I mean, sure, maybe we worship absurdly dark gods of violence...
...our women are a wee bit scantily clad...
...and we sacrifice them a little too liberally...
But it's all in good fun, right?
Apparently not.
Following their descent on our untrammeled isle of capes and spandex, these new settlers have seemingly started to do what all settlers eventually do. Demand the natives to ditch their traditions in favor of assimilation, under the penalty of expulsion. At least, that's how most lifelong comic fans are starting to feel. Put your ear to the ground of any comic book store, and you can hear the rumblings of an impending war.
Lets clarify something off the bat. This isn't some men's rights article claiming that the icky girls should leave our sandbox. Far from it. Since my reluctantly celibate string of adolescent years, I've personally been dying for a boost in female readership. Now that my status on the sexual pendulum has reversed, I couldn't be happier to use the first trade of SAGA as either an opening icebreaker or a deal sealer. Also, I'm not too myopic a male fan to recognize that there are some salient gripes that the broads have with various comic tropes.
I'm actually writing this article(and eventually several others)to elucidate a specifically murky topic that continually ensnares both genders in the viscous muck of schoolyard petulance. What's the issue you ask?
Now, fellas, to us these pictures are benign promotional images depicting a hero in jeopardy to entice our prospective attendance and/or readership. The intent is to get us to say, "Whoa, how does Batgirl get outta this one? Dude, she's fucked. I gotta buy this issue."
Whereas female fans see that same image and say, "What am I supposed to to get outta this? That she's gonna get fucking raped? I'm not buying this issue."
This is a very important distinction to make, as it's the crux of the controversy surrounding both of these pictures. It's like a feminist Rorschach test. Women see these pictures as evidence of sexism's inescapable tendrils worming its way into everything. Men view women's reaction to these innocuous images as further evidence of the fabled feminine irrationality. Women interpret THAT response as their thoughts being callously dismissed, yet again. Which in turn, causes men to brand them as arid joyless buzzkills. And it just keeps going on and on, until the comic news cycle looks like a fucking reverse dolly zoom.
See, the reason we get caught in this perpetual mud slinging squabble is that we miss the forrest for the trees. We're too busy focused on women "butchering" fiction with needless restrictions that defang any effective storytelling, and not WHY women go to fiction in the first place. The divergent responses exhibited by either side of the gender divide already provides us with the solution to reconcile these dueling perspectives.
For further proof, let's examine Batgirl herself. Pretty much any dude would be lying if they said they didn't prefer Barbra Gordon's stint as Oracle to Batgirl. Under the Oracle mantle, Barbra, conquered the cruel fate of paralysis to become even more useful in Batman's crusade against crime, than previously possible in her prior role. She was literally shot down, and she got back up again. To the male audience that display of tenacity MAKES Barbra a strong character. We hear that story, associate it with a resiliency of character, of which we wish to aspire, and commend it.
Women hear that same story and interpret it as Barbra being STRIPPED of her power. As Batgirl she was an equal, and, in their minds, arguably superior, to Batman. They view her tenure as Oracle an embarrassing demotion. Watching Babs recover from a crippling injury doesn't make her strong in the eyes of the feminine. She was already strong; she was a super hero.
Don't believe me? Next time you're at the shop, ask a female fan which one they prefer. Go on, I'll wait.
To me, the more interesting question is how's the answer always so perfectly predictable in it's polarization? Easy, men usually go to superheroes for power fantasies. Women go to superheroes for EMPOWERED FANTASIES. But, we'll come back to that in a minute.
Following the release of Star Wars the Force Awakens, Max Landis called the film's female protagonist, Rey, a Mary Sue. Citing Rey's total immunity to narrative roadblocks as lazy storytelling caused the reliably reflexive Internet to brand Landis as a sexist. I'll say that again, the "Internet" called a dude that looks like this...
...a sexist for making a valid point. Rey REALLY doesn't struggle in the movie at all. She just casually strides through chaos unscathed like Mr. fucking Magoo. And that,apparently, is exactly what the female audience wanted.
Of all the articles written in response to Landis' video this one gave me the most food for thought. In the linked piece, the female reviewer basically said, "So what if Rey is a Mary Sue? Who cares? Boys get Captain America, a walking example of perfection. Why can't we have one too?"
Initially I scoffed after reading that sentence. Clearly, this writer had a misunderstanding of Cap, and why we enjoy his exploits. Captain America may be a physical and moral example of perfection, but he still has to scale steep opposition to save the day. Rey just hopscotches all over the Star Killer and eventually Kylo Ren's face.
