On June 14, 2013, Superman returned to theatres with all the
impact of an alien vessel crashing to earth, and I have to say I could not be
happier--well, almost. Having seen Man of
Steel twice now, I can confidently say that I am quite taken with Kal-El's
newest iteration, and I believe that the film will get
better upon repeat viewings. Of course, I am on one side of a very
polarizing fence; and like the film itself, this development is encouraging,
for Man of Steel has divided audiences
between its true believers and its bold antagonists, with members of each side
bringing their best wits and analyses to a film that they believe warrants further
conversation. What's more, the matters being discussed reflect a very real
sense of humanity in its audience, and for that, too, I am excited. Say
what you will about Man of
Steel: if nothing else, the film has proven itself to be a piece of pop
culture art (for whatever that's worth).
As I sat in my first IMAX screening of the film, I relished the
choices made by the production team. They embraced the character's science
fiction origins unapologetically, both in terms of production design as well as
narrative structure. Within the first twenty minutes, I knew I was taking a Superman journey that I had not taken previously, one focused as much on the end of Krypton as the emergence of earth's "Super-man"; thankfully, as the closing credits rolled, this created
expectation had been fulfilled, and I left not only feeling like I had seen a
textured and interesting "alien invasion" film but also a strong,
unique entry into the superhero genre. This is a film that expects to be
taken seriously despite its otherworldly visuals and extraordinary events, and
it's a film that believes its stakes and its themes are important. These themes
range from ideas of serious science fiction (evolutionary ethics, genetic determinism,
and the penchant of sentient beings for destruction) to the timeless subjects
of myth (identity, virtue, and sacrifice). While Man of Steel is a grand spectacle, it is also a personal story of
one man trying to understand his place in the world; and though the action
left me feeling a bit overwhelmed, the final scene brought a smile to my face
that did not leave until well after I exited the theatre.
I processed Man of Steel over the next week
before catching the film a second time on a regular screen, during which some
of its shortcomings began to show themselves. For all of Lois Lane's pro-active
decisions, she gets herself in need of rescuing each time she braves the
unknown. Inasmuch as Zod is a good foil for Superman, their mano-a-mano conflict
feels superfluous given much of what we have seen, and it is tiresome by the
time it ends (though, arguably, it closes with a compelling final moment).
Whereas I saw Kal-El acting consistently with others in mind on the IMAX,
I now saw him reacting with less regard for those his actions would affect--his emotional
immaturity and lack of wisdom becoming far more evident the more I examined his
choices. This aspect of his character, however, appears to be an intentional
thematic choice, and that, too, became far clearer upon my second viewing--as
did the dual meanings layered throughout the film (such as Krypton's and Earth's similarly violent and militaristic natures). Some visual cues were
jarringly obvious on both viewings, but others I missed the first time were
subtly beautiful on the next. And of course, the second time I saw the ending was
even more wonderful than the first, because I had more opportunity to digest
all that informed and earned that moment.
The movie's ending is perhaps the best ending in a superhero film
since 2005's Batman Begins,
and that film in particular is an excellent point of comparison for Man of Steel. Both films use
flashback as a device to not only explain the present emotional condition of
their respective protagonists but also inform the next decision they will make.
Additionally, both films hit all the beats necessary for an origin story but do
so in a way that feels fresh and organic within the context of the world
created by the filmmakers. Each film also focuses not on an iconic superhero but on a
real and imperfect being with whom we as an audience sympathize, and each film ends
with that individual making questionable choices.
While Batman's questionable choices seemed to be acceptable,
Kal-El's have gotten the filmmakers into a great deal of trouble.
Within 24 hours of Man of Steel's release, the
polarizing conversation began. Veteran comic writer Mark Waid provided his
opinion of the film's failures, and many others, seeing him as both
an authority and comrade in their discontent, voiced similar dissatisfaction with the film. People who had concerns
over WB's choice of hiring the arguably excessive Zach Snyder as director and the
perceived realist Christopher Nolan as producer now felt vindicated that their fears were
realized, and they made sure to sound the alarm for others to avoid this new,
failed treatment of one of America's most beloved icons. Then, of course, the
aggregators at Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic began to show the polarization among
critics, and the floodgates of disagreement broke open further.
