“They’re alive! (Again!)”: Superheroes, Sci-fi, and Death as Plot Device

To recap my closing questions on this topic from Friday’s post: What does character death even mean anymore in the superhero/sci-fi genre? Does it have any meaning? Is it now just a plot device for momentary dramatic effect? How do (or can?) viewers continue to relate to superhuman characters who can’t really die? Will we believe a character’s death is ever really permanent, even if the story writers insist that “this one’s final”?

Big, tough questions. Highly subjective, too. Some people are truly devastated when a favorite character dies, some are sad but ready to move on to the “what now?”, and some may not care too much at all, taking the attitude that, “Hey, it’s fiction, so what’s the big deal?” Myself, I tend to have a range of reactions depending on the particular character, story, and context of character death. I was happy for Buffy at the end of season 5 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, since she got to choose her death and make it a very meaningful way to show her love for her family and friends. Yet, it still hurts a ton watching Coulson (The Avengers, 2012) and Frigga (Thor: The Dark World, 2013) die, even though they do so while fighting for a cause they believe in. Most of the time, I approach character death as a “reality factor” – as an inexplicably, senseless event that opens a window of reality within the fictional world on screen or page. I generally prefer that character death happen in a way that demonstrates the character’s willingness to give their lives for something they deem important, necessary, or worthwhile. In other words, I think heroic sacrifice makes the most meaningful use of character death.

But they all keep coming back to life, darn it! What meaning do I draw from their heroic sacrifice now?

I’ll admit: The first time you see a beloved character alive again, you’re usually just so happy they’re not dead that the lost meaning of heroic sacrifice can go jump off a helicarrier, for all I care. (If, however, the revived character happens to be a villain, the reaction may be more “Noooo! Not you again!” Unless the villain is Loki.) Eventually, though, I think we all have to wonder what copious amounts of character-life-after-character-death does to superhero/sci-fi stories.

For your convenience, I’ve selected some well-known death/sacrifice scenes from recent superhero films to illustrate the kind of scenarios I’m talking about.

1. Steve Rogers takes down the Valkyrie in Captain America: The First Avenger (2011).
2. Compare #1 to this earlier action scene in which Steve and Bucky have no idea what’s about to happen to one of them.
3. And #2 is what makes this scene from Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) such a big reveal.
4. Batman carries the bomb out of Gotham in The Dark Knight Rises (2012).
5. Epilogue sequence (“He’s alive!”) to DKR.
6. Iron Man carries the bomb into space in The Avengers (2012).
7. And because we could definitely use a happy ending to this list, let’s end with Groot’s regeneration, celebrated in arguably the best, most enjoyable Marvel post-credits scene made so far: Dancing Baby Groot (2014).

HEROIC SACRIFICE OR SACRIFICED HEROICS?

When death is a sure, permanent thing, a hero willingly giving their life to save others or defeat evil is a truly wondrous, superheroic event. It’s the event that speaks endless volumes about the nature of being a superhero: doing and giving whatever it takes to ensure humanity’s well being and freedom. It’s difficult to not feel endeared to such a selfless being, since such a character embodies our social ideal of the “truly good” individual, who is good for the sake of being good, not for ulterior motives of personal gain.

Does life-after-death destroy, or at least lessen, this aspect of superheroism? In reviving characters who have been killed off, do we sacrifice the hero’s heroic status? Should there be a limit to returning heroes from the Great Beyond? Perhaps it depends on the particular hero and context, specifically whether the hero knows or not that their death will not be permanent. For instance, Jean Grey (X2: X-Men United, 2003) and Steve Rogers (Captain America: The First Avenger, 2011) do not know that their death events are not the end of their stories. They sacrifice themselves fully believing that this is the end. Jump on over to ABC’s new series Forever, though, and it’s a completely different scenario: Dr. Henry Morgan knows full well that he can’t die, so he’s willing to inject himself with lethal poison and do other “experiments” with death because, hey, he’ll be up and about again soon enough.

