Book Review: Analyzing the Marvel Universe. Critical Essays on the Comics and Film Adaptations

 reviewed by Cecilia Garrison, Teaching/Research Assistant, California Institute of Integral Studies

Douglas Brode, ed. Analyzing the Marvel Universe. Critical Essays on the Comics and Film Adaptations. Jefferson, NC:  McFarland, 2024. 245 pp. US $49.95 (Paperback). ISBN:  978-1-4766-9066-7. https://mcfarlandbooks.com/product/analyzing-the-marvel-universe/

 

     Douglas Brode’s Analyzing the Marvel Universe instructs us, from the prologue, to “[s]how me a nation’s mythology...and I will tell you all you would ever want to know about its people” (11). Brode’s contribution to the work of popular culture is extensive, and, as with this text, offers insight into the far-reaching impacts of something so simple as a comic, a television show, or a movie. He has collected, in this book of diverse essays, writings from medievalists, scholars of popular culture and English literature, sociologists, artists, novelists, and more. This winding text takes us through an array of the ways Marvel Comics lexicon has become increasingly multi-textual, increasingly a space of American mythos creation, and increasingly an exercise in what stumbling through slow and inconsistent progress towards modernity may look like.

The text combines the works of several authors, including Brode himself, covering topics that range from the astounding failure of the Broadway musical, “Spider-Man:  Turn Off the Dark,” to development of G.I. Joe from an action figure we must never refer to as a doll into a fully-fledged IP with comic books and a TV show, to the clumsy attempts Marvel has made over the years into intersectional and diversified narrative creation. The chapters include detailed histories of various Marvel IPs, critiques of mishandlings of characters and identities, and the importance of growth for the characters, Marvel itself, and the industry at large, in order to keep up with their ever-growing and evolving fan base.

The text’s initial essay is Lauer’s thorough assessment of why “Spider-Man:  Turn Off the Dark” failed so spectacularly, and it is with this opening essay that the reader receives what could almost be a warning, an instruction, a plea from fans both old and new:  “For an adaptation to have a chance at success, adaptors need to care about their source material, understand and work with their own medium specificity, and, ideally, have a new point to make by bringing the original’s concept to a new medium” (21-22). It is, with this understanding of what Marvel fans are looking for, their transmedia adaptations that the text takes off, acknowledging Marvel’s success, while pressing the media giant for more, for better. Anke Marie Bock’s critique of the characterization of Sue Storm as condescending and vilifying of feminine sexuality recognizes that while this stereotypical representation of women may have been what audiences in the 1970s were comfortable with, it none-the-less perpetuates uncomfortable stereotypes of women’s inferiority to men. In an essay on the four-issue anthology, Fearless, Christina M. Knopf argues that “[d]espite Marvel’s assertions that its books are not political, simply telling stories about the ‘world outside your window,’ such works cannot help but carry sociopolitical messages,” (107) and lays claim that the highlighting of female talent and female stories is what makes the anthology as remarkable as it is. Karl E. Martin argues that despite its diversion from the comics and the real critiques of the film adaptation, “Black Panther,” and its messaging, the film “engages African discourse in remarkable ways, exposing millions of viewers worldwide to a decades-old conversation” (217) around Pan-Africanism and the work of W.E.B. DeBois. The editor’s own treatise on the ways in which Black Mamba serves as a mirror to the changing perception of American female activists by broader society, ponders the origins of a villainess who is sometimes heroic and takes the identity of “a complex, ambiguous female deity that threatened the patriarchy of Western civilization” (74). These essays speak to the growing number of vocal comic and comic-adjacent property consumers who seek a more thorough and nuanced representation of the full array of spectrum-spanning identities in their superhero content.

Several of the essays within the text contend with the relationship between representation, responsibility, and engaging storytelling. Hafsa Alkhudairi, in her essay on Kamala Kahn, a.k.a. Ms. Marvel, explains that the responsibility for an entire identity’s representation, at this time in the Marvel lexicon, often falls onto the shoulders of one or maybe a few characters of that identity group, and protests this. She claims, at the close, that both Marvel and the audience “need more stories of people from different genders, races, and religions, all thoroughly nuanced to relieve the pressure on those who do exist” (98). This essay, and others like it, including Jaclyn Kliman’s critique of the Black Widow’s film presence as indicative of the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s problem of being “stuck in the supposed obstacle of writing a complex, leading superheroine,” (79), laud Marvel and the MCU for their progress towards a more inclusive and diverse character array. However, they are also pointing out what many fans may see as obvious. Marvel’s attempts are often clumsy, falling short of, or missing the mark entirely. From the call to acknowledge where current and past X-Men comics (and films) have been lacking in terms of a genuine critique of structural oppression and systemic racism, by Quincy Thomas, to the analysis of the ways in which even our ideas of what a villain or a bad guy looks like to modern audiences according to J.S. Starkweather, to Susan Aronstein and Tammy L. Mielke’s assessment of the value of high-quality, consistent character development and the importance of modernizing male characters such as Tony Stark--Analyzing the Marvel Universe, argues that Marvel fans and scholars are looking for better from their comics and film studios.

