For comic books fans, the last 16 years have been a pretty plum time
for screen adaptations of our beloved sequential artform. There have
been comic book movies almost as long as there had been comics but it
was the success of BLADE in 1998 that established comic movies as a
major A-list genre, one that shows no sign of fading away in the near
future. Since then, we've gotten a few great movies (HULK, X2, THE AVENGERS, SIN CITY, WATCHMEN, etc.), quite a few good ones (SPIDER-MAN, THOR, X-MEN, IRON MAN, PUNISHER: WAR ZONE, etc.), and a whole pen of turkeys (V FOR VENDETTA, DAREDEVIL, CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER, BATMAN BEGINS, MAN OF STEEL, SPIDER-MAN 2,
etc.).[1] That's pretty much the pattern with any other genre but comic
adaptations have so far managed a better record than most. Sturgeon's
Law says "90% of everything is crap" and I only depart from it in
thinking the number closer to 99% but the comic pictures have somewhat
bucked this trend.. The crap still dominates, pound-for-pound, but the
good-to-great stuff occupies a much larger percentage of the whole,
which is remarkable in itself and positively extraordinary when one
considers that most of these films are huge-budget Hollywood tentpole
features (a category that, these days, generates almost nothing but crap).
Even if I wasn't a lifelong comics fan, the significantly
better-than-usual success rate of these pictures would make them
something I'd want to see continued.
There are still
some things missing from this boom though. Pretty noticeable things.
Things I would argue this genre needs if its going to survive and
thrive. I've been rattling on about them in various forums for years
now, haranguing friends, spinning out posts on internet message boards,
etc. And for all the years, they're still missing from the films.
The
first big omission, one I'm far from alone in noticing, is the women.
Lady superheroes or even lady supervillains. They aren't entirely
missing in action. They feature in the team movies but they're often
barely even a presence. Storm in the X-Men films is probably the most
glaring example. In the comics, Storm--Ororo Munroe--is an excellent,
well-drawn character. She's a Kenyan princess, the daughter of a witch
priestess and an American journalist. Her parents were killed in a
bombing when she was very young and buried alive in the resulting rubble
herself, she became terribly claustrophobic, a condition that plagues
her for the rest of her life. She becomes a child thief in Cairo and
when her mutant powers manifest at puberty, she uses them to set herself
up as a goddess among an isolated native tribe in the Serengeti, which
is what she's doing when Charles Xavier recruits her for the X-Men. She
could carry a film or even a series of films by herself. In the X-Men
movies, all of that is stripped away and she's barely even given any
lines. A viewer who only knew her from her screen representation
wouldn't know much more about her than her physical appearance (in the
films).
Given the volume of comic movies we've seen
since BLADE, the lack of big, prestige comic pictures with women as the
principal stars is astonishing. To date, there have been only two:
ELEKTRA and CATWOMAN. The first, spun off from the awful DAREDEVIL film,
was almost unwatchable. The second had some good ideas, the right star
and wasn't as bad as its reputation suggests[2] but it certainly wasn't a
very good movie.
A particularly dark gaze of
disapproval must fall upon DC (Warner Bros) in this matter, as it holds
the rights to the best-known, most iconic lady superhero ever created.
Wonder Woman is a princess of the Amazons of Greek
myth, a tribe that, in the comic telling, was once enslaved then, when
freed, retired from the world of men to
immortal lives on a mystical island. Wonder Woman--Diana--was created
from a clay effigy of a baby crafted by her mother Queen Hippolyta and
given life via supernatural means. She grows up to become a powerful
warrioress and eventually a kind of ambassador to the outside world,
dedicated to combating injustice.[3] The character has been revamped
several times since,
with both good and bad results. Any potential film project has a rich
vein of mythology 70 years deep from which to draw. A WW feature was
announced a few years ago then fell through. A new WW television series
made it as far as the pilot stage in 2011 then was rejected. The CW
tinkered with the idea of a new series as well, a sort of prequel called
AMAZON, then, in January, dropped it. Israeli model Gal Gadot has just
been announced as the new screen Wonder Woman.[4] She isn't going to
star in a WW movie though. Rather, she's been relegated to a guest
appearance in the upcoming MAN OF STEEL sequel pitting Superman against
Batman, a project each new piece of information suggests has as its goal
becoming the world-champion turkey of the comic movie canon.[5] The
lack of a Wonder Woman movie so far into this boom is an absolute
scandal, one that shows no sign of being redressed in the near
future.[6]
The list of supergals who would translate well to the screen is quite lengthy. Everyone has their favorite picks.