"There's a clear difference." I thought to myself. "Half the fun of watching Captain America is seeing him overcome adversity. Rey has absolutely no adversity."
And then it hit me. Women go to fiction for totally different reasons than men, and it all comes down to those two words: power fantasy. To women, or ,more accurately, a large margin them, any opposition a female character faces turns an already fictional story into a power fantasy; and that isn't why they want to watch fiction in the first place.
With more women entering the realm of superhero fiction everyday, a land rife with power fantasies, how do we bridge this gap without neutering narrative stakes? By simply designating those stories in another bracket. Luckily for us, we don't even have to invent one, it's already existed. We just didn't see it. This is where we get to the empowered fantasy. Power fantasies give the audience the satisfaction of seeing a hero vanquish reality's problems; while the empowered fantasy exists to inspire and educate the audience on how to vanquish their own.
Empowered fantasies aren't only for female audiences. We do it too. My only argument is that few have ever done it correctly. Which is any easy swipe, considering that I invented the term, but I digress. To pop open the hood on empowered fantasies, we first have to go under the cowl of the world's greatest power fantasy: Batman.
Toss a stone with an arthritic limp wrist, and you can easily hit a reason as to why Batman is such a popular character. He's rich, intelligent, has one of the most archetypal origins in the medium and, most importantly, he's just like us. Making Batman mortal adds mountains of intrigue to any single issue, under the, albeit unrealistic, assumption it could be his last. As a result, we're constantly reminded about what allows him to overcome such insurmountable odds, because, clearly, anyone of us reading the issue wouldn't be able to. Over the course of decades Batman's "powers" of wealth, marital training and gadgetry have expanded far beyond the realm of attainable, né even possible, but fans still champion the character's realistic tone. However, Batman's "realism" has fuck all to do with the character's tone.
Until he chucked the whole thing outta window with the unveiling the Batwing in "The Dark Knight Rises", Nolan's continued mantra to the press was, "All of this real. If a billionaire actually wanted to, he could become our Batman." To me, that's the real reason, aside from stellar filmmaking all around, Nolan's trilogy slipped past second base, and popped the zeitgeist so effectively. Despite how unattainable, you can presumably get your hands on any one of Batman's "powers". In my definition, a power fantasy is watching a physical avatar of yourself, given extraordinary powers, combat life's problems. Batman is the ultimate power fantasy. He's a human utilizing the highest forms of human power as a means to wreck shit. Seriously, dude, he literally uses his wealth to punch the side effects of poverty in the face.
Most of us would trade anything to just be a billionaire or insanely fit. Batman has every human desire, save for parental love, rolled into one. The implication to the audience is that with enough time and willpower we can become Batman. Becoming the other guy?
Never gonna happen.
Describing Superman as a power fantasy always felt ill fitting to me. I mean, I get it, we all fantasize about having at least one of Superman's powers annually, but there isn't a circumstance that would ever allow those abilities to manifest. Sure, that's where the word "fantasy" in "power fantasy" is supposed to be implemented to do most of heavy lifting; but there's something about the unattainability of Big Blue's cavalcade of powers that betrays the phrase. For example, let's examine the phrase "sexual fantasy". Your garden variety of carnal stirrings, while vastly divergent depending on one's specific kink, are projections of what we would like to happen, given that certain restrictions, real or imagined, were no longer an obstacle. Wild though they may be, most sexual fantasies aren't impossible, and are highly achievable. Unless you're big into anime, no one is running around thinking about fucking aliens. The phrases "dream house", "dream car" and "dream job" work the similarly. No one ever says their dream car is the magic school bus. They want a Rolls Royce. So, why would power fantasies be any different? Short answer, they aren't.
Empowered fantasies, in my definition, consists of watching an avatar of your ideology, with powers that personify the specifics of that belief system, immune to the aforementioned idea's antithesis. Resultantly, this makes Superman the gold standard of the empowered fantasy, 'cause he's the epitome of unattainable power encased in a wonderfully mercurial ideal. Superman isn't you, at least, not in the specific sense. He represents the immigrant's journey in America, the pinnacle of human virtue, he represents God and he can even represents atheism. Whatever you identify with most can be seamlessly projected onto the Man of Steel, and the story flourishes because of it. This practice works better when the writer intentionally crafts the narrative to embellish this tool, but we'll come back to that.
