On Red Capes, Rebel Flags, and Security Blankets

So.........first of all, sorry for the lack of activity.  This blog was originally meant to stay up-to-date on all things in the superhero genre, on the big and small screens and in print.  However, over the last six months I've posted precisely one article, not including this one, and have reserved most of my everyday musings and commentary for my Tumblr page (which you can of course read and follow here), and even then it's mostly just reblogging what other people wrote.  A lot of that is due to life getting in the way, a lot of that was me laying low after some fairly nasty exchanges caused me to leave a fan community I'd been part of for years......but for the most part, it was because I got lazy and kept putting off writing until the subject I was writing about was no longer relevant.

But I'd like to make a resolution now that I'm going to do my damnedest to be more active and make my opinions heard moving forward here at the Red Cape Diaries (although maybe I should call it the Red Cape Bi-Annual?).  And to that end, now that all of the studios have fired off their guns, I'd like to discuss something important in this year in Capes.

2016, perhaps more than any other year, has been incredibly divisive when it comes to the superhero fandom.  There's of course the rivalry between the Marvel and DC Cinematic Universes, but that's nothing new; Marvel vs. DC is perhaps second only to Star Trek vs. Star Wars in terms of pointless franchise loyalty.  More importantly, I feel like there's a growing conflict in the fandom between two different philosophies when it comes to approaching heroes: those who would wear the Cape as a Security Blanket, and those who would wear it as a Rebel Flag.

NOTE: NOT THIS ONE.

Lemme 'splain.

First and foremost, when I'm talking about the 'Rebel Flag' camp I'm about to describe, I'm not suggesting that they subscribe to the kind of views as those who fly Confederate flags, or that the kind of social, racial, political, etc. connotations that come with it should be associated with them in any way.  I try to go out of my way not to mix my politics with my hobbies, and I especially don't care to get into the myriad of increasingly meaningless 'isms' and 'phobias' that get thrown around when identity politics come up.  People in the Rebel Flag camp of the fandom can come from the far Left just as easily as they come from the far Right, with just as many Libertarians and Marxists and whatever-elses in between, so again, I am not attempting to claim these people have the same worldview.

I am, however, saying that just like people who fly that flag in the face of demands that it be taken down, there is a growing and increasingly vocal camp within the superhero community that expresses their opinions as a deliberate gesture of defiance.  The Rebel Flag has a lot of connotations to it, and depending on where you live and how you see the world, those connotations may be positive or extremely negative.  Some see it as an expression of populist pride, a reinforcement of regional or community tradition openly opposed to the sneering cosmopolitan elite.  Others see it as a symbol of hatred and oppression, a backwards and bigoted recall to dark and shameful chapters of our history.  Regardless of how you feel about it, the fact is that (in America, at least) it's next to impossible to look at the Rebel Flag and not feel something.  It's intentionally provocative, and those who fly it do so to stick up a middle finger to people who want to do away with it.

In much the same way, 2016 has seen a rise of people in the superhero community who have planted a flag in direct opposition to the popular narrative, regardless of who they offend or what names people call them.  The largest of these, of course, is the fanbase of the DC Extended Universe.  According to the critics and to popular opinion, Batman v Superman and Suicide Squad were atrocities to be viewed with the same level of revulsion and anger as war crimes.  Zack Snyder and David Ayer were repeatedly dragged through the mud, all but burned in effigy.  And those who dared claim that they liked the movies?  Oh, well they're just idiots who don't know what they're talking about.  They're just fooling themselves into thinking they liked it.  They're not real fans, like me.

