Batman and America
By Nicholas Allanach
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I
was ten years old when Warner Brothers released the first Batman
(1989, directed by Tim Burton). The ongoing myth began with Bob Kane,
who originally created the Dark Knight in 1940. But for me, the first
Batman was the campy, gray-gutted Adam West, followed by serious Michael
Keaton, who countered West with a six-pack of black rubber-latex. What
fascinated me most about this superhero was his ability to transcend
the weaknesses and restrictions of human life. Bruce Wayne is an everyday
guy, who can only become Batman through training, education, and (of
course) a generous financial inheritance.
Back
in 1989, the summer-blockbuster-media-blitz inundated my maturing consumer
conscience to a point where I feld the need to purchase and collect
as much Batman merchandise as possible. Somehow, by owning pieces of
the Batman, I could be the Batman. But eventually, trading
cards and action figures were not enough and, although the comic books
enabled me to vicariously experience the caped-crusaders adventures,
I was still unsatisfied. It was then that I decided to make the
suit.
I
began by putting a mask together from sratch, knowing this would be
the toughest part. A pair of dark thermal underwear, black gloves, and
last Halloween’s Dracula cape would work fine for the rest of
the costume. To make the mask, I first wrapped my head in tinfoil and
then covered the mold with black electric tape. I put two cardboard
ears on the top of the mask and then cut out a hole for the mouth and
two for the eyes. I painted the bat-symbol on the thermal underwear
with yellow paint, found a gold belt in my mother’s closet, and
used my black, Velcro sneakers for shoes. The suit was complete.
I
spent the afternoon chasing the cat and my brother around our house
as if they were Gotham City's vilest criminals. I jumped off the couch,
slid down the stairs, and ran around the backyard as if swinging from
a skyscraper's ledge to land in a dark alley.
Of
course, my parents, younger brother, and childhood friends all laughed
at my silliness. I was only a little kid with a big imagination, but
part of me really wanted to be the Batman. I seriously thought that
I could be just as brave and bold as my favorite superhero. After all,
Bruce Wayne was just a regular guy who - driven by revenge - pursued
his passion to successfully become more than human (or at least insane).
Why couldn't I?
Obviously,
I soon outgrew dressing up as Batman. Nevertheless, my passion to become
a stronger, smarter, and cooler looking person hasn’t gone away.
In many respects, I am still making masks to disguise some features
and highlight others; but somehow, all these ‘masks’ reveal
pieces of the whole person I continue to become. The mythology of the
Batman is an interesting way to not only consider how such figures (working
alongside the commercialism they produce) affect the social development
of adolescents but also how such iconographic figures reconfirm a unique
American ideology, a set of beliefs created by tie-wearing adults who
were once themselves children in bat-suits.
Recently
released Batman
Begins, directed by Christopher Nolan and staring Christian Bale,
is far from the homoerotic and colorful version developed by Joel Shumacher
in the mid-nineties. Instead, Nolan’s take on the Dark Knight
will remind fans of Frank Miller’s aging hero from his graphic
series, “Batman: The Dark Knight Returns.” Nolan’s
and Miller’s depiction of Batman is similar in that both are complex
psychological glimpses into the inner workings of an antihero, torn
between justice and vengeance. Batman’s war is never over.
Driven
by a need to avenge his parent’s death, Bruce Wayne becomes what
he fears most – the bat. Wayne himself is unable to exact the
justice he desires and so must create an alter ego (or symbol) to confront
his past demons. Batman is Wayne’s daimon. (i.e. “For
the ancient Greeks, the word ‘daimon’ defined the
otherwise unknowable power that drove an individual more or less blindly
forward.”) All of us are passionate about something. Bruce Wayne
has an unrelenting need to avenge his parent’s death. To achieve
this, he becomes Batman.
In
many ways, the character of Batman illustrates an interesting aspect
of American ideology. On the surface, Bruce Wayne exemplifies the image
America presents to the world: wealthy, philanthropic, playboy-esque.
However, an event that “must never be forgotten” reveals
a more violent and sinister side to his character-type. Batman is like
America in that both are trying to avenge a past by operating above
the law. Batman is fair and humane in that he reports to Commissioner
Gordon and at least tries to get his job done within the confines of
the law. But there are also times when Batman’s justice is executed
violently and without repercussions from the legal system he is, ostensibly,
sworn to protect. Moreover - as seen in Batman Begins when
Wayne trains with an underground group known as “the league of
shadows” who plot to “destroy Gotham City” - Batman’s
tactics often mirror the methods of those he wishes to eradicate. Thus,
Batman’s form of vindication - like that of the American type
- requires, not only a large bank account, but also a willingness to
assume a low level of character comparable to the very evil it engages.
This
is why Bruce Wayne created his alter ego, Batman. When Batman does something
that is against the rules, Bruce Wayne remains safe. Perhaps the alter
ego of the American ideology is the notion of the ‘lone gunman’
protects the conspirators or the ‘couple of bad apples’
in the military who mask the legitimacy of a higher ‘chain of
command’?
And
like
my childish imaginings of being Batman, perhaps all of us somehow sustain
forms of this collective illusion as well? For example, maybe the mask
isn’t so clearly defined as we think? We make our own masks each
day: a mask for shopping, a mask for hanging out with friends, and a
mask to protest in, because all of these masks are much easier to comprehend
separately, rather than as a collective whole working together to define
who we are.