I love that little nod to the sometimes ridiculous complexity of comic-book mythologies. I love comic-book superhero movies, and I love graphic novels. If we really want authentic Black superheroes on screen, someone write a comic-book thriller for a Black cast that Tyler Perry and Oprah Winfrey can film for fifty million dollars. Amy Acker is an excellent Beatrice; Nathan Fillion manages to be one of the highlights of the film as Dogberry, a character I’d almost forgotten existed; Fran Kranz is brilliantly cast as Claudio (he excels at combining puppy dog-esque cuteness with repugnance). Watching President Obama today, one feels expectation crush into his bones like a gravity well. Can movie audiences still enjoy a superhero who knows what this feels like? Now, when Ben Grimm’s sadness over his lost White humanity approaches depression’s fever pitch, he’ll have a teammate who knows what it’s like when little children stare at your skin, confused by its color, puzzled by its dark departure from what they know to be human. But if my choice as a consumer of color is between illegitimate token Blackness in ill-fitting spandex so that the comic industry can sleep well, secure in the knowledge that it’s marketing to all possible American identities without reconsidering its ‘White might makes right’ formula, and a long midnight where quality minority independent comics are not adapted for summer blockbusters, so that Hancock, Blankman and The Meteor Man present Netflix subscribers the only live-action Negro superhero movies, then I guess surly Will Smith will entertain my Friday night.
But guess what…NO superheroes were conceived as black when Human Torch was created. This progressive impulse requests the visual gift of the African Diaspora, without any of its social justice politics or cultural distinctiveness. Art by David Finch Some of the other Justice League members will be getting new duds too. But I’m still interested enough to want to try, and the Hawkeye series by Matt Fraction with art by David Aja and Javier Pulido (among others) is a great place to start because the series is new, the issues are being released as trade paperbacks, and the need for background information is low. And then there’s Kate Bishop, the other Hawkeye. Kate took over for me as Hawkeye once upon a time when I was … In the end Amy took four pictures, one for each of the soldiers. This can mean only one thing: way too much popcorn. Some bits of the story were clever, and I liked the way Clark struggled with people treating him differently because of his powers. The storytelling is really clever, employing flashbacks and amusing bits of narration. Seeing summer blockbusters that display handsome brown faces only has merit when we pair those burnt sienna visuals with authentic minority storytelling.
There are many ways to craft a racial minority superhero, but if we consider racial authenticity as a foremost concern, today’s Hollywood is simply not prepared for that intellectual labor. While his performance will probably outshine his fellow actors and increase the public profile of a promising young talent, the narrative constraints of modern superhero filmmaking and the shackles of comic source material do not allow for the on-screen Blackness-as-authority examination that the Black superhero requires to maintain authenticity. The real diversity conundrum isn’t how to include the minority metahuman in the existing comic framework; that’s an art project, a casting decision solved by calling Michael B. Jordan’s agent. Walker, Berlatsky, and Aclin request the comic art equivalent of Macklemore & Ryan Lewis’ Grammy win for Best Rap Album. Art by Aaron Kuder Kal-El’s right hand girl will also be receiving a wardrobe update, although more in-line with her mythos. The art in this issue by Rags Morales is of a high standard and captures and keeps up with the action well. The brilliant, slightly awkward high school student Virgil Hawkins transforms into the cocky electromagnetic hero Static!
Aside from that, the only other problem with the episode is that the comet plotline seems a bit tacked-on; it gives Jimmy something to do while the others are off on Apokolips, but at the same time the stakes are high enough with Superman a captive of Darkseid’s. Superman literally represents the pinnacle of postwar American values; by the Eisenhower era he’s an Establishment paragon who’s social justice origins are as hazily recalled as collegiate marijuana use. Now, given modern New York City, we will encounter a Johnny Storm who has likely experience with social ostracism, inappropriate police scrutiny, the soft bigotry of low expectations, and many other possible interactions with American racism. The agony and the ecstasy of Grant Park has given way for many Americans to the sobering fact that American authority, her global military supremacy and international economic primacy, is controlled and represented by a Black man.
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