And in the months since then, after onslaughts of negativity, of being bashed and ridiculed and mocked and dismissed, has the DCEU fanbase gone away?  Far from it.  If anything, the fanbase has grown steadily larger and louder.  Some, like Dr. Awkward from the excellent MOSAIC podcast (whom I've name-dropped before and whom you can listen to right here) are refreshingly positive and relish in the opportunity to dive deep into the films, even when they're not entirely on board with the choices made.  Some, like CinemaWins (seriously, just watch it) make it their calling card to defend films they genuinely think are wrongly maligned.  And some, myself very much included, chose to rally not just in favor of entertainment they enjoy, but in rejection of an increasingly bland and homogeneous stream of toothless, low-stakes, Easy Mode brand advertisements that the popular opinion touts as "superheroes done right."

Being in the Rebel Flag camp doesn't necessarily mean you're a DCEU fan-- there are plenty whom I'd classify here who outright hated the movies.  And that's okay; it'd be a damn boring world if we all liked and disliked the same stuff.  Hell, I wasn't all that big on Suicide Squad myself, though there was enough of it I liked that I wouldn't mind seeing more.  There are other Rebel Flag factions, who openly declare their enjoyment or disdain for certain books or characters or writers in defiance of trends or common belief.  Not all of them are spoiling for a fight, but they don't let the jeers and the snark and naysaying get to them.  They know that saying they like this movie or that comic is putting a target on themselves, they know their opinion is going to draw conflict, and they proceed anyway.  They know what they like, and they don't particularly give a damn what anyone else has to say about it.

And then.....there's the other camp.

In a lot of the conversations I've had with fellow fans, there seems to be a firmly-held and growing sentiment that superhero stories shouldn't just entertain, they have to make you feel good.  And while the inspirational aspects of these characters is what draws most of us to them, far more important, apparently, is the notion that there has to be some undercurrent of childlike joy, of playfulness and fun-- they're not just heroic, they're the people you wish you could be....and they're also your friends, here to bring some sunshine into your day!

And there's nothing wrong with wanting fun and positivity in your entertainment.  In a world that seems increasingly dark and frightening with every year, it's only natural to want to be able to take in some escapism that lets you laugh and smile for a bit.  For a very long time, I railed against the grim-dark cynicism that was pervasive in the wake of the Dark Knight movies, in favor of the technicolor insanity of the Silver Age.  And while my tastes have changed over time, I won't deny there's a definite allure to wanting to wrap yourself up in a big warm Security Blanket and feel like nothing can touch you.

When something threatens that safety and security, though?  The conversation turns ugly, and fast.  If you so much as suggest that you like or even love a character, but then don't treat them like a Fabergé Egg that shatters in a stiff breeze, then you've betrayed that character.  You don't understaaand them; hell, you probably secretly hate them and just pretend to like them so you can get in with us real fans.  You don't love them, not like I do.  The comforting warm-fuzzies of that Security Blanket mentality are addictive, and those who bring something to the table that threatens that safety can't be countenanced, because if they remain, you can't get your fix of feeling safe.

The sharp and loud negative reaction to anything that ventures outside of the comforting warmth of the Security Blanket has been noticed by the studios, and frankly I'm worried about their response.  Marvel was so quick to pounce on the backlash against Man of Steel that they ended up making Age of Ultron too safe and eager-to-please to be anything more than a half-remembered footnote.  DC recoiled from the slings and arrows launched at Batman v Superman so much that they chopped up Suicide Squad to the film's severe detriment.  The first footage we saw of Justice League continually undercut every build in tension with a joke to assuage the masses that they wouldn't dare make the mistake of taking their subject matter too seriously again.  And Doctor Strange, Marvel's biggest chance at making a challenging and mind-bending cinematic experience, amounted to Iron Man but with Magic instead of Robots.  That retreating back into the comfort zone underneath the Security Blanket, that need to please and pander for fear of rejection, is coming at the expense of the created work itself.

Moreover, as bad as it can be for the product we enjoy, it can be equally bad for the community itself.  I've seen a fair share of fandom bubbles, be they forums or Facebook groups or subreddits, who let a comforting consensus sour into groupthink, and from there into a dogma that spurns the outsider and curses the heretic.  Those who yearn for the comfort of the Security Blanket can be just as much of an unwelcoming presence, even just as much of a hostile bully, as those who provoke and attack just for the sheer love of trolling.  And inevitably, as these groups shut themselves off and shut others out, they grow smaller and inevitably peeter out altogether.

