing and he's a little out of sorts--mostly because he can't believe he made such a grievous mistake--and he's understandably upset about the whole thing. Then he sees Lois, under some rubble, bleeding from a head wound. He's by her side immediately, scanning her body, certain that he can hear her heartbeat. A moment of relief when he sees that she's still alive. Without hesitating, he flies her to the closest hospital. "Where are the others?" asks an ER nurse as he takes Lois from the Man of Steel. "Others?" "We heard the explosion. Where are the other injured people?" explains the nurse. "You didn't only rescue this one, did you?" asks someone else, flabbergasted. Superman stalls: He's being confronted with his selfishness and not doing all he could do. He leaves and heads back to the area of the explosion to try to help, but those who are there tell him he's "done enough". Injured at the rejection, he flies away to return to the hospital, this time as the boyfriend, Clark Kent. There, the doctors tell him that they can't really give him much information--privacy of the patient and all that--but that Lois is in a coma. Clark is a bit of a wreck. He feels immense guilt at having been suckerpunched by the robot, he's anxious about Lois, and, when he comes in to work, he is shocked when Perry White accuses him of plagiarizing an award-winning article. At the same time, who else should show up in his life than Lana Lang, his old high school sweetheart. She surprises him at work and asks him out to dinner--which he reluctantly accepts. During the meal, she flirts pretty heavily with him, enough that he feels that she's being inappropriate. "My girlfriend is in a coma," he says, rising from the table. Lana does, too, saying, "Then she won't know about this," and wraps Clark in a tight hug and kisses him full on the mouth. A person in the restaurant snaps a picture on his phone. Clark pushes her away, then says some sort of mumbled, "Good to see you, Lana," before rushing into the night. Angry at all of the injustices that are heaping on him, he heads home to Smallville where he can chat with his mom, Martha. There, he explains how frustrated he is and his mother actually laughs at him. "Sorry, Clark. I don't mean to make you feel worse. It's kind of funny to me that you're finally feeling what we always feel around you: powerlessness." Martha sighs and rubs his shoulder. "Some problems can't be defeated with your fists, sweetheart. You'll pull through, of course. Lois will pull through--you always do. But all the strength in the world isn't enough to turn back time. You'll have to wait." For a man who can move faster than light, this isn't an easy proposition. Needing to blow off some steam, he steps out into the cool Kansas night, staring at the sky. Then he squints. He's seeing something approach. Instantly, he's in his cape and boots, soaring toward the anomaly. At last, something he can do. Just as he's about to break out of the atmosphere, he hears Lois whisper his name. The possibility that she's revived pulls him to a stop. Unsure if he should investigate this anomaly or return to Lois, he hesitates long enough that the spaceship he'd spotted from Kansas can fire at him. A space battle ensues, complete with robotic drones and Superman frying stuff with his heat vision. The thing is, the robots are cutting him--making him bleed, though being in space means that he's receiving the Sun's radiation enough that the wounds don't stick around--but he's still shocked that he's getting physically injured by the attack. At this point, Lois' heartbeat begins to fade--a frequency that he's specifically tuned into for just such an occasion--and he begins to panic. He has to get back to Lois before she dies, but every time he tries to retreat, the robots knock him back. Realizing he needs to outmaneuver them, he tries to fly around the planet, only to be blasted out of the sky by a massive beam from the mothership. Superman wakes up in a crater, dazed and confused. He tries to fly, but finds himself too weak to do anything except for rise up a few feet before crashing to the ground. He has landed in rural China--he can tell because a bunch of confused Chinese farmers are staring at him with shock. Far from home, his powers diminished, Superman now has to figure out how to get home. And, what's worse, he can't hear Lois' heartbeat anymore. … And that's where I'll stop for now, since the essay is gone on too long and I want to do something else with my day. Stay tuned to see if I can finish how I would write a Superman story. === ==== Hey, friends. I have been releasing essays on my website for a couple of years now at a pretty steady rate. I'm happy to do so, as it benefits me as a writer and (I hope) you as a reader. I also think that, as a writer, it's okay if I believe that my work has some value monetarily as well as emotionally. To that end, I've created a Ko-Fi account, which is basically a way to give an online tip to a creator whose work you appreciate. The idea is, you can buy them a cup of coffee. (That's what the name of the website sounds like, if you're curious.) I'm not charging