Now, Henry Morgan is not a superhero, so I’m making a kind of fuzzy comparison here. But the point is, characters who believe in the permanence of death can make the ultimate heroic sacrifice, come back to life somehow, and not look any the worse for it in the average viewer’s eyes. A character who makes such a sacrifice, however, knowing that they will survive and/or be supernaturally revived is at risk of casting viewer suspicion upon themselves. Viewers may start asking some tricky questions of these so-called (super)heroes. Do they really mean it when they sacrifice themselves? Are they really that good deep down? Or is their sacrifice somehow less because it doesn’t have the same moral significance as it does for a character who believes they are giving up their life? Heroic characters who make a life sacrifice knowing that it isn’t the end risk appearing as show-offs, false heroes simply reveling in their superhuman power by giving death the metaphorical finger. For a death-defying heroic character to continue being relatable for viewers, they have to believe in the power and permanence of death as strongly as we mortal viewers do.

Found on Pinterest – a defining moment in Captain America’s storyline, when the pre-super-soldier Steve jumps on a grenade to protect his fellow SSR members.

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION…DEATH?

So, death as plot device: let’s talk Serenity (2005), The Dark Knight Rises (2012), and Guardians of the Galaxy. When Wash (Alan Tudyk) dies near the end of Serenity – an event for which many Firefly fans still have not forgiven Joss Whedon – his death appears to be without reason, except to inject that “reality factor” into the film’s climactic scene. Wash doesn’t die fighting, protecting a loved one, or standing up for something he believes in; he’s just successfully crash-landed Serenity and happens to be sitting in the wrong place when the Reavers catch up to Serenity and her crew. A similar event happens in the Dollhouse series finale, when Paul Ballard (Tahmoh Penikett) happens to stand up at the wrong moment during a gunfight – although Paul at least does die protecting a fallen comrade. (Which I believe makes a lot of sense for his character, though his death is one of the most painful character deaths I recall in my viewing experience.) A lot of viewers may find “pointless” character deaths to be a flaw in the fictional story. One argument in this direction is that fiction is not reality, and we as consumers of fiction know this – that’s why we choose to spend time in the fictional world! – so the “reality factor” is more disturbing to our experience of the story than it is useful to our understanding of the plot. Put more simply, why does death have to crash our fictional feel-good party uninvited? The “reality factor” has its uses in moving stories forward, but there are limits – killing off characters right and left (welcome to Westeros!), especially in a short amount of time, is a sure way to risk alienating audiences.

An example of character death from The Dark Knight Rises ties back to the issue of heroes knowing about their un-death when they commit a self-sacrificing act. The first time through DKR, we don’t know that Bruce (Christian Bale) isn’t dead following the nuclear explosion over Gotham Bay – and we don’t know that Bruce has fixed the Bat’s autopilot and knows he won’t die. All well and good – so when we and Alfred (Michael Caine) see Bruce with Selina Kyle (Anne Hathaway) in the epilogue sequence, the realization is a case of that first-time feel-good moment: “He’s alive! He made it!” When rewatching the film, however, I’ve noticed that the entire bomb sequence feels different: now I know that Bruce has fixed the autopilot; now I know he’ll be able to finally live his own life after leaving the Batman persona behind. And that’s great – I’m certainly not going to condemn Bruce, or any superhero character, for wanting to leave their superhero persona behind and take advantage of having their own chance at life. (Because a superhero’s “life” is not really life as we average human beings want to live it.) What I am pointing out is the change that this knowledge of Bruce’s secret plan creates in viewers’ experience and interpretation of DKR’s conclusion and Bruce as a heroic character. The “big reveal” of Bruce being alive only works once, which is an important thing to take into account in an age where fans will rewatch this film again and again and again. The film’s impact literally changes from one viewing to the next (bear with me, film studies folks – I know you know this already).

