Showing posts with label Avengers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Avengers. Show all posts

Saturday, June 29, 2013

When Superheroes Kill—and Why Doing So Isn't Necessarily Bad



The buzz is all over the Internet, so I’m probably not giving away any spoilers, but just in case:

SPOILER WARNING: THIS POST DISCUSSES PLOT ELEMENTS OF THE FILMS MAN OF STEEL AND THE DARK KNIGHT,  AS WELL AS OTHER STORIES. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Ready now?

Okay, to continue: It’s true.

Superman kills.

Once we move past the shock value, though, the questions before us are: Is the fact that Superman kills necessarily a bad thing?  Was it necessary?  Did director Zack Snyder and producer/writer Christopher Nolan deliberately turn the Man of Steel into the Dark Knight?

Fans are understandably upset when a beloved hero and cherished icon behaves in less-than-iconic ways. Some claim that Superman should have found another way because, after all, he’s Superman.

While this circular reasoning doesn’t answer the questions posed above, it does illustrate how important the character of Superman still is to us, even after 75 years of existence, and how he embodies the ideals we cherish. These ideals were even best expressed in the 1950s The Adventures of Superman television series: truth, justice, and the American Way.

But just as America sometimes fails to live up to its own ideals, so, too, does its quintessential hero fall short—and that, for storytelling purposes, can be a good thing.

Before we discuss why, though, let’s look at a few other incidents where superheroes have taken life.  This phenomenon, after all, is not without precedent. It goes back nearly 50 years at least.

Star Boy

In Adventure Comics # 342, March 1966, Star Boy—a member of Superboy’s buddies from the future, the Legion of Super-Heroes—kills Kenz Nuhor, a bad guy intent on killing him. Since he acted in self defense, Star Boy is cleared by the Science Police. However, that’s not good enough for his Legion comrades. They haul him before a court martial, convict him of violating their code, and expel him.

The message of the story is clear: superheroes do not kill. They are held to higher standard than us mere mortals.

Yet the story also illustrates the flaw in that standard. The Legion’s Constitution, we are told, is amended shortly after to permit killing in self defense. Not that doing so does Star Boy any good.

(Not to worry, though. Nine issues later, the Legion had a change of heart and readmitted him.)

This story remains controversial among Legion fans to this day. Could Star Boy have disabled Nuhor without killing him, as the story suggests? Even if he could, should he have been held to an impossibly high standard when he had only a split second to act?

It's telling that Superboy (a teenaged Superman)—the very hero upon whom the Legion's code is based--defends Star Boy at his trial. Because he is invulnerable, Superboy explains, he has less cause for killing than the other Legionnaires. Interestingly, the Legionnaires don't take this explanation into account when they vote to expel Star Boy. The ideal—as expressed by the code—prevails.

Hawkeye

In Avengers # 229, March 1983, during a climactic battle with the criminal scientist Egghead, Hawkeye the Archer shoots an arrow into the barrel of a Egghead’s “blaster” gun just as the villain fires. The resulting backlash kills Egghead.

Yes, it was an accident, but the villain died nonetheless.

Hawkeye, too, is cleared by the authorities and—unlike poor Star Boy—by his superhero comrades, as well.  He spends all of about two seconds feeling angsty before deciding he can’t feel sorry for Egghead: “If anyone deserved this, he did!” Hawkeye ruminates in the next issue.

While Hawkeye’s attitude may sound callous, it could also be seen as a healthy way of dealing with the unimaginable. Killing, it is said, damages the soul of the killer as much as it takes away life. In modern times, we are just starting to understand the effects of PTSD and wounded souls upon soldiers and police officers, who often must kill in the line of duty.

This story illustrates why killing should be avoided, but how it sometimes cannot be.

Batman

Yes, even Batman—in spite of some commentators’ claims—took life. In The Dark Knight film, Batman pushes Harvey Two-Face off a building when the latter threatens Jim Gordon’s young son. Both hero and villain fall. Batman survives. Harvey does not.

Some may claim that Batman did not intend to kill Two-Face; however, the result—as in Hawkeye’s situation—was the same. Besides, one could argue that Batman should have known, given the height of the building and his opponent’s lack of Wayne Tech-created armor, that death was likely to result. In any case, Batman, as the saying goes, did what had to be done.

The lesson: What has to be done isn’t always pretty.

Of course, many commentators have pointed out that Supeman is not Batman. Superman is about the joy of being a superhero (many reviewers have criticized Man of Steel as "joyless"), whereas Batman is about striking terror into the hearts of criminals. 