Marvel has already established the Black Widow in their cinematic
universe and, essayed by the most excellent Scarlett Johansson (who can
certainly carry a picture), she seems an obvious choice. Dazzler, a
mutant musician whose body converts sound into energy; is arguably
better suited to the screen than to the page. The villainess turned
sort-of heroine Emma Frost appeared, while still villainous, in X-MEN:
FIRST CLASS but, as usual, was barely even a presence. She would be a
great subject for screen treatment. Supergirl is a young, petite girl
who battles overwhelming forces of evil--what's not to love? She was
used to often good effect in SMALLVILLE; I definitely want to see her
return to the big screen in a film that does her justice. I've long
thought a Tigra flick would be a worthy project for the right filmmaker.
That seems, at first blush, a somewhat odd choice but when it comes to
great, endlessly quirky movie material Tigra has everything. It’s a
Jekyll-and-Hyde story, it has magic and super-science, a banished race,
an ancient legend, odd sexual fetishism (particularly when it comes to
her dealings
with Kraven the Hunter, who would almost have to play the villain of the
piece)--a great, conflicted character who was a
superhero cat (The Cat) before she ever became a superhero cat-woman.
For a project willing to veer a bit off the beaten track, she's a
goldmine. And, of course, the big one in Marvel's stable--or at least
the big one as far as I'm concerned--is the She-Hulk. Jennifer Walters
is the shy and reserved cousin of Bruce Banner--the Hulk--who is gunned
down by vengeful mobsters and to save her, Banner must transfuse her
with his own gamma-irradiated blood, a process that eventually
transforms her into a big, green Amazon with super-strength. Unlike her
cousin though, she doesn't become a raging brute. She retains her full
faculties in her Hulk form and her real transformation, it turns out, is
more personal than physical. Becoming the She-Hulk makes her shed her
shyness and gain confidence in herself. A lawyer, she comes to love
being a superhero on the side, and to prefer the She-Hulk to her own
form. Being a Marvel character, of course, she's far from perfect. Those
old insecurities can creep back in, her life can become quite
complicated and she doesn't always make the best decisions when trying
to sort it all out. Her writers have given her a great deal of depth
over the years--she's probably the best-realized, most human
superheroine in the Marvel stable, a great, great character who is long
overdue for feature treatment.[7]
Shulkie became a
subject of some controversy earlier this month. David Goyer appeared,
with a few other screenwriters, on a podcast
called Scriptnotes. At one point, the discussion turned to the She-Hulk
and got pretty ugly. Host Craig Mazin said "the real name for She-Hulk
was Slut-Hulk. That was the whole point. Let’s just make this green
chick with enormous boobs." Goyer joined in, among other things calling
the character "a giant, green porn star" who was created to sexually
service the Hulk. The response
from Stan Lee, comics' Allfather and She-Hulk co-creator, was swift and
to the point: "Only a nut would even think of that." Alyssa Rosenberg,
writing in the Washington Post, more extensively unloads on Goyer
in a piece that mostly hits the mark. Goyer's comments could just be
dismissed as
juvenile dumbassery (which is what they are), but it's also rather
telling that, prompted to randomly bullshit over a subject about
which he clearly knows nothing and to which he's given no real thought
at all, this is what comes out of him. And Goyer is the fellow who is
going to be writing the new screen incarnation of Wonder Woman.
