Why I Needed Batman v Superman Dawn of Justice to be (Completely) Good
I remember being plagued with a sleepless night in 2008 after watching The Dark Knight. On top of how haunting Heath Ledger’s Joker was and how intricate Christopher Nolan’s vision of Gotham was, it was because I had my first conversation about a comic book story with my dad, a philosophy professor — meaning, he is a completely different type of nerd to my type of nerd. Our talk was grounded in the infamous Ferry Dilemma — two ships, one with civilians and one with prisoners, both forced to detonate the other or risk getting destroyed together. It’s the delicious brand of chaos The Joker created, made compelling in contrast to Batman’s sense of order and justice. It was deeply engaging to connect with my father on a totally unexpected level, but also disconcerting to share as much of my private love for comic lore as I did in that conversation. Because of The Dark Knight, my inner rabid fanboy had accepted that comic book stories are no longer something I had to keep to or enjoy by myself. I searched and found more of my people after that moment — they were online and they were the same as me.
Pause for a second story. Yesterday, a couple of days after I saw Batman v Superman Dawn of Justice, I saw Zootopia, Disney’s newest animated film. In it, intrepid bunny Judy Hopps wants to be a cop in a police force dominated by stronger beasts, and to make her mark and solve a case, she has to place trust in expectedly wily fox Nick Wilde. With Frozen revising the modern princess arc, Zootopia continues the new Disney trend of subtly taking digs at the social norms old Disney movies helped reinforce. With this story, Disney tellingly (even if in moments, clumsily) waxes on the inherent danger of casual -isms and how prejudice can, taken collectively, escalate to hatred and fear-mongering between peoples (in the movie, species). The chasm in the movie sorted predators and prey on opposite sides and, in the evolved universe of Zootopia, they existed together but never quite actually allowed each other to live together. It was sobering to see a Disney movie deftly provide insight not only on what is probably our generation’s landmark social issue — but also on my entire Facebook newsfeed this past week. (Bonus viewing: Hank Green on Politics and “Parks and Rec”.)
And now to my point — I, along with a lot of others, did not like BvSDoJ. Some of you, along with a lot of others, did. In almost every other context, this situation would not be newsworthy. It would not get me riled up, furiously fidgeting at my chin, or upending every single movie review on the Internet trying to find tiny ounces of clarity — but it did. The differing opinions on BvSDoJ cast almost everyone who’s seen it in such polar opposite corners that, in true human nature, pitchforks and torches are up in the air to fill the space between. So here’s the chasm splits as painted now: Non-Comic Book Readers “v” Passionate Geeks, Marvel Fans “v” DC Diehards, Critics “v” Audience.
On any other day, I’d be sitting on the latter side of the fence in every one of those divides. But I didn’t enjoy the film, and it bothers me deeply that those I feel the strongest kin to are capable of such venom, passive-aggressive or otherwise. I’ve found reviews, articles and think-pieces attempting to colour between the lines and observe from the middle-ground, but the language is strongest among the movie’s fans — where to openly express your dislike for the movie invalidates your right to be a fan of Batman and/or Superman and/or any DC property. My usual online haunts, where I could stay safe (or as safe as the Internet can get) in the company of the like-minded, are dripping toxic with rabid fanboys staking claim to the sole right to love our shared heroes. The divorce has started. I’m a comic book fan and I liked it, you can’t take that away from me, you (tangential name-calling).
But I’m a comic book fan and I didn’t like it. Like those same fans, I huddled in a private corner with my trade paperbacks after a really hard day and felt the desperate need to be in another universe. I worshipped at the crimson boots of Clark Kent and all he had going for him — endlessly creating fantasies where, like him, I was in total control of my own story. I felt safe in a world where someone as broken as Bruce Wayne still championed order and sense and justice. I had heroes that told me to imagine freely like Hal Jordan, that counselled me on how to be an outsider among outsiders like Dick Grayson. At the tail-end of my 20s now, I have outgrown the need to escape as frequently, but I always regarded that space in my brain and my bookshelf intimately, and would still welcome any opportunity to visit.
So that’s why I needed BvSDoJ to be an absolutely good piece of cinema and why I have a ton of beef against Warner Bros. and Zack Snyder — because I didn’t need another line drawn among our ranks. I didn’t need to see hate so wildly generated by stories we revered. I didn’t need my heroes revised and their followers turned against me. I actually wanted a new generation of audiences captivated by these stories — if it helped me survive in my head, it may help them. But if this reviewer’s experience is any indication — where a kid had to be shuttled out of a dark, scary movie — then it’s not living up to its promise. I can concede to the fact that modern moviemaking is more concerned with a bottom line, and riding on profitable tentpole feature after profitable tentpole feature is all that really counts to keep these movies churning out. Exposing our heroes to the world is a business venture to them and Marvel and 20th Century Fox, fine, but some of us — the ones you all so actively market to — we also need them to stay loyal to our personal mythologies.
Almost every positive review I’ve read had to make huge concessions about plot, pace, tone or dialogue in order to praise an actor, a scene, a line, or most common among the fanbase — a feeling. (I have an uneasy suspicion that part of this movie’s appeal is it cements comic book fanaticism as something cool and aspirational, especially if you were with the ride from the ground floor.) I’d grill well-meaning friends why they liked it, hoping to be corrected, only to hear the same talking points — Ben Affleck was good, Gal Gadot was good, the action was intense and good. In complete fairness, I think the same of those elements, but the whole is not as great even if seen from its best parts.
This movie is not how you create heroes, it is how you get by with a lousy product marketed well. It is not how you develop mythology, it is how you inflate your own ego by putting your own liberties on someone else’s art. And I know it can be done well, because Nolan, Joss Whedon, Tim Miller, Joe Johnston, Anthony and Joe Russo, to their own extents, at least respected the fanbase and audiences alike enough to tell good stories first. I walked in the theatre with a silent agreement that Warner Bros. and Zack Snyder at least held our stories and our heroes sacred. I’m disappointed that they didn’t, but I’m even sadder at what their enterprise is inflicting on our band of outsiders. By all accounts, we have a hard time adjusting to the world as it is; and here you are coming into ours and inciting violence.
In the Philippines, where I live and grew up, we have a national election coming up. Much like in the US elections, and I suspect in a lot of other democracies, there is a sneaking discomfort that we will just be voting for the least of many unsettling evils. It’s a chasm that we have to choose our side in and have to raise another generation in the shadow of. This whole thought exercise is petty in this context, but I needed BvSDoJ to be good because at least in our personal superhero fantasies, our legends could have stayed legendary. I needed BvSDoJ to be good because I need to soldier on with the unflinching confidence that heroes could be good, no matter what.
So which myth will I hold on to now?
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