On to that most lighthearted of superhero films, Guardians of the Galaxy. Making fun of death-as-plot-device, now that’s a great way to go! Star Lord (Chris Pratt) saving Gamora (Zoe Saldana) outside of Knowhere works as a double-play on the tropes of hero sacrifice and male-hero-rescuing-beloved-female. Although as a superhero Gamora is willing to die trying to keep the Infinity Stone from falling into Ronan’s (Lee Pace) hands, Star Lord’s equal readiness to jump into space to save her (risking his own life in the process) suggests how difficult it is these days for any superhero to be willing to die trying and actually die. Moments later, after another character has rescued Gamora and Star Lord, Star Lord basically says the equivalent of, “That was so heroic of me to save you like that!” Gamora rolls her eyes, obviously thinking something along the lines of, “I’m glad you’re fine too, you big idiot.” Death as plot device is at work in this scene, but neither writers nor characters let the device get away with itself.

Also in Guardians, Groot’s (voiced by Vin Diesel) heroic sacrifice is altered by his regeneration as Baby Groot. Even though Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper) mourns Groot as though he’s really gone, keeping a fragment of Groot in a pot apparently out of sentiment, we should have seen Baby Groot coming. (In fact, only Rocket seems truly surprised in the final scene when Baby Groot “awakens” – this revival scene isn’t treated as dramatically as is usual concerning characters returning to life.) Groot is, after all, a tree, so it’s absolutely biologically believable that Groot will regenerate from the clippings of his former body. (Wait, does that mean there are as many Baby Groots as fragments of Groot out there? Is there a secret Space-Ent army of “We are Groot”?) In Groot’s case, as with our favorite time-traveling Doctor, life-after-death is built into the character as a superhuman ability – so, does death-and-regeneration even count as an example of death-as-plot-device for them? I’m honestly not sure; you tell me. (No, seriously, write a comment!)

Found on Pinterest – a real-life reenactment of the Guardians finale?

I WANT TO BELIEVE…OR DO I?

Now that we can pretty much expect sci-fi/superhero character death to be just another event on the way to…wherever we’re going, if not towards a final end…will we ever be able to accept a permanent character death? One example of this floating around in cyberspace right now is Steve Rogers’ fate, now that Chris Evans’ contract with Marvel is nearing completion. I and others are dreading the possibility of Steve being killed in an upcoming film, since such an event did occur in the comics. My roommate and I, in fact, have been talking about this a lot lately: she believes Marvel may totally kill Steve, while I keep hoping they’ll pull out a variation on the Nomad storyline and simply have Steve retire from the Captain America persona. Neither my roommate nor I want to “live” in an MCU without Steve Rogers being alive somewhere in said ‘verse. But, even if Steve does die, will we as viewers take Marvel’s word for it? I vote no, simply because a) Dr. Erskine’s formula has already proven its worth in keeping Steve alive in perfect super-soldier condition; and b) Steve is too strong and smart a superhero to simply die because, oops!, Thanos threw a chunk of asteroid at him. For me, it’s going to take a really, really massive and unavoidable event to make Steve’s, or any superhero’s, death believable. The whole point of superheroes is that they’re hard to get rid of! Otherwise, what use would they be to humanity?

If a character like Coulson, who has no superpowers (except, perhaps, babysitting Tony Stark), can make it back from the dead, Steve and his fellow superhumans can definitely make it back, too. And even if, in general, writers carry out superhero character death in a fully believable, it-makes-sense-for-this-character-to-die-in-this-way event, who’s to stop them later on from devising at least a semi-plausible way to bring the character back to life?

On another note regarding (im)permanent character death, if Moriarty really is still alive in Sherlock, I think Death is officially out of a job. He should at least be fired or something, right?

The Headless Horseman of Fox’s Sleepy Hollow, also known as the Horseman of Death. Source: http://static.comicvine.com/uploads/scale_super/11111/111112612/3462726-7051038215-8ad58.jpg

Death and his granddaughter Susan in the film adaptation of Terry Pratchett’s Hogfather. Source: http://tansyrr.com/tansywp/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/tumblr_lwzn9bW5ui1qm4akto1_500-199×300.jpg

Death in Supernatural (that bright thing he’s holding is Sam Winchester’s soul). Don’t expect to hold onto it for too long, Death! Source: http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130423050525/supernatural/images/e/ea/Death_holds_Sams_soul3.jpg

On Friday: Possibly no post – we’ll see how busy this week turns out to be. If I do post on Friday, I’ll check in on some more TV season premieres and new episodes. If not, back on Monday 10/6!

