I saw Superman (the new one) last week. I enjoyed it a lot, but it also made me terribly sad in a wistful, nostalgic kind of way. For one thing, I can no longer think of Superman without thinking of Kavalier and Clay, which is so much about the Superman idea.
But mostly, this movie, even with its up-to-date special effects and Hot Young Stars, just seemed so sadly, sweetly dated.
The age of Superman has passed, is what I kept thinking. Every time he would do something amazing, like stop bullets or lift a plane, I would think "we used to think that. We used to think one man could be strong enough to save the world."
But the truth is that we don't think that any more. We pretend to think that one man can destroy the world, but I don't know that we really believe that any more either. Perhaps we're holding on to that belief with such tenacity precisely because the only thing we really have left if we have stopped believing in Superman is to believe, at least, in Lex Luthor. (or Hitler, or Osama, or Saddam). But we know even that isn't true.
Men – even men from another planet, even six million dollar men, even men with all the gadgets in the world – can barely do anything to the world all by themselves.
Instead, the world seems to change, for the better or for the worse, all in waves, without anybody being able to either take credit or blame, despite a number of people trying to do so.
It's always been that way, of course, but I think for a nation that believed so long in Superman and Lewis and Clark and George Washington and Paul Bunyan and Franklin Roosevelt and Lincoln; for a people who want so badly to believe that all it takes to elminate centuries of slavery and racism is to get a few more Rosa Parkses and Martin Luther Kings, that is a very hard thing to accept.
But we're being forced to accept it. We just don't believe in Superman any more. Not to say that the thirties and the forties believed he existed, either, but they believed it was possible, I think.
I'm not suggesting that my grandfather's generation was naïve and mine is knowing – that's foolish and naïve itself. But what I am suggesting is that we live in such a frighteningly heterodox world. It's better for that heterodoxy in many ways, but it's also so very hard for us to process.
Ours is a world that is almost completely certain that no Superman will ever stop a plane crash. A world that has given up hope of personal rocket packs and a settlement on Mars. A world in which "world peace" has become little more than a joke. A world in which "security" is a political strategy, not an achievable goal.
And it isn't anyone's fault, exactly. That's just the thing – no fault, no credit, no singular achievement, no Supermen. Superheroes have always been mythic, and to some extent also always nostalgic (certainly a figure like John Henry points that out), but I wonder if we've even moved beyond the point of nostalgia, or if we don’t allow ourselves to be comforted by it anymore. It seems morally irresponsible, in a way – to assume that the past had it better; to valorize a simplicity that never existed. We know that we must accept irresolvedness and complexity, but the truth is that that's very, very hard for people.
I'm probably being a) too self-focused and b) too naïve in my analysis. But regardless, Superman made me sad.
A man flying against the sunset, or alone in the starry night sky with the love of his life – those things don't exist, and we know they don't exist. Disillusionment is our way of life, and to a large extent that's likely for the best.
But there are times when we really miss the illusions. Sometimes we miss the time when that thing up there in the sky might not be a bird or a plane (or a spy satellite or a bomb), but a hope. Just a single hope, able to leap tall buildlings in a single bound and stop a speeding bullet.
That's my birthday wish for my country, which I do love very much. That we continue to hope, and to use that hope as a support for action, for righteousness, for goodness, for the pursuit of happiness. Let us hope.
But mostly, this movie, even with its up-to-date special effects and Hot Young Stars, just seemed so sadly, sweetly dated.
The age of Superman has passed, is what I kept thinking. Every time he would do something amazing, like stop bullets or lift a plane, I would think "we used to think that. We used to think one man could be strong enough to save the world."
But the truth is that we don't think that any more. We pretend to think that one man can destroy the world, but I don't know that we really believe that any more either. Perhaps we're holding on to that belief with such tenacity precisely because the only thing we really have left if we have stopped believing in Superman is to believe, at least, in Lex Luthor. (or Hitler, or Osama, or Saddam). But we know even that isn't true.
Men – even men from another planet, even six million dollar men, even men with all the gadgets in the world – can barely do anything to the world all by themselves.
Instead, the world seems to change, for the better or for the worse, all in waves, without anybody being able to either take credit or blame, despite a number of people trying to do so.
It's always been that way, of course, but I think for a nation that believed so long in Superman and Lewis and Clark and George Washington and Paul Bunyan and Franklin Roosevelt and Lincoln; for a people who want so badly to believe that all it takes to elminate centuries of slavery and racism is to get a few more Rosa Parkses and Martin Luther Kings, that is a very hard thing to accept.
But we're being forced to accept it. We just don't believe in Superman any more. Not to say that the thirties and the forties believed he existed, either, but they believed it was possible, I think.
I'm not suggesting that my grandfather's generation was naïve and mine is knowing – that's foolish and naïve itself. But what I am suggesting is that we live in such a frighteningly heterodox world. It's better for that heterodoxy in many ways, but it's also so very hard for us to process.
Ours is a world that is almost completely certain that no Superman will ever stop a plane crash. A world that has given up hope of personal rocket packs and a settlement on Mars. A world in which "world peace" has become little more than a joke. A world in which "security" is a political strategy, not an achievable goal.
And it isn't anyone's fault, exactly. That's just the thing – no fault, no credit, no singular achievement, no Supermen. Superheroes have always been mythic, and to some extent also always nostalgic (certainly a figure like John Henry points that out), but I wonder if we've even moved beyond the point of nostalgia, or if we don’t allow ourselves to be comforted by it anymore. It seems morally irresponsible, in a way – to assume that the past had it better; to valorize a simplicity that never existed. We know that we must accept irresolvedness and complexity, but the truth is that that's very, very hard for people.
I'm probably being a) too self-focused and b) too naïve in my analysis. But regardless, Superman made me sad.
A man flying against the sunset, or alone in the starry night sky with the love of his life – those things don't exist, and we know they don't exist. Disillusionment is our way of life, and to a large extent that's likely for the best.
But there are times when we really miss the illusions. Sometimes we miss the time when that thing up there in the sky might not be a bird or a plane (or a spy satellite or a bomb), but a hope. Just a single hope, able to leap tall buildlings in a single bound and stop a speeding bullet.
That's my birthday wish for my country, which I do love very much. That we continue to hope, and to use that hope as a support for action, for righteousness, for goodness, for the pursuit of happiness. Let us hope.
Labels: lonliness, movies, reviews, spirit of the age
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