Friday, August 16, 2019

The Occult Aesthetic in Hellboy



I’ve been reading Mike Mignola’s original Hellboy run straight through recently. The following are some off-the-cuff thoughts that I’ve had regarding potential reader experiences of Hellboy and the cultural positioning of those potential experiences. These ideas are half-baked and potentially incoherent. But hopefully the speculative and open-ended tone of this post will be fitting, given its content.
The mythology referenced and invented in the original Hellboy series is so all encompassing and intricate that there is no obviously clear dogmatic or narrative foundation. It draws on everything from Aleister Crowley to the European Witch Craze to traditional Irish and English folklore to Dante’s Divine Comedy to the tropes of 1940’s pulps in order to fill out the storyworld and expound the exploits of the reluctant Beast of the Apocalypse. It’s dizzying.


            The narrative qua plot is complex enough, but can be summarized clearly, if not succinctly. I will not do so here. Go read Hellboy. However, it is the nature of the underlying mythology that I find most interesting because is so broad, and to my eye, potentially vague. I don’t mean this as a criticism in any way. Hellboy is one of my favorite comics titles to date and I love the feeling of reading stories that take place in such a deep, dense, and lived-in storyworld. The narratives take place in a world that (rendered in Mignola’s minimalist noir-infused art style) feels ancient and expansive.
Still, the mythological world, the expectations built by the implied rules of this fantasy world are unclear and this allows for a fair amount of genre bending (e.g., hard-boiled pulp, horror, high fantasy, science fiction). This strategy for dealing with the core mythological structures of narratives reminds me of the tactic of Grant Morrison and (to a lesser extent) Alan Moore. Moore’s uses of occult and religious systems are intensely intricate, but do have an air of coherence. It may be that a more astute or determined reader than myself could understand, for example, the Hermetic system of magic that Moore puts forth in Promethea to a workable degree. To be honest, I never thought that the return would be worth the investment to attempt to understand Moore’s esoteric cosmology in more than a superficial way. Morrison seems to import any religious or cultural references at his disposal into his comics, coherence be damned. His narratives recklessly swerve from referencing Britpop bands to engaging with the ideas of chaos magicians.


            Mike Mignola’s Hellboy functions in much the same way to these two examples. Mignola draws from highly disparate sources, which rely on potentially mutually exclusive cosmological systems. And rather than confusing the reader, this potpourri of mythology serves to create a general emotional tone, a feeling, an aesthetic. The world of Hellboy is ill-defined, fantastical, and amorphous. Many cultural artifacts that are influenced by Western esotericism and occultism seem to follow this method. To some extent, this seems to be a response to and rejection of the highly propositional, dogmatic, and belief-focused mainstream religions in the U.S. (namely, Western-style Christianities). The Protestant Christianities that have always been highly influential in the United States are focused on adherents accepting propositional beliefs, which are (or often purport to be) part of a coherent theological system of beliefs.
            The occultisms of Crowley, Blavatsky, and Mignola’s Hellboy storyworld, seem to purposefully buck this expectation for metaphysical and mythological coherence and instead, weave an occultist aesthetic, which can permeate the mood and emotions of practitioners and/or readers.

Tuesday, March 19, 2019

Sabrina and Scary References


I've finally gotten around to reading the first volume of Archie Comics' The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, which was adapted into the recently successful Netflix show. I'll get this out of the way, the show is great fun and is visually gorgeous. If you haven't watched it, do. 

I have never been deep into the Archie Comics books, but was intrigued when I saw their rebranding toward a horror aesthetic–including the development of their Archie Horror imprint for their horror themed books. In addition to Sabrina, these include Afterlife with Archie, Jughead: The Hunger, and Vampironica


The first volume of Sabrina, entitled "The Crucible," was written by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa, with artwork by Robert Hack. It engages with the world of the young half-witch Sabrina Spellman, who lives with her two witch aunts and a cat familiar named "Salem." This post won't include a plot summary or detailed review of the book, as I take that information to be largely peripheral to the (admittedly exploratory and non-definitive) thoughts I'm working through here. Suffice it to say, overall I enjoyed the book and would recommend it. 

This post was inspired by the fact that Sabrina left me thinking about the place of references in horror comics, as well as horror narratives more generally. Specifically, how do elements of horror stories hope to inspire fear (which presumably involves some level of surprise, uncertainty, or a disruption of expectations), in cases where those elements are tropes or references to other well-known narratives (which presumably involves a level of familiarity)? The reason Sabrina (particularly) left me thinking about references is that it is chock-full of them.