It
was heartening to see the furious reaction to this incident on the
internet--pretty much outrage all the way around. It must be
acknowledged that, in the overly Puritanical U.S., bringing
any lady superhero to the screen involves (or can be seen as involving)
navigating a sort of minefield of sexual politics. If a superheroine is
sexy or shows any hint
of libidinous impulses, there's an unfortunate tendency in some quarters
to find this exploitative and unacceptable and in others to find the
character slutty and unadmirable. Either attitude is pretty much
indifferent to superheroes as a fantasy of superbeings who are still
recognizably human and neither seriously engages with it. One stems from
unvarnished sex-is-bad Puritanism, the other from a range of other
concerns having to do with the portrayal of women in a distorted,
inappropriate or negative way, the reduction of women to commodified
sexual objects, a media culture that presents
only such women as models and so on. And there's a lot of crossover
between the two.[8] The She-Hulk is a character that definitely brings
all of this to a head. In addition to everything else, she's also sexy
and she knows it and, as Rosenberg writes, "a swashbuckling
heart-breaker." If someone portrayed her as some "brain-dead courtesan"
(also Rosenberg), there would be outrage[9] and when Goyer and Bazin go
Beavis-and-Butthead on her, there is outrage. There are still
knuckle-draggers and Puritan tight-asses in the world but most people
usually come to the right conclusions on such matters.
An
obstacle to getting the ladies to the screen in feature roles is no
doubt the perception that they fail at the box-office but to point out
the obvious, they've never really been given anything remotely
approximating a fair chance. The very few efforts there have been in the
past bombed because they weren't any good. I've made getting
comic-book-style supergirls to the screen a sort of
mission within my own film work but my micro-budgeted productions are
certainly no solution to this vacuum. They do, however, point in a
possibly useful direction and provide a segue to the other missing
ingredient in the current superhero boom.
Behind the
comic adaptations, there is, unfortunately, an increasingly entrenched
tentpole mentality at work. Everything has to be some
huger-than-huge, mile-a-minute effects-laden epic with the fate of the
world resting on the outcome and each new picture has to top the last
one on this score. And we need the huge-scale epics, to be sure, but
they
need to be supplemented with smaller projects that give the
characters room to live and breath. The ability to tell such tales in
the comics and develop the characters at length is what has made them
survive and thrive over the years. When an epic tale came along, readers
had a good understanding of the characters and it gave the story more
meaning and greater impact.
On the other hand, the
focus only on huge epics in the cinematic adaptations does real violence
to the source material. Le Beau and partner-in-blog Daffy Stardust
recently began a regular podcast over at Le Blog, and their second,
which deals with comic-book movies, involves a relevant discussion of
CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER. As they (Daffy, primarily) note,
Cap, in the comics, blamed himself for the death of his sidekick Bucky
during the war. It was a psychological scar that gnawed at him for
years, constantly showing up in the background. When it turned out Bucky
was still alive, that long history gave the revelation a real impact.
The movie comes in the midst of a series of films that have done
absolutely nothing to establish that Cap feels any guilt over Bucky's
death and, in trying to cut that corner in the service of scale,
sacrifices that impact. A smaller Cap project, tucked between THE FIRST
AVENGER and AVENGERS or between AVENGERS and WINTER SOLDIER, could have
been used to lay the necessary groundwork (it wouldn't have hurt to
delay tackling the Winter Soldier story until later either). In the
pages of "Iron Man," the conflict between Obadiah Stane and Tony Stark
was an elaborate tale full of twists and turns that went on for two
years and involved Stane ruining Stark and taking over his company while
Stark gives up his Iron Man identity and ends up reduced to an
alcoholic shell of his former self. He has to put himself back together
from almost nothing and confront Stane in what becomes an epic duel to
the death. The first IRON MAN feature, while good, wouldn't even qualify
as a Cliff's Notes representation. One of the worst examples of this
sort of harm is the handling of George Stacy from THE AMAZING
SPIDER-MAN. In the comic version, Peter Parker becomes paranoid that
Stacy, a police captain and the father of Peter's girlfriend Gwen, is
starting to suspect he's Spider-Man. Over time, Stacy even drops hints
to that effect. It goes on like this for a while then, one day,
Spider-Man is battling Dr. Octopus atop a building and a big section of
brickwork is knocked loose and falls to earth. Stacy, on the scene
below, charges in and rescues a child from the falling debris but he's
crushed beneath it. Spider-Man swoops down, pulls him out of it and
tries to get him to a hospital. It plays out like this:
As
with all the rest, the moment is dependent upon all that preceded it.
In the movie version, it's all just thrown away. Stacy is a rather
unlikable Dennis Leary who, only appearing in parts of one film, never
develops any real history with Peter, unmasks Peter then, as he's dying,
extracts from Peter a promise to stay away from his daughter. Not only
do the filmmakers sacrifice what could have been a powerful moment, they
have Stacy use his dying words to be a prick.