Historicity plays a significant role across the essays in the text. Cyrus R. K. Patell urges comics readers and scholars to approach comics reading with a cosmopolitan reading practice, using comics as a way to explore the “interplay of sameness and difference, of comfort and discomfort in texts we encounter” (181). In this cosmopolitan reading practice, the non-realistic fiction of comics of yore provide a unique perspective into what those at the time of writing may have understood about the world, with what authors believed would resonate with their readers. In Edward Salo’s exploration of G.I. Joe, from toys to comics to television and beyond, he seems to unknowingly put Patell’s urging to work, providing a unique analysis of the impact of historical context on the changing scope of a character aimed at depicting the ideal American soldier and role model for young boys. Scott Manning’s unique take on Marvel’s recurring visual trope depicting Wolverine punctured with arrows situates Wolverine as both indestructible in the Marvel cosmos, but also as in reference to a distinctly medieval mythos, drawing connection from history’s storytelling and our own. When seeking an ideal example of the changing landscape of comics into transmedia universes, Mark Hibbett holds Doctor Doom up as the shining beacon for others to follow, pointing to his remarkable consistency through his appearances in comics, movies, video games, and television shows, even when his components become stretched or altered. Perhaps among the most notable for our current time is Ora C. McWilliams and Joshua Richardson’s essay on Secret Empire and the conversation it forced readers and Marvel writers and executives alike to have about the histories of comics characters and the comics industry broadly, about bigotry both in the industry and the fan base, about fascism, about cultural divides, and about fan response to the way characters are used and for what messages. To move forward into each new era, Marvel and their fans must acknowledge the history of both their comics and characters, and of what context has brought them into creation.

With certain essayists, a close reading allows for Marvel’s limited expression of difference to shine in new light. Dennin Ellis and Melissa Guadrón urge readers to look past the Thing as a stand-in for disabled people everywhere, and acknowledge that he has qualities that characters, such as Man-Thing, the Zombie, and Omega the Unknown, inherently lack:  “a healthy support system in his family and friends, and the ability to determine his own destiny” (151); they urge readers, and Marvel more broadly, to consider how some powers may come at a cost of explicit disability and what loving those characters could look like for fans. In Jerold Abrams and Katherine Reed’s essay on “Guardians of the Galaxy,” they argue these wisecracking, explosion-laden films provide viewers with the opportunity to investigate the relationship between subjectivity and intersubjectivity through the characters of Rocket Racoon and Groot, exploring the nature of language and of self-consciousness. Jeffrey McCambridge posits the Nameless as a means of looking to the unique language of trauma, memory, and pain. He describes their haunted, apathetic existence as indicative of the nihilism inherent in Marvel’s cosmos and their lexicon, forever doomed to repeat itself in an effort to balance the cosmic scales of justice and tell their stories again and again.

Brode’s text closes with an essay which brings each of the other essays together in a seamless, comprehensive conclusion. Without Garret L. Castleberry’s essay on “The Spreadable Media Model of Mass Communication,” there is a real chance this text could have come across as unfinished and even disparate. However, Castleberry takes the reader through Marvel’s growth from a mom-and-pop comic shop with extraordinary name value somehow still teetering on the edge of total bankruptcy, to an incredibly and increasingly powerful arm in what may well be the strongest mass media conglomerate in the world, providing Disney with necessary broad appeal and cultural investment even among the most vehemently critical. He details the conflict between what he labels “fantagonists”--the aggravated, “mostly male, mostly anonymous” (226) fans whose demographics make-up is that of historic majority of comics readers who set out to derail stories, such as Black Panther or Captain Marvel, because these stories did not represent them; and incredible value-add that “inclusive storytelling and character diversification” (227) had, not only to movie-goer’s experiences and superhero movies’ showings at high-culture awards shows, but also Marvel executives’ bankroll. At the close of the text, Castleberry’s succinct contextualization and analysis of the way that Marvel, their cinematic universe, and their acquisition by Disney informed, and was informed by, a changing landscape of fan interaction styles, media consumption modalities, and the power of intergenerational and cross-cultural consumer branding.