The first volume of Sabrina includes numerous references to external media, including Edgar Allan Poe, "The Monkey's Paw," the musicals Grease and Bye Bye Birdie, Ray Bradbury, and (if this can be considered a reference to external media) Archie Comics characters. Additionally, Sabrina's cousin Ambrose has familiars named Nag and Nagaina, who are referenced as children of Glycon. Glycon is a puppet snake god most prominently associated (in comics circles at least) with Alan Moore, who claims to have had numinous religious experiences involving Glycon
Related image
Glycon looking confident and stylish as hell.
The references to occultist traditions and practices don't end with a gesturing toward the apostle of esoteric comics, however. During scenes in which Sabrina is put on trial by the Church of Night, the priest overseeing the ceremony is Aleister Crowley, the prominent British occultist and ceremonial magician. While he is never called by his full name, he is referred to as "High Priest Crowley" and the depiction is unmistakable.

A comprehensive list of references in the first volume of The Chilling Adventures is beyond the scope of this post, but needless to say there are plenty. Additional references include: the mythology of H.P. Lovecraft, Satanist symbology, the fiction of Shirley Jackson, Rosemary's Baby, Macbeth, the 1922 silent film Häxan, Carrie, and Creepshow.


High Priest Crowley

So, with all these references flying around, how do they function in the context of horror comics? Like any interesting question, there likely is no single comprehensive answer. Therefore, this post will be exploratory in nature, rather than an attempt to assert a particular position.

References are one element of what scholars have come to refer to as "intertextuality." Intertextuality is the interrelation of cultural artifacts to one another. This tends to be explored mostly in terms of literature, but intertextuality also occurs in the visual arts and film, as well as across artistic mediums. The view that intertextuality is an important aspect of understanding a work is built on the understanding that:

There are always other words in a word, other texts in a text. The concept of intertextuality requires, therefore, that we understand texts not as self-contained systems but as differential and historical, as traces and tracings of otherness, since they are shaped by the repetition and transformation of other textual structures. Rejecting [the] principle of textual autonomy, the theory of intertextuality insists that a text cannot exist as a self-sufficient whole, and so, that it does not function as a closed system (Alfaro, 268).

Rosemary's Baby-style variant cover

The references in this book, being a part of intertextuality, locate Sabrina in a tradition of horror media tracking back hundreds of years. In part, these references serve to separate this comic from the widely known light-hearted television show called Sabrina the Teenage Witch, starring Melissa Joan Hart. With all of the references to occultism, Satanism, and horror, Aguirre-Sacasa and company position their Sabrina title as being firmly within the horror genre. This story, the creators are suggesting, has more in common with Stephen King than with the popular ABC sit-com. 

However, might this method of positioning the comics title also undermine the potential for Sabrina to be scary? While referencing popular horror movies, novels, and concepts works to intertextually relate Sabrina to pieces of media that are horrifying, such a clearly referential strategy may also have the effect of taking the reader's attention out of the storyworld of the comic. Or, to put it another way, intertextual references may remind readers that they are reading a comic, it's only a piece of media, and therefore there's nothing to be afraid of. Familiarity with concepts and narrative tropes may make readers respond with excited or nostalgic recognition, rather than the uncertainty or surprise typically associated with fear responses.

Now, The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina is highly playful when referencing the tradition of horror and occultism and it might be argued that Sabrina isn't intended to be scary. It may be that Sabrina is a comic with a horror aesthetic, rather than properly being a horror comic. This is a definitional point about authorial intent and I'm not concerned with engaging this angle here, as I don't see it having much of an effect on my line of thinking. The point still stands that this seems to be a philosophical quandary more broadly in horror comics and media. How do horror narratives draw on (and even highlight) intertextual references and simultaneously aim to engender fear in their audience (sometimes) using those very elements. Surely, audience members who recognize the references will have their attention drawn away from their engagement with the storyworld and will instead think of the fact that they are engaging with a cultural artifact (comic, novel, movie, etc.),  which is a decidedly unscary prospect.

This post-modern intertextual strategy and use of metatextual narratives (that is stories about stories) shows up in horror media more broadly. Obvious examples include Scream (the film), Hellboy (Mignola's comic), From Hell (Alan Moore's comic influenced heavily by Stephen Knight's theories on the identity of Jack the Ripper), Cabin in the Woods (the film), Shaun of the Dead (the film), and Creepshow (a film that clearly references 1950's E.C. horror comics).