Spider-Man
is ill-suited to epic-ism in general. He's primarily a street-level
character. He doesn't often face potentially earth-shattering threats.
His bread-and-butter involves dealing with much more down-to-earth
problems. His rogue's gallery is mostly made up of street criminals who
have gained extraordinary powers--Electro, Mysterio, the Vulture, the
Kingpin, the Sandman, Shocker, the Enforcers (who I'd love to write and
to see on film). The same is true of the Batman. It's especially the
case with Daredevil, whose finest moments usually involve entirely
mortal adversaries. Among the legion of things the 2003 DAREDEVIL film
got terribly wrong was the decision by the studio suits, in the
aftermath of SPIDER-MAN's mega-success, to turn it
into a huge-scale, effects-laden blockbuster picture--totally out of
character for the material. Daredevil is film noir. Daredevil is
crime-stories full of bad luck and savage ironies told in smoke-filled
rooms with light filtering in from outside through Venetian blinds. It's
THE
USUAL SUSPECTS and CHINATOWN and ROMEO IS BLEEDING and
DRIVE. You don't need $78 million in bad wirework and CGI to do
Daredevil. You find a Jet Li and put him in a red suit.
One could, in fact, theoretically do a
great Daredevil movie in which Matt Murdock never even puts on
that red
suit. One of my favorite DD stories is "Badlands" from "Daredevil" #219.
It's a sort of modernized HIGH PLAINS DRIFTER in which Murdock, dressed
just like Brando in THE WILD ONE, wanders into a dingy little town in
New Jersey, rights a wrong that had been done in the past then leaves.
Not only does he never don the uniform, he never even says a word. He's
never identified as anything other than some drifter. That's not, by
itself, a feature, but it has the right spirit.
One of
my favorite Hulk stories is a simple little Bill Mantlo tale from
"Incredible Hulk" #262. It's almost like a Twilight Zone episode about a
mysterious woman who lives in a glass house by the sea and almost looks
as if she's made of glass herself. She finds Bruce Banner washed up on
shore and takes him in. She's an artist who works in glass--her entire
home is filled with her sculptures. She says she wants to sculpt him. He
stays for weeks and becomes her lover. By the end, it's revealed that
her "sculptures" are real people she's turned to glass. She has the
power to do so but only by the light of a full moon. She lures Banner
into her studio and not only wants to turn him to glass but to capture
him in mid-transformation to the Hulk. Needless to say, things don't go
as she planned. The final image is a wonderful ghost.
That
same issue features another great, small tale, also written by Mantlo,
called "Foundling." Banner, after the business with the sculptress,
seeks a job at a research institute. When he arrives, he sees a fleeing
hysterical boy ran down, tackled and sedated by a fellow in a lab coat
and a woman. The boy is screaming about how they're not really his
parents. The man explains the boy is his son, who has severe
psychological problems and must be kept heavily medicated. He's the
doctor who runs the research institute and Banner goes to work for him.
Banner learns from others at the institute that the boy has had problems
since hitting puberty. One night there's a ruckus on the grounds and
it's revealed that the boy is a Dire Wraith, a shape-shifting alien
monster who fell to earth years ago and was raised by the doctor and his
wife as their own son. Since hitting adolescence, he's begun realizing
he's different in some way--a realization the couple have tried to
repress--and when he assumes his Wraith form he begins to remember his
programming. He attacks Banner, who becomes the Hulk and the two fight
it out. The alien is no match for the Hulk but just as the jade giant is
about to put him away the doctor rushes between them. He says the boy
is still their son and insists the Hulk back off. When the Hulk notes
the boy is nothing but a a monster, the doctor angrily throws it in his
face that he is nothing but a monster and has no right to pass
judgment on them. With a look of anguish at the doctor's words, the Hulk
leaps away, leaving the couple nursing their now-re-sedated "son."