Batman, they seem to suggest, would be more justified in killing than Superman because he lives in a grim, dark, and dirty world while Superman lives in sunlight, primary colors, and Kansas.

And yet, as anyone from Kansas (or elsewhere) who has sent loved ones off to war knows, sometimes our ideals collide with reality and come back to us changed.

So, why was it necessary from a story-telling standpoint for Superman to kill?  Three reasons:

1. It shows that ideals are important.  Even if the ideals are simplistic and all-encompassing such as “heroes don’t kill,” heroes must believe in something higher than themselves.  (The difference between Superman and General Zod, we are told, is that Zod and his followers have no moral code.)

2. It shows that ideals, however, are not perfect.  No ideal or standard can accommodate every situation or solve every problem. Ideals guide us, but they do not do our thinking or decision making for us.

3. It shows the difficult choices heroes (and all of us) have to face. Rigid adherence to an ideal can produce disastrous results—look at the 9/11 hijackers for a real-world result.

Had Superman not acted, Zod would have fried a man, woman, and two small children. Superman, then, would have been an accessory to murder, regardless.

(And, yes, the filmmakers could have written in some fail-safe where Superman wouldn’t have had to make that choice. It was a gutsy decision that they did not.)

This is not to say that superheroes should kill with abandon or without consequences. In fact, one of the movie’s failings (and it has several) is that it blithely ignores the thousands who must have perished when all those buildings collapsed during Superman and Zod’s battle.

This failing, of course, is not unique to Man of Steel. Most Hollywood blockbusters these days follow the ethic of making as many things explode as possible. Modern blockbusters resemble video games in their nonstop focus on action. This, I’d argue, is irresponsible film making, but that’s the subject for another post.

However, the fact that Superman violates his own code against killing is not in itself a weakness of the film. Rather, it challenges us on two fronts: to consider what a superhero can and cannot do, and to examine the limits of the ideals we impose on heroes and on ourselves.

Perhaps that’s the best thing any movie can do.

Saturday, June 30, 2012

When Heroes Battle—And It Works! Examining “The Avengers/Defenders Clash”



Avengers # 116. ™  © Marvel.

Summer is upon us, which means super-hero comics publishers roll out their latest mega-crossover extravaganzas—story lines which usually encompass several titles.

Crossovers have become a clichĂ© these days.  Many fans complain that the stories are seldom worth the effort to buy, yet they buy them anyway—hence the reason Marvel and DC keep publishing them.

I wrote about the classic “Avengers/Defenders Clash” briefly a few months ago, but I thought it worth taking another look at this model crossover. 

“The Avengers/Defenders Clash,” alternating between Avengers # 115-118 and Defenders # 8-11, back in 1973, was written by Steve Englehart and principally drawn by Bob Brown (Avengers) and Sal Buscema (Defenders).

The premise of the story is simple and time-tested:  two teams of super-heroes are tricked into fighting each other.

However, “The Avengers/Defenders Clash” holds up today for one simple reason: Englehart and his collaborators adhered to some very simple principles of storytelling and structure—principles any writer can use to craft a classic.

1. Limit your story’s scope.

Modern crossovers sometimes involve every title a company publishes; while such an approach is intended to be epic in scope, it often creates the opposite effect: Having so many heroes and villains causes the story to lose its focus.

Englehart limited his crossover to just two series, The Avengers and The Defenders. While events from other series and past stories are referenced (the use of the Evil Eye from Fantastic Four, Loki’s blinding in Mighty Thor), these events merely form the backdrop of the present story. “The Avengers/Defenders Clash” does not crossover with any other books.

As a result, our focus remains on the heroes of these two teams, even though the stakes are very high. The main villain, Dormammu, wants nothing less than world domination—and, at one point, he appears close to getting it. 

But rather than bringing in a world full of heroes to oppose him, Englehart restricts the main action to the membership of the two teams. Other heroes appear only in cameos, dealing with collateral damage.

2. Give the heroes a goal worth pursuing.

“The Avengers/Defenders Clash” grew out of an earlier story, Defenders # 4, which guest-starred the Black Knight, a sometimes Avenger. After a villain turns Black Knight into stone, it becomes the Defenders’ quest to restore their new ally to human form.

Helping a friend is always a worthy goal.  Such a purpose makes your readers care about your heroes and want them to succeed.  It also gives readers an “end goal” to keep in mind—something to maintain suspense while the other events of the story unfold.

