If Batman tackles individual case studies, the minutia of systems, be they mob rackets or the criminal mind, then Superman is about larger abstracts. His series consists of thematic and continuity threads that interweave to create a grand illustration of a mythological world, with arguably more depth and immensity than the densely layered sociological web that is Gotham City. In The Last Son of Krypton, not only are we introduced to essential supporting characters and carefully cultivated relationships, but we are also subject to a broad panorama of the major themes at work, ranging from science fiction to global politics.
If part one is on one hand a condensed space opera that begins the saga of Superman, then it is on another the seeding ground for grand dichotomies and rich allusions that are to permeate the remainder of the series. Bruce Timm has discussed the effort to create a more organic Krypton than the cold, deliberately alien world of previous adaptations. This Krypton is a hybrid of natural landscapes—an arctic subterranean dwelling place, luminous purple skies and soft turquoise greenery—and advanced technology—hologram projectors, space ships, and a ubiquitous supercomputer who is clearly intended to evoke HAL 9000 of 2001: A Space Odyssey lore (note as well that Brainiac’s cavernous hub bears some resemblance to HAL’s artificially lit information databank).
If Jor-El is the good guy and Brainiac the bad, then it is worth noting that Jor-El’s accurate information comes from direct probing of Krypton’s surface, a direct physical contact with the natural world. It is the mechanistic Brainiac that misleads, and a dependence on him that marks Krypton’s downfall. One need only examine part two to see this duality resurface. Clark Kent calls two places his home, the rustic quietude of Smallville and the bustling technological Metropolis. It is also pertinent that the Midwestern farm villa is where Clark is grounded in family and morals. Metropolis is a land of corrupt businessmen, political underhandedness, and frequently malfunctioning machines. This opposition between the organic and the inorganic is not simply an aloof dynamic; it explains a great deal why the unhampered physicality of Superman clashes so strikingly with the tacit near-dictatorship of Luthor, whose power stems directly from mechanically expedient transactions and an inhuman compartmentalizing of Metropolis’ citizens. The Lexo-Skel Suit 5000 can also be viewed as a detrimental integration of man and machine.
Another theme that spans all three parts is that of political strife. Part one is about an enclosed council and part three a global network. The homogenous elite of Krypton is hindered by groupthink and self-denial. Politics on earth comprises iffy international relations and diplomacy breaches. Each is a broad view of a basic and generally unpreventable political ill. What further defines Superman as a hero besides his concentrated symbolism and pure morality is that he exists outside of politics. In the future some of his gung-ho breaching of certain international barriers creates havoc, but in The Last Son of Krypton we see this valuing of the common good over the difficulties of proper diplomacy as a great virtue. He is unafraid of directly confronting corporate greed or political corruption, and it is this boldness that solidifies him as a populist hero, the antithesis of Batman, whose similar transgressions are grim vigilante exploits.
What completes The Last Son of Krypton, beyond the grandiose thematic elements, are the little details that anticipate future developments and further develop the lush world of Metropolis (and Smallville for that matter). Rarely is dialogue so expertly written and performed than when it is assigned to Lois Lane, a hard-edged opportunistic newspaperwoman with a penchant for playful cynicism. The query as to what could have saved a girl from a thirty-story fall is met with “friendly pigeons,” she pins down Superman as the “Nietzschean fantasy ideal all wrapped up in a red cape,” and Clark Kent, who in his coy small-town charm becomes Lois’s chief competition, is indefinitely billed as Smallville. Lois is not only central to the Superman mythos in every traditional sense, but she also represents The Daily Planet in all its slick big-city efficiency and provides invaluable connections to characters ranging from man-on-the-wharf Bibbo to Luthor himself.
Brainiac’s status as one of Superman’s three major arch nemeses is planted on Krypton, not only giving him archetypal associations with inhuman technology, but also intertwining him permanently with Superman’s biological identity. John Corben, introduced as the man in the Lexo-Suit is to reappear later as recurrent villain Metallo, and Lana Lang, who appears briefly as one of Clark’s high school chums, will prove a rather important link to his adolescence and a bridge between his two personas. Even more in-depth: an offhand comment about the Phantom Zone, a passing mention of STAR Labs, and a surprisingly well-integrated allusion to Batman.
Artistic flourishes breathe life into each of the three major worlds presented us. Krypton is designed not to be noticeably otherworldly, but to carry certain earthlike attributes, starting at the sweeping landscapes and ending at the small domestic details of the home of Jor-El and Lara. Clark’s first flight is embellished against a lavish nighttime canvas that presents Smallville’s starlit beauty in grand panoramic detail, the sequence in its entirety a wondrous illustration of a perfect ephemeral moment. Metropolis’ immensity can be glimpsed in both exteriors, which depict monolithic art-deco skyscrapers and layers upon layers of elevated thoroughfares, and building interiors, which have impossibly high ceilings and intricate glass windows that take up full wall spaces. The climactic fight scene sends Superman and his opponent barreling through various destructible environments, marking Metropolis itself as an expansive battleground.
The Last Son of Krypton could not be a better introduction to Superman’s near-endless universe, which begins in Metropolis and extends to the far reaches of the cosmos. It is a story both rushed and fastidious, one that finds the time for both an iconic face-to-face confrontation between Superman and his most ruthless opponent and a quick gag involving Bibbo’s impulsive fixation on an alluring vending machine. If Superman is so often irrationally dismissed for being the least edgy of all superheroes, then Timm, Dini and Burnett are to be commended for not only openly embracing the Big Blue Boy Scout with bombastic vigor, but for also fleshing out his world beyond the obvious symbols and icons that usually populate his stories. In a mere three parts we are introduced a mythology more vibrant and textured than any in the DC Animated Universe, helmed by the greatest of all superheroes.
No comments:
Post a Comment