The
comic Hulk is hated and hunted, constantly tormented by a world he
can't understand. Another Hulk favorite of mine, this one widely
recognized as a classic, is "Heaven is a Very Small Place" ("Incredible
Hulk" #147). Authored by Gerry Conway, this is about as stripped down as
stories come--only a few pages. In the story, the Hulk is leaping
through a desert and sees a town form before his eyes. The people seem
friendly and at first, the Hulk thinks this kindness is directed toward
him. The town is like a ghost, though. No one seems to see the Hulk. He
realizes they're immaterial. Eventually, through, he comes upon a little
girl in a wheelchair who apparently does see him. They chat,
they get along, she calls him a friend and then she and the rest of the
town abruptly vanish. The Hulk is anguished, screams for the town to
come back. There remains nothing but empty desert though, and he strikes
the ground with sufficient force to generate a minor earthquake.
Another
stripped-down gem is "The Kid Who Collects Spider-Man" ("Amazing
Spider-Man" #248). Authored by Roger Stern, it's about a meeting between
Spider-Man and his biggest fan, a kid who has collected everything he
can about the wall-crawler. The two have a nice little chat--the kid
seems to know everything about Spidey's career.And then the boy asks him
who he really is. And Spider-Man unmasks and tells him! He tells of how
his inaction led to his uncle's death, how this led him to do what he
does. The two part on good terms and the big reveal at the end is that
the boy was gravely ill and dies from leukemia a few days later.
Still
another keeper: Tom DeFalco's "Time Runs Like Sand" from "Marvel
Two-In-One" #86. An exhausted Flint Marko, the Sandman, wanders into a
bar and orders a drink. The nervous bartender, recognizing him, calls
for the Fantastic Four, reaching Ben Grimm, the Thing. Grimm rushes to
the saloon, bursts through the door and calls out Marko. But the Sandman
doesn't want to fight. Instead, they have a seat, order drinks and
Marko relates to Ben the story of his life. He's tired of being a hood
and just wants to leave that all behind. At the end he surrenders to Ben
and volunteers to go quietly but Ben, now finding him sympathetic and
impressed with his willingness to reform, decides to cut him a break and
lets him go free.
(Like Mantlo, DeFalco could sometimes spin offbeat
stories with haunting endings. His "An Obituary For Octopus" from
"Spider-Man Unlimited "#3 is such a tale and, by my estimation, the second-best Dr.
Octopus story, behind only Mantlo's Owl/Doc. Ock war from "Spectacular Spider-Man" #72-79. Read about it here.)
I
could spin these into infinity. Most I've rattled off are particularly
stripped down, but even the standard-issue superhero material typically
takes place on a much more intimate level than the epic features allow.
Such stories are what comics have been doing for decades and what helped
make them popular enough to jump to film in the first place. The movies
rarely even touch these kinds of tales though.
To me,
the most exciting
news about upcoming Marvel projects isn't ANT MAN (particularly since it
just lost Edgar Wright) or the second AVENGERS picture or any of the
other features that have been discussed. It's the Netflix material
Marvel is developing. A 13-episode Daredevil series, followed by a
series devoted to Jessica Jones ("Alias"), one for Luke Cage, one for
Iron Fist (whose story could be a feature epic) and then a miniseries
teaming all of the above. With competent people at the helm, the
street-level heroes can be done well and on what, by Hollywood tentpole
standards, are microscopic
budgets. Hopefully, the series format will scale back the productions to
something more closely approximating the comics and allow the
characters and storylines to breath and to develop at a more natural
pace.
There needs to be a place among the features for
the smaller-scale, more intimate productions as well. The first X-Men
movie is what made me begin to think about this, then the second one
cinched it. If the tentpole epics leave Storm's background on the
cutting-room floor, put her in a movie of her own. Hers is a story that
can definitely carry one and at a minor fraction of the cost of a
full-blown X-Men epic.[10] Lower cost means less risk and such films
could be used as a way to get the ladies into starring roles. A regular
schedule of smaller pictures could also act as a more general
proving-ground for some of the lesser characters. BLADE is the point of
reference here. It took a fairly obscure character, dropped him into a
film of, by Hollywood standards, medium budget ($40 million) and not
only turned him into a massively bankable property but kickstarted the
current comic movie boom. The bigger-name characters should, from time
to time, be put
into these smaller productions too.[11] The opportunity to build better,
longer, more detailed narratives and characters of greater depth
doesn't just enrich the bigger projects, it lets filmmakers tell the
kind of great smaller stories that make up the
bulk of the comics that built these properties but that aren't being
told at all via the huge-scale tentpole
pictures.
