I used to come to film adaptations of my preferred properties the way that Alan Moore did, skeptical and full of righteous fury. And the RED happened. RED is the Bruce Willis movie that came out a few years ago, and it was based on a three-issue comic book by my man, Warren Ellis. It was intense, violent, hardcore, and pretty damned serious. And then they made a movie out of it. Like the book, the movie was about an old CIA assassin, Retired Extremely Dangerous, whose main concern was getting his pension checks, and he was brought out of retirement by scores of CIA assassins. And subsequently, a whole bunch of faceless men die creatively. But the movie version added John Malkovich as a wacky fellow retiree, as well as Helen Mirren and Brian Cox as star-crossed Cold War lovers. It was laid back and goofy, in that “Aren’t old people just so cute” kind of way, and I was furious. How dare they take such a simple, serious premise and turn it into something so fluffy? I screamed, I shouted, and I put a pox on the studio’s houses for allowing this to happen.  

And then they made a sequel, which further enraged me. But right before it came out, Warren Ellis got on his blog and implored his fans to go see RED 2 because he bought his daughter a horse with the royalties from the first movie, and it was really expensive to feed. Suddenly it became crystal clear that he had made his book, and he did the Warren Ellisiest job he could with it, but it was out in the world. If someone else saw it and made a different interpretation, that was their business, as long as Warren Ellis got paid, which he did, handsomely. His reputation wasn’t ruined by this silliness, just like Alan Moore’s reputation wasn’t ruined by that not-very-good Watchmen adaptation a few years back, or by the prequels comics DC did a few years later. (It’s okay to get mad about how badly DC screwed over Alan Moore financially and legally, though, but getting worked up over Zack Snyder’s gratuitous slowmo and costume alterations kinds of misses the point.) Adaptations are going to happen, and they will, by necessity, make some changes. One day, if I ever get over my crippling exhaustion with the black hole of the publication/marketing process, they might want to do adaptations of my works, and they will be so very different. And if I don’t like the changes, I will just remember that it’s not my interpretation anymore, and I’m getting paid. Unless they whitewash or straightwash the characters. Then I will say something. Otherwise, I look forward to seeing what fellow creative minds might make out of my genius ideas. And perhaps I will buy a horse with the royalty check. I will name her Peanut Butter and she will eat apples and carrots. 

I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t stand Batman. I realize this puts me at odds with most of the geeks out there, but I can’t keep this to myself anymore. And don’t get me wrong, I loved the Adam West series, The Dark Knight, the Tim Burton movies, and the animated series from the nineties, but the character himself, particularly in the comics and the DC Animated Movies, is a truly terrible character, and he’s most of what drove me away from DC Comics.  

It comes down to the fans, who say that Batman is more realistic and relatable than the other superheroes because he doesn’t have powers. Really. Batman is a billionaire so wealthy that he can siphon money out of his publicly traded company to buy tanks and submarines, and the IRS and his shareholders don’t notice. And let’s consider this: Batman is a master of martial arts, all disciplines, something you’d have to train for every day, all day, for your whole life to be. But he doesn’t have all day because he’s also a genius engineer who designs and builds all of his gadgets and vehicles for every occasion, sometimes even thinking them up and constructing them mid-fight. He’s an expert crime-scene investigator (so that means a solid understanding of chemistry and physics, just to start), as well as a doctor who performs expert autopsies. He’s also a master of linguistics. All without going to college. It’s said that, with thirty minutes preparation, Batman could defeat Galactus (for those not in the know, Galactus is a hundred-foot giant who eats planets), and I don’t doubt that Batman, as characterized in the comics, could. 

So I need someone to tell me who they’re hanging out with that this is relatable and realistic. When I hear douchebag fanboys complaining about how Rey from Star Wars is a Mary Sue, I roll my eyes, knowing with reasonable certainty that these same fanboys worship the ground Batman walks on, despite the fact that he is the ultimate Mary Sue. Batman is never wrong. Batman doesn’t make mistakes. Batman never loses a fight. Batman attracts the hottest women. Batman has the fierce, undying loyalty of everyone around him despite the fact that he treats them like garbage.  

Is Batman cool? I guess. Is he badass? Most definitely. Is he relatable? Realistic?  

As for me, I like my heroes to make mistakes. I like to watch them get their asses kicked. That way when they get back up or they make the right decision, it’s a triumph. I like my heroes with a little meat on their bones, not a two-dimensional wish-fulfillment fantasy. I want a hero I can relate to, and Batman’s not it. 

When comes down to the whole Superman versus Batman debate (or Batman v. Superman if we’re talking about a legal dispute), I come down firmly Team Superman*. This puts me in the minority, I know. 

Why do people love Batman so much? They typically give three reasons for this: 1) He is way cool; 2) He’s the serious hero; 3) He has no superpowers, and that makes him relatable.  