Now, this isn't to say that everyone needs to draw a line in the sand and yell "come at me, bro" every time there's a disagreement.  While I do think the occasional provocateur and enfant terrible is bracing and ultimately necessary to build up the emotional toughness needed to get through life, provocation and conflict for its own sake is more often just as useless as hiding under the covers when it arises.  At the end of the day, we're all fans of the same sort of stuff, even if the specifics aren't the same or we come at it from different approaches, so it's best to bear that in mind when a difference of opinion rears its head.  That said, if someone does make it personal or claim that your enjoyment of something outside of their comfort zone makes you less of a fan, don't hesitate to invite them to fuck themselves.

We may argue and bicker over whether Batman should have killed those guys who were trying to burn a harmless old lady to death with a flamethrower, or whether Superman should smile and joke and tell you to stay in school while fending off the apocalypse, but I don't think that Superman puts on his Cape so he can hide under it.

I don't think that Batman puts on his Cape so he can feel warm and fuzzy and ignore larger problems.

I don't think Doctor Strange puts on his Cape to stay within the boundaries of what other people are comfortable with.

And maybe you don't need a Rebel Flag to wave around.....but I sure as hell don't think you need that Security Blanket.

On Civil War, Dawn of Justice, Foamy Beverages, and a Dash of Ayn Rand

So.  First off, hello and welcome to the inaugural entry into the Red Cape Diaries, which I'm fairly certain will be the only place on the entirety of the internet where you can read an overweight white guy's thoughts on superhero culture.....I think.  I'm Andy C., and I plan on using this little corner of cyberspace (does anyone still call it that, or was that just a 90s thing?) to provide reviews, character/film studies, fan theories, pitches for movie/gaming/comic concepts, and whatever other relevant thoughts spring to mind.  It should be fun, at least for me.

Anyway, pleasantries aside, let's get down to business with the first topic at hand.

It's been a banner year for "superheroes fight each other and then team up later" stories, with both Marvel and DC bringing their guns to bear, and everyone and their grandmother has been posting reactions, reviews, comparisons and contrasts, saying who's better and who should just give up and commit seppuku right now to restore their tarnished honor, and so on and so forth.

About six weeks ago, DC swung for the fences with Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, and the general response has been....not kind.  Critics tore the movie apart, and while the majority of audience reviews were positive, said majority was hardly an overwhelming one.  While the film had an absolutely monstrous opening weekend and performed well enough to clear $850 million, it still fell short of the hard-sought billion-dollar mark that studios wanted.  The popular narrative now is that BvS is a failure, and that Warner Bros' moves since then--including expensive re-shoots for the upcoming Suicide Squad, the director for The Flash leaving, and Ben Affleck being made executive producer for Justice League-- are all claimed to be decisions driven by panic in the face of a perceived disaster.

Then, on the other side of the fence, we've got Captain America: Civil War.

The thirteenth entry into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Civil War has been basking in glowing reviews weeks before the movie was even released.  Obviously its box office numbers haven't come in yet since it's still opening weekend, but it looks on course to breeze right past BvS with contemptuous ease and join Iron Man 3 and the first two Avengers movies in the Billion Dollar Club.  The overwhelming popular narrative is that it succeeded on every facet in which BvS failed, and the Marvel juggernaut (the metaphorical term, not the X-men villain) will continue to trample all competition as the series looks to move into 'Phase 4,' with Doctor Strange coming out later this year to keep the self-perpetuating hype machine going.


So then, it's an open-and-shut case, isn't it?  Everyone loves Civil War and hates BvS, so....that's all there is to it, right?


Well, I don't necessarily think so.  In fact, I think the fallout from these two movies has made the competition between the Marvel and DC universes far more interesting, and that a long view will tell a very different tale than the one that's being told now.  And I get this suspicion thanks to some beverages I recently had and a book I read once.

