The Death of the Marriage of Superman, Followed By the De-Humanization of Clark Kent

Everyone brace yourselves. Clark Kent and I come bearing front-page news.

It's official. Our hero and Lois Lane will no longer be an item come September.

The majority of comics readers I know had already taken DC's half-hearted plan to "examine" the Kent-Lane marriage to mean the two would be divorced by some catastrophic event or through the unfathomable rewinding of time. I'd joined this clan of naysayers pretty much immediately, but I have to admit I nurtured a tiny glow of hope in my heart. I hoped that there might be ONE book among the wandering timeline of books DC's releasing -- most documenting the five-year rise of heroes before starting them on their regular monthly adventures -- where the two might bask in wedded bliss.

But it's not to be. And for the following reasons, documented at Newsrama in quotes and such, but broken down more directly in the following points (http://www.newsarama.com/comics/dcnu-didio-lee-explain-superman-changes-110718.html):

1) Dissolving the marriage makes Superman more "accessible," according to artist and Co-Publisher Jim Lee. Actually, it is one of the many items within his life being vanished for the sake of simplifying his story (benefits: giving readers an uncomplicated starting point to jump onto, and allowing writers to center the drama of their stories on a man desperate for companionship). Clark's Earth parents, the "kindly couple" Jonathan and Martha Kent, are being killed off early in his life, doubling his tragedy as he begins to develop superpowers. The result? An alien completely isolated from the human experience must find his way in the world. (Why this is not a new story idea is something I'll return to.) However, in various series, Superman will either hone his powers, join the Justice League, develop his costume, or struggle with forming relationships while his chief rival at the Daily Planet, Lois Lane, deals with having a boyfriend. (Barf.)

2) DC believes marriage means being "settled" and offers fewer story ideas to play with; better to be single, or so insinuates Lee. "If you have a life partner, you always have someone to rely on. So from a story conflict point of view, it makes for a less dramatic story. I think a lot of writers can agree that one of the most dynamic periods of Superman's history was that period where there was a love triangle between Clark Kent, Lois Lane and Superman." But in returning to the love triangle of yesteryear, Lee points out pioneering Superman writer Grant Morrison will be introducing new elements into the mythos that will make these warring identities and relationships more accessible to a modern reader. How? I have no idea. I assume Lois' boyfriend has something to do with it.

3) The writers at DC want to explore Superman as an alien, not as Clark Kent. If he's married, if he understands his place in the world, if he sees himself as just another person among many, then what is there left to explore in the character?

4) The ultimate desire in this reboot is to showcase Superman as he comes into his own, unmarried; this means many of the stories being told in Action Comics and Justice League will take place five years in the past, where Superman struggles to find others like him and to deal with those that aren't. In order to hit the ground running, we need to see a hero at his earliest point, at his most vulnerable, argue the Co-Publishers. Meanwhile, Superman the comic series, where he'll work at the Daily Planet, will take place in the present and deal with Lois.

Now in response to these justifications, I want to showcase where this reboot is missing the boat, or at least some of the more obvious and interesting ideas surrounding the character:

1) Superman can hear things happening halfway around the world. He can x-ray your body with his eyes. A rock can kill him. He's never been like us, and the real tension in his character lies not in his immediate acceptance of his human identity but in his adoption of it. He's only Clark Kent as much as the immigrants who came to this country in the 1800s and 1900s were Americans; they abandoned their traditions and even last names in order to fit into American society. They left their Old World behind, and there had to be guilt or at least missteps that are interesting to research. Doesn't Superman have anything like that? This would be a fresh angle to explore, if that's what you're worried about, DC -- as opposed to the same-old, same-old comics struggle of learning how to control your powers. I don't have powers, I don't care how you control yours. I do however care about how you navigate your social obligations, and Superman would have issues doing this in certain jams -- whether ordering coffee incorrectly or yearning to honor a dead society he knows little about.

You're right that Clark being Clark isn't interesting. Your implication that being Clark and Superman at the same time isn't possible or interesting is off the mark as well, though.