To that, I say: 1) He is totally cool. Most of his comics, movies, and even the 1966 show are hip and slick and often compelling; 2) He’s the serious hero. As serious and hardcore as someone who wears pajamas and throws expensive toys at clowns and drives a car that goes vroom can be, I guess; 3) No powers? More relatable? This is where I get off the boat, laughing.  

Bruce Wayne is obscenely wealthy, and he’s spent most of his life traveling the world, learning the way of the ninja, which are kind of superpowers in themselves. In the end, though, he wants the best for his ailing city, so he invests in local businesses to drive up employment, funds infrastructure projects, donates his time and money into charities, and supports politicians who are socially conscious. 

Ha! Just kidding! He buys pajamas and toys he can throw at clowns and a car that goes vroom, because he’s a serious hero, and uses these things to go beat up on the other 99 percent. 

Clark Kent, by contrast, was raised in middle-class, small-town America by loving parents, and he uses the talents he was born with to rescue people from disasters, save kittens from trees, beat up bullies, and overall to look out for the little guy. 

“But … but …” detractors often say. “Superman has godlike powers! Where’s the challenge? How are you supposed to defeat a guy with godlike powers?” To me, this speaks to the level of imagination in these detractors. Is this all Superman is? The hardest puncher in the world? What about his morality? His honesty (not counting that whole secret-identity thing, of course)? His loyalty? His friendships? His sense of hope? A villain doesn’t have to be strong to oppose these. Hell, his greatest foe is a regular human being with an intellect and some cash, and that guy has Superman on the ropes all the time. 

Therefore, if I want a story where Superman battles an unmarried, genius, obsessive billionaire with lots of gadgets and suits of armor and an iron will, I think I’ll stick with Lex Luthor.  

But, to quote a pre-bonkers Dennis Miller, that’s just my personal opinion, and I could be wrong. 

* But not the one from Man of Steel. I hated that movie. 

Today I made the mistake of popping into the “trending” sidebar where it mentioned my imaginary friend, the Slender Man, and his culpability in a recent murder in Wisconsin, and I read the comments.  

If I had to tally up what I’ve seen so far, roughly 20 percent of the comments I read were defenses of Creepypasta (as in “I read Creepypasta/played D&D/watched the X-files/consumed horror in general since I was a baby, and I turned out okay!”); 15 percent were clumsy, ill-informed definitions of the Slender Man and Creepypasta; 3.75 percent were accurate and correct definitions of the Slender Man and Creepypasta; 1 percent were debates about whether it’s “Slender Man,” “Slender-Man,” “Slenderman,” or my preference, the “Slender Man”; and 60 percent is blame*.  

Fifty-five percent of those blamed the parents; 20 percent blamed liberals, 75 percent of whom were singled out as liberal Christians; 15 percent blamed the actual stabbers; 5 percent blamed video games (Minecraft being the biggest offender because of the Enderman character); 2 percent blamed Harry Potter; 2 percent blamed the Slender Man himself; and, in the biggest shock, only 1 percent blamed Barack Obama.  

“The way sin is justified these days, I will not be surprised if the liberal Christian will believe these two girls are victims.” 

“Slenderman…. A demon quite possibly. A world deviod of God must find something to fill that place. In this case a fantasy character. … and a demonic entity that personifies it.” 

“Parents who use [the internet] as a babysitter are in for a RUDE AWAKENING!” 

As a man who loves the Slender Man, I’m not shocked or even disappointed about the narrative, nor am I defensive about the reputation of my beloved meme, or about Creepypasta in general. The latter is because I don’t think anybody not stupid is blaming these stories. Also, getting defensive would make me a huge hypocrite, in that I condemn with venom anyone whose first reaction to a shooting is to launch into NRA bumper-sticker slogans. 

The only thing that shocks me about this is that it hasn’t happened before. The only thing that disappoints me is that this has pushed out of the news cycle the actually important discussion of the dangers of misogyny and replaced it with an imaginary villain that doesn’t force us to look at ourselves. 

A twelve-year-old girl was stabbed nineteen times, and we will likely never understand why. I don’t know the circumstances or anything about the three children involved, and so, unlike 60 percent of the commenters I read (because I’m dumb) I can’t blame anyone. 

__________ 

* The remaining 0.25% is quoted below, verbatim,  because it’s AMAZING: 

XAVIER: How much do you bet Clinton is gonna use this as “proof that video games are bad for children”. Bitch video games taught me how to look a terrorist in the face and paint the walls with all his hopes and dreams.  

MEG: are you special ops?! Oh, you work in food service… who’s the bitch again, Xavier? 

I am done with DC Comics. 

What did it for me was their offering for Free Comics Day, an annual event where publishers create a title to hook new readers. For example, Marvel released a Guardians of the Galaxy book to get the attention of anyone interested in the movie. 

DC released one in which Batman Beyond, a character created for a cartoon show aimed at children (and adults, but mostly children), has to fight against the cyborgs decorated with the horribly mutilated corpses of beloved superhero icons. The specific image that broke my back features Black Canary, whose head and face have been sewn to the chest of Frankenstein for use as a weapon. 

