Up, Up and …Whatever: When the Supes Stop Feeling So Supe
Is there anything more summery than going to the drive-in, eating your weight in popcorn and Milk Duds, and enjoying a blockbuster superhero movie in the private bubble of your car? I partook of this carb-fuelled pop culture bliss three times this year. First there was Thunderbolts, then Superman, then Fantastic Four. With each of these flicks, I relished the following: cool special effects, cheeky dialogue between protagonists, nifty costumes, the obligatory duking it out between good and evil, and some lively conversation on the way home. That’s generally what I hope for from this particular genre, and all three delivered.
In addition to the adrenaline rush, I go to watch these stories unfold because I really, really like them as character studies. It is literally my job to ask questions about the human condition, and I get jazzed watching ways other creatives do the same. The “scrappy underdogs” in Thunderbolts, the family in Fantastic 4, and even the Man of Steel himself, have cool, enhanced abilities, but as Stan Lee liked to remind his audiences, heroes are also vulnerable, flawed, and changeable.
This summer, however, they also seemed, umm…tired? No, not tired, exhausted, like, right down to the tiny bits in the centre of their cells.
Clark Kent wondered why he bothered to intervene when it only led to him getting cancelled. He couldn’t even walk away from a crash site without having insults and garbage hurled at him.
All of the Thunderbolts spent the duration of their story begrudgingly going through the motions. For them, being “super” had become more of a job and less of a calling. One of them possessed a mind so broken and wounded that it threatened to end all of existence. So, yeah.
The Fantastic Four were the very model of what it's like to parent in times of WTF, being reminded repeatedly that their kiddo would likely be shouldering the burden of all manner of crap to come. Sigh.
In all cases, their purpose, their lives, were not just about fighting bad guys, but also trying to keep a lid on their own despair, their existential uncertainty. Some of these poor souls put on a brave face and mustered up a little enthusiasm, but it was clear that they were entirely over having to support the world of ungrateful “average” folks. Humankind in general had started to give them the ick, and they weren’t sure how much longer they could stand centering their lives around protecting it. The bad guys weren’t the only problem in these stories. They weren’t even the biggest one.
In each case, it was clear that the heavy stuff wasn’t over when the credits rolled. You knew the heroes were going to get up the next morning (either in their fictional world, or in the sequel), and wonder why they were doing this again. Cue boulder and pathetic figure pushing it uphill.
It's not that there wasn’t any levity in the movies. The comedic moments were actually quite clever. Superman had a ridiculously chaotic flying dog. Yelena Belova told a charming story about a tiny soccer player who pooped midfield. Herbie the robot beeped lullabies. But even the funny stuff had a new tinge of the absurd, a “things are so bad, you just have to laugh” flavour to it.
Yes, I know superhero characters are often written as being dreary and melancholic. It’s not like it’s a new phenomenon. The last two Spiderman-related movies broke my heart. I’m bracing for the next one this coming summer (better start stocking up on serotonin now), as well as another Avengers that I’m sure will sucker punch me in the feels. And I will willingly buy tickets, gross myself out with junk food, and watch with my heart fluttering in my throat.
If I’m honest with myself, it’s not that these movies have changed drastically. I’m just not who I used to be. None of us are, not even those of us who are fictional. I’m seeing these characters, these plotlines, these worlds with the scratched up, grimy perception of someone who’s felt the world they knew get darker. We don’t have to pay for tickets to watch billionaires burn down the world, questionable leaders spin the efforts of others to look like their own, the potential destruction of our planet, or the fragility of life itself. In real life, as well as in these movies, we feel that reality is one strong sneeze away from caving in.
But I’m still all in, as far as this type of movie is concerned. I like that these are stories about people who can fly, turn invisible, and lift heavy things, but I think I now also need them to be about people who acknowledge their hurt and frustration, who aren’t sure where they’re going or why they’re still doing what they’re doing. I don’t need the bad guys to be 100% vanquished every time, I just need some acknowledgement of the emotional and mental fortitude it takes to keep fighting the good fight. I’m not about to save the world, but the occasional parasocial moment with someone extraordinary and disgruntled can encourage one to not make it worse.