Por: Declan Hertel
Redactor de Entretenimiento

There are a lot of superhero movies these days. This is not news to anyone. They consistently make big, big money at the box office, and there’s no real end in sight, with Marvel’s release schedule stretching at least into 2020 and DC’s cinematic universe just getting revved up.

These films have a deep and rich history of heroes and storylines and villains and themes to pull from; some of these characters have been around three times as long as I’ve been alive, having adventures in their countless comic books. So, it seems to me, the question is: why are these films so shallow?

Let’s waste no time: modern superhero movies aren’t allowed to take risks because they only have two hours and need to appeal to as broad an audience as possible to recoup the hundreds of millions of dollars spent on making them, and then some. Meanwhile, comic books cost a fraction of a fraction of a movie budget to produce and distribute, and can tell stories over the long term. Because of their low cost and long form nature, they’re allowed to (gasp) take risks with their storytelling, to tackle heavy issues and really meditate upon the American consciousness in a meaningful way.

Carmen Petaccio wrote a piece for The Atlantic this March about the increasing darkness of superhero films, and how this washed-out grittiness feels false, or out of place for stories about superheroes, and refers to the “Civil War” storyline, the basis for the next Captain America movie, as if it was created out of thin air for the films as a cynical attempt to keep the audience interested. This is a somewhat disheartening example of Did-Not-Do-the-Research: it would take a minimum of effort to find that in fact, the “Civil War” arc was a long and sordid affair in the comics world. And, while I agree with him that the upcoming film looks like mediocre fan fiction, that’s only because it literally doesn’t have the time available to it to tell the story well. In comics, the “Civil War” was a brutal and bloody conflict, involving pretty much the whole Marvel universe, over freedom vs. security in America: do we force heroes to register and be under government control, or do we let them continue independently and assume the risks therein? This is an issue even more prominent today than it was when the arc began, and I fear that the films will only pay lip service to these themes in exchange for two and a half hours of colorful men punching each other.

Comics are also the only superhero medium that allow heroes to be rounded, three-dimensional characters (though of the TV series, “Daredevil” comes close, and “Jessica Jones” closer, and yet … ) John Green railed against Batman in a Vlogbrothers video from about a year ago, saying that if Bruce Wayne/Batman really wanted to help Gotham, he’d invest his money in schools, rebuilding the crumbling infrastructure, into bringing the city into the modern age; instead, he pours gajillions of dollars into gizmos and gadgets for him to use to bring down Gotham’s psycho population, only for them to escape from Arkham Asylum, so he must begin the cycle anew. This is an absolutely fair criticism of the movie version of Batman (specifically speaking here about Christopher Nolan’s “Dark Knight” trilogy): he comes off as a selfish, near narcissistic playboy who gets off on beating criminals to a pulp when the sun goes down, and who seems to care precious little about the well-being of the city.

But in reading the pretty freaking brilliant run of “New 52: Batman,” written by Scott Snyder of “American Vampire” fame, after a badass opening fight (because let’s not forget that Batman is a badass), Bruce Wayne delivers a speech unveiling a plan to do literally all the stuff Green claimed Bruce Wayne doesn’t do. He promises to rebuild the infrastructure, fund schools, and modernize Gotham’s public transport, among other plans. He notes that he already has a number of highly interested donors and buildings already all but underway (and yeah the new buildings he proposes will include new Bat-outposts for him to use, but they will also be the source of legitimate boosts to Gotham). In these comics, Bruce Wayne is a deeply troubled man with a savior complex and deep love for his city that he utilizes his ultra-wealth to act upon, both as Batman when night falls and in his own guise as a philanthropist.

And this is where movies fall short. They can’t show the truly interesting and meaningful explorations of the humanity of heroes. They can’t show the nitty gritty. They can’t show Bruce Wayne glad-handing with potential investors and donors. Audiences (especially in the Chinese market, but that’s a different article entirely) want to see colorful dude number one punch colorful dude number two in the face. While this can be fun, it totally misses the point of superhero stories, which is the same point of Greek myths: godlike beings who struggle with their inherent humanity.

Superheroes at their best give us a new way to explore the human condition through the struggles of powerful beings. Unfortunately, I fear that with superhero films being the purely for-fun, somewhat vapid popcorn flicks they are, superheroes and comic books are experiencing reinforcement of the stereotype that they are for children and maladjusted man-children. But at their best, they’re not: besides the decidedly adult stories of a great many franchises (having just read DC’s brutal and disturbing and brilliant “Death of the Family” arc, I can attest that this shit ain’t for the younger set), they’re a means, like Greek myth, to explore being human through the eyes of the superhuman, to cast light directly on human foibles as they shine through the cracks in the armor and deeds of these characters.

Contact the author at dherterl12@wou.edu or on Twitter @journalfuntimes