And that’s it for me. I’m done. 

I’m done because, after their big mega-crossover events like “Final Crisis” and “Countdown” and “Blackest Night” and “Injustice: Gods Among Us” and now this “Futures End” thing, I am sick of seeing shock deaths, dismemberment, and rape of well-known characters because that’s edgy or something. Also, the Joker ripped off his face and stapled it back on because he is also edgy. 

I’m done because I can’t read a title without it being interrupted by one of these mega-crossover events every few months, and I’m not willing to invest in all these books to follow the story. 

I’m done because they’ve adopted a house art style that makes all the artists kind of boring and interchangeable. 

I am done because their TV animation department canceled the smart, popular Young Justice and Green Lantern: the Animated Series to revisit the Teen Titans—except even more hyperkinetic now—as well as another Batman series, because the former didn’t appeal to the young, male demographic who buy toys. 

I’m done because I kind of hate all the new Jim-Lee-designed costumes. 

I am done because DC’s live-action movies and TV shows* are joyless, monochrome, and just soullessly destructive. Likewise, their animated movies, like Green Lantern: First Flight (i.e. Training Day with magic rings) and Wonder Woman (i.e. the goddamn Wonder Woman), were once clever and exciting, but are now adaptations of ultra-violent Batman or Batman-worshiping graphic novels with endless blood-splatter and death (there were eye-gougings in the last two, and a full-body, third-degree-burn-causing electrocution in the one before that–all taking place onscreen).** 

I am done because they won’t do a live-action film of the most recognizable super-heroine in the world, but are instead giving her a glorified cameo in what we all know will be a movie about Batman beating up Superman (because apparently that’s edgy too). 

I’m done because awesome, diverse legacy characters like the Hispanic Kyle Raynor and Jaime Reyes, the Asian Ryan Choi, and the African-American John Stewart have been replaced and upstaged by their presumed-dead white-guy predecessors. 

I’m done because Starfire, who potential fangirls met as a quirky, adorable, tough kid through the Teen Titans cartoon***, became a sex-toy who can blow up tanks. Likewise, bureaucratic badass (How many times can you use that to describe anyone?) Amanda Waller went from CCH Pounder to Halle Berry, and Harley Quinn went from wearing a cute-but-sexy body-stocking to a corset. 

I’m done because DC these days seems to stand for Dudebro Comics, and that’s just not my thing. 

_____ 

* I am a huge fan of Arrow, FYI. Dark doesn’t mean bad; it just doesn’t mean good by itself. 

** One of my favorite movies in 2012 was The Raid: Redemption, which featured the most creative use of both a door frame and a fluorescent light bulb. What I’m trying to say is that I’m not squeamish, just exhausted. 

*** Yes, I know how scantily clad and sexual she was during the Wolfman/Perez era, but I also know she had a personality back then. 

I want to share with you a cinematic pet peeve, one which disproportionately affects fantasy and science fiction movies, and that is the opening voiceover narration.  

A good example of this is the classic Sean Connery monologue: “From the dawn of time we came, moving silently through the centuries, living many secret lives, struggling to reach the time of the gathering, when the few who remain will battle to the last. No one has ever known we were among you… until now.” Aside from the fact that it kickstarts an awesome Queen song (also, it showcases that sexy, sexy Scottish brogue), it serves no purpose to The Highlander whatsoever. All of the information contained within is shared with the audience over the course of the film.  

Can you imagine what it would have been like to see The Highlander for the first time, watching wrestling, followed by Christopher Lambert straight-up beheading a dude, getting struck by lightning, and then appearing in sixteenth-century Scotland, sporting a nearly incomprehensible accent? You’d be all like, “What the fart? I’d better stick around for answers!”  

But since you’ve had a ton of spoilers dumped on you right away, you don’t ever get that chance. If the first few minutes of The Highlander were a post on Twitter or 4Chan, it would be berated, openly or passive aggressively, until it was taken down. 

The opening narration assumes that the audience won’t get what’s going on, and doesn’t have the intelligence or patience or trust in the filmmakers to stick around and find out. 

Here’s an example of how the opening narration could go horribly, horribly wrong: Imagine a movie that starts out with the “Warner Brothers presents…” card, followed by a panoramic view of a dark, devastated city. Words in a green font crawl up the screen, and the deep voice of Lawrence Fishburne reads them. “In the future, war raged between man and machine. Machine won. They enslaved mankind, taking from them their homes, their freedom, their bodies, and even their very minds, trapping them in a virtual reality world called ‘The Matrix,’ patrolled by sinister Agents whose sole purpose is to keep mankind from discovering its ultimate fate. But all hope is not lost, for there exists in this world a band of freedom fighters … and they are fighting back.” And cut to Carrie Ann Moss ruthlessly slaughtering four regular Joes just doing their low-paying civil-service job. 

So, Hollywood, if you’re reading this, knock it off. Trust your audience for once.