I hope some of what I've written points to
what I see as the third necessary but absent element: a more ambitious
and varied approach to the material. When it comes to comic adaptations,
Marvel leads the pack by a mile--other than WATCHMEN, DC hasn't really
done anything worth the time during the present boom. But Marvel tends
to be rigorously conservative, mainstream and safe with their films. No
edge, PG-rated content,[12] very little quirkiness or anything that
wanders too far afield and they're all basically the same kind of
story told in the same way. The other studios who handle Marvel
properties do the same and this really needs to change. The comics on which these films are based have told every kind of story
there is to be told. Dramas, horrors, swashbuckling adventures,
comedies, spy stories, love stories, war stories, weird tales, political
thrillers, mystical vision-quests coming-of-age tales, Twilight
Zone-ist fantasies--you name it, the books
have done it and the films need to start better reflecting that
diversity.[13] Broaden the
field. Mix it up a bit. Take some chances. The recent departure of Edgar Wright
from ANT MAN doesn't bode well. Wright has exactly the kind of quirky
vision one wants to see applied to such a character and after having
worked on the project for 8 years and with filming imminent, he's fired
over
"creative differences." Is there any doubt a far more conventional
product will emerge in his absence? It's just not healthy. Conservatism
in such matters is a path to stagnation, eventual box-office failure
then death. The comic adaptations work from too rich a field to allow that to kill them.
A rather long post. A short version for the "tl/dr" crowd:
Women, damn it!
Bigger isn't better; better is better.
Smaller can be better.
Innovate, damn it!
'Nuff said.
--j.
---
[1]
Parenthetically carving up the individual films in this way tends to
smooth over the differences in their quality in a way I dislike. To note
the obvious (in the service of my own neurosis on this point), each of
those categories represent a broad group of films of often wildly varied
quality. I feel I should offer examples, if just to lay my cards on the table).
[2]
Certain films (like certain actors) achieve, in the critical press, a
sort of official designation as a turkey, and bashing them becomes a
fad. CATWOMAN fell victim to this.
[3] Wonder Woman was originally a project of William Moulton Marston, a
psychologist
and one of the co-inventors of the lie-detector test, who believed that
women would one day rule the world and created the character as
"psychological propaganda" for this eventuality. He intended her to be a
living embodiment of all that is great in Woman. His early stories are a
fascinating stew of fairy tale narratives, odd symbolism and bondage
and
domination themes.
[4] About that choice, I'll say
only this: This is the comic book version of Wonder Woman, laying a
no-doubt well-deserved smackdown on a certain boy in blue...
...and this is Gal Gadot, chosen to be the new screen Wonder Woman:
[5]
Starting with the fact that it's a sequel to MAN OF STEEL, an
abomination ground out by people who seemed to have no interest at all
in making an actual Superman film and who didn't. MOS is a cretinously
stupid, noisy, explosion-filled sci-fi action picture--the epitome of
upbudget "blockbuster" trash--about a war on another now-extinct planet
carried over to Earth. A tale in which the alleged central character is
virtually a guest-star in his own movie. Henry Cavill, who has a great
look for Superman, probably doesn't have half a dozen lines in the whole
of it and the utterly inappropriate efforts to darken his backstory at
the expense of that backstory leave nothing of the original character.
Certainly nothing worth continuing in follow-up films.
[6]
After THE AVENGERS made over $1.5 billion worldwide, the suits at
Warner Bros. decided to try to ape that success but without putting in
the work on the individual characters as Marvel had. They wanted to use
the MAN OF STEEL sequel to immediately set up a future "Justice League"
movie, again guest-starring Gadot as Wonder Woman.
[7] I've long found her second solo book, "The Sensational She-Hulk," to be a particular
delight. John Byrne, who had written her in the Fantastic Four for a few
years, made her aware of her own existence as a comic book character.
She breaks the fourth wall and talks to her creator and her readers, and
the series became, among a great many other things, an endlessly fun rumination on the nature of the
medium-- in my view, some of the most wonderful comics ever published.