Crowley, the occultist symbol of the pentagram/pentacle,
and a Lovecraftian tentacle in one panel... oh my!

There are theories of horror that can potentially offer a way to resolve this issue. For example, philosopher Nöel Carroll argues that our experiences of horror in artistic contexts comes from our fear responses to representations of monsters that are "physically (and perhaps morally and socially) threatening in the ways portrayed in the fiction" (Carroll, 27). For Carroll, the reason that these monsters are so threatening is that they are "interstitial," meaning they cross the boundaries of "the deep categories of a culture's conceptual scheme" (31-32). Zombies and vampires, for example, are both living and dead. Bodily fluids which cause disgust (feces, blood, etc.) conflate categories of "me/not me, inside/outside, and living/dead" (32). "Horrific monsters often involve the mixture of what is normally distinct" (33). Possessed characters involve a confusion of appearance and essence, and werewolves and other shape-shifters blur the boundaries between human and animal forms.

If our aversion and fear when engaging with horror comics often comes from the upsetting of our deeply engrained cultural boundaries, then it may be the case that intertextual referencing of well-known horror narratives and concepts can work in favor of inciting fear in the reader. Insofar as Sabrina draws on concepts from other horror media that are "categorically transgressive" (33), it may give readers a fright precisely because of those intertextual references. Sabrina can (to some extent) presume its readers' familiarity with the history of horror narratives in order to suggest horrifying interstitial concepts in ways that are more culturally resonant than they would be if they were not grounded in intertextual referencing. So, when a character in Sabrina mentions the "Necronomicon," the weight and dread of Lovecraftian cosmic horror mythology may come to mind for readers who are familiar with Lovecraft's works. This may serve to make Sabrina more horrific, as opposed to less.

As I said above, this post is exploratory and doesn't constitute a complete argument or definitive viewpoint on these issues. I am not completely convinced by this potential application of Carroll to the question of how references (read as references) can be scary. It seems to me that including so many clear intertextual references in a horror comic, at least potentially, serves to pull the reader out of an immersive reading experience of the storyworld of the comic, and thereby, makes the comic less threatening or scary. Being someone who loves the aesthetics of horror far more than I enjoy being actually scared, I am perfectly fine with a book like Sabrina that is steeped in intertextual references to the history of horror. But it seems that the heavy reliance on intertextuality may dampen the potential for reader emersion and scares.






Works Cited

Alfaro, María Jesús Martínez. “Intertextuality: Origins and Development of the Concept.” Atlantis, 18, no. 1/2 (1996): 268-285. https://www.jstor.org/stable/41054827.

Aguirre-Sacasa, Roberto and Robert Hack. The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina: The Crucible. New York: Archie Horror, 2015.

Carroll, Nöel. The Philosophy of Horror or Paradoxes of the Heart. New York: Routledge, 1990.

Thursday, February 21, 2019

American Kryptonite: Superman and the Disenchantment of American Civil Religion


***This post is based on a conference presentation I gave at the Midwest Popular Culture Association annual conference in the fall of 2016. Because of this, it's got a more academic tone than most of what's likely to come on this blog. Enjoy!***