To me, the most interesting stories in Superman lore, or at least cinematically and television-wise, revolve around him acting as Superman while in the guise of Clark Kent. You can see the tension between his identities in such setups, because he never stopped being Superman. Still, he had to guard his secret, lest he be host to suspicions, mistrust and dissection as an alien; America's never been super-kind to the Other, after all. But he still took opportunities to melt locks with his heat vision, or x-ray hidden chambers, just by nudging his glasses down his nose, etc. The stakes were always high when things like this happened in "Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman" (yes, I'm referencing this show -- not as a amazing dramatic tour-de-force, but as a show that got the everyday issues with being a superhero pretty right, I think). Clark is both a cover and a consolation, but who says Superman has to be comfortable with the surface? Too many writers put him too much at ease with both adopted and intrinsic Kryptonian traditions; there's gotta be push and pull there for us to identify with the character. Sure, he's not human, but when is he fine with that? When is he not?

2) How can you think marriage is undramatic? Apparently, all the writers got together in a conference room and had a big chat about Superman his marriage, many agreeing that dissolving his marriage would allow them to explore the character "in a bigger way." Um, that's tantamount to saying his wife's holding him back. Way to go, guys. Everything I wrote about in my previous blog post about marriage turns out to be reflected in your misigivings about the relationship (or your misunderstanding about Lois Lane, who's a badass)! I can't imagine how your crew could have so little imagination. Because Superman's married, he can't fly into space and help out Green Lantern? I already wrote about what dangerous thinking that is in my last post, so I won't get into it again. But seriously; he can't be epic if he's tied down? Lame, guys.

And also, if you want to dream bigger, maybe don't even try and set up another love triangle (now complete with fourth wheel boyfriend), so the characters are rebooted and actually DIFFERENT! But in your new set-up things aren't different -- the love triangle is still around. Here's an idea: DO SOMETHING ELSE, if you're so tired of sexual tension within relationships. Don't even approach romance and see how the character develops as a career journalist or something, if this a true reboot. Have him adopt a kid, have him volunteer at a soup kitchen or take up needlepoint! (I'm not endorsing any of these ideas, just challenging creativity. Honestly, the heart of this character's journey has always been one of the most endearing romances in comics. I doubt a relationship will be delayed for long; we already waited long enough for them to get married once.)

3) If Clark Kent is an afterthought, as opposed to something that's both in conflict with Superman and helps him, then ... why should I care whether or not Superman is isolated? What is he looking for in these new series? This article gives me no clue, and it makes me nervous to read this reboot.

Struggling with your identity is a universal issue, Co-Publisher Dan Didio points out. And he's not wrong. But where is Superman headed, if the emphasis is staying on his Other-ness, if he's only going to stay an alien?

4) How is it a reboot if you're already telling past stories? That's only going to confuse new readers, guys; new readers don't know that they need to read three series at once to get the whole picture, and I thought the whole point was to simplify things for everyone. Oh, no, it wasn't. Because you basically tell Newsrama you're doing this because Superman sold great when he was re-debuted in the 1980s! So this is still all a cash-cow trick? Great! And what makes it better is that you're stretching the reboot out across several books, meaning customers are forced to spend even more money. Brilliant marketing and sneaky editorialship, a combo that's likely to lose me as a reader.

All this being ranted about ...

Socially, it's interesting that we're de-emphasizing Clark Kent in favor of his alter ego Superman in 2011. This is a radical shift, since his comics have been geared completely towards developing his humanity since the 1980s. And I do wonder what it says that we're returning to the majestical 1930s Ubermensch Superman was created to be ...

I think it says a lot about where we're at in America, standing as a powerful nation with no idea what it stands for in a contemporary context, since it has big shoulder and a heavy stick but is maybe a bit outmoded in its morality and execution of its values. Superman's direction across the ages says a lot about how we see the USA as a world power, whether we realize it or not. And for that reason alone, I find the character worth following and loving. Even if I think the direction he's headed in might be disastrous. Or boring. Or both.

