Mindless Violence? The Role of Action in Modern Super-hero Stories

Back in the 1980s, Comics Buyer’s Guide ran a cartoon depicting two stalwart Marvel heroes, Daredevil and Nightcrawler, in a wrestling match. The caption read, “Mindless violence as you like it!”

The cartoon poked fun at the tendency of some fans to prefer violence over any kind of plot, character development, or theme—the elements most of us think of as “story,” and which writers love to write.

The irony is that, in the three decades or so since that cartoon ran, mindless violence has escalated in comics, films and TV, and especially video games. One recent book goes so far as to pin the blame for the horrific trend of mass shootings on the rapes, murders, and carnage our children are exposed to in modern video games.

This is not the place to argue the pros and cons of that debate. However, for many fans of super-heroes, violence—or, to use a less inflammatory term, “action”—is a significant part of the genre’s appeal. 

Think of any Spider-Man, Avengers, or Batman film, or even non-super-hero blockbusters such as Mission: Impossible and The Matrix. What’s the first scene that comes to your mind? Chances are, it involves some kind of violence or action.

(For me, the first scene in Marvel’s The Avengers which springs to mind involves the Hulk—the green-skinned epitome of mindless violence—and his famous “Puny god!” line. Mindless violence?  Perhaps. But funny as all get out.)

Cut to the (Car) Chase?

A conversation with two friends today got me thinking about the role of action in super-hero stories.  One friend in his early 50s said he watches super-hero films and reads comics solely for the action. He has no interest in story lines. He wants car chases and explosions.

(This friend, by the way, has never to my knowledge gone on a mass shooting spree. He’s a devoted family man who recently won the employee of the year award at his job and who spends his free time teaching kids how to draw.) 

The other friend, same age, likes a balance between story and action. He took the Transformers movie to task because, once the characters transformed and started fighting each other, he couldn’t tell who was who.

Then there’s me. I’ve largely moved on from comics these days, though I still love a good super-hero story.  (Avengers was one of the truest comics-to-film adaptations I’ve ever seen and an enjoyable movie in its own right.) However, if given a choice, I’ll prefer story to action every time.   

My most recent favorite TV series, Downton Abbey, is about as far removed from super-hero action as you can get.

Without a good story, action does not satisfy me.

 

Heroes and the High Cost of Violence

Our conversation, in turn, got me thinking about the role of action in my own super-hero stories, especially the two available through the links at the top of this blog: the comic book GOLD DUST and the novel THE POWER CLUB.

If you’re looking for slam-bang, wall-to-wall action, pass on both of these. That isn’t to say there’s no action in either—there is—but the action supports the other elements I described above (plot, character, and theme); it does not take their place.

By keeping action to a minimum and using it only when necessary, I sought to achieve a particular effect: to make violence more significant, memorable, and (in a few cases) horrifying.

GOLD DUST, for example, is about a hero seeking redemption. Mangold, in a flashback sequence, seeks revenge for the murder of his teammate by trying to kill a super-villain. He misses and kills a bystander instead. 

From that moment on, Mangold tries to reclaim what he has lost: the sense of being a hero, of making a positive impact on the world, and to win back the trust of the people he protects.

The present-day action in GOLD DUST largely figures in two scenes, one involving a mugging and the other a burning building. Both end with our hero behaving in a somewhat less-than-heroic fashion.

My purpose was to show that the world is no longer as cut-and-dried as Mangold wants it to be and that sometimes even heroes need help.

My larger goal was to get readers to question the nature of heroism and to recognize that, while heroes are flawed, they remain heroes because they keep trying.  

If I had to sacrifice a car chase or a punch-‘em-out with a super-villain to achieve that effect, so be it.

Was I successful? I don’t know. However, no one has ever complained to me that the story needs more action.

Action Does Not Equal Conflict

Besides, physical action is not as fun to read, in my opinion, as interpersonal or internal conflict.  Mangold butts heads with his surviving teammates, who have also had to pay a heavy price for his mistake. He also wages war with his own demons while trying to come to terms with what he has done.

Do these ideas resonate with readers today, or should I have had Mangold and crew gang up on a group of super-villains instead?  What do you think?

(In a future blog post, I’ll discuss the action in THE POWER CLUB.)

What "Watchmen" Can Teach You About Story Structure

Cover art for the 1987 U.S. (right) and U.K. (left) collected editions of Watchmen, published by DC Comics and Titan Books (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The ol' deadline doom is upon me once again.  Here's a favorite article from 2009:

The first part of "Comics and Story Structure" discussed how Freytag’s Pyramid of dramatic structure can be an invaluable tool in plotting stories. To recap, the seven elements of the pyramid are:

1. Exposition
2. Inciting Incident
3. Rising Action
4. Climax
5. Falling Action
6. Resolution
7. Denouement

They can be found in virtually every kind of story, including one of the most famous comic book stories of all time: the origin of Spider-Man.