For the last eight years, Marvel and their tyrannical overlords at Disney have been making cinematic soda pop.  It's bubbly, it's sweet with just a little acidic bite, it gives you a little extra energy, and it's addictive as all hell.  It's not a particularly memorable drink, but that ultimately works in its favor, since you can have one after another without ever really getting tired of it.

Care for a refill?  How about refill after refill for the next decade?

So with everyone conditioned to think of Marvel as the Coca-Cola of superhero movies, it would make perfect sense to expect DC to come out as Pepsi, right?  That's how these things work: you have two slightly different flavors of basically the same thing, and then everyone fights forever over which one is better.

Zack Snyder, the folks at DC, and their own tyrannical overlords at WB, however, eschewed soda altogether and have instead been offering glasses of really stout porter.

At this time of day?

You can't drink a porter the way you drink a soda.  It's dark, and it's bitter, and there are a lot of little flavors that you can only parse out if you savor it, and even then it takes a good amount of effort to acquire a taste for it.  It's very easy for people who aren't big beer drinkers to look at a glass of nearly flat-black beverage and decide they're not going to enjoy it, or spit the drink out after the first sip of a flavor they don't like and never try it again.  And if you are a big beer drinker, there's the chance that your own personal tastes are more towards a blonde ale or a Pilsner.

People who particularly like really dark beer aren't commonplace (the ten most popular beers in the world are almost exclusively light), but those who do are generally very enthusiastic about their beverage of choice.  Meanwhile, basically everyone in the world drinks Coca-Cola, but the people who are die-hard Coke fans are generally considered oddballs, since most people will be perfectly fine drinking Pepsi instead.

This is already being reflected in the respective fanbases of the Marvel and DC movie franchises, at least as far as I've seen.  While the internet is overflowing with praise for Civil War and the dozen other films that preceded it, I've noticed that the minority coming out in support of the DCEU have generally been far more passionate about their films of choice, going into a far greater depth in analyzing underlying themes and character motivations and creative decisions on the part of the filmmakers (in that regard, I cannot endorse the MOSAIC blog highly enough, or the Tumblr user pulpklatura who has written an excellent analysis on BvS as a modern Revenge Tragedy).  Maybe not as many people like the DC films as the throngs who put money into Marvel's coffers, but those who do tend to appreciate said films far more, and that alone may get others to give the films another chance over time.

Speaking for myself, I had to watch Batman v Superman three times before I felt I really had a full appreciation of the movie.  Conversely, I saw Civil War once, and while I did enjoy it very much (particularly Tom Holland's debut as the new Spider-Man), I honestly don't think I would be too disappointed if I never saw it again.  Then again, I liked Prometheus more than I liked The Force Awakens, so what the hell do I know.

I think the clash between the MCU and DCEU goes further than merely a difference in flavors, but rather a conflict of ideologies in terms of the creative process.  Zack Snyder, the director of DC's flagship titles and currently in the running for Most Hated Man in America Not Named Donald Trump, has made no secret that one of his dream projects is to do an adaptation of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead, and I think it's become more and more appropriate by the day, because for the last six weeks (and really the last three years since Man of Steel), he's been living it.

Surely bringing up Ayn Rand on the internet will spark only civilized and good-natured discourse.

The Fountainhead is a novel about an architect named Howard Roark, a promising but arrogant creator whose designs fly in the face of a status quo he views as outdated and mundane.  Roark absolutely refuses to compromise his ideals or his creative vision, and as a result he is met at every turn with derision from critics, denied opportunities from more powerful men, and eventually loses everything he worked to achieve.  He falls in with a publisher who has lost his idealism and gets by on pandering to the lowest common denominator, and when things go south for Roark again, throws Roark under the bus.  In time, however, the publisher comes around and defends Roark one last time, and the book ends with the protagonist being commissioned for one last building, a towering monument that will stand the test of time.