(In Hitchcockian terms, the Black Knight becomes the “MacGuffin”—the thing the heroes of the story seek.)

In a twist, Englehart gives the Avengers the same motive.  Having not heard from the Black Knight in some time, they investigate and learn of the Defenders’ involvement in his disappearance. 

Thus, the two teams want the same thing even though they don’t know it.

3. Let the characters drive the plot instead of the other way around.

“The Avengers/Defenders Clash” succeeded because the characters behave true to themselves.

The Defenders, then a new team, consisted of six anti-heroes (Doctor Strange, the Hulk, the Sub-Mariner, the Valkyrie, the Silver Surfer, and Hawkeye) who had either clashed with the Avengers or were regarded as mysterious by them.  (Hawkeye, a former Avenger, had recently left that team in a huff.)    

The Defenders valued their secrecy and weren’t keen on asking other heroes for help.

The Avengers, one of the most established and best known Marvel teams, represented law and order in the way the Defenders might represent a clandestine, underground force. The nature of the two teams was already boiling over with the possibility of conflict.

Englehart also relied upon individual characters behaving in accordance with their personalities
and previous experiences. Thus, the Vision loses control when an accident triggered by the Silver Surfer injures Vizh’s new love, the Scarlet Witch.  The Vision’s rage actually sets the conflict in motion.

The Vision -- losing it.
Likewise, the turning point occurs when two characters who once fought on the same side during World War II stop fighting long enough to realize they've been duped. No other two characters could have come to this realization, or arrived at it in the same manner.

4. Know when your story should have a turning point and a conclusion.

For a story that features fourteen heroes and two villains, “The Avengers/Defenders Clash”  follows a surprisingly traditional story structure: it has an inciting incident, rising action, a climax, falling action, a denouement, and a resolution.   

And even though the story stretches out over nine issues, it keeps moving.

The climax (turning point) of the story occurs when the two aforementioned characters—Captain America and the Sub-Mariner—cease hostilities and realize they’ve been misled.  From this point onwards, the battle between the two teams effectively ends and they can focus on who set them against each other and why.
Cap and Subby come to an understanding.

 (In an effective move, Englehart doesn’t fully reveal this climax until after the two mightiest members—Thor and the Hulk—have had a chance to clash. The gathering of the two teams is then handled in flashback.)

Likewise, the conclusion effectively wraps up the tale. Here, Englehart took necessary shortcuts by removing most of the heroes from the battle very quickly. It all comes down to one hero, acting in cahoots with another, surprising character, to win the day.

Some may complain that their favorite hero is taken out of the fight too quickly. But Englehart does not play favorites. Just as limiting the scope of his story helped increase the tension, the conclusion magnifies that tension: 

The fate of the world comes down to one hero. 

Even in a team book, sometimes a hero must go it alone. (And, in a nice twist, the hero who saves the day is the one who had contributed so little to the story until now.)

5. When all is said and done, something must change for one or more characters.

A story is traditionally defined as one character’s journey from how he or she was to how he or she became. Without change, the story has no purpose; the journey is meaningless.

What changed here? The Avengers now know of the Defenders’ existence, and the two teams part as uneasy friends. But that change alone does not make the story worthwhile.

No, the actual change happens with the Black Knight.

Remember him? The MacGuffin?

Defenders # 11 serves as the “epilogue” of the story. The battle between the two teams over, the villains vanquished, it is now up to the Defenders to return to their original task: restoring the Black Knight.

(The Avengers are absent from this issue, except for the beginning. It would have been nice, I suppose, had they participated in resolving the fate of their own teammate, but, in a show of trust, they leave it in the Defenders’ hands.)

In a rather improbable plot twist, the Defenders catch up with the Black Knight’s soul in the distant past—the era of the Crusades, to be precise—where he occupies the body of his ancestor and wages war on behalf of King Richard the Lion-Hearted.   

Turns out the Black Knight wants to stay, so the Defenders return to the present without him.

Though disposing of the Black Knight in this manner may seem awfully convenient, the “epilogue” actually works. 

Had the Black Knight returned to the present and resumed his sporadic super-hero career, nothing indeed would have changed. By having the Black Knight say goodbye to his friends, Englehart gave the story a wistful, emotional ending (an ending that resonates even more when most of the Defenders, having accomplished their goal, part ways).

And that emotional connection—that feeling that something significant has happened—is what makes any story worthwhile.


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