[8]
The latter stems from legitimate concerns with which I'm sympathetic
within reason. It's unfortunate that I feel compelled to add that
"within reason" caveat there,but those concerns are often based on a
very unrealistic and unfounded evaluation of the overall culture and in
their more extreme forms--the forms that, for example, condemn any hint
of sexuality in superheroines--are anti-human and not worthy of serious
consideration. As for the Puritans, fuck them. I couldn't give a shit
about anything they had to say if I ate an entire package of Ex-Lax
[9]
This actually happened to Supergirl. By the end of the '60s, DC started
trying to revamp and "Marvel"-ize many of their major characters, and
Mike Sekowsky, who had just lent a hand to the revamp of Wonder Woman,
was given Supergirl, then the featured attraction in Adventure Comics.
Under his guidance and that of later writers and artists, Supergirl
became a mature, well-written character and went through her most
creatively rich period. It lasted 26 issues (minus some reprints), and
became popular enough that she was given her own title for the first
time. Then the new title debuted and nearly everything that had made the
previous title work had been dropped. Supergirl was suddenly written as
a witless Barbie-fied airhead involved in an increasingly ridiculous
series of adventures. The reaction was swift and furious--after only 9
issues, the book was cancelled.
[10] Nearly all of the other
X-Men have been given similarly short shrift.
[11] It looked as if Fox was going
to do this with the X-Men Origins series. Then, instead, their efforts
in this vein all became upbudget
tentpoles again. The life of Magneto project grew into the much bigger
X-MEN: FIRST CLASS, which wasn't bad, but I would have preferred
the project that was originally discussed. The Wolverine Origin movie,
starring a character who had already been a featured attraction in every
X-Men film, grew into a huge-budget--and borderline unwatchable--piece
of shit that embraced all the worst abuses of the character's backstory
from recent years.[*] Then Fox
took up the single-best Wolverine story of all time, the Chris
Claremont/Frank Miller miniseries from 1982. The original mini is a dark
story of love, honor, and betrayal heavily influenced by Japanese
cinema. Its imagery is simple and straightforward like a samurai movie, a
perfect film already storyboarded on the page. The rights to turn it
into a film was a license to print money. After early public braying
that the film would be a faithful adaptation, the Fox suits chucked the
original story in the trash and made another big, noisy and often
completely incomprehensible shitfest with virtually no connection to the
source material. Throwing that story away is a crime. This was not the
direction those projects needed to go.
[*] Wolverine,
in his first decades in the comics, was initially just a fellow who aged
like anyone else. His healing abilities took time to work and as he got
older, it began to work more slowly. His claws were bionic implants,
mechanical devices grafted on to him during the same experimentation
that laced his bones with adamantium. Later revisions turned up his
healing power to 11--almost instant regeneration from even the most
horrendous damage; the origin of his claws were rewritten--they became
natural bone claws that were covered with adamantium like the rest of
his skeleton; his backstory was changed to make him essentially
immortal--a fellow who had lived for centuries and whose healing powers
kept him forever young. So not all the bad decisions about these
characters are made by Hollywood. Yes, this is a footnote to a
footnote--sue me.
[12] BLADE, which launched this boom,
was an R-rated picture but most of the productions have gone for the
PG-13, hoping to pull in the kiddies and snare a broader audience.
There's a certain irony in this, in that comics have primarily been an
adult's medium for decades and a significant portion of the material
being tapped for screen adaptation is stuff people who are now in their
late 30s-50s read when they were younger but the persistent pursuit of
the PG is also another factor significantly limiting the genre. From the
Punisher to Blade to the Ghost Rider to Morbius to even Wolverine,
Marvel has scores of characters that would make for magnificent screen
adaptations but that would, handled properly, usually feature R-rated
content. Warner Brothers destroyed DC's Jonah Hex, in part by forcing it
into the PG hole. Corporate branding is a problem: the Marvel-produced
films, which bear their brand, have all been movies to which one can
bring the kiddies. If the Marvel logo draws the little ones, stepping
outside that safe parameter can be seen as quite dangerous and harmful
to the brand. Tim Burton's BATMAN RETURNS was safely PG-13 but still
slammed as too dark and frightening for children (which led to the Joel
Shumacher bat-atrocities).
[13] To bitch about THE
WOLVERINE some more, the original story was, as I said in my earlier
notes, very much like a samurai film. One of the many infuriating things
the fimmakers did was rigorously jettisoned any hint of Eastern
influence, both in the film's look and in its themes. They threw away
what made it special and turned it into just another conservative
superhero movie.