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Scarlet Letters
Truth, Justice and the American Comic Book
With great power comes great responsibility.
-- Peter Parker's uncle, in "Spiderman"

          When the World Trade towers fell in New York, someone wrote that they couldn't help feeling betrayed, as though Superman or Batman or some other superhero should have swooped in at the last minute to stop it.
     Such is American culture. Our superheroes always seem to prevent disaster in the nick of time, riding in when all seems hopeless, righting the wrongs of the world before the commercial break.
     Superheroes are comforting that way. No matter how bleak it looks when Batman is cornered by that band of thugs, you can be sure some little device on his BatBelt will rescue him. Superman may have a Kryptonite necklace holding him at the bottom of the pool, but we know the buxom young woman in a white dress will rescue him in time to save the world.
     This week, Spider-Man joins the long list of heroes to jump off the bright pages of comic books and into movie theaters. Superman, Batman, the X-Men, Dick Tracy, Spawn, Blade, Swamp Thing and Supergirl have all kicked their way onto the big screen, with varying results. 
     Spidey has been a long time coming, thanks to lawyers, but at least we have the fun of watching Toby Maguire, a vastly underrated actor. I wish I could say his excellent, low-key performance of Peter Parker and Spider-Man could carry this film, but it doesn't.
     The difference between "Superman" the movie and the other comic-book movies has always been the writing. From "Batman" to "Spider-Man," comic-book movies are big business, with toys and merchandise to boot. We can't possibly allow narrative flow, character development, strong dialogue, a sense of theme and purpose or other such concepts that are, ironically, strong in the comics themselves to interfere with the cash cows of the movies.
     A side note: Extra credit should go to "Batman" for having fun with Batman's unusually colorful array of villains - after all, if you're the only guy to show up at the party in a costume, you feel a little foolish. (This line cribbed from Alan Moore the Great. Thank you.)
     "Superman" was written by Mario Puzo, who wrote a couple other things that did well, as you might recall. Its Messianic undertones, the incredible John Williams score, and of course Christopher Reeve as Superman made for a terrific movie, the best of the comic-book adaptations.
     There was a brilliant column about "Superman" online a few months ago. I wish I could remember who wrote it, so I could give him the proper credit for this statement: You cannot properly remake "Superman," because no one will believe in the fight for Truth, Justice and the American Way anymore.
     We're no longer so sure what Truth and Justice are, and as for the American Way, can anyone define it, or say whether it's a good thing at all? The newer movie superheroes seem to be dressed up for the fun of it and fight for the special effects. They save lives because that's what good guys do, and the bad guys kill because that's what bad guys do. Well, Batman's got a dark side to him, but that's okay - he's got Deep Psychological Issues, so he gets a free pass. 
     But when Christopher Reeve's Superman tells Lois Lane, "I never lie," we believe him. He never lies. When he says, "I'm here to fight for Truth, Justice and the American Way," no one laughs except Lois, because we know he's for real. Anyone else, saying that line at any other time, would be laughed out of the theater. 
     And even Reeve couldn't pull it off forever - in "Superman 4," a wretched waste of celluloid I was forced to watch a few weeks ago, Reeve and his costars seem embarrassed to be there. Given the writing, I'm not surprised. (As a reader has reminded me,Reeve actually co-wrote that movie - I imagine he interjected the anti-war, no-nukes theme - but the rest of the movie buries it in horrible dialogue, unbelievable plot twists, characters so cardboard you could use them for dartboards and quite possibly the worst blue-screen effects I've ever seen. Reeve still looks embarrassed.)
     Among comic book fans, I'm a dilettante, and I know it. I've dabbled, read a little here and there, and only know "Watchmen" by heart. The real enthusiasts are legion, and many of them will no doubt email me with the million things about which I'm wrong.
     But comics aren't "Family Circus" in book form - in short, they're not for kids. Spawn, for example, is not a happy fellow for the kiddies to watch. "Watchmen," arguably the greatest graphic novel ever, is extremely dark and sexual in places. The death of Superman (okay, he came back, what do you want, reality?) was dark and violent. "Arkham Asylum," a "Batman" graphic novel, still gives me nightmares, and I first read it ten years ago.
     The beauty of the comic world is its ability to foster such great creativity. The writing is unique and willing to take chances, even willing to hack off the readers to try something new. The artists find haunting imagery you'll never see on the big screen. And the fans are so devoted that they pick up their pens and write their own work, known as fanfic.
     Why is it, when they put these costumed heroes to the screen, that Hollywood feels it must dumb down to the lowest common denominator? That viewers will not accept a hero who makes decisions that let people die
? That blindingly stupid dialogue ("We'll meet again, Spider-Man!") is acceptable because it's a comic-book movie? That because your target audience is comprised of teenage males, it's acceptable to show the heroine in a wet, clingy T-shirt for a cheap thrill?

     I'm putting too much weight on poor Spidey's shoulders. It's a swinging movie (sorry, couldn't help myself), and will thrill those who have waited forever for Spider-Man to shoot his webs. I'll watch the sequels - of which there will be many, I'm sure - and keep hoping for something a little deeper than the average sidewalk puddle to emerge from the writing and push aside the special effects.
     But I can't help thinking back to the deep voice of Marlon Brando telling Superman, "They are a great people, Kal-El - they wish to be. It is for that reason above all, their capacity for good, that I have sent them you. My only son."
     That's writing. That's allegory. That's compelling fiction. That's why I go to the movies. For twenty years, we've been waiting for something to make us believe in Truth, Justice and the American Way again. We're still waiting.

Column Credo:

     I'd be sitting in a restaurant and someone would come up and say, "I don't like your column on this or that." I'd hand him 35 cents. That was what the paper cost then. The refund on the product.  He'd get upset. Well, that's one attitude I have. Today, it's half a buck. What can you buy for half a buck? Do I owe them something that will be worth reading a hundred years from now? I don't think so. Do I owe them something of the quality of Mark Twain? Naaa. Not for 50 cents.
     I guess what I owe them is that when I write something, it's what I think. No editor told me to write it. I'm not doing it because the Tribune editorial page will like it, or not. So they can be quite sure that they're getting what I think at the moment.
-- Mike Royko