“Superman is broken”

It’s a phrase that has come up repeatedly in recent years, intensifying ever since Bryan Singer’s ambitious yet underwhelming Superman Returns in 2005. It’s been said so often that today for all intents and purposes it is acknowledged as assumed fact. Disturbingly this is so much so that even Zack Snyder, the director of the upcoming Superman theatrical reboot “Man of Steel”, (scheduled to hit theaters some time in 2012) has embraced the mantra fully, and one can assume he’s crafting the new film, (with the help of writers Christopher Nolan and David Goyer) and proceeding accordingly–from this “broken” theory.

But when I hear that phrase spoken by writers, filmmakers, and Hollywood executives, some of whom truly are the best and brightest the entertainment industry has to offer, what I’m hearing is, “Why yes he’s broken because we can’t make it work.” It is here that they and we miss the point and the mark and everything else consistently, not only with Superman, but with a multitude of properties out there in development. And that that point is this…

Superman isn’t broken. We are the broken ones.

Today’s audience is cynical. It’s uncool to sit in awe of a thing. Society tells us that we must at all times remain hyper-critical and above it all. I should know, I’m one of the biggest offenders. We’re a society where appearances and standards are more important to us than earnestness and heart. We tell our friends to do or like one thing, and then go home and do another. You thumb through your friend’s music collection, spot Celine Dion, and say “God you have that?!?!” but then on your drive home, you happily sing every last line to every last song by Paula Abdul.

If someone were to put in front of you an old television show, say, the 1970′s children’s show Land of the Lost your impulse will be to focus with laser sharp precision on the (by today’s standards) cheesy sets, special effects, acting and dialogue. But what you almost never do is remember the very real and earnest impact the show had on the audience viewing it at the time of its first presentation. Instead of seeking out its greatness, we willfully look back into the past with a broken lens of cynicism and disdain. Then we ret-con our memories. We actually believe that the hissing sleestak never for a second scared the living hell out of our prepubescent selves. We were the most astute and mature 7-year olds in the history of humankind in fact. And the result of all this? Will Ferrell’s version of Land of the Lost. A movie that so misses the point, it’s as if the point never existed in the first place. Instead of an epic thrill ride that might have rivaled Jurassic Park, we got a one-note punch line that rivaled…well, Will Farrell’s Land of the Lost.

Because we’re cynics, our impulse is to remake and reboot and reimagine, while mocking what we view as inferior instead of finding the one thing at its core that made the thing great or memorable in the first place. And then, when that piece fails, the finger pointing begins. The most comedic of which is when Hollywood actually has the nerve to point the finger at the audience itself.

How can the Superman concept be broken if we refuse to see it for what it is?

The at times goosebump and chill inducing Series Finale of Smallville was fun, cheesy, and overly dramatic full of slo-mo, and zooming cameras, and melodramatic love letters. It was also, in its two hours, time better spent than all of Superman Returns, and for that matter Superman 3, Superman 4, and (sacrilege I know) a majority of Superman 2.

Despite all of its flaws, the one thing that Smallville always did was that it knew what it was at all times and it never apologized for it. Even when it meant that we’d have to endure god awful Matrix-homages, and ill-advised spoofs of The Hangover, it found what worked for the tone and material as an ongoing series, then gave it 100% all the time.

It gave us moments that thrilled us. And this is the mistake that Hollywood and even the current comic book version of Superman often misses. We didn’t come to watch Ordinary Man. Superman just needs to be…Super. He’s only allowed to do what the police or firefighters can do in the first ten minutes of the film. The rest of the time he better damn well be saving the world. Saving a cat is cute and all, but the best and only thrilling moment of Superman Returns is when he caught an airplane.

Let me repeat. An airplane, not Richard Pryor.

With the rest of Superman Returns we were punished with angst, and stalking, and well…us. Why? Because of the “Broken” mandate. To thrill is cheesy. To amaze is silly. So we’re going to take the shine off, and make it gritty, scuff him up a bit and make him “real” and down to earth. Why? Hollywood makes films by using syllogisms. Batman sold well. Batman was dark. Batman is a Superhero. Therefore all dark superhero films will sell well. But good storytelling has nothing to do with syllogisms. Good storytelling is personal in each and every instance of its execution. A dark remake might work for a character like Batman who’s origins were actually forged in darkness, but for Superman his origin was forged in hope.

This is something the final ten minutes of Smallville, never mind all ten of its seasons, nailed perfectly. The idea of Superman is that he looks toward something great instead of looking back at past mistakes.

Pixar knows this. Their films are filled with a sense of wonder and heart. Other animated studios’ films are filled with cynicism…and fart jokes. And which of them is winning Oscars?

Some years ago I wrote a screenplay/concept entitled E.A.R.S. of which I am very proud. Trudging that script all over Hollywood and trying to get executives or agents to read it has been interesting. And the one comment that keeps coming up the most, after being told how fun it is, “we might need something a bit more adult.” This…a story about children. This is what Superman the concept is up against. It’s intended to fill you with wonder. But what to do when the greek chorus of society laughs at a little good ol’ fashioned innocence.

Lack of an understanding of just why we like Superman, and trying to fit him into the modern sensibility of overly complex rationale and reasoning is why Superman films haven’t worked since the original Superman feature film in 1978. It seems that most post Richard Donner era writers mistake conflict in Superman for internal angst. But in order to make a great Superman film all we need to do is go back and remember the tagline and slogan of that admittedly more innocent time.

You will believe a man can fly.

Smallville went one better than any of the Superman movies. Instead of catching a plane he…well…that would be a spoiler.

But suffice it to say, that despite it being cheesy, and despite its flaws, I felt something watching this “broken” character that I hadn’t felt in quite a long time.

Inspired.

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