            Since his introduction in Action Comics’ first issue in June of 1938, Superman has become almost synonymous with the archetype of the superhero. The character’s popularity with U.S. audiences in his early days was one of the driving factors in the creation of similar costumed heroes in pulp fiction and comic books (e.g., Batman, Captain America, Wonder Woman, etc.) While Superman’s original characterization by creators Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster was more of an anti-authoritarian or pseudo-socialist vigilante (Saunders, Do the Gods Wear Capes?, 22-23), he has since gone “from being a simple fighter for justice to a godlike embodiment of the American way” (Garrett, Holy Superheroes!, 20).
Ben Saunders explores the philosophical implications of Superman and argues that the character’s widespread appeal “emerges from out of the gap between the is and the ought,” meaning that Superman represents the ideal humanity that contrasts against actual humanity (Saunders, 5). While comparisons are often made between Superman and other heroic or religious figures, from Hercules to Moses to Jesus, according to Saunders, “the enduring appeal and significance of Superman derives less from his resemblance to prior gods and heroes than from his status as one of the most successful modern mass-media attempts to depict what philosophers since Plato have called the good” (Do the Gods Wear Capes?, 17-18). This reading of Superman as a figure of Platonic Goodness is a useful lens through which to explore the changing place of the character in American culture since his inception.
In doing so, we can find evidence of a declining confidence in the alignment of the U.S. with the Goodness that Superman/Clark Kent has embodied. The sociologist Robert Bellah referred to the association of Goodness and Americanism as “American Civil Religion” (“Civil Religion in America,” 1-21). Bellah describes civil religion as “certain common elements of religious orientation that the great majority of Americans share [that] have played a crucial role in the development of American institutions and still provide a religious dimension for the whole fabric of American life, including the political sphere” (“Civil Religion in America”). However, this association between Goodness and Americanism is not absolute, and has been increasingly undermined in American pop-cultural narratives.
The increasing skepticism about American civil religion displayed in Superman narratives exemplifies a process that sociologist Max Weber termed “disenchantment” (Weber, “The Vocation of Science,” 274). Weber understood disenchantment as the expansion of systems employing “intellectual rationalization,” the potential expertise of the individual in any area of human life, and the loss of belief in “mysterious, incalculable powers at work” (“The Vocation of Science,” 274). Weber, highlighting the modern push toward “rationality at every opportunity” (Sica, “Rationalization and Culture,” 56-57), sought to explain the social impacts of the rise of the “German factory system and the bureaucratic organization of clerical work,” as well as “urbanization” and the increasing power of the “constitutional nation state” in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century (Whimster, “Introduction to Max Weber,” 4-5). With the potential exception of the increasing power of the nation state, these themes can be seen in twentieth century U.S. history through to the present day. Themes of disenchantment also increasingly appear across the various iterations of Superman that arose in those contexts. I will explore three examples.
The Adventures of Superman television show of the 1950’s demonstrates a confidence in the association of Goodness and America and venerates themes of American civil religion explicitly. 1978’s Superman: The Movie manifests a nostalgia regarding the the loss of confidence in civil religion. And the 2013 film adaptation, Man of Steel, relies heavily on a presumed tension between the character’s embodiment of American civil religious values and his flourishing as an individual. Ironically, Man of Steel is the most explicitly religious of these three examples, an irony I’ll deal with in detail below. However, the growing sense of disenchantment with American civil religion is most clearly seen in Man of Steel, through the commercialization both of the character and the religious associations that Superman carries.
The Adventures of Superman, a television series starring George Reeves, debuted in 1952. This post-war rendition of Superman is woven with themes indicating its hero as particularly American. At the beginning of each episode, we are told that Superman has come to Earth to fight for “truth, justice, and the American way,” where these concepts are considered almost synonymous (Saunders, 26). The introduction closes with Superman standing in a strong pose, hands on hips, with the American flag waving behind him. This view of what superheroes are and should be fits snugly in the general conservatism about comic book characters of the 1950’s and the requirement that they be abashedly pro-American-status-quo.
While The Adventures of Superman was intended for an audience of children, the earnest moralistic tone set by Superman’s commitment to law, order, and the Americanism of the 1950’s mirrors Bellah’s notion of the God of American civil religion. Bellah writes, “The God of the civil religion is […] much more related to order, law, and right than to salvation and love” (Bellah). The concern with social and institutional order is clear in this depiction of Superman, as he often works closely with law enforcement institutions in stopping both organized and street crime.
George Reeves’ Superman trying his best to appease Frederich Wertham.