The Mirror Effect: Superheroes & Supervillains as Reflections

As I’ve probably mentioned somewhere on this blog already, superheroes and supervillains function as two halves, two different possibilities of the same foundational character, and thus become mirror or inverse versions of one another. Although any superhero will face many supervillains in the course of his or her adventures – and some supervillains act as opponents to more than one superhero – it is almost always possible to pair any given superhero and supervillain as two different versions of the same underlying character. This is especially true if the superhero and supervillain were created as a pair, meant from their inception to begin on the same path, take two different directions at some point along that path, and eventually become one of the great superhero/supervillain dyads. These are the pairs I wish to focus on today.

Captain America & The Winter Soldier

The Winter Soldier, Captain America, and Black Widow

One of the reasons why I love both Captain America films so much is that they have excellent symmetry, particularly character symmetry. The films arrange their characters in balanced sets of good versus evil, even though certain characters may cross back and forth between these categories now and then. Each of the major (and most minor) characters in the Captain America films has a counterpart in the opposite category. In The First Avenger (2011), for example:

Steve Rogers/Captain America — Johann Schmidt/Red Skull
Bucky Barnes — Gilmore Hodge
Agent Peggy Carter — Private Lorraine
Dr. Abraham Erskine — Dr. Arnim Zola
Howard Stark — Dr. Arnim Zola
Colonel Phillips — Senator Brandt
Cap’s Howling Commandos — Red Skull’s HYDRA units

Red Skull is technically a supersoldier experiment gone wrong, so there’s a nice parallel between Red Skull and Cap, but the more formidable pairing occurs in The Winter Soldier (2014) between Cap and the Winter Soldier, a supersoldier experiment gone right (though orchestrated by the bad guys). The relationship between Cap and the Soldier is also more complex due to the origins of both characters. Neither was “born into” the role of hero or villain (as were Thor and Loki, discussed below), and the Winter Soldier was forced to become a supervillain to serve his creators, HYDRA. Beware SPOILERS if you don’t already know the real identity of the Winter Soldier!

Close friends for many years, Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) and James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes (Sebastian Stan) both fight in World War II in The First Avenger. Bucky enlists in the usual way, but Steve takes the special path of entering the Strategic Scientific Reserve and volunteering himself in an experiment to become the world’s first successful supersoldier. After he and Bucky are reunited during a battle at a HYDRA base in Europe, Bucky becomes one of the Howling Commandos, Cap’s special task force assembled to defeat Red Skull (Hugo Weaving) and HYDRA. During one of their missions, Bucky falls into a deep mountain ravine and is assumed dead; Cap later sacrifices himself on another mission and becomes trapped in ice for 70 years, and no more is said of the pair until The Winter Soldier.

Cap’s shield is uncovered in the remains of the Valkyrie plane that crashed in ice at the end of The First Avenger.

Set after Steve is revived in the 21st century and fights alongside the Avengers, The Winter Soldier follows Cap’s solo missions for S.H.I.E.L.D. after the Battle of New York. When a mysterious masked warrior appears and starts causing chaos, Natasha Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson) tells Steve the urban legends of the Winter Soldier, a Cold War supervillain who has appeared, and just as mysteriously disappeared, all over the world.

The Soldier in every possible way is a dark mirror image of Cap and the ideals for which he stands. Cap represents everything about humanity that is just and good: honor, truth, loyalty, courage, fairness, compassion, humility, and a good heart. His red, white, and blue costume is not simply a signifier of his national origins but rather represents the abstract concepts of freedom, individuality, and liberty. Significantly, his primary weapon, the shield, is an inherently defensive weapon, though Cap is able to use it as an offensive weapon when needed.

