Hollering for help, Lois Lane dangles overhead from a helicopter that has crashed atop a skyscraper. On the sidewalk below Clark Kent, briefcase in hand, squeezes through a panicked crowd, searching for a place to transform into the hero of “Superman: The Movie”, which came out in 1978. He pauses to size up a public payphone, but the booths that served him well in the comic books of the 1940s have themselves transformed, into transparent boxes on pedestals. In a gesture of gentle Kentian consternation, he purses his lips, then moves on. It’s a sly visual joke, in keeping with the buoyant spirit of the film: the world was changing, but he could not—at least, not easily. In retrospect, it prophesied Superman’s predicament in the 21st century, in the existential battle every comic-book hero must wage, the one for cultural relevance.
The payphone has all but vanished now, while the humble telephone has undergone a classic comic-book-hero’s journey and acquired awesome new powers. Trust has collapsed in the institutions Superman used to defend. Mr Kent’s chosen profession, it must be admitted, is not what it was. (The 1978 film dates itself by opening with a paean to a “symbol of hope”—not Superman but the Daily Planet, with its “reputation for clarity and truth”.) As facts have become more contested and the world ever more complicated, Americans have resorted to a simple means to sort the good guys from the bad guys. And for Superman, political polarisation, more than any mineral, is kryptonite, a challenge to the idealism that is his core proposition.
Mere cynicism is an enemy he has always defeated. The 1978 film, which starred Christopher Reeve, was a tonic for Americans discontented by Watergate and Vietnam. When Superman grants his first interview, he tells Lois Lane, played by Margot Kidder, that he has come “to fight for truth and justice and the American way”. His spell over her snaps, and she guffaws: “You’re going to end up fighting every elected official in this country!” But the mockery itself implies she believes in an “American way” that transcends politics, and Superman rightly judges she is striking a pose: “I’m sure you don’t really mean that, Lois,” he replies mildly.
That movie, a blockbuster, touched off the boom in comic-book cinema that continues to this day. Yet, though faster than a speeding bullet, Superman, with his sincerity and godlike power, has had more trouble than other superheroes keeping up with the fashions for irony and anti-heroes. The X-Men were easily cast as spiky misfits with authority problems, as were most members of the Marvel crowd, led by Ironman, with his bad-boy ways and wisecrackery. Batman’s tragic back story, human frailty and creepy eponym suited him for exploring the dark dimensions of superhero vigilantism. But characters with powers as vast as Superman have tended to become studies in how power corrupts, as in two Amazon series, “The Boys” and “Invincible”.
When the director Zack Snyder brought Superman back to the big screen in 2013 in “The Man of Steel”, he was burdened by his power and the fear it sows. He wore his blue bodysuit, duly darkened, like a hair shirt. That film tried to sidestep terrestrial politics by pitting its suffering Superman against invading Kryptonians, allying him with all humanity, not any particular government. That was a political statement in itself. “You’re scared of me because you can’t control me,” Superman tells an American general. “But that doesn’t mean I’m your enemy.” It did not necessarily make him an ally, either. That is why, in Mr Snyder’s next instalment, “Batman v Superman”, Batman tries to kill him.
The latest effort to imagine Superman came under attack from American culture warriors as it landed in theatres on July 11th. The director, James Gunn, had observed in an interview that Superman was an immigrant, and he said he wanted to tell a story of “basic human kindness”. Possibly overlooking that the First Lady is an immigrant, and that surrendering “kindness” may not be politically wise, some on the right attacked the movie as “woke” before they even saw it.
But “Superman” drew enthusiastic fans in its first weekend, leading at the box office, and it is doubtful they were reacting to a partisan theme. Mr Gunn, probably best known for his three “Guardians of the Galaxy” movies, takes chances with being glib but not polemical. In his movies he gestures at politics for the same reasons he does at social media or popular music: to wink at the audience and supply familiar context for his freakish characters. This time, that helps him emphasise how out of synch his hero is, so uncool, as Lois acidly notes, that he thinks a lousy pop band plays punk rock. Rather than run away from Superman’s squareness, this movie recovers the Superman of 1978 and before: unironic, uncynical and optimistic, blind to politics in his commitment to saving lives, whether human, dog or squirrel.
Dreams from his fathers
To the extent the director ventures an argument that touches politics, it is that in a cynical and cutting world, to be kind and sincere is subversive, even cool. Mr Gunn appreciates that among superheroes, Superman is actually the greatest misfit of all. In an echo of their 1978 exchange, Lois mocks him for thinking everyone he meets is trustworthy and beautiful. “Maybe that’s the real punk rock,” he replies mildly. Mr Gunn’s frequent theme, an intergenerational crowd-pleaser, is the relationship between parents and children, and Superman’s origins offer rich terrain. By inserting a wrinkle into the Kryptonian way of parenting, Mr Gunn sharpens the question of whether this alien might have chosen to use his gifts for evil. But the movie is not hinting at menace. Instead, it illuminates what has always been Superman’s most important power: a character sound enough to resist the temptation to abuse his other powers. That is a political lesson for any era.
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