This is one of the many reasons Superman doesn't wear a mask, and Batman does. Superman has very precise features. As a reader, you're immediately aware that physically you're nothing like Superman. However, with his moral leanings being as broad and pure as they are, only sociopaths and cynics wouldn't identify with them. On the other hand, when in costume, Batman, if you're a white male, is a character that you can easily project yourself onto. This very projection is what allows the power fantasy to take effect. It's only when he takes off the mask, and ironically looks eerily similar to Superman, does the realization that you're not Bruce Wayne slowly creep in. While Superman's personality is catch all, Batman's is extremely particular. Don't get me wrong, there are moments when we can all relate to Batman, but those are only fleeting moments of rage and vengeance. Conversely, the guise of Bruce Wayne, in his "affected" personality, more resembles the face that almost everyone presents to the world.
Tightening the microscope even further, this is why Batman has a side kick, and Superman has an adolescent pal. For the kids savvy enough to realize they weren't already adults, ergo ruining the possibility of projection that the power fantasy thrives on, Robin was created. On the other side of the DC universe, Superman introduced Jimmy Olsen, who, much like the readers he was created to represent, is just a fan of Superman. He's not a partner. He's not an equal. The implication of Robin is that one day he'll be as strong as Batman. Jimmy offers no hope of ever becoming as super as his pal, but does present the possibility of one day being as good of a man as Superman is. This only highlights my previous point. The purpose of the empowered fantasy is what the idea represents, and not the thrilling abilities.
Empowered fantasy isn't the vehicle for seeing power tested. That's of little concern for the audience, due to the protagonist personifying an idea the targeted demographic already believes in. They don't want to see the idea assailed, they want to see it prevail. The dude's name is Superman. If we're judging by the non de guerre alone, he's supposed to represent the perfect man. Batman surviving a gunshot strengthens the power fantasy, because he's using his "power" to combat death. If Superman isn't immune to a gunshot on every level his namesake, and thus the story itself, becomes fraudulent. This brings us to another element of the empowered fantasy. The character's powers have to be magnified metaphors for the core tenets of the idea he/she personifies.
Mr. Majestic, Miracle Man, Supreme, Mighty Man, Prime, Invincible and the Sentry can all lay claim to being equally as powerful as the last son of Krypton, but not a single one of them has ever come close to matching his pop culture omnipresence. For all of the claims that Superman is outdated, only one of the characters produced in his image has ever dethroned him from relevancy.(Don't worry we'll get to Captain Marvel.)
Now, some will chalk that up to the massive 50 plus year head start Superman's brand has accrued, but that doesn't account for the other superheroes that deviate from Kal-El's formula, rising to equal measures of prominence. These new "Supermen", modeled in his image, even have the benefit of excising the anachronistic elements that detractors love to cite when describing Supes' dip in popularity. How are these characters not catching on if they have the same powers, and possibly a more contemporary personality? I believe this is because their powers aren't metaphors for their personality. The powers don't make the Superman, the Superman makes the powers.
Superman isn't invulnerable for the fuck of it. His invulnerability is a metaphor for the character's moral incorruptibility. He has super speed because he's decisive. Even x-ray vision, which allows him to see into the heart of things, isn't a peculiar addition to his roster of powers, when you remember that the character is fighting for truth. Invincible, as much as I love that character, only has super strength because it's cool. Souped up biceps,along with his other abilities, bear no correlation to his personality. Which is 100% fine. Invincible isn't trying to represent an ideology, but rather a subculture. Essentially, his personality, even down to his comic book obsession, is designed to be a cipher for the reader. He's Superman done through the lens of power fantasy in the contemporary sense, hence his popularity. I mean, as Captain Marvel proved in the 50's, Superman as a power fantasy is a veritable gold mine.
In his heyday Captain Marvel was the only character remotely close to dethroning Superman as the face of the comic world. At a glance the two characters share identical powers and builds. So much so that DC sued Fawcett Comics, Captain Marvel's publisher, into oblivion. Debatable levels of integrity aside, DC ruining Fawcett made perfect sense at the time. Kids were just buying more Captain Marvel than Superman. "Kids" is the operative word here mind you. It's well documented that the first wave of comic publishers were almost wholly dependent on the youth market, and that's who Captain Marvel peerlessly corralled into forking up cash. But if Supes and Cap sported similar abilities, what prompted kids to seek out the Big red cheese over Big Blue? In my estimation, it was Captain Marvel being a power fantasy about becoming an adult at will.