In one episode, Superman even speaks to various citizens’ organizations, ensuring them that he is working against the “enemies of the public.” These speaking engagements include “a mass meeting in the Metropolis auditorium” and “a breakfast meeting of the Women’s Federation.” While Superman is the strongest being on Earth, he “[adopts] a pose of mind-mannered timidity” in his life as Clark Kent.  This highlights the focus on Superman as an important part of the social fabric, as opposed to an individual with goals and purposes that could potentially be at odds with the American status quo. While it’s an open question as to whether civil religion utilized the popularity of Superman or vice versa, the two certainly overlap in this version of the character.
The most obvious example of this is a short film that was produced at the request of the U.S. Treasury Department, entitled “Stamp Day for Superman.” In it, Superman catches a jewel thief in the act. The burglar laments his decision to turn to crime, citing his lack of monetary savings as the driving factor. The rest of the film is dedicated to the promotion of “helping [oneself] and Uncle Sam by buying bonds and stamps.” Superman ends the episode with a speech to a group of school children about doing their duty to their country by buying U.S. stamps and bonds. In a school classroom filled with signs reading “Stamp Day Today,” Superman encourages the children to “be super citizens and have a super future by saving regularly with United States savings stamps.” Superman, just like the God of American civil religion, “is actively interested and involved in history, with a special concern for America” (Bellah). In this case, Superman’s active interest in the American future presumes a “duty of the individual toward the increase of his capital” (Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, 51), which is said to be the path toward a “super future.”
George Reeve’s post-war Superman exemplified a high point in the history of American civil religion. Superman represented the Good found in American civil institutions, with which “Superman’s ideological leanings were entirely in step” (Saunders, 26). However, between the end of the final season of The Adventures of Superman and the next iconic portrayal of the character in 1978, American culture changed dramatically. The shifts of the 1960’s and 1970’s, including the civil rights and women’s movements, the Vietnam War, and Watergate scandal, undermined the previous confidence in American exceptionalism and the synonymy of Goodness and the American status quo. So, in the 1978 film Superman: The Movie, the character is still an embodiment of the “American way,” but is played as a nostalgic emblem for better days gone by.
Christopher Reeve’s portrayal of Superman is inarguably iconic. Under the direction of Richard Donner, Reeve became the face of Superman for more than a generation. The film hits all the classic beats of the character, from Superman’s Kryptonian origins to mild-mannered Clark Kent in Metropolis. In Superman: The Movie, we can see a depiction of the threat of Weber’s disenchantment with regard to American civil religion in the contrast that is made between Clark Kent’s home in rural Kansas and his life in the large city of Metropolis. Ma Kent, dressed in 50’s era clothing, displays Smallville’s rural Americanism saying, “I’ve prayed and prayed the Good Lord’d see fit to give us a child.” The values that Clark Kent brings from Smallville are those of modesty, authenticity, and commitment to other citizens. Reeve’s Superman is shown to be the last bastion of American civil religion in the more cynically minded 1970’s urban hub of Metropolis.
In her introductory scene, Lois Lane highlights the social and moral decline of Metropolis when she asks how to spell “bloodletting” and “massacre” for a news story she is typing. The aspects of the less-caring and grittier Metropolis are contrasted with an idealized version of the values of the America of in the 1950’s, which Superman embodies. He moves seamlessly from societal good deeds (such as, rescuing Air Force One when its engine fails) to archetypal acts of altruism for individual citizens (such as, rescuing a cat from a tree). This Superman is a homespun Kansan who the film contrasts against an environment that is losing faith in its social institutions and the goodness of its citizens. When Superman tells Lois that he’s come to fight for the American way, Lois replies, “You’re going to end up fighting every elected official in this country.” The film clearly intends for the audience to favor the values represented by Superman, no matter how quaint.
However, Reeve’s Superman is never framed as a representation of the future.[1] Nor is he depicted as representing the actual values of America in the late 1970’s. Rather, he clearly represents the American past in which there was a traditional association of Goodness and Americanism (that is, faith in American civil religion). Here we see Saunders’ claim that “whatever we collectively imagine ‘good’ to be at any given time […] Superman must strive to be that too” (Do the Gods Wear Capes?, 30). In this iteration, America has lost touch with its Goodness but could return to it with Superman’s help. Because, “even when America itself can no longer persuasively evoke moral authority, Superman must try” (Do the Gods Wear Capes?, 31).
Remember the fifties when everyone saved cats? This country is going to hell.

