Twilight of the Man Of Steel. . . Or, Deborah Eisenberg and Superman

By Steven McLain

The newest teaser poster for Zach Snyder's reboot of the Superman franchise, shows The Man of Steel bound in handcuffs, marched off by uniformed (American?) soldiers.  Speculation abounds, and the hype has gone viral (I've already seen three different posts on my Facebook news feed in the last hour).  What does it all mean?

That's the point of teaser trailers, teaser posters, and viral marketing in general.  In an age where movies' budgets sometimes exceed the GDP of a third-world nation, producers are desperate to recoup their investment; these types of gimmicks generate the kind of buzz that accomplishes that. 

What fascinates me about this particular poster, however, isn't necessarily Superman being accosted by agents of the government (we saw Superman tried by the jury of public opinion in the previous movie) but what that image represents.  It reminds me, intriguingly, of Deborah Eisenberg's "Twilight of the Superheroes."

Originally published in a collection of short stories by the same name, "Twilight of the Superheroes" is a fractured story about 9/11.  It begins with an intonation of myth and tribal storytelling: "The grandchildren approach."  Then continues with the story of "The Miracle."  Namely, that the world did not end in 2001.  Some of us recall the Millennial fears that our technology would crumble beneath us; most of know that it did not.  Nothing, in fact, happened. 

What follows are quick snippets of time and place, a collage of moments that reveals the nature and character of the world before, during, and shortly after the Twin Towers fell.  Her choices are telling: A segment about the scientific anecdote in which a frog will not jump from a pot of water that is slowly heated to boiling; a group of friends grown rich on Madison Avenue, on Wall Street, living it up in an age of dross; a superhero whose power is the ability to combat corporate evil through willed passivity (" . . . superpowers are probably a feature of youth . . . Or maybe they belonged to a loftier period of history.")

"Twilight of the Superheroes" is not about superheroes, per se.  It's about the black and white world before and after the Towers fell.  It's about the role of America in the world, the role of corporations in our lives, the strange, Manichean dichotomy in which we hold the world.  Before, in a Cold War world we had a clearly proscribed them against whom to fight.  Post 9/11 we have an equally clear threat, terrorism.  The world between was a nebulous place, full of grays and shadows.  It was a twilight world. 

When the Towers fell, so did our conception of our place in the world.  Our moral compass shifted.  For a moment, our heroes lifted their capes to expose feet of clay and they were shattered.  I wonder if that's what Snyder is doing with Superman in The Man of Steel.  I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be a superhero, and what happens when the moral or philosophical code of a superhero doesn't mesh with those of the people they've chosen to protect.  What happens when truth and justice are no longer the American way?  Who will the superhero side with?

I hope that's what Snyder is trying to say with this movie, and that it's not just another Lex Luthor/Superman rumble in the jungle.  Even if it is, the underlying ambiguity can still be maintained and encouraged; what does it mean when Lex Luthor, the ultimate representation of selfish interest, becomes the leader of the free world? 

Superman's reaction, and his moral choices, could power this reboot in a way that we haven't seen in a long time, and would go a long way toward garnering the support and enthusiasm that Nolan has created for Batman.  Ultimately, it would be nice to see DC as the thinking man's superhero franchise, as opposed to Marvel's spectacle-heavy treatment (superheroes for the masses).