The Winter Soldier, in contrast, is a character shrouded in mystery, chaos and destruction, and terror; his ideals and loyalties, if he has any, are unknown. His black armor and mask, set off against a mechanical silver arm emblazoned with a red star on the shoulder, indicate a character emblematic of the dark side of humanity, opposed to freedom, justice, and order. The Soldier’s weapons are guns, explosives, and knives, all suitable and intended for offensive rather than defensive tactics.

Examining the two costumes alone offers some key insights into this superhero/supervillain pair: the symmetrical design of Cap’s costume compared to the Soldier’s asymmetrical one. Cap’s shield is highly visible (indicative of honor?), while the Soldier conceals knives to pull on a moment’s notice (not very honorable).

Cap in his original WWII costume, with his new superhero partner Sam Wilson/The Falcon (played by Anthony Mackie).

And if you didn’t know this already…

The Winter Soldier is actually Bucky, who didn’t die in the mountain ravine during WWII but was found by HYDRA and experimented upon to create a warrior capable of matching Captain America (since Red Skull kind of failed in that regard!). Under the direction of Dr. Zola (Toby Jones) – the evil opposite, if you recall, of Cap’s creator, Dr. Erskine (Stanley Tucci) – Bucky’s memory was wiped, and he was turned into a programmable weapon for HYDRA to use against S.H.I.E.L.D. and, once he resurfaces, Cap himself.

Marvel logic: Technically, Bucky both dies a hero AND lives long enough to become a villain. (That would make him the opposite of Heroes’ Sylar.)

Because Bucky originated clearly on the side of Good – and because his actions as the Soldier are done without his free will – he doesn’t belong in exactly the same category as the usual supervillain (who generally is fully aware of his/her actions and commits them intentionally). In fact, based on the comic book storyline of the Winter Soldier, Bucky will one day regain his memories and assume the mantle of Captain America after Steve steps away from the role. This complicates the mirror relationship between Steve/Cap and Bucky/Soldier, even though their respective super-personas still align properly. Bucky begins on the side of Good, crosses over to Evil, and (theoretically right now regarding future films) will cross over again to Good. This isn’t the usual trajectory for a supervillain, who might begin Good but generally becomes Evil and stays there. (Come to think of it, though, Sylar in Heroes goes through the same pattern of Good-Evil-Good, so perhaps I’m underestimating how often this actually does occur. There are definitely villains who don’t ever become good again, though!)

Why make a big deal out of the mirror relationship? One, I think it’s really interesting, and two, simply recognizing that superheroes and supervillains function as inverse versions of the same character is just a starting point to a much deeper analysis. As we’ve seen with Cap and the Winter Soldier, Steve and Bucky are very similar characters at the beginning of their story – but, due to the different life events they experience, they end up becoming two very different characters, on opposite sides of the line between Good and Evil. The mirror effect allows superheroes and supervillains to demonstrate human nature in relation to choices made and opportunities taken or lost, making the superhero/supervillain pair the most significant one in superhero stories. We wouldn’t have superheroes without supervillains; the pairing of these opposing characters is essential to their stories’ ability to make meaningful comments about humanity.

Thor & Loki

Even though, like Captain America and the Winter Soldier, Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and Loki (Tom Hiddleston) stand on opposite sides of Good and Evil and represent different facets of humanity, as a pair they are quite different from Steve and Bucky. Despite (or because of) Loki’s not knowing his true parentage for most of his life, when he does find out that he is not the son of Odin (Anthony Hopkins) but son of Laufey (Colm Feore), King of the Frost Giants of Jotunheim, his reaction to this information is what determines his fate. Rather than staying true to the Asgardian part of himself, Loki denies his place in Asgard and embraces the darker side of his character, using Odin’s “deception” to justify his lifelong sense of feeling different and inferior to Thor.

Thor makes poor choices of his own in the 2011 film, but through his experiences with Jane Foster (Natalie Portman), Erik Selvig (Stellan Skarsgard), and Darcy Lewis (Kat Dennings) on Earth, Thor is able to redeem himself and become the Good warrior he was meant to be. His fate, like Loki’s, depends on the choices he makes – but unlike Steve and Bucky, whose backgrounds are nearly identical, Thor and Loki’s choices are ultimately colored by two vastly different origins: Asgard versus Jotunheim. Had Loki been born on Asgard, he likely would not have experienced the same sense of betrayal as when he discovers that he was born on Jotunheim, that his real parents rejected him and left him to die in a temple.