Superman: The Movie, received by critics as “a wondrous combination of all the old-fashioned things we never really get tired of,” narratively recognizes the beginnings of disenchantment in relation to American civil religion (Ebert, “Reviews-Superman”). The villain, Lex Luthor, clearly embodies the expansion of the rationalized capitalism and the corrupted bureaucratic systems[2] of America in the late seventies.[3] Luthor’s nefarious plan of using military missiles aimed at fault lines to reshape California’s coast in his own economic interest shows him to be an extreme caricature of Weber’s “specialists without spirit, sensualists without heart” (The Protestant Ethic, 182).
Luthor not only represents the capitalistic and rationalist tendencies that bring about disenchantment, but also the idea of rationalization as “progress” in terms of the potential of the individual.[4]  In this film, Luthor is the true man of tomorrow, rather than Superman. Luther proclaims, “You were great in your day, Superman,” but he understands himself as a “brilliant” and “charismatic [...] leader of our time.” The culmination of the theme of nostalgia in Superman: The Movie can be seen in the film’s climax. When Luthor’s use of the missiles causes Lois Lane’s fatal plummet into a crevasse, Superman embodies the optimistic possibility of returning to a better past by flying against the rotation of the Earth fast enough to literally turn back the clock.
When Superman eventually saves the day, he hand delivers Luthor to a prison warden. Superman tells the warden, whose desk is adorned with an American flag, to hold Luthor until he can get a “fair trial.” When the warden gives thanks to Superman for making “this country safe again,” Superman responds, “don’t thank me warden, we’re all part of the same team.” Donner’s use of Superman as an idealized view of the American past appears to recognize the perceived threat of Weberian disenchantment and supports the possibility that America can return to its perceived golden age, when faith in American civil religion was strong. Donner’s Superman, like most conceptions of Superman, is “essentially conservative” and is “a defender of traditional values” (Garrett, 53).
The next reimagined film iteration of Superman did not appear until 2013, with a reboot of the franchise[5] entitled Man of Steel. The film received mixed reviews (“Man of Steel,” Rotten Tomatoes), with some seeing it as a “return to the superhero’s roots” (Moss) and others calling it “an exceptionally unpleasant viewing experience.” (Hornaday) Man of Steel shifts the focus of the Superman character drastically,[6] exploring his psychology much more than previous offerings. This Superman is seen as a tortured individual because of his powers. This film both depicts and manifests Weber’s notion of disenchantment.
Within the narrative of Man of Steel, Henry Cavill portrays a Superman whose isolation and alienation from humans lasts into his adulthood. Rather than acquiring homespun traditional American values from the Kents, Clark is given distrust for humans and their nature. While Jonathan Kent thinks he was “sent here for a reason,” he tells Clark that he must “keep this [super powered] side of yourself a secret” because “people are afraid of what they don’t understand.” In previous versions, Superman gets his physical power from his Kryptonian parents and his moral values from his American parents. Man of Steel puts forth a Superman whose feelings of obligation to humanity come largely from Jor-El, his Kryptonian father. Jor-El tells Superman that he “will give the people of Earth an ideal to strive toward.” Within this franchise, humans do not trust themselves or believe in their own potential anymore. Optimism toward humanity must come from another world.
Cavill’s Superman plainly manifests what Weber terms, a “calling” (Weber, The Protestant Ethic, 180). For Weber, the calling is felt in individual terms and “the idea of duty in one’s calling prowls about in our lives […] and the individual generally abandons the attempt to justify it at all” (Weber, The Protestant Ethic, 182). For Superman, the calling is to help and lead humanity. This calling is laborious for Superman and is portrayed as being in tension with his potential to flourish as an individual (that is, it is framed in terms of ascetic self-sacrifice).[7] Where George Reeves’ Superman was depicted as happy to help maintain the human social order, Henry Cavill’s Superman is not sure that the sacrifice is worth it. This use of the calling of the individual makes sense given the heavy-handed Christian symbolism the film uses to portray Superman as a Christ figure.
While all versions of the character have had some religious sensibility, often drawing from the figures of either Moses or Jesus, Man of Steel’s Superman is unambiguously an analogy for Jesus. Jor-El, before sending his son to Earth, says that he “will be a god to them.” Superman floats in a cruciform position twice, is 33 years old, and defeats a female alien who threatens that Superman’s “sense of morality” puts him at an evolutionary disadvantage. She smirks and concludes that, “if history has proven anything it is that evolution always wins.” The counterfactual (and frankly... silly) claim that morality and evolutionary processes are at odds is a clear nod to the creationist movements in the U.S. (“About the Museum,” The Creation Museum). The most obvious equivalence between Jesus and Superman transpires when he visits a priest to ask for advice about how to respond to the alien threat that has appeared on Earth, demanding his surrender.
Superman sits on a pew in a church and speaks to the priest. He asks, “If there’s a chance I can save Earth by turning myself in, shouldn’t I take it?” Cavill’s face foregrounds a stained glass window depicting Jesus praying at the garden of Gethsemane. Superman mirror’s the narrative of Jesus’ struggle with his own death, saying, “Zod [the alien threat] can’t be trusted, but the problem is, I’m not sure the people of Earth can be either.” The priest advises Superman to “take a leap of faith.” However, the explicit and “abundant” Christian references throughout the film (Marrapodi, “Superman: Flying to a Church Near You”) are less an outcome of the religiosity of the filmmakers and are more an outcome of fully realized Weberian disenchantment, as they are the result of explicit marketing decisions.

Very subtle Christian themes appear in Man of Steel.