for any of the content on my website; instead, if you'd like to toss me a cup-le (see what I did there?) of bucks to show your gratitude, that would be cool. I'd totally appreciate that appreciation. If you don't? No problem. We can still be friends. As always, thanks for reading! Clark Kent. Duh. ==== Hey, friends. I have been releasing essays on my website for a couple of years now at a pretty steady rate. I'm happy to do so, as it benefits me as a writer and (I hope) you as a reader. I also think that, as a writer, it's okay if I believe that my work has some value monetarily as well as emotionally. To that end, I've created a Ko-Fi account, which is basically a way to give an online tip to a creator whose work you appreciate. The idea is, you can buy them a cup of coffee. (That's what the of the website sounds like, if you're curious.) I'm not charging for any of the content on my website; instead, if you'd like to toss me a cup-le (see what I did there?) of bucks to show your gratitude, that would be cool. I'd totally appreciate that appreciation. If you don't? No problem. We can still be friends. As always, thanks for reading! *** Okay, but this is actually something that's been floating at the edges of my mind for the last year or so--no, scratch that: I think it's been there since I started squaring my feelings with Batman v. Superman, which I cautiously liked when it came out, but have been less impressed with as I rewatched the thing and thought more about it. Lots of people--most of whom are quite a bit better versed in Superman lore and current continuity than I am, and also who are quite a bit smarter than I, too--have sounded off on the topic of the Man of Tomorrow, and while I don't want to recapitulate what they said, I feel like undermining my own position of authority by pointing out that I haven't done a serious study of Superman in a long time. There are plenty of examples about the Last Son of Krypton which will probably undermine (or maybe strengthen) my impressions. I'm ignorant of those, so…sorry. First off, I should say that I used to really love Superman stories. There's something to be said about the old-school, Golden and Silver Age versions of comic book heroes. Continuity was more simple, each issue was (for the most part) a single entry into the lives of the fictional characters, and the complexities of decades of dozens of different writers and artists weren't bogging down the storytelling. Formulaic, sure, but there was still a lot of play within the formula's guidelines. I know this because I've read a lot of early Spider-Man comics and, when I was in elementary school, I was shocked and surprised to find that the nearby public library carried bound comic books. I read every Peanuts collection I could find, then stumbled upon black and white copies of early days Superman comics. They were--according to my time-hazed memory--from the late forties, maybe early fifties. By this point, the character was pretty solidly himself, but hijinks would ensue every few pages regardless, relying on the idea that the stories were light, fun, kid-oriented, and of little consequence. I remember one comic specifically: It was a "What if?" kind of comic, written entirely for fun--what we'd call a one-off nowadays--where Clark Kent and Lois Lane go on a date to see a Superman movie. In it, the movie makers (somehow) knew of Superman's alter ego (Clark Kent, just like in real life, making it almost a documentary) and showed Superman turning into Clark and vice versa throughout the film. However, since Clark and Lois were on a date, and the "real" (I guess?) Lois didn't know the truth about Superman's true identity, Clark had to come up with all of these different ways of preventing her from seeing his on-screen self spill the beans about his secret. I don't remember what he does, necessarily, to distract Lois, but it was all in good fun and harmless. Many other adventures of the Man of Steel came my way through this unexpected, librarian find: The one where Superman and Lex Luthor travel to a distant planet that has a red star so that the two of them can beat the crap out of each other and see who the better man is. (Ends up as a stalemate.) Another: Jonathan Kent comes back from the dead (how, I can't remember; I think it was magic) and freaks Clark out by doing all of the familiar tricks they used to use when Superboy was needed (like asking Clark to run to the pharmacist to pick up some "heart pills", thus allowing Clark a cover story for why he'd need to leave), and basically being the missing father-figure that Clark had always needed and wanted. I mention this more to show that, though I may not be cutting edge with DC Rebirth event, I'm not speaking from a "I've seen a couple episodes of the Justice League cartoon and the recent DCEU movies" position. Okay, enough introduction: Who is Superman? For a long time, I've been dismissive of the Man of Tomorrow. After all, those early comics I'd read hadn't really done a lot to explore the character and see what makes him tick. They were goofy stories that were meant to entertain and disappear, like cotton candy--sweet