A rusty revamp in "Man Of Steel"

I finally saw “Man of Steel” over the weekend, and walked away wondering about the film's message … apparently it's violence fixes everything, and the bigger the problem then the more things need to be destroyed. 

Director Zack Synder's take on the comic book legend points to the great danger in translating one art form into another medium.  For the most part, the comic book and later the graphic novel are both individual experiences. Movies (at least for the moment) remain communal and studio executives want to guarantee there's something for everyone.  “Man Of Steel” fully embraces the current studio philosophy of go big or they stay home.  It also points to the biggest flaw in the movie's entire conceit... the problem with having a modern hero is that at some point you must create a vulnerability to keep it interesting, indestructibility apparently no longer the draw it used to be. If nothing can hurt Superman then he has nothing to fear, thus he never faces a risk, and this quickly becomes a problem when applying typical screenplay paradigms.

But rather than waiting until the sequel or even a third movie, the filmmakers instead rush upfront to a plot device that “knocks Superman down to size” with adversaries every bit as powerful and invincible as our hero. In effect, removing the “super.”  So in a complete reversal, the iconic images from the Superman of comic books, serials and television are now delegated down to the anti-heroes, with bullets bouncing harmlessly… not off Superman's chest... but that of the villainess Faora.  So where will we go from here?  What happens to top this in a sequel?  Who next to threaten Superman and force him to possible submission?  Will Zod have a brother? A clone? An army?

As a result, Krypton's version of Cain and Able go at it with onscreen carnage of cities, towns and even outer space that's relentless and numbing. During the penultimate battle with Zod and his minions, Superman trashes skyscraper after skyscraper with no thought for the buildings' thousands of occupants and untold collateral damage in human lives that certainly result. 

It brings a false sense of decency to the climactic hand-to-hand battle with Zod when, after trashing Metropolis with half a movie's worth of destruction geometrically beyond New York on 9/11, Clark should suddenly care about one innocent family trapped in the path of Zod's searing heat vision beam. Comic book reality certainly isn't Newtonian, but could not Superman have put a hand over Zod's eyes instead?  Or applied his freeze breath power?  Or burned the family an escape hole?  But no, the only fix is to violently dispatch one of the few fellow survivors of Krypton and the closest thing to a brother from another planet that our title hero will ever have. Superman resorts to killing and with that act, half the 75 year legacy of the title character is instantly trashed.

Clark may look the man, down to the chest hairs poking out the top of the costume, but intellectually he's still acting out an orphan's loss of parents and home.  Is this the root for the occasional sophomoric humor that Snyder brings to the screen?  Although it may have been hilarious in writing, having Superman swat down a $12-million government drone near the end only rings pathetically of “let's make it relevant.”  Our hero can save the earth but can't out fly a robotic spy plane?  Re-imaging Perry White, editor of the Daily Planet newspaper with actor Laurence Fishburne, becomes a strange visual pun.  And Jimmy Olsen undergoes a sexual transformation into Jenny Olsen (but still manages getting into trouble around the Chief).

And what of director Snyder's obvious infatuation with director James Cameron?  Here imitation may be the sincerest expression of jealousy, with so many “lifts” taken directly from Cameron movies that I lost count.  Jor-El flies around Krypton on a giant semi-domesticated dragon lizard taken directly from “Avatar” (no, wait, we'll give it four wings instead of two!) Zod's relentless and unstoppable drive to complete his mission certainly a direct reference to the “Terminator”.  At one point in outer space Superman's attacked by a giant technological squid that's nothing more than the water tentacle sequence from Cameron's “The Abyss” on alien steroids.  Lois and Clark's love is challenged by the fact they come from two completely different worlds, with Clark trying to “pass” as someone he's not in order to fit in… that's “Titanic” all over again.  Most of the Kryptonian spacecraft are blatantly dark, shiny and phallic, borne of imagery from the “Aliens” franchise.  When Clark dispatches Zod, the reaction is the same antagonistic animal bellow perfected by (or directed of) Sylvester Stallone in Cameron's “Rambo: First Blood.”  And so on.