            Man of Steel was marketed extensively prior to its release. The film's studio, Warner Bros., utilized "more than 100 global promotional partners and [invested] $160 million in collective promotional support" (Morrison, "Superman Reboot"). Commodities from Clark Kent glasses to a Man of Steel themed pickup truck were available for purchase (Suddath, "Warner Bros. is a 'Man of Steel' Marketing Machine). In addition to the commodification of Superman outside of the film, Man of Steel itself contains many scenes featuring corporate logos including IHop, Sears, Seven Eleven, UHaul, and Nokia. This extreme commodification exemplifies Weber's analysis that, "material goods have gained an increasing and finally an inexorable power over the lives of men as at no previous period in history" (The Protestant Ethic, 181). While Weber was referring to the initial mechanization of the German social order, this principle holds true for in twenty-first century American consumer culture.
             The “inexorable power” of commodification is not only in relation to the individual, but also in relation to cultural ideals and values. Weber writes, “The modern man is in general, even with the best will, unable to give religious ideas a significance for culture and national character which they deserve” (The Protestant Ethic, 183). Man of Steel manifests this aspect of disenchantment in a particularly stark way, because even the unambiguous Christian symbolism in the film was also heavily utilized for purposes of marketing. The symbols of American religiosity in Man of Steel represent an example of the relatively common strategy of converting (primarily evangelical) Christian language, narratives, and symbols into dollars and cents.
             Man of Steel was marketed extensively prior to its release. The film's studio, Warner Bros., utilized "more than 100 global promotional partners and [invested] $160 million in collective promotional support" (Morrison, "Superman Reboot"). Commodities from Clark Kent glasses to a Man of Steel themed pickup truck were available for purchase (Suddath, "Warner Bros. is a 'Man of Steel' Marketing Machine). In addition to the commodification of Superman outside of the film, Man of Steel itself contains many scenes featuring corporate logos including IHop, Sears, Seven Eleven, UHaul, and Nokia. This extreme commodification exemplifies Weber's analysis that, "material goods have gained an increasing and finally an inexorable power over the lives of men as at no previous period in history" (The Protestant Ethic, 181). While Weber was referring to the initial mechanization of the German social order, this principle holds true for in twenty-first century American consumer culture.
This strategy wasn’t only attempted through the use of Christian symbols in the film, however. Warner Brothers hired a theologian to develop sermon notes revolving around the Christian themes in Man of Steel (Marrapodi). The proposed sermon is entitled “Jesus: The Original Superhero,” and the accompanying notes suggest that pastors wrap up their services by viewing the film’s trailer with their congregations. So, the film’s Christian symbolism functions identically to any of its other corporate tie-ins. Man of Steel, then, clearly manifests Weberian disenchantment through its narrative themes of the lack of faith in the idealized values of American civil religion and in the film’s explicit use of both corporate and religious symbols for the ultimate purpose of wealth accumulation “as an end in itself” (Weber, The Protestant Ethic, 53).
            Superman may be viewed philosophically as an attempt to represent America’s ideal version of Goodness at any given time since his creation. In these three examples of live action interpretations of the character, we can clearly see that the U.S. popular consciousness has become disenchanted with American civil religion. The association of Goodness and America no longer holds the sway that it once did. This disenchantment is “driven by a process of cultural rationalization, one in which ultimate values […] are replaced increasingly by the pursuit of materialistic, mundane ends” (Gane, “Max Weber and Postmodernism,” 15).
The Adventures of Superman represented a post-war confidence with America as the world’s leader “both militarily and morally” (Saunders, 26). Superman: The Movie recognizes America’s crisis of confidence in its own relation to Goodness and Superman offers a nostalgic return to better days. Finally, Man of Steel downplays any particularly American ideals in favor of corporate logos and marketing in the form of overt Christian symbolism. So, while Superman once fought for “truth, justice, and the American way,” confidence in the association of those terms has been replaced by the use of Superman for “the pursuit of wealth, stripped of its religious and ethical meaning” (Weber, The Protestant Ethic, 182). This transition is what Max Weber called “disenchantment."


Works Cited

“About The Museum.” The Creation Museum. Accessed July 20, 2015, http://creationmuseum.org/about.

The Adventures of Superman: Season 1. 1952. Warner Home Video, 2006. DVD.

The Adventures of Superman: Season 2. 1953. Warner Home Video, 2006. DVD.

Bellah, Robert. “Civil Religion in America.” Journal of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences 96, no. 1 (1967): 1-21.

Carter, Jimmy. “Crisis of Confidence.” PBS. July 15, 1979, http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/primary-resources/carter-crisis.