and ephemeral. The Richard Donner films were stronger influences on me as to what Superman was like, and I used the really dumb idea that Superman could reverse time by flying around the world really fast to reverse its spin as proof that Superman, as a character, was pointless because he could essentially invent his powers on a whim. While I still stand by that criticism, I'd be remiss if I didn't admit that there are those who can handle Superman's powers and still make for thought-provoking and interesting comics. Grant Morrison's All Star Superman is a great example of that, in part because Morrison is a really talented writer that demonstrates an inherent goodness to the character that is worthwhile. In fact, there's a moment in All Star Superman that really stands out to me. It's a quick page--not even crucial to the plot--where a desperate girl stands on the edge of a ledge because she's suicidal. Superman appears behind her, telling her that her therapist had been held up and that she is "much stronger" than she thinks she is. They hug. That, to me, is what a Superman story really ought to be about. Yes, he's one of the best building punchers this side of the Incredible Hulk, but those knock-down, drag out fights--as fun as they can be--isn't really what makes Superman a great character. It's that idea of using his power for good.
One of the things that Superman could do better--and, were his universe not so overrun with costumed crazies and interdimensional threats, he could do more often--is care about others. To borrow a phrase, Superman has almost unlimited power: Therefore, there must also come almost unlimited responsibility. I'm not saying that Superman should have to dedicate every waking moment to improving people's lives. There's no institution or entity saying that his duty to mankind demands this responsibility. Instead, it's part of his willingness to become--in important if intangible ways--human. By participating in the world, he accepts the benefits that have come with the system and an obligation to do his best to help those harmed by the system. He has, in other words, the same obligation that we all have. Superman could do a lot for people besides punch monsters really hard. In many ways, Superman is the best suicide prevention person that the world could ask for. He can move so fast that he can be an emblem of hope to many. He is intelligent enough to help solve many of the problems that we suffer from--too much pollution, nuclear proliferation, violent crimes, war--and improve our society. Many people like to compare Kal-El to God, a being of comparative omniscience, omnipotence, and (almost) omnibenevolence. "We wouldn't want God to take away our agency by fixing all of our problems," is a common argument I hear. Maybe for God, but Superman isn't Him. He's a "man"--why not expect him to do all in his power to improve the world constantly? I try, through the small and simple means of my position in life, to make the world a better place. Had I more power, would I do more? I think that's really what is interesting about Superman: Not his powers, his rogues gallery, or his costume (though those are all pretty cool). No, I think it's the idea of contemplating what a person ought to do with power. That's the theme of every superhero story in one way or another. Indeed, that's part of the purpose of mythological stories. Heracles had great power and was forced to use it as penance for a crime--but that penance gave benefit to many people. As we, as a species, gain more and more power, I think we could learn a lot from our mythologies--whether they're religious, historical, or comic books--about how to be responsible with the powers we've developed. The more I think on it, the most important part of Kal-El's name isn't the super, but the man. We humans have a lot that we can do. Superman helps*, in his own way, to remind us of what we can do with it. --- * Maybe this is what the recent movies have failed to grasp about Superman: Is that he helps us be more human. There hasn't been the necessary focus on that as the filmmakers thought they were putting into it (in part because David Goyer's star has waned and Warner Brothers needs to stop thinking that it hasn't). While Clark Kent might be able to doubt his position in the world, Superman doesn't. Having him be as fixed in his goodness as Batman is in his brooding would give us a cinematic Superman that we could better understand. Superman is an interesting character, though usually less in the stories with him and more the stories about him. I mean that prepositionally, that there are things surrounding the Man of Steel that are more interesting than some of his canonical adventures in the comics. The book The Mythology of the Superhero is a part of what I mean, as the superhero paragon is indisputably Superman; without him, there would be no superhero genre to be our modern mythology. But there are other books about him--his creation, his creators, and his impact on the world--that seem focused on what we get from Superman, rather than a focus on what he does inside the medium best suited to tell his stories.