It's also the story of one of Roark's classmates, Peter Keating, who trades on being a people-pleaser.  His designs are wildly popular and met with critical acclaim, even if they're rather uninspired and samey, because they fall in line with that people want.  He rises up the corporate ladder quickly and amasses a fortune, but eventually falls from grace when the trends change and his work is no longer in demand.  While he is not the villain of the piece, Keating is viewed with a degree of contempt, as he is a man of constant compromise, bending and scraping for the approval of his peers, and while he is liked for a time, he is ultimately abandoned and forgotten.

Now, we can spend days going back and forth over the merits and failings of Objectivism as a philosophy--or of Rand herself, for that matter-- but that's not the point of this blog, or why I'm bringing it up now.  I'm bringing it up because I think it raises a very interesting question when looking at the two different approaches these studios are taking towards making movies about people in tights: is it better for you, as a creator, to give the people what they want, or to give the people what you want?

For all of the obscene amounts of money they make and the unbroken string of universally praised hits, the Marvel movies do have a rather unsettling feel of uniformity to them.  There have been numerous reports about how the studio can be creatively stifling, and has driven off brilliant directors like Edgar Wright and Patty Jenkins (who will now be directing Wonder Woman over at DC).  While most people involved have had little but kind words to say about their experiences, I do question the point in making films directed by Jon Favreau, Kenneth Branagh, James Gunn, and Joss Whedon, and have them all look and sound and feel nearly identical to each other.

On the other hand, for the two films that comprise the DCEU at the moment, Zack Snyder has been given a tremendous amount of creative control, and while many aren't particularly happy with that fact, Man of Steel and BvS are undeniably his inside and out.  Suicide Squad will be the first of the franchise with another director at the helm, and David Ayer's vision of the seedier side of the superhero world looks starkly different, with its characters all in plainclothes and covered in tattoos, and trailers blasting irreverent party-rock hit "Ballroom Blitz" instead of BvS's bombastic orchestra.  I imagine we'll see what Jenkins' Wonder Woman looks like before too long (I expect a teaser at least at Comic-Con), but so far, for good and for ill, DC seems more confident in the individual visions of the people at the helm.

Of course, with the mountain of negative feedback in BvS's wake, it remains to be seen if WB will keep that level of confidence in its creators.  As mentioned at the beginning of this increasingly ungainly post, Snyder's unorthodox vision of the DC universe and his unapologetic attitude towards critics is reportedly landing him in hot water with the higher-ups, and many believe that Affleck being promoted is a way to rein him in among all the calls for his public crucifixion.  So, much like the fictional Howard Roark, Snyder's unwillingness to compromise could cost him everything he wants to achieve.

The fact that Marvel will continue to make money and be loved by all is as predictable as the sunrise at this point.  If the last twelve movies were any indication, Civil War will retain a high-80-mid-90% critical rating on Rotten Tomatoes, and will make well over a billion dollars, one dollar for every smug comment about how "this is the movie BvS should have been!," and then, just like Iron Man 3 and Age of Ultron and Thor: the Dark World....it will be completely forgotten before the end of the year.

That, I think, is why the Marvel/DC conflict is nowhere near the one-sided trouncing that people assume it is after glancing at Rotten Tomatoes.  Even if the DC movies tank and Snyder is run out of town by an angry torch-wielding mob, he's still made films that a passionate (and growing) community of fans have spent countless hours delving into, finding far richer treasures beneath the surface.  Meanwhile, the Marvel movies are almost entirely surface, with very little reason to revisit any individual film after its contribution to the nebulous whole is done.  They'll keep refilling your soda, but little by little, I think we'll see more people start to gain a taste for that glass of porter.

To put it another way, Peter Keating was popular.  Howard Roark, though, was remembered.


(Also, in the novel Roark was a rapist and Keating was a murderer, but that's not particularly relevant to the allegory I'm making)