Ebert, Roger. “Reviews - Superman.” RogerEbert.com. December 15, 1978, http://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/superman.

Gane, Nicholas. Max Weber and Postmodernism: Rationalization versus Re-Enchantment. New York: Palgrave, 2002.

Garrett, Greg. Holy Superheroes! Louisville: West Minster John Knox Press. 2008.

Hornaday, Ann, “‘Man of Steel’: Henry Cavil Stars as Superman in This Bombastic Reboot.” The Washington Post. June 13, 2013, http://www.washingtonpost.com/goingoutguide/movies/man-of-steel-henry-cavill-stars-as-superman-in-this-bombastic-reboot/2013/06/12/6d77d5d0-d36c-11e2-a73e-826d299ff459_story.html.

Kripal, Jeffrey J. Mutants and Mystics: Science Fiction, Superhero Comics, and the Paranormal. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011.

Man of Steel. Directed by Zack Snyder (USA: Warner Brothers, 2013).

“Man of Steel,” Rotten Tomatoes, accessed July 20, 2015, http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/superman_man_of_steel.

Eric Marrapodi, “Superman: Flying to a Church Near You.” CNNblog. June 14, 2013, http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/2013/06/14/superman-coming-to-a-church-near-you.

Morisson, Maureen. “Superman Reboot ‘Man of Steel’ Snares $160 Million in Promotions.” Advertising Age. June 3, 2013, http://adage.com/article/news/superman-reboot-man-steel-snares-160m-promotions/241822.

Moss, Charlie. “Superman’s Dark Past,” The Atlantic, May 24, 2015, http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2015/05/supermans-dark-days/393998/.

Saunders, Ben. Do the Gods Wear Capes? Spirituality, Fantasy, and Superheroes. New York: Continuum International Publishing Group. 2011.

Sica, Alan. “Rationalization and Culture.” In The Cambridge Companion to Weber, edited by Stephen Turner, 42-58. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000.

Suddath, Claire. “Warner Bros. Is a ‘Man of Steel’ Marketing Machine.” Bloomberg Business. June 21, 2013, http://www.bloomberg.com/bw/articles/2013-06-21/warner-bros-dot-is-a-man-of-steel-marketing-machine.

Superman Returns. Directed by Brian Singer. 2006. USA: Warner Home Video, DVD.

Superman: The Movie. Directed by Richard Donner, 1978 (2006); USA: Warner Home Video, DVD.

Vary, Adam “How Successful is ‘Man of Steel’ When Compared with Other Superman Movies?” BuzzFeed, June 16, 2013. http://www.buzzfeed.com/adambvary/how-successful-is-man-of-steel-when-compared-with-other-supe.

Weber, Max. “The Vocation of Science,” in The Essential Weber: A Reader, edited by Sam Whimster, 270-287. New York: Taylor & Francis Group, 2004. 

Weber, Max. The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1958.

Whimster, Sam. “Introduction to Max Weber,” in The Essential Weber: A Reader, edited by Sam Whimster. 1-10. New York: Taylor & Francis Group, 2004. 



[1] Early in his comic book days, Superman was “a model for the future evolution of human nature: basically, Superman is from the future” (Kripal, Mutants and Mystics, 75).
[2] Both expanded rationality and commitment to bureaucratic systems are included in Weber’s notion of disenchantment (Max Weber, “The Vocation of Science,” in The Essential Weber: A Reader, 274, 287).
[3] Just a year after Superman: The Movie’s theatrical release, President Jimmy Carter spoke of this “crisis of confidence” in American political institutions and the American way of life (Jimmy Carter “Crisis of Confidence,” PBS, July 15, 1979, http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/primary-resources/carter-crisis).
[4] The potential of the individual is seen in “the belief that, if one only wanted to, one […] could in principle master everything through calculation.” (Max Weber, “The Vocation of Science,” in The Essential Weber: A Reader, 274).
[5] Brian Singer’s 2006 film Superman Returns was pitched as reviving Donner’s franchise, rather than as a reboot.
[6] Some felt the shifts were too drastic, which caused the film’s financial success to be somewhat lower than Donner’s film when adjusted for inflation (Adam Vary, “How Successful is ‘Man of Steel’ When Compared with Other Superman Movies?” BuzzFeed, June 16, 2013, http://www.buzzfeed.com/adambvary/how-successful-is-man-of-steel-when-compared-with-other-supe.)
[7] For Weber, ascetic sacrifice is the origin of the later non-religious economic sense of “calling” (The Protestant Ethic, 178).