A superhero is a modern-day religious figure. He (and sometimes she, but mostly he) is like a regular person, only special. He is stronger, faster, smarter and better prepared. He is a martyr who will die for the symbolic triumph of good over evil. A superhero holds on his shoulders the future of humanity.
But a compelling superhero is also conflicted, and therefore relatable. Robert Downey Jr.’s Tony Stark (Iron Man) is a snide and spoiled playboy. Christian Bale’s Bruce Wayne (Batman) shuts himself away in his mansion to hide from past traumas.
Most superheroes seem to have a moment — or several — in which they want to give it all up and live a normal life.
This summer has seen the premieres of some of the biggest superhero movies, The Avengers and The Dark Knight Rises included. Both are over-the-top, action-packed morality tales.
And if you ask me, they are also fantastic movies. They have been enormously successful, following a pattern of the genre’s ascendance this past decade.
Of course, the seventies and eighties had Superman, and the eighties and nineties had their own version of Batman.
But starting about ten years ago, there has been an explosion of high-budget, crowd-pleasing superhero films.
I’d like to suggest that the popularity of the genre has something to do with our current feelings of disenchantment.
A superhero is something for us to believe in, even if it’s only for a couple of hours.
You may have noticed I failed to mention the summer’s other big release, The Amazing Spiderman.
I haven’t seen it, so I reserve judgment. But I think it’s too soon for this movie.
They should have let the last set of Spiderman films cool for a while before whipping up a whole new batch.
I’m still attached to Sam Raimi’s take on Spiderman. In fact, Spiderman II was the first superhero movie to really hit me. I know Spiderman III was humiliating for everyone (I was embarrassingly at the midnight showing), but its predecessor was a legitimate work of art.
My dad says Spiderman II is like Hamlet, and I can definitely see the connection. The murdered father-figure, for example.
Tobey McGuire’s Peter Parker is unsure of who he is.
He’d like to be a regular college student who can focus on Kirsten Dunst’s adorable Mary Jane, but his extracurricular activities are ruining his normal-person life.
He knows the city needs him and his spider powers, but there is only so much he can give. You know, “with great power comes great responsibility.”
And let me just point out the genius of Spiderman II’s villain, Doc Ock. I mean, a nice scientist guy who attaches six robotic arms to himself to study fusion? This is good stuff, people.
But wait — there’s this one little chip that will keep the arms from taking over his brain. How could that possibly go wrong?
Of course, it’s not long before the octopus arms start whispering dangerous thoughts to the Doctor (as robotic arms with broken chips are known to do), and he becomes a villain.
Spiderman aside, you can’t discuss superhero movies without mentioning Christopher Nolan’s masterpiece, The Dark Knight.
I’ve had it suggested to me that Heath Ledger’s death was used to hype the film. Disturbingly, it added to the dark mystique of the franchise and the supreme creepiness of Ledger’s Joker.
This is probably true. But the public has grotesque tastes, and we don’t seem to care who was or was not exploited by our favorite movie.
And despite all that, The Dark Knight really is great.
Christian Bale’s Batman is an especially compelling hero because he has to inhabit the dark in order to fight evil.
His superhero role ends up putting those he loves in danger and he has to give up his normal-person life to fully embrace Batman. He dirties his own reputation so that the good people of Gotham can stay clean.
Although I may be in the minority, I think The Dark Knight Rises is just as good as The Dark Knight. Joseph Gordon Levitt as Robin would have been enough to convince me.
But there’s a whole lot more to argue in the movie’s favor.
I have to admit that the first five minutes made me and my friend so upset that we considered leaving the theater.
I felt like I was watching a legitimate act of terrorism. But maybe it’s good that the film locates itself firmly in a post-9/11 world.
I also like Nolan’s final Batman movie becomes it seems to draw on the French Revolution. Bane runs an impressive Reign of Terror. And the Scarecrow even gets to act as a presiding judge in a sham court.
Underneath the explosions, the film asserts a moderately conservative message. It reaffirms contemporary morality and warns against the dangers of radical revolution.
Like any great superhero movie, The Dark Knight Rises lets us work out our ideas of good and evil. There’s some heavy allegory wrapped around all the action.
Bruce Wayne is a Christ-figure, and we love to believe in him. To all intents and purposes, he gives himself up for the good of everyone else. Like Jesus, he “dies” for Gotham’s sins.
Maybe that’s why we love superheroes so much. We make lots of mistakes, and we’re afraid of where our world is going. We’d really like someone to save us.
And supervillians are easy symbols for human failings. When a hero vanquishes them, we feel a sense of relief.
But the best superhero films don’t leave their audiences too quietly content.
We feel hopeful because our hero wins, but confused because it’s usually not an absolute victory. And that’s where the fantasy hits reality: The world isn’t so easy to fix.
In superhero movies, we see a tangible force of evil destroyed, but we know that we won’t be safe forever.
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