I say this as preamble because I finished reading what is arguably the best Superman comic, All-Star Superman by Grant Morrison and Frank Quietly. The conceit of the comic itself really appeals to me: What's the best [fill in the blank] story that we can tell, the one that's truest to the character's roots and morality and mythos, but isn't concerned about continuity or fitting into the broader context of the comic book's universe. What I like about this is that the story can take narrative risks--kill off characters, have secret identities revealed, or have the hero fail and the world be destroyed--without having to worry about queueing up for the next big comic book event. There's also a continuity of art work that makes a huge difference for me as a reader. I don't mind having different artists on the same character--I like the diversity, as a matter of fact--but if it's in the same story arc, then I prefer to have the team remain the same. Apparently, DC wanted to do some of these "All-Star" titles to scratch that particular itch: Contained volumes that rely on the character's roots, picking any moment within the timeline of the character and shooting off from there, complete with whatever parts of backstory best fit. If you don't like the idea that Superman died and has a bunch of clones? Then All-Star gets you. Want to see a different take on Doomsday? Morrison et al can help out. Lex Luthor needs to win for once? Well, I won't spoil anything, but you've a chance that will be the case. It's a liberating approach to the characters and I really enjoyed it. This, of course, has some drawbacks. I'm not a huge fan of Jimmy Olsen under normal circumstances--though I wasn't necessarily cheering at his death in the opening parts of Batman v Superman--and the new version is kind of obnoxious. While I like the Lois/Clark relationship (in fact, I love the way that Clark is portrayed in this), I struggled with this new version of Metropolis. It's…so empty. Quietly's artwork throughout is immensely colorful, and I love his linework. But the backgrounds often are missing in favor of gradient colors instead, and while there's nothing inherently wrong with that, it gives this version of Superman an isolated feeling. And that's a bit of a problem. One of the most frequent critiques about Superman as a character is that he's too far removed, what with his god-like powers, for the average person to really empathize with him. Sure, everyone wants what he has--impossibly handsome, incredible body, all the superpowers in the world, a hot girlfriend, a brilliant mind, and a fantastic work ethic--but that doesn't mean that we feel bad when he's having a hard time. That, at least, is the primary argument against Superman. (For what it's worth, while I've warmed up to the Man of Tomorrow a lot in the past few years, my biggest issue is that he gets to invent more powers as he goes along. It feels cheap to me.) If you take that as the biggest flaw Superman has (besides magic and kryptonite--which he doesn't have in this comic, as his body has since adapted to kryptonian radiation), then putting him in a lot of panels where it feels like no one else exists will only exacerbate that problem. All that being said, I really enjoyed All-Star Superman. Because I could take it as its own one-off without worrying about continuity (or, in a more accurate sense, since it's DC, the current-continuity-but-that-will-change-when-we-reboot-everything-a-couple-of-years-from-now type of continuity), I didn't have to have the book do all things. It was doing one thing really well: Showing what Superman would do if he only had a week to live. And that leads to my final critique: It is too short for the story that it's trying to tell. Problems are introduced and, three pages later, they're fully resolved. And it's not like it's "Well, that's comics for you," sort of thing, either. Were the creators not constrained by however many specific issues they were supposed to put together, I felt like the tension and stakes could have been more clearly explored. The pacing, for me, was too fast. Again, these critiques are nits that I've picked: I really enjoyed this book. It was refreshing to have a Superman story where I could jump in, see the Man of Steel at his best, being helped by his friends, and sacrificing himself in, well, heroic ways. That sort of thing doesn't come along very often. I can see why people rave about All-Star Superman. You should check it out. In the interest of fairness, I should confess that Superman is not my favorite superhero. That's because Spider-Man is the main event, no doubt about it. Nevertheless, I had my own fling with the Man of Steel when I was in elementary school. Tucked into a side aisle of books at my local library, I was shocked and delighted to see a collection of black-and-white Superman comics. Being, at the time, probably about ten to twelve years old, this was a gold mine of a find. I didn't know the library had comics! I promptly checked out as many as I could, and spent a good deal of time reading them. I already knew the loose outlines of the mythos, since the Christopher Reeve