Once I had seen the film myself, I entered into the fray and
quickly found that Man of Steel
simply did not work for some viewers on any level, inasmuch as it struck
resounding chords with me. Where some saw a stilted, incoherent screenplay, I
saw an integrated narrative (both on the thematic as well as
structural levels). Where some saw clunky camera work, I saw a consistent,
genre-specific style. Some lamented the performance of Michael Shannon, whereas
I valued the creation of an interesting though limited character. I felt that the
shot composition was strong throughout the movie, and the CG elements--while
always cartoonish in these types of films--were acceptable. In the end, I felt
that the film's choices, though unexpected in many instances, were
earned.
Of course, the main issue on the minds of most folks was not the style but the substance, specifically the violence and collateral damage in the final sequences, which felt
unbecoming to a Superman picture. On this front, I found myself more troubled but still siding with the filmmakers, to whom I will attribute sincere thematic intentions rather than exploitation. The destruction in the last hour feels like overkill, and Superman's perceived lack of
concern for this dilemma is disconcerting, depending on your take of
the character. For some viewers, such as myself, this shows the audience a very imperfect
Kal-El, the remnant of a violent breed, now brought down to his brutal nature
through a contest with his peoples’ most brutal members. Given this, it is only at the moment that Superman takes his eyes off his relentless opponents and actually
sees the humans near him in jeopardy that he refocuses his priority on the man he wants to be, not the amoral Kryptonian warrior that lives in his blood (who is similar to the very one against whom he is fighting). The invasion in this film is treated as the first
real "battle" that Superman fights, and I accept that his attentions
were focused, albeit incorrectly, solely on his foes rather than their victims (though in the Smallville sequence, we see him dividing attention from fighting the villains to rescuing
the soldiers from time to time). The whole movie reflects on the consequences of Superman's appearance to humanity, and we see that his doing so is costly. These are narrative choices I accept.
Others don't. They see this disregard for those in jeopardy
as a complete departure from Superman to the point that this alien hero is only an
echo of the actual Kal-El they claim to know and love. Given their reading of the motion picture, I cannot convince them
otherwise; I can explain only why I feel the choices of both the characters as well
as the filmmakers are legitimate.
But so, too, are the concerns brought by the movie's detractors.
Frankly, the fact that Man of
Steel is causing audiences to
examine the destruction of cities as inappropriate entertainment is a good
thing. The loss of human life in film, implied or onscreen, should give us
pause. We should lament the high cost of freedom, salvation, and security in motion pictures, particularly when we are asked to invest in the people and the planet who pay that price. When we watch films without this concern, it
cheapens human life, and we should rally against that. So, too, should we
question our heroes' actions. Thanks
to a number of influences over the last several decades--Hollywood being a
central one--we seem to have embraced foul-mouthed, adulterous killers as our
heroes, but when Superman fails in one of these three areas, many people call
foul--which in principle is wonderful. They should. Our heroes should be different than
us—they should be better; they should be pictures of what we can be, not
reflections of how foolish we tend to be. If a hero kills, we should question if it was necessary, if it was just, and if it was heroic. They should be held to a higher standard than anyone else, given their great power and abilities and position as role models. What makes their taking life more honorable or acceptable than the villains'? Is it because they act in service of saving it? Is that enough?
We should consider these things. And we
are doing so when it comes to Man of Steel because of
Superman, because of who he is and who we believe him to be. We have always held Kal-El to a higher standard. He is the Blue Boy Scout. He is the symbol of hope--the
best mankind can be. Superman shares a great number of parallels
to Jesus; and as such, many people find that he should be as faultless as
Jesus. For this reason, some resent him for being too good, but they become
equally as angry when he is not good enough. This film, perhaps more than any
other before it, challenges the audiences expectations of Superman rather than
fulfilling them, and some members of that audience have responded by rejecting
the film in full, which is their right. Superman is, after all, bigger than any
one film or iteration, and if this does not square with the character insofar
as they see him, they are free to dismiss this film entirely.
