Man of Steel Review

Lest this blog become too devoted to movie and book reviews, I'll endeavor in the coming weeks to get more up-to-date content up.  That means TV reviews, in case you're wondering.  And I might even pause to pen a few anecdotes and observations.  Now that I'm a college graduate, I feel I've earned the right to opine profusely for a few short weeks.  Then I'll have to dive back into the real world of nine-to-five.

But until then, let's talk about Man of Steel.  Starring Henry Cavill as the rarely-named Supes (I'm told there was a bit of a snafu involving the rights to the Superman name, but haven't confirmed that for myself) and Amy Adams as the precocious Louis Lane, this movie managed to do something interesting with a character that has more often than not languished in obscure, ether-sucking abstraction.  I mean, let's not point fingers, but Lex Luthor's land-making, land-grab scheme in Superman Returns was just . . . banal.

Man of Steel mixes it up a bit, and in doing so manages to create the right balance between moral dilemma and abstract what-if.  Because, let's be honest about something.  Superman is a god among men -- a literal Ubermensch.  What does a god do when settled among mortals?  This paradox lies at the heart of the movie, and while it doesn't succeed gracefully, it does manage some success.  Where it makes missteps, I'm more than willing to accept and forgive them because of the larger story being told.  Nowhere do the missteps seem so overwhelming that I simply cannot overlook them (take a look down at Star Trek Into Darkness to see some mistakes that I will not forgive -- I mean, come on J.J. . . . gravity doesn't work that way at all.)

This is how gravity works.

The movie itself strikes a very fine line between origin story and dramaction.  Russell Crowe, despite his many appearances in the movie, is largely not present, but we're reminded often that the ghost of Jor El haunts Clark Kent, who is torn between his two identities: Human and Kryptonian.  The sacrifice of both fathers are played to maximum effect.  On Krypton, Jor El sacrifices himself to ensure the life of his son on a world where he would be as a god among us.  And Jonathan Kent, whose sacrifice ensures that Clark can continue to live an unremarkable life blending in with human beings.

Forgetting for a moment that Superman is an alien being --and the movie does not let us forget for an instant -- the tension between Lois and Clark is tantalizing, without ever being over the top; foregone, thankfully, is the glasses ruse used to such laughing effect in both the comics and earlier films.  Hardly a spoiler, but Lois knows that Clark Kent is Superman nearly halfway through the film, and conspires with Superman to conceal his identity from humanity at large, and from her editor, and various military types in general.

Juxtaposition, anyone?

This allows a much more organic progression to their relationship, without the entirely saccharine tension of will-she-find-out so prevalent in earlier incarnations -- and indeed still with us in Superman Returns.

That leads me to a moment of speculation.  And behold!  There be SPOILERS ahead.

At the end of the movie, Zod having been defeated by both human gumption and Man of Steel brawn, decides to remove his exoskeleton warsuit and go mano a mano with Supes.  The problem with this has been highlighted in Superman's own upbringing, and by an earlier scene when Superman destroys the Zod's helmet.  Something in the atmosphere affects Kryptonian physiology so that the full potential of their super powers are manifested.  Yeah, they're strong under just the yellow sun, but our atmosphere knocks it up a notch and gives the Kryptonians super senses as well as, conceivably, the ability to defy gravity.

Superman, as he points out to Zod, has had years to overcome the naturally vertiginous effects.  He can focus his senses and block out the remaining cacophony.  Zod, without that training, is overwhelmed the first time his helmet is removed.  But later, in the final showdown, he declares that as a genetically bred warrior, he has honed his body his entire life, and can master his powers in an afternoon.  Eschewing his warsuit, he demonstrates his mastery by beginning to fly, a skill which Superman has only just acquired (once he put on the suit).

Pretty sure he took the red pill.

This is where I have a beef.  I believe that Zod purposefully took off the suit knowing that Superman's thirty years of soaking up the sun would make Superman more powerful.  That though well-matched, Superman was nevertheless superior, and that in taking off the suit Zod committed himself to forcing Superman to kill him.  He'd already declared that with the Genesis Chamber on the scout ship destroyed, he had nothing.  He'd committed himself to destroying Jor El's son already, but knowing that he was likely to fail, Zod realized that his final bid was to force Kal El to take his life.

He accomplished this in the subway, where it came down to Superman's option to save the earthlings, or kill Zod, and Superman chose us.  His mantle wasn't placed on him, he'd willingly taken it up.  And the movie succeeds with this final showdown where so many others fail because this version of Superman is not some nihilistic god bound by obligation to defend humanity, but rather one that has willingly committed himself to our good.

And that's why I choose to overlook its several flaws -- because ultimately the story revolves around the choices that the characters make and ultimately their very real ramifications.   

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).