Yesterday, I spoke about the different ways the Hulk is portrayed in comic books, in TV, and in the movies. Marvel's new show, "Hulk and the Agents of SMASH," portrays Hulk as a wise man, and a team leader. It's a refreshing take on the classic character, one that views him as a person, and not a monster.
As we searched through the old comic books, the manager
walked through that area of the store twice. The first time he asked us if we had any
questions, we, like the others in the shop, told him “No, we’re fine.” The second time he asked, I asked him about
this dichotomy. While he had not seen
“Hulk and the Agents of SMASH,” he agreed that different writers treat the
character differently. Some make Bruce
Banner less intelligent, or less moral than traditionally depicted. Some glorify in Hulk’s violent capabilities,
while others treat him as a thinking, reasoning person. He mentioned several recent series he had
particularly enjoyed, as well as others that he had not. He also mentioned how characters like Captain
America and Iron Man might act in radically different ways, depending on how a
particular author approached him.
So often I hear people speak dismissively of comic books,
suggesting that the authors of such stories dumb down characters, situations,
and subjects. Yet most of us look to any form of Fiction as entertainment: we look for content and surface-level enjoyment
first. If we like a
particular character or setting, we may invest deeper thought in aspects of the
story. If we don’t immediately enjoy
it, most of us discard the story, and move on to another. After all, there are plenty of stories out
there to be discovered. Why spend time
ruminating on aspects of one you didn’t enjoy?
What struck me as the man spoke was how he had weighed the
merits of the stories he had read. He
spoke in terms of his philosophy about what the character should be—how Hulk, Captain
America or Iron Man should act. What his
responsibility to others should be.
Never once did rank a story in terms of its art, or revel in depictions
of action and violence. Never once did
he say, “This is a particular scene I wanted to see played out, and the writer
gave it to me, so I’m satisfied.” He had
internalized the stories, thought deeply about them, and judged them in terms
of his own morals and worldviews. In
other words, he had mentally and emotionally processed the stories just as
literary writers hope their readers will.
He had accompanied those characters on their journeys. The situations they had faced together, and
the choices his heroes had made, had informed his own responses to real-world
situations.
While we were there, a man came in with a young boy. The man told the boy (presumably his son)
that he could read any of the comics in a particular area. Unlike most of the children who have waited
in the store while their parents searched through the comic book boxes, this
boy didn’t make noise. He didn’t wander,
play with toys, throw things, or beg his father to leave. Instead, he read the comics his father had
recommended to him. As I finished my
conversation with the manager, and my wife and I left the older comics area, I
heard the man begin instructing the boy on the proper way to hold a comic
book.
I didn’t glance back to watch, but I wish now that I
had. I wonder what stories the boy will
grow to love, who his heroes will be, and how they will shape him into the man
he becomes.
Dragon Dave