“That’s fine,” you may say, “but what if my comic book story is a limited series or features a protagonist who isn't a cuddly, wall-crawling do-gooder?”

Structure is just as important for any type of story. The fact that some comics run for awhile on random plot lines and shock appeal does not invalidate the need for structure. Such comics sputter to a halt after awhile or degenerate into a neverending series of "character arcs" that lack any real development. Comics that operate this way usually get cancelled or relaunched, or a new writer comes in to “fix” it—often by starting a new story that lacks structure.

Structure, Stories, and Real Life

Why is structure so important? The answer can be found in Thomas Pope’s book, Good Scripts, Bad Scripts: Learning the Craft of Screenwriting Through 25 of the Best and Worst Films in History. Though written for screenwriters, Pope’s work is essential to comic book writers, as well. In his introduction, Pope reflects,"[L]ife is just one damned thing after another, without apparent structure or meaning. ... Art doesn't try to imitate life, but rather distills its essence to find and reveal the truth behind the lies, the meaning behind the meaningless, the structure within the randomness" (xix).

But what if you as a writer want to emphasize that life is, in fact, “one damned thing after another,” without meaning or structure? Many writers attempt to portray what they see as the world outside their windows, with all the grim, gritty, and amoral aspects (which might prompt one to suggest that they move to a nicer neighborhood).

Even if your story focuses on the darker side of heroes, structure can keep it from spinning out of control or sputtering to a halt eight issues into a 12-issue limited series. To illustrate this point, look at the granddaddy of all “dark” super-hero comics, Watchmen.

Watchmen and Dramatic Structure
Spoiler Warning: Aspects of Watchmen are discussed below. Proceed at your own risk.

Published as a 12-issue limited series in 1986-87 and later collected into a graphic novel, Watchmen set the tone for today's grim and gritty comics. But while many fledgling writers imitated the raw violence, sex, and language of Watchmen, they failed to learn a far more valuable lesson: Watchmen makes superb use of dramatic structure.

Writer Alan Moore put his own spin on Freytag’s Pyramid. For example, the story begins with the grisly aftermath of a murder—the “hero” known as The Comedian has been thrown through a penthouse window and his blood is being washed from the sidewalk below into the gutter. The Inciting Incident—the murder—has already occurred; this means that the opening scene begins the Rising Action. (Note that the 2009 film version departs from this beginning by showing the murder at the onset.)

But what about Exposition? Moore did not neglect this vital information. Some of it is filled in by the two detectives investigating the case; other information is discovered by another “hero,” Rorschach, as he conducts his own illegal investigation. By Page 8 of the first issue, we’re well oriented to the world of Watchmen and two of its main characters. Moore successfully weaves Exposition with Rising Action while showing us only glimpses of the Inciting Incident in flashback.

Packing and Unpacking Stories

A story, as Watchmen demonstrates, does not have to begin with Exposition. The writer can start the story anywhere along Freytag’s Pyramid. However, all of the dramatic elements should be present when the story is unpacked and laid out. (If you are familiar with Watchmen, unpack the rest of it yourself and see if you can locate the other elements.)

Good writers should also unpack their own stories and see where the dramatic beats lie. This will help you avoid “lumps” or flatness in the final product, regardless of whether it lasts one issue, 12 issues, or indefinitely.

Sources:
Moore, Alan, writer, and Dave Gibbons, artist. Watchmen. New York: DC Comics, 1986.

Pope, Thomas. Good Scripts, Bad Scripts: Learning the Craft of Screenwriting Through 25 of the Best and Worst Films in History. New York: Three Rivers, 1998.

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Finding New Inspiration in Old Stories: Daredevil # 120-123

All images and characters ™  and © Marvel.
All rights reserved.

Every once in awhile, I like to revisit stories which inspired me to become a writer.  Do those stories still hold up?  What fresh insights can I glean from the choices those writers made?

This week’s offering: Daredevil # 120-123, April-July 1975, written by Tony Isabella and drawn by Bob Brown (who are both credited as “storytellers”) with inks by Vince Colletta.

I was never a huge fan of Daredevil.  Basically, he’s a costumed acrobat with the gimmick of being blind and having to rely on a “radar sense” to get around.  He also swings from rooftop to rooftop on a cable connected to a billy club, which makes him part Spider-Man and part Batman.

Nevertheless, my first exposure to Daredevil turned me into an unlikely follower of the series.  These four issues showed how good writing can win over fans with an exciting story, a multi-layered plot, interesting villains, and a sense of heroes belonging to a larger community.

“. . . and a HYDRA New Year!”

The premise of this arc, as indicated by the title of # 120, is as follows: Matt Murdock (Daredevil) and his lady love, Natasha Romanoff (the Black Widow) attend a New Year's Eve party which is interrupted by the forces of HYDRA, a green-clad army bent on taking over the world.  HYDRA wants to kidnap Matt’s best friend, New York District Attorney Franklin “Foggy” Nelson.