POST-SCRIPT: I will refrain from using my next post to continue talking about DC and Superman. I'll be reading either a new series of comics or talking about how comics work in movies or television. My anger must be exhausting to read. Heck, even I need a break.

Till WHAT Do You Part?

Okay, so all this talk about dismantling Clark and Kent and Lois Lane's marriage, only twelve years old, has had me thinking a lot lately.

About wedding bells.

About marriage vows.

About power couples who travel across dimensions and somehow still have time to work on their relationship, like these happy people:

Basically, I've spent a lot of time thinking about marriage in comics and what it means, overall. Mr. Fantastic and the Invisible Woman seem to have it figured out (despite the world's worst, least feminist-friendly superhero names). How is it their marriage remains relatively un-messed with by writers and editors alike, while Clark and Lois will be hitting the reset button on their antagonist rival reporter relationship come this fall. I'm telling you now, look forward to plenty of old school Siegel style banter:

Wow, tell us how you really feel, Lois. Don't you know your nerdy co-worker is sensitive? Exhibit A, from a later Lois Lane comic:

All in all, I feel like marriage is taken for granted as a chance for character growth within mainstream superhero comics. It's just something that happens, and it's something that ends as easily. Often, marriage is dismantled with nary a thought to the impact it has on the characters within hero books. I suppose this shouldn't surprise me, given that I can think of maybe three writers in past DC stables (Greg Rucka, Mark Waid and Kurt Busiek) who were able to drum up marital conflict without resorting to soap operatic misunderstandings, cliches about somebody being in danger while hubby's out on patrol, or running themes of miscommunication until somebody ends up in a mental hospital (thanks, Daredevil--you're great with the ladies, but once you're in an actual relationship, women don't fare well in your book).

Side note: Is it any wonder the writers I mentioned above no longer work at DC full-time? They're too realistic (actually, they all have personal side projects to work on, but many of those projects probe into the superhero as an allegory for American life in amazing ways)! In his run on Superman, Rucka had Clark and Lois grow apart simply because Superman was having a lousy time at work and Lois was assigned to follow a war in another country. Realistic, everyday things like time and distance separated them, and the sadness they both feel at their limited communication is palpable. Check out this short series of panels, in which Lois heads out for her assignment. I defy you to find a better depiction of two people who want to say a lot but can only manage to say a little under the circumstances:

DC's competition fares no better at allowing married couples to act as married couples do, I fear. Hell, Joe Quesada over at Marvel made one of the least popular editorial decisions in that company's history by breaking up Peter Parker and Mary Jane's marriage. How he do this? He had the couple make a deal with the devil. Seriously. Mephisto vows to save his Spidey's older aunt, who's lived a long, long life in exchange for the following thing:

Diabolical. What he does with their love is anyone's guess. At least when DC's version of the devil, Neron, stole Wally West and Linda Park's love, he ended up cuddling and comforting all the minions he'd been torturing only hours before. Still ridiculous. Then again, Mark Waid also had Wally race into a Vahalla for speedsters, only to come back because Linda's love was his beacon back to Earth. Corny, I know. But still believable, in its fairy tale way. Perhaps more astonishingly, Waid took Wally from being this guy--

--To being this guy:

Articulate, a leader of heroes, and just plain adorable in his marriage proposal. (Of course, Waid had help from Mark Millar and Grant Morrison here. Good on ya, guys!)

But this rather picture-happy rambling forces me to come to a point. What's a more mature, courageous decision than dedicating your life to the support, love and protection of another human being? (You might even call it heroic.) In comics, marriages should be taken at least as seriously as they are in real life, given that character actions in comics often stand as huge metaphors, slipping into allegories, about the everyday heroism displayed and required by real people. What do writers have to say about marriage? How can they make understand the state of the union in a contemporary context through a pulpy, pop culture medium? Could they surprise us? Often, they don't.