There's no more sought after a wish than instant maturity in the subservient world of adolescence. Hell, in the first episode of Fairly Oddparents Timmy wishes to become an adult straight away, just so the creators can clear their plate of the obvious. Captain Marvel is as potent an idea as he ever was; so why has he all but disappeared from top tier superhero status? Is it possible the shrinking percentage of comic readers under the age 13 plays a tremendous factor? No shit, Master Bruce.
In the modern comic market there are few readers under the teenage bracket, and with the advent of teen heroes supplanting their younger counterparts, Captain Marvel doesn't assert the same grip he used to. This is partly the reason every time they "update" the character to fit in the broader DCU, he's always a teenager. Take the TV version of Young Justice for example.
Or how about Geoff John's New 52 reboot?
Its innocent enough an idea to think that remedying the Captain's weakening sales by augmenting his age, to reflect DC's intended market, would help, but, as popularity would indicate, it obviously doesn't. Teenagers don't wish they were adults; they think they already are adults. Spider-Man is a more applicable power fantasy. Well,that is to say he would be, if he already wasn't an empowered fantasy version of Batman.
Comparing their origins, Spider-Man and Batman have pretty similar motivations for heroism. Batman, who doesn't deal in a stream of quips and silliness, might even appear to be a more mature version of that character type; but for all of his purported grittiness and maturity, Batman is a very childish example of what a hero is. The Batcave is like his treehouse filled to the brim with, to borrow a phrase from Nicholson's Joker, toys. He ditches work to play pretend in a Halloween costume all year. And he even has a grown up, in Alfred, to kiss his boo boos when he gets hurt. Spider-Man has none of those things, which is why he's so beloved by teenagers the world over. His webbing aside, Spider-Man has no safety net in life. He shoulders his problems, often times produced by his secret double life, completely alone. Slight is the number of teenagers born that can't empathize with that dynamic. Remember, the core of the empowered fantasy is seeing an idea prevail, which obviously means it helps to have a clear interpretation of said idea. With the great power speech, Spider-Man verbalizes the idea he personifies with surgical accuracy. Batman remains the power fantasy version of old web head, because his mantra, "criminals are a cowardly superstitious lot", does little to define HIM as an idea. It's a definition of what he is not, but doesn't really tell us what he stands for.
Going back to the second commandment of the empowered fantasy, Spider-Man represents the very idea of being a teenager. Take, for example, his name sake. Spiders are relatively tiny to humans, but seen as kingpins of their own world. That ain't that different as to how adults and kids look at teenagers respectively. As previously noted, the empowered fantasy's protagonist always possesses powers that mirror their personality, and Spider-Man is no exception. He might actually be the rubric. Peter is intelligent, ergo several steps ahead of the common man at any given moment. Spider sense is this idea magnified to a literal extent. Weaving through the barrage of responsibilities he's been assigned requires great mental agility on Peter's part; to which his physical agility is an extension of. Whether on the vertically extending social or professional ladder, Peter always finds himself scaling upwards.
That one's pretty self explanatory.
The genius of the aforementioned assortment of my personality traits is that they doesn't just apply to Peter, they apply to the teenage reader as well. Save for his social impotency, Peter's character is congruent to how a large swath of teenagers feel about themselves. You'd be remiss to not describe a majority of teens as as a crop of sneaky know it all's obsessed with reaching the desired teenage apex of "cool".
So, yeah, Spider-Man is the personification of the teenage idea. We get it already. But as we mentioned earlier, an empowered fantasy is about watching the idea the protagonist is a stand in for battle it's antithesis. All of Spider-Man's greatest villains are those that stand as example of who he could, without proper guidance, grow up to be. When Spider-Man pummels one of his rouges he doesn't win, the very idea of youth wins. If you're a teen, Spidey's victories symbolize the prospect of your new ideas triumphing over the stagnant remains of yesteryear. If your looking at Spider-Man's fights for catharsis, he battles your boss...
Your teacher....
Your other teacher that only becomes a bastard around finals...
And duplicitous adults.
Doc Ock, the Lizard and the Green Goblin are all perfect distortions of Peter sans his famous humility. They're all nerdy scientists with tragedy embedded in their origin, that descend towards villainy when superpowers are introduced. They are perversions of the ideology that Peter, as the central character in an empowered fantasy, represents.
We'll cut the thread there. In the next installment we'll get back to why the empowered fantasy is so important to the female audience.
