Superman: Rage For All Reasons

Editor/Contributor/Co-Essayist: Imelda Wei Ding Lo

With the recent iconoclastic characterization of the Dark Knight (The Batman, 2022) as a broken, traumatized man paralyzed by his own complexes of self-hate, misanthropy, and an all-consuming blend of depressive rage and anxiety, it begs the question if his Metropolis peer, the Man of Steel, could be brought to life similarly.

The simple answer? No.

Aside from a few rare (emphasis on the rare!) exceptions, the majority of adaptations, beginning from past-war severance from his original creators, Superman/Clark Kent suffers from poor characterization.

While fans and comic creators argue through long essays on why and how the iconic Man of Steel should be portrayed, the fact remains that Clark Kent suffers the worst depictions and adaptations.

DC claims they “struggle to make the character relevant to modern audiences.” They have no idea what to do with him. They’ve painted themselves, along with Man of Tomorrow, into a corner of no tomorrow.

The root of all these problems?

It’s the fact that almost every artist and writer tackling Superman has ignored what he originally was: a rugged, working-class man angered by corruption, who ultimately is a hardcore socialist vigilante.

Fans and critics were quick to condemn Snyder’s choice in 2013’s Man of Steel, to have Superman kill General Zod.

They argued that Superman has always had, similar to Batman, a “No-Kill” Rule.

Frankly, according to how Clark Kent was characterized by his original creators, Siegel and Shuster, this is blatantly inaccurate.

In the original comics of ‘38-’49, Clark Kent as Superman often delivered his wrongdoers to law enforcement (note that there was one incident where he saves a pair of criminals from being lynched, insisting the public allow justice its due course).

However, the Man of Tomorrow wasn’t shy about ending the tomorrows of some of his foes and opponents.

In one memorable scene, when he stops two criminal thugs from poisoning the area’s water reservoir, he grabs a bottle of the poison concentrate and chugs it down, claiming it’s ordinary water and that their boss deceived them into thinking it was poisonous. He knowingly watches as the two disgruntled grunts down the contents of the other bottles and expire from what was actually poison.

Other incidents include tossing some Nazi-coded thugs out of planes (let’s doubt they landed on pillows below — they met the hard earth and crunched like matchsticks) to their deaths, throwing mastermind criminals and their lackeys in front of laser rays to their demise, and knowingly allowing wrongdoers and knaves take shot at him, knowing well the ricochet returned on them would be deadly.

And let’s not forget other instances with more sci-fi aspects, which involved driving warmongers into vortexes and whirlpools.

Kent also had a tough, no-nonsense, serious manner with gravity and fury. But he also had wit and was not afraid to taunt the vile wrongdoer he took down.

There was a gentler side to this fury — if convinced of a person’s goodness or innocence, he made valiant if blunt attempts to convince the misguided individual to reform. (Half the time it worked. Half the time, you guessed it — they brought their demise or prison sentence by their own hand.)

And being the roughneck he is, Clark had his own odd way of showing his love for Lois.

Headstrong, running into peril at every turn, Lois and her life-threatening escapades often exasperated the Man of Steel, who more than once threatened to “spank” the stiff-necked reporter if she persisted in risking life and limb.

It never worked.

Clark retained a distrustful tension between himself and law enforcement, more so than his Gotham peer, Batman, (who appreciates his own friendship with Police Commissioner Gordan). The tenacious strain between Kent and Inspector Casey of the Metropolis Police Department proved the opposite of what Gotham’s Batman and Gordon enjoy.

It reflects the dissonant gap between the public and police of the 30’s, which, as Clark knows too well, is in the pocket of mob boss and politician alike.

Despite being touted in 50’s throughout the 90’s as an All-American hero, Clark originally reflected the restless working class of the Depression Era, as well as the neglected many who were left devastated by the Dust Bowl, as well as the struggling community of second-wave immigrants on America’s supposedly “free” shores.

Not for the WASP, but for the disenfranchised, neglected man whose work ran the country, but who himself was run into the ground by those who ran the structure.

Governed by an all-encompassing rage against injustice (and assholes in general), Superman expressed all the uncouth hardness and foul temper of his hardscrabble working-class self when fighting against crime, corruption, and even war.

Even as a supposedly milder reporter, Clark Kent slipped from his facade and unleashed his righteous fury on ne’er do wells.

One noticeable incident had Kent snapping a quack’s cane and proceeding to beat the snot out of said charlatan after the latter threatened The Daily Planet’s Editor, Mr. White-much to the shock of White and Lois.

No, the original Clark/Superman would not have a “No-Kill” rule.

No murder, for certain, but in the hard, cruel reality of Depression Era America, death came in many ways.

For the reader, death delivered to the murderous wrongdoers by a figure who boldly acted as an instrument of justice, was the only justice they felt they’d see in their day and age.

