I think we’re living in a new Dark Age. In my movie-locked mind, it all began with that first Batman feature, for which director Tim Burton rightly looked past the kitschy ‘60s series and went all the way back to the comic book. That’s more or less when superheroes began suffering for their art. Burton gave Bruce Wayne’s environs – specifically Gotham City -- a nightmarish look; it was pessimism presented as scenery. If anything, it should have been called Goth City, the antithesis of the golden Big Apple of the campy ‘60s version. And because I’m one of those cultural reductionists who believe that cinema is the best way to read the tone of a zeitgeist, I was literally watching the beginning of a trend. With unearned self-importance, this new brand of movie celebrated the heavy, haunted plight of the conflicted or down-trodden superhero. Instead of Superman and icons we could literally look up to, they brought the famous crime-fighters crashing down to earth, imbuing them with faults and secrets that made them no better than us. There was something joyless about it, to be sure; but it pulled you in, at least at first, because a dark night is more intriguing than a sunny day. Still, for all its allure, moroseness – at least in the movies -- has gotten out of hand. It’s become a hip replacement for reality, which isn’t always dark. And worse yet, it’s being worn as a badge of honor -- pinned directly on the skin of pop culture. Darkness has infected cinema exactly where it matters -- in the commercial bloodstream.
The Bourne movies, for instance, are mostly excellent, but I would argue this is more because of Matt Damon’s paradoxical walking-on-coals coolness than the frenetic pacing or the fact that the concept has legs. But “Bourne” isn’t fun spy stuff at all; it’s an extension of the dark outlook that gave Batman its wings. Still, because Bourne was grounded in the reality of the source novels, no shading was needed. If The Bourne Identity and its sequels weren’t casualties of the gloom disease, they most certainly were carriers. Look what they did to James Bond. Again, you’d have to go back to the original Batman to find such a paranoid retooling of a pop hero. Bond was always unbelievably sane, if just sociopathic enough not to take his job home with him. But while he used to raise an eyebrow while dropping a femme fatale, now he was a brutish rogue agent in need of psychotherapy. No fun at all. Not just that, but Bond was now blonde, the only way in which he didn’t positively –actually negatively -- ooze an unadulterated darkness. Casino Royale worked nicely, but more as a slate-eraser than a Bond adventure. And with Quantum of Solace, the second entry in the new Bond nightmare, the producers have truly showed their contempt for the once-debonair spy. The famous 007 theme music has been killed on the job. Gone also is the customary opening teaser, where Bond, to the beat of his own theme music, walks suavely across the screen and suddenly fires his pistol at the camera lens (which doubles as a gun viewfinder, targeting him). You knew he meant business. He certainly didn’t mean well. Look, Bond’s world was already dark. Taking away his cinematic acoutrements is like stripping Cracker Jacks of its prizes or Hitchcock of his famous walk-ons.
Whether or not it’s a legitimate matter of going back to the source, the last 20 years has provided enough dark rethinks of superheroes to turn their capes into curtains. How can these mere human beings (for that is exactly what their demotion has rendered them) be expected to save the world if they can barely save themselves? At the end of the day – much less the world -- I find myself longing for the simpler era of “BIFF!” “BANG!” “POW!”
Jordan Oakes is a local journalist who has written for publications such as St. Louis Magazine and the Christian Science Monitor. He has strong opinions that begin to atrophy if he doesn't exercise his right to express them. Tune in every Wednesday for another installment of Mediatribe - and if you missed last week's post, click here.