Like when, say, Black Canary has to murder her husband on their honeymoon, but it turns out that he's an impostor, so no consequential blow-back happens -- despite having harbored the impression that somebody killed the man they loved for more than a few moments. I gotta think that such plots rob the exploration of marriage any validity or meaning beyond spinning the wheels of a character's lifespan. Rather than showing what a major and somewhat terrifying commitment marriage is, to prove our hero an even greater hero, writers sometimes pull the rug out from under a reader and create false drama.

Not only can violent conflicts be upended using the impostor angle, not only can marriages be stolen by the devil rather than allowed to run a natural course into lovelessness and exhaustion (based on compelling character mistakes), they can be thrown into the jaws of death and THEN snatched right back, as if nothing bad ever happened in the first place. It's okay. Green Arrow and Black Canary are still together today, those crazy kids.

Ultimately, I think it's the impermanence of the marriage institution that drives me a little crazy. Maybe I'm revealing myself to be a prude here, believing in marriage as an institution when half of marriage fail nowadays. But let me be clear: I don't think divorce should be kept out of comics, I don't think everyone should be married, and watching superheroes come to that conclusion would be FASCINATING. An emotional landscape they can't conquer is rare to find; why not explore something more complicated?

But the marketing departments at DC and Marvel seems to think the readers of comic books can't handle a sticky situation involving one's spouse. Rather than go for the heart, they go for the entrails and the easier solution--death, mistaken identities, curses, etc.--rather than explore real conflict between two people. We're already dependent on technology to connect for us; avoiding actual human interaction in our art, substituting it with gore and sophomoric horror and compromises--what does that say about us about an American culture?

I imagine this avoidance mindset grew out of the male-created romance comics from the 1940s and 1950s, where women were either temptresses or pure as snow, and fulfilled their boyfriend's every wish because that was what was expected of them. These comics were written for young girls to bask in sudsy, forbidden predicaments, true, but they also reinforced both the fantasies and nightmares believed of women by nerdy male writers, which led to things like this:

Liking girls, or having any kind of sexual or emotional dependence on anyone--regardless of gender in few cases--leads to compromise, and I'm sometimes told, a lack of action in superhero books. In other words, when heroes get married, they're a snorefest. Well, that's only true if a woman's either a Madonna or a whore. Making her a character in her own right is a step in the right direction for creating good stories and making honest statements about marriage in a surprising context. What makes Mr. Fantastic and Sue Storm work probably has a lot to do with the fact that they star in a book dedicated to showcasing the weird families we make for ourselves, just as The Fantastic Four does after being irradiated into being superheroes. Because of their choice to stick together as a family, strong characters are formed, and marriage features easily in the book, and will always be a permanent feature in it.

I'd love to see more of this. I'd love to see more characters working through the regular stress of a relationship within heightened, universe-shattering circumstances; that's drama on a goofy, adventure-sized level. It could be meaningless, but the right writer could pack it with significance, showing us why we love the characters we're reading in the first place, and how they can prove to us us when we need to suck it up and get on with our lives.

But you don't get that attitude often. More often, you end up with dead ghost detectives, or worse, rebooted lives with a strange new set of circumstances to tangle with--not deep issues, just plot-driven ones. (Check out the Superman 2000 proposal, later cannibalized by several writers involved in the rejected project, for an example of an O. Henry-esque sacrifice to effectively reboot Clark and Lois' relationship, as their marriage is wiped out of everyone's minds: http://superman.nu/theages/History/2000/SUPERMAN2000.php.)

Marriage can be active, it can be as nail-biting as any villain's deathtrap; Aquaman and Mera (they're basically eco-terrorists now), Reed and Sue (um, they travel through dimensions and have kids), and Clark and Lois (balancing work with his constant absence) have proved this on and off--overcoming obstacles that make their feelings for one another even more epic. Getting hitched allows characters to face a new type of conflict and react in ways that makes them even more likeable, complex and adventurous. In that light, de-institutionalizing the concept of marriage, or making characters' choice of it insignificant via rebooted circumstances is a travesty of wasted opportunities. I hope the writers at DC remember this when they decide to have Clark pop the question again years from now.