I won't, and I don't want to either. I view all films through the Christ ethic, and Man of Steel's particularly
poignant connections to the Jesus narrative make the film all the more fascinating to me. Seeing the faults and failures of Kal-El, a Christ
figure, reminds me of why I treasure and love the actual Jesus
Christ to the degree that I do. Kal-El's struggles gives me a
hint--perhaps even an echo--of Christ's own testing at the hands of the human race, whether to save or abandon them;
but for all of his strengths, Kal-El is still only a mortal creature, not
immortal creator incarnate; and as such, he is still open to making all the
mistakes that we created beings do, even making choices with which we disagree.
Watching Man of Steel borrow pieces of the Christ narrative
directs me back to the true Christ narrative, and when a film does that for me,
well, it strikes deeper places in my soul. For others, however, the very fact
that Man of Steel’s protagonist’s falls short in the way he does discounts his
similarities to Christ, altogether. If Kal-El is so divorced from saving the
countless injured and dying of the invaded Metropolis, how could this Superman
even remotely compare to the loving Christ?
And it is these conflicts--the responsibility of a hero,
the nature of an icon, and the essence of a character that have made this film
so ripe for discussion. I feel the filmmaker's asked
themselves all of these questions before a single draft of the screenplay was
completed. Certainly they seem to be wrestling with Superman's identity as much
as Kal-El himself. And all of these questions surrounding Man of Steel are good questions to ask. While my
interaction with the film was different than those who have heavily criticized
it, I can only applaud them for such concerns. When a director places the audience into a
cinematic realism, he or she creates in said audience the expectations of
realism. The reason that the ludicrous destruction in G.I. Joe, Transformers, and the movies of
Roland Emmerich do not enrage us (at least, not in the same way) is because these films ask nothing of us
other than to be experience arresting imagery and the occasional bad joke. Man of Steel is not like them. It asks the audience
to treat it seriously, and the audience did—and they are right to criticize it
when they feel an apparent disregard for human life in its final act, in which losses would have been catastrophic but go seemingly
forgotten. Does this failure destroy everything that came before? I don’t think
so (particularly because of thematic reasons for it). But the fact that
this topic has become a catalyst for an ongoing dialogue shows that the audience is
sophisticated, and when you make demands of it, it will, in turn, make demands
of you, which is a wonderful sign that we are not checking our brains at the
door. The unseen dead of
Metropolis found a voice in audiences, which tells me that the unseen
wounded in reality can also. And this, too, fills me with hope, that if people
will raise awareness for the fictionally forgotten or ill-used, that they
will not remain silent when they encounter the same persons in reality. The
film is also showing us that we still care about heroes, about the nature of
heroism, and about Superman as a symbol. The discussion surrounding this film
tells us that our heroes' morality is open to criticism, and it should be,
because if we cannot look to them to show us a better way, how are they heroes
at all?
As much as I have delighted in the film itself, I think my
experience with Man of Steel has been amplified by the effect I
have seen it have culturally. The fact that people are standing up and saying,
"This imagery is irresponsible" or "Superman wouldn't do
that" are moral statements, and it is good that so many
audience members of genre films are taking umbrage when they feel
violence is treated inappropriately in otherwise seriously-minded motion pictures. Even if
I disagree with their particular criticism, I think it is wonderful that the
film has people discussing these issues. As much as I loved the Avengers--and I did love the Avengers (my first viewing of it was my
single most enjoyable theatrical experience since Speed Racer in 2008)--that film did not raise
these types of moral questions in its audience. Even the Dark Knight Rises, last year's
most serious comic book outing, did not seem to raise this level of awareness
about cultural iconography, characterization, and storytelling responsibility—people
were too busy debating the amount of time it would take Bruce Wayne to travel
across the globe at the act three turning point.
Man of Steel is forcing many people to engage the film
beyond "liking it" and "not liking it", it is demanding
audience participation in regard to moral and, dare I say, spiritual issues. I
have been truly spoiled by the bulk of the conversations I've had, because I have
been able to engage with individuals on a number of these issues, and while we
disagreed (vehemently in some instances), our discussions focused on the merit
of argument rather than the all-too-common attacks on intelligence, taste, virility,
or other fallacious currencies in which internet comment sections deal. The
discussion was not only civil but also deeply personal, and I think that nearly
everyone involved had a more nuanced view of not only one another but the film
itself as a result (even those who did not like it seemed to appreciate
that it spoke to others). I can only hope other discussions across the web (and
in the real world) have been as fruitful as mine, for these are good conversations to have.