The recent acquisition of Marvel Entertainment by the Disney Corporation has caused a tremendous amount of disquiet amongst nerds. The outpouring of opinion and reaction has largely been undecided or negative. Generally, these fans have taken bereaved attitude towards the future of the fictional characters owned my Marvel comics. There is a distinct belief amongst these reactions that this buyout will tarnish the emblems of their childhood.
But what is a comic book character really?
Most of the characters on Marvel’s roster are superheroes. To listen to the rantings and ravings of most of the “fans” of Marvel Entertainment, their superheroes are not the work of a creator, nor the stories they tell.
The characterization of superheroes is an interesting subject; these figures resemble biblical character in their conception. After all, there are few comic characters owned by their creators. As a result, these characters have been represented by dozens of different artists, writers and more recently, actors. This process is not unlike how we have come to understand the central characters of the bible. Figures of tremendous significance whom have had their stories retold numerous times in oral histories and mythologies, until they were eventually written down. The net result of this process has created drastically differing conceptions of iconic figures in both comics and the bible.
Another result of this process is that very little can be considered the “definitive” material which represents these characters and their story. What represents canon amongst comic books is a heated topic of debate. Typically it is decided by cultural elite, either defined by a parent company, or a hardcore fan-base with a strong community.
By having these characters constantly changing; being diluted and consolidated, definition becomes difficult to resolve. As a result, the information which survives these changes represents a sort of cultural artifact. Therefore, one of the easiest artifacts to grasp are the icons of the comic book characters. The associated costumes, logos and catch-phrases represent the only form of concrete information that exists in relation to the name of a character. What can be understood from this attachment is that the modern superhero is more of an icon than an individual.
This is evident amongst mainstream culture and the superficial level which in which the fans of super heroes engage with the medium. The income generated by films, television and merchandising of comic properties far outweighs income generated through comic sales. Yet the stories told in these mediums often heavily diverge from their source material. In this way, you can see the modern sea-change in the comics industry which gravitates towards film, television and consumer products as opposed to the production of comic books. Franchising is the pinnacle of a superhero’s success in the mainstream and the film adaptation of a comic, the crown of any franchise. It is unsurprising that Disney, a company which has traditionally produced film and television, would acquire Marvel Entertainment. The two companies produce the same media, not unlike ABC or ESPN, some of Disney’s other acquisitions.
It would be fitting to propose that most of the comics industry be instead renamed the “superhero industry.” This is a more apt title as comics have become the periphery of a genre obsessed with hollow iconography and contemporary mythologies, rather than the art-form these works are based on. In contemporary terms, adaptations of comic books are considered the pinnacle of any super hero franchise, as opposed to the original comics where these characters made their debut.
The idea also ties back into what “represents” a hero; why the history and the creator of the character has little to do with causality. Causation, in terms of superheroes, originates with the creator’s work and concludes with the end of any particular narrative. Since creators such as writers and artists are often disposable, their input retains little significance to a particular hero. The outcome of any particular story is only as important as the significance of the following story, in that preceding works are often wholly ignored or explained (thrown) away using “continuity.” If this is the case, then the content of any narrative must be more important than its origin or conclusion.
The real significance of a super-hero is in their theatrics, the expectations which their fans have come to identify with a particular hero. In an essay titled The World of Wrestling, Roland Barthes argues “wrestling is a sum of spectacles, of which no single one is a function: each moment imposes the total knowledge of a passion which rises erect and alone, without ever extending to the crowning moment of a result.” (Barthes, 16) The same could be said of the spectacle involving superheroes. The result of every story is a fixed outcome: the triumph of the hero. Yet if the conclusion is known, why do enthusiasts follow such deterministic stories, ones which they already know the outcome?
It is more important for the narrative in any superhero fiction to contain elements which satisfy the reader’s visceral needs; action and theatrics are far more valuable than causation. By reducing the elements within a superhero narrative to theatre, every moment must be “endowed with an absolute clarity, since one must always understand everything on the spot” (Barthes, 16). In terms of superheroes, any narrative must contrain elements which can be understood to convey mythological elements of the character. Spider-man has to insult his foes, Batman must outwit the Joker and the Punisher must engage in a dramatic firefight. These elements are powerful, yet simple symbols to the reader. It allows the reader to interpret what is good and what is evil, or at the least what is desirable and undesirable.
A universal example of this symbolism lies in the hero’s origin. Almost all modern superhero narratives tie themselves back into the character’s origin. This is not entirely because of any laziness on the writer’s part. Instead, the origin is a signifier to the reader; it identifies the struggle of a hero prima facie. The origin provides a point of perspective on a hero as a mythology, rather than as a product of history. This is why every film adaptation of a superhero will always contain references to their origin, if not a full explanation for their motivation.
The significance placed on theatrics also detracts of the craft involved in comic creation. Many contemporary fans of the “superhero industry” show little interest in the artists, editors or writers who are responsible for their favorite characters. Most of the recognizable figures in the comic book industry are of historical importance: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Bob Kane and Jerry Siegel. Modern figures would include Todd McFarlane, Alan Moore and Frank Miller, but all of these creators experienced their greatest successes in the ’80s or early ’90s. The attachment many fans have to a certain superhero far surpasses their loyalty to the creator. In this way, enthusiasm for superheroes is more like the passion sports fans have for a certain team, regardless of the players, or coaches who perform the actual work.
Franchising has significantly altered comic books; their content has transcended the page and created in itself a new industry. Unconsciously, many fans acknowledge this transition by attaching themselves to a particular brand or hero. The backlash against the buyout of Marvel comics exposes this fact, comics are a big business. Disney has even acknowledged that this acquisition is an attempt to capitalize on a young male demographic. When it boils down to marketing, it is easy to understand why the creative output of Marvel Entertainment won’t change; this is the image that Disney is purchasing.
One of the predominant fears of the outspoken masses has been censorship. Yet censorship is laughable in an industry where you can’t kill Superman. That is exactly the way the fans like it.
In the immediate future, the buyout isn’t likely to effect Marvel Comics. Mythology is such a primitive and powerful concept, it would be difficult to screw up Marvel’s roster of characters with corporate oversight. Yet this is what really remains: the legacy of Marvel not as a comic book powerhouse, but a storehouse for ideas which have outgrown their original medium, for the moment.