movies were out--and done--by that time (this would have been the early- to mid-nineties). And, honestly? How can a person avoid learning the story of Superman? I watched TV. I went to school. Superman is the most iconic superhero of all time, and likely one of the most recognizable brands out there, surpassed by only the Christian cross (or so argues the Internet). My point is, of course I knew about Superman. But getting to read actual comics was a rare thing for me during a good chunk of my younger days. Comics are expensive, and buying one off the rack at the grocery store was not only a hit-or-miss proposition in terms of quality, it was impossible to keep up with the continuity of any one story because of the scattershot way that comic stories are told. I devoured a fair number of Superman comics that the library had. In fact, if I remember rightly, I only stopped because they didn't have any others for me to read. (The same happened, incidentally, with my reading of The Peanuts comics). Two or three stories that I remember: The one where Clark Kent goes to watch Superman: The Movie with Lois Lane and has to distract her whenever the movie shows Clark Kent turning into Superman (yeah...comics are weird). There was another one where Supes and Luthor decide that they're going to beat the crap out of each other, so Superman flies himself and Lex to a planet orbiting a red sun. There, wearing boots (I think), Luthor isn't negatively affected by the red sun while Superman becomes "normal". They proceed to box each other until a sandstorm drives them apart and then they later have to figure out how to escape the planet. The last one I can recall had a visitation/hallucination (dream? I can't remember the punchline was) of Pa Kent returning to Clark's life. In one moment, Jonathan Kent knew that Clark needed to go help someone, so he pretended that he was having a--I want to say heart attack?--and sent Clark off to "get his medicine", so that when he'd finished being Superman, he'd return with a bottle of "sugar pills" to keep the cover story whole. I didn't know what "sugar pills" were, though I could guess. Anyway, Superman is mightily freaked out that his adoptive father is back from the dead, but I seem to remember that, before Kent dies (again) he says something about Kal-El's behavior making him proud of him. At least, I think. The point is, those early comics left some sort of impression (even if it's inaccurate) on my mind, something that I'm returning to a couple of decades later. That's an impressive feat, if you ask me. So why don't I like Superman much now? I think this comes, in part, because the Man of Steel has been abused by modern day superhero demands. Aside from the movies, which are hardly a new way of making Superman less interesting (and I include Christopher Reeves' version in that critique; I don't have heavy nostalgia for it, and though there are some parts that are pitch perfect for that character, the stories themselves are dull), the comics have struggled to know what to do with the guy. And I think that's part of what bothers me about him. If you get away from the "Make up a new power to solve this problem" tendency that some Superman writers tend toward, there's a cynicism to the character that has permeated the modern comics. This video breaks it down in a way that's really compelling to me, and I think it's that Superman ought to be, deep down, a really decent guy. The Red Son series drives this home, and actually made me enjoy a Superman comic for the first time in I don't know how long. In that one, Superman is imagined to have landed in Moscow instead of Kansas. What does that do to him? Well, he becomes the hardest core communist you can imagine, the right hand man of Joseph Stalin and a force of unbelievable oppression. And you know what? He's still a good guy. He doesn't want to hurt people, and his eventual take over of the planet comes less because of a megalomaniacal desire to rule the world and more a realization that he wants to share what he thinks is right: Truth, Justice, and the Party's Way. In other words, he's the same. And that's something that I don't know gets communicated well enough. With the end of the Cold War (and perhaps its resurrection), Superman loses some of his moral high ground. We won the war, but so what? Or worse, now what? What does Superman do when Lex Luthor has been defeated? He can't be content sitting around with the world at peace--he has to go find new adventures, get into new trouble. But because he's seeking this out, he no longer feels as though he has the moral high ground. As an extension of the American experience, Superman presaged what America the superpower is currently going through--a regression of morality that is affecting its ability to be a positive influence in the world. And here's what I would hope out of the stories that they're telling about Superman now: That he return to the hope and the undiluted goodness of who he is, deep inside. That they stop trying to reinvent him, and instead let him be what he is best at being: A super man. |
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