And this Superman had plenty to be mad about.

Stories dealt with issues ranging from racketeering, failing infrastructure due to government fund mishandling, childhood polio, fifth-columnist treason, Nazi-coded sympathizers, mob politics, and even scientific advancement intended with questionable morals.

By Post-War time, comics, along with animation, began being partitioned off to a more juvenile audience. Previously, both comics and animation were viewed as general media for a wide range of audiences.

Hence, the content and threshold of what was deemed “acceptable” was more liberal. Comics and animation owed much to their progenitor in pulp fiction and serials, in terms of setting, tone, and even literary format.

Then came the Comic Code in 1954.

By this time, the comic landscape underwent a drastic change, prior to the Code.

While there had been comics for younger people, comics had also been the purview of the adult pulp fiction and often contained violence, sexual content and intense psychological depictions that, while “tame” compared to today’s media, would have been deemed R-rated for Depression-Era/Wartime audiences.

After the creative forfeit of his original creators, Superman underwent a 60+ year-long lobotomization — sanitized beyond recognition, stripped of his original socialist drive and tough working-class core, and transfigured into a saccharine, flat pastiche of Protestant-flavored ideals and morality.

Effectively defanged, stripped of his flawed, often violent, working-class temper and unapologetic socialist drive, the Man of Steel devolved into a kid-friendly role model.

He lost his original personality, too — the gruff, brusque, and all-too candid persona that formed the core of both Kent the man and Superman. He was sweetened down to the squeaky-clean boy scout of choirboy proportions.

The Red Scare of the 50’s ensured this complete transformation. But even in speculative adaptations, with Superman facing Communism, the writers floundered, opting for a cop-out dictator plotline. This contrasted starkly with the Golden Age portrayal of Clark Kent, which showed him as an ardent socialist (with a lower case s).

The Space Race also sparked a shift in focus. Instead of focusing on the everyday and mundane, the 60’s and 70’s saw an explosion of stories focusing on Kent’s extraterrestrial foes and Kryptonian origins.

And like the entire comic industry, this new age brought a devolution in art quality.

Gone were the harder, craggy-lined, rugged looks of Kent’s farmer and worker experience, replaced with a dizzying juxtaposition of comically exaggerated “masculine” anatomy to borderline “pretty boy” emasculation.

This transformation rendered the iconic Man of Steel unrecognizable from his original carnation. But it is the warped incarnation that remained fixed in American Comic culture for the past 60+ years, unfortunately.

Had not the character of Superman skyrocketed in popularity (and essentially become a marketing commodity), the superhero genre would have not grown to what it is today — from origin story and secret identity to powers and costuming.

Perhaps the character of Clark Kent, originally heavy and dark as his action/crime genre peers, would have been granted a graceful “death”, joining his pulp-fiction brethren in the graveyard with the likes of The Shadow, Doc Savage, and Tarzan.

Few capture this essence of Clark.

One artist/writer who comes to mind is the legendary Alex Ross. With his stunning Norman Rockwellian dedication to realism, Ross has fleshed out a strong, virile yet wonderfully down-to-earth man in Clark Kent/Superman’s character.

Ross has formed, in such details of sinew, muscle, and soulful eyes, the humanity of Superman. His art resurrects Kent the man, Kent the Kansasian farmer turned urban reporter of America’s dawning era.

There’s a satisfying sense of gravitas and heart in Ross’ depictions as well.

We even are afforded the unthinkably vulnerable for the supposedly impervious Man of Steel — age. We see the graying temples, the wrinkles, the softer curves, and the worn and dried features of a man who’s lived a rough-hewn life of work and heroism.

Ross explores a deeper facet of vulnerability as well.

Who is Clark Kent without his Lois Lane?

Ross, in his off-shot special after 1996’s iconic Kingdom Come, explores the loneliness and pain that widowerhood creates for the Man of Steel — his heart is all too tender and full of human longing and flesh. Lois’ death, as he tells a living alternate version of his long-gone wife, “killed Clark Kent- and he’s never coming back.”

The concept of powerlessness is explored in poignant introspection in Ross (collaboration with writer Dini)’s 1998’s Peace on Earth.

The global problems facing the modern era cannot be solved with the simple application of herculean feat, and neither can political or social logic remedy the pervasive ailment of governmental and military corruption.

While the Clark Kent of his small city of Metropolis could combat corruption on his turf, the Superman facing the world cannot solve its problems.

However, the Man of Tomorrow reaches the conclusion he can continue to serve as an example and hope others follow.

Perhaps that’s what he’s always meant to be.

Perhaps artists and writers will get that some day.

And apply that robust essence to adaptations that fit the working-class champion of Samsonic proportions, Superman.