Additionally, although they are both god-like figures, Thor and Loki have two different kinds of superpowers, whereas Steve and Bucky, again, have identical powers and skill sets. Thor wields Mjolnir and the power of lightning, while Loki has magical skills such as creating illusions, traveling between realms (without the use of Bifrost), and general trickery/deceit. Thor and Loki might be described as brothers, but their true origins hint at the two very different paths they are destined to take.

Batman & The Joker / Cassandra Anderson & Madeline “MaMa” Madrigal

Then there are the superhero/supervillain pairs whose origins are seemingly so different that it’s no wonder they function on opposite sides of Good and Evil. The Joker’s origin is not actually revealed in The Dark Knight (2008), which enhances his status as “an agent of chaos” and terror. Meanwhile, we know Batman’s origins exceedingly well from the first film in Christopher Nolan’s trilogy, Batman Begins (2005). Darkness is a huge part of both Batman (Christian Bale) and the Joker (Heath Ledger), but Batman’s dark side has a redeeming quality in that it is used for the greater good of Gotham’s people. The Joker has no such redemption in him!

Cassandra Anderson

MaMa

Similarly, in Dredd (2012), Cassandra Anderson (Olivia Thirlby) and MaMa (Lena Headey) initially appear to be two very different characters. Anderson is a rookie Judge in training at the Hall of Justice in Sector 13 of Megacity One; she is a psychic paired with Judge Dredd (Karl Urban), the toughest and most infamous of Judges. Mama is an ex-prostitute turned crime lord, head of the MaMa Clan, who rules the Peach Trees megablock in Sector 13 and deals in the hallucinatory drug Slo-Mo.

As it turns out (if you’re paying attention beyond the intense gun fights and explosions of this film), Anderson and MaMa have more in common than is apparent at first glance. Both come from low-class backgrounds – Anderson was born on the edge of the city, close to the wall that separates megacity from irradiated wasteland, which indicates her family’s low socioeconomic status – and both have the power to know what people are thinking and feeling (though MaMa isn’t a psychic, just a good judge of character – no pun intended!). Both intend to achieve their goals by any means necessary, including excessive violence.

One of my favorite aspects of Dredd is that it turns the tables a bit on the superhero/supervillain mirror effect. Although Dredd is the titular character, it is Anderson – based on analysis of her background and character make-up compared to MaMa’s – who is structurally set up as MaMa’s opposite. Dredd, meanwhile, has an evil opposite in the corrupt Judge Lex (whose background seems to be more similar to Dredd’s than MaMa’s is). Anderson defeats Lex, saving Dredd in the process, and Dredd then defeats MaMa after Anderson is injured. Dredd therefore tests the structural possibilities of superhero/supervillain pairings by “crossing the lines,” so to speak: having Anderson defeat Dredd’s opposite and Dredd defeat Anderson’s. Because Anderson and Dredd are a superhero team, and MaMa and Lex are a “team” (Lex works for MaMa), there is greater possibility in this film to explore how the mirror effect works, specifically regarding team scenarios and cases of multiple superheroes and/or supervillains within the same story arc (versus the episodic story arcs found in superhero TV series).

Choices make a huge difference when it comes to becoming a superhero or supervillain! Make decisions like Loki’s, and you’ll probably end up leading an alien invasion of New York City (or whatever the non-superpowered equivalent of that is). Follow Thor’s redeeming choices, however, and you’ll probably end up giving said aliens a good whack on the head. And let’s hope we all have the good fortune not to be captured by HYDRA and reprogrammed into a destructive supersoldier (even though the alternative appears to be being frozen in ice for 70 years). It takes two different sets of choices to make a great superhero/supervillain dyad, to tell remarkable stories about humanity and the consequences of the choices humankind must make.

On Friday: Some thoughts about various critical reactions to superhero movies, and why they may not always receive the critical credit they deserve…