In the end, “Man Of Steel” is a bloated and unsatisfying version of a tale oft retold.  It holds little of the nostalgic look back so well captured in Richard Donner's 1973 take on the character.  Even Bryan Singer's 2006 “Superman Returns” managed to update the comic book's cultural mainstays without completely destroying the traditional characters' arc.  Here with “Man Of Steel” galaxies crumble, planets are trashed, but in the end the title character exhibits all the angst and unresolved father issues of the alienated teenager, uncomfortable in his own skin, not fitting in and played out as more cosmic victim than original hero. C+ 

Jim Furrer

Whither Journalism?

That's “whither” as “to what place, where, to what end, point, action?” and not “wither” as “become dry and shriveled, shrunken, or wrinkled from age or disease.” Although perhaps this distinction should be posited (“put forward as a basis of argument; to assume or affirm the existence of”) as a heterograph for later discussion.

Today it's hard not to hear the sounds of a death knoll for newspapers and printed magazines, as social media and connected discourse rush to replace print prominence in the Fourth Estate. 

But lost in this buzz is the difference between journalism and it's naughty second cousin, broadcast news.  Journalism still stands as a profession. Newspapers were only the distribution medium. Journalism created newspaper content, but the paper itself was just the carrier, the medium, for that content. Broadcasting is a different distribution medium, but over the years it's become confused with the very content it carries.  "Broadcasting” remains one of several point-to-many instant distribution platforms by which stories may travel, with cable television -- “wired” rather than “over the airwaves" -- being another, but regardless, these two media convey mostly the same content.

What journalism actually created isn't dead in itself, only the distribution paradigm of massive rolls of hot-pressed trees and ink, trucked from point-to point in heavily manpower-driven fossil fuel fed internal combustion behemoths. The output of that profession, the actual content, now struggles to define a new path for spreading new forms of news instantly and electronically. Just what another discipline -- broadcasting – has been doing for decades.

This point is illustrated in microcosm with a recent move by the journalism professors at Metropolitan State College of Denver to split away from their present home within the School of Communication Arts and Sciences, and relocate to the School of Professional Studies -- also home to the Technical Communications department.

The dissatisfied journalism professors state without all the software and electronic skills found within Technical Communications, journalism at MSCD won't be able to prepare current and future students for the brave, real world. Additionally, they declare journalism a “true profession” and out of place in Communication Arts and Sciences -- apparently walking away from any possibilities of Art or Science existing within their profession -- a point I might argue, but that battle is not mine.

And their argument does bear some weight.  It seems right and proper when you hear “I'm a doctor” or “I'm an engineer” or “oh, I'm a journalist.”   But I've never heard the phrase “I'm a broadcaster.”  Even as I write the words, they read strange and vaguely unacceptable, as with “Abraham Lincoln's pink leotard” if you get my point.

News content distributed by radio, later television, and now Internet is inherently electronic, and more recently all-digital. Broadcasters were able to adapt and repurpose their programming web and mobile quickly because -- already electronic data -- it was halfway there. Repackaging for additional platforms could be a chore, but it wasn't any dark and deadly "terra incognito".

But this same struggle created a vast uncharted sea change for journalism, a profound disturbance in the force that's brought a whole print-based discipline almost to its knees.  With broadcasters “doing” their version of multi-platform news for some time now, it's looking remarkably similar to what journalism now aspires, although without envious levels of depth and breadth to which their paper-and-ink competitors so long excelled.

The vast audience for multi-platform news doesn't need technical specialists or software engineers to read an RSS feed or get a tweet.  Even preschoolers do it.  Tools to make and use these platforms are available to the masses.  Former consumers are now the creators, using apps and widgets to build and push out their own content.  Look at YouTube. Anyone taking notes here?  These very same, simple, everyman tools are available to journalists, too.  Perhaps looking toward "technical communication specialists" as the 21st century saviors of journalism is more hindsight than visionary – actually gazing backward to the 20th century?

Instead of collectively running away from what radio and TV are doing -- what if journalism stayed home and toiled deep in the technology trenches along side their great unwashed cousins from broadcasting, since all sides seem to be digging toward the same goal?

As someone long ago once wrote, "Stick around kid, 'ya might learn something."

I think it might have been a newspaper reporter.

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