DD and the Widow intervene (reluctantly on her part, since Foggy previously gave her good reason to hate him – something to do with a trumped-up murder charge), and then Nick Fury and his agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., a paramilitary spy organization and long-time enemies of HYDRA, show up to reveal why the bad guys wanted to kidnap Foggy: to prevent Fury from offering the portly D.A. a job on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s advisory board.

Of course, I didn’t fully understand or care what all this was about at the time.  What drew me into buying these issues was something far simpler: the villains.

Villains, Villains, and More Villains

Every hero needs good villains, and heroes with colorful rogues galleries – such as Spider-Man, Batman, and the Flash – benefit from recurring enemies who become almost as popular as the heroes themselves.

HYDRA at this point employed several super-villains as “division chiefs” – El Jaguar, Dreadnought (or Dreadnaught – it’s spelled both ways), Blackwing, Mankiller, Jackhammer, and others – a cornucopia of villains in one story line!  How could I resist?

Unfortunately, these villains never became a Daredevil rogues gallery – few returned to fight DD again – but the promise was there.  How can you not like Sal Buscema's cover for # 123, which shows the villains ganging up on our heroes?  We’ve just got to find out what happens.

But, after luring me into buying Daredevil with enticing villains, Isabella and Brown went further.  They made me care about DD and his circle of friends and associates.

Love on the Rocks

The Black Widow, then series co-star (her picture appears on the title banner, along with DD), provides much of the depth and drama of this arc.  I was too young to pick up on the nuances of their relationship, but it was clear things were not working out.  DD was constantly saying the wrong things – he had trouble accepting Natasha as a full and equal partner in their super-hero adventures. 

For her part, Natasha was used to being a strong and independent woman at a time when women’s lib was still a relatively new concept.  She was Mary Tyler Moore in blue spandex.  She felt she was losing part of herself by becoming DD's “sidekick”.

Yet Isabella affords us scenes in which the two lovers flirt, play around, and simply talk about their relationship.  We get a sense that they do love each other.  When DD realizes he cannot change to accommodate her, it’s heartbreaking.

Matt and Natasha struggling to work things out -- from # 121.

Not So Foggy After All

If any character qualifies as Daredevil’s sidekick, it’s Foggy Nelson.  He doesn’t know his best friend’s a super-hero, and he’s lovable, silly, and overweight – all the stereotypes of a sidekick.

Yet it’s Foggy who truly shines as a hero in this story.  He tries to make amends for the earlier animosity between himself and the Widow, and, when her life is threatened, he surrenders to HYDRA to prevent her from being killed.  Later, it’s Foggy who snatches a machine gun out of a HYDRA thug’s hands and uses it to blast away the chains binding DD and the Widow.  (Good thing Foggy’s a crack shot, but never mind . . .)

Foggy to the rescue -- also from # 121.

And Foggy has the good sense to turn Fury’s offer down.  After surveying the damage done by S.H.I.E.L.D.’s battle with HYDRA to Shea Stadium, Foggy decides that overseeing a super-spy organization isn't for him.

Nick, Ivan, and Spidey

This arc also makes good use of supporting characters who connect Daredevil to the larger community in the Marvel Universe.  Nick Fury and his own sidekicks (Dum Dum Dugan and the Contessa Valentina Allegro de Fontaine) play significant roles, as does the Black Widow’s chauffeur and bodyguard, Ivan.  These characters bounce off each other, providing humor and interpersonal drama, as well as helping to advance the plot.

Though he does not appear, Spider-Man is referenced a couple of times.  When Daredevil senses El Jaguar climbing up a building, he at first thinks the newcomer is Spidey.  And HYDRA's mysterious new leader turns out to be an old Spidey villain, Silvermane.

In later eras, too many crossovers and references to past stories in other series could overwhelm comics stories, making them difficult for new readers to follow.  This story gets the balance just right.

And What of DD Himself?

If subsequent issues of Daredevil proved underwhelming, it’s because Isabella and Brown did such an outstanding job here.  This arc provides the turning point in DD and the Widow’s relationship – she would leave him and the series just one issue later, in # 124.  Daredevil on his own – as a self-pitying, self-accusing hero – was never as interesting as when he played off her.

But make no mistake: Daredevil stands out as the main character here.  We care about him, both as he places himself in danger to stop HYDRA and as he tries to work out things with Natasha.  The story turns on his decisions, and his choices ultimately bring about the resolution.

And though the story ends the way most super-hero stories do – the heroes win and most of the villains are captured – it leaves us with a sense that something more has happened.  Momentous decisions have been made, and the lives of our protagonists – Matt and Natasha – will never be the same.

What about you?  What stories do you now look at in a new light?