Analyzing the Marvel Universe leaves the reader hopeful for a time where Marvel, and their media parent, Disney, are able to acknowledge the gaps they have left in their history, and, in fact, the places where they have done harm, and move towards a new superheroic future. The research is clear, based on this text, that comics and superhero fans are not going anywhere, but, in fact, the number of people invested in the content is ever-growing, and the faces of those fans are ever-changing. The writers here are clear in their messaging:  fans are intrigued by the history, wanting to understand where their beloved characters are coming from both in the Marvel canon and within historical context, but fans also want to see characters that move forward into a world of increasing diversity, acceptance, and affection, for that which is different. Brode attests that Stan Lee, the proverbial father of Marvel Comics, insisted his characters be as three-dimensional as possible and dared to dream of a superhero team in Fantastic Four that included not just men, but even a woman with powers and a position of her own, stereotyped and strained though it may have been. This, according to the essayists included in this text, is all the modern Marvel fan wants:  to expand the full realm of individuals “of valor who, despite their strength and courage, revealed deep psychological problems when alone and lonely” (10). At the end of the day, Marvel is growing, media are changing, and the fans are responding in kind.

 

• Table of Contents

Introduction: Prelude to a ­Pop-Culture Phenomenon
Douglas Brode 1

With Great Power Ballads, There Must Also Come—Great Responsibility! A ­Re-Assessment of the ­Spider-Man Legacy
Emily Lauer 15

“I am…”: Tony Stark’s Evolving Masculinity from Comic to Endgame
Susan Aronstein and Tammy L. Mielke 24

Armored Warriors Full of Arrows: From Obscure Crusader and Arabic Texts to Marvel’s Wolverine
Scott Manning 38

Not a Giant, But a “Real” American Hero: Reinventing the American Military Man in G.I. Joe, a Real American Hero Comic Book (1982–1994)
Edward Salo 50

Doctor Doom: Marvel’s Transmedia Supervillain
Mark Hibbett 59

Beyond Good and Evil: DC’s Catwoman, Marvel’s Black Mamba, and the Tradition of the Dark, Dangerous Woman
Douglas Brode 69

“You are ­mind-blowingly duplicitous”: Black Widow and the Male Gaze
Jaclyn Kliman 79

Finally, a Muslim Teenage Female Superhero: The Intersectionality of Feminism and Islam in Ms. Marvel

Hafsa Alkhudairi 90

The True Meaning of Fearless: Feminism in Fearless and the Marvel Universe
Christina M. Knopf 100

Sexuality as the Devil’s Tool: Namor and His ­Never-Ending Love for Invisible Girl
Anke Marie Bock 109

“We are Groot”: Subjectivity and Intersubjectivity in Guardians of the Galaxy
Jerold Abrams and Katherine Reed 119

“I remember a shadow, living in the shade of your greatness”: Tracking Thor and Loki’s Codependency Across the Nine Realms and Beyond
J.S. Starkweather 130

“Foul of form and barren of mind”: Disability in the Comics of Steve Gerber
Dennin Ellis and Melissa Guadrón 150

A Kree by Any Other Name: The Nameless and the Problems of History, Forgetting, and the Pain of Memory
Jeffrey Mccambridge 160

A Secret Empire Among Us: Or, “When Is There a Good Time to Discuss Fascism?”
Ora C. McWilliams and Joshua Richardson 168

“They do things differently there”: Not Brand Echh, 1967–1969
Cyrus R.K. Patell 179

Children of a Lesser Atom: The Dearth of Difference in Marvel’s ­X-Men
Quincy Thomas 191

Black Panther: From W.E.B. Du Bois to Wakanda
Karl E. Martin 210

The Spreadable Media Model of Mass Communication: Tracing the Corporate Continuity of ­Disney-Marvel and the MCU
Garret L. Castleberry 219

About the Contributors 239

Index 243

 

Book review: J. Andrew Deman – The Claremont Run: Subverting Gender in the X-Men - a review by Christopher Roman

 
reviewed by Christopher Roman, Kent State University

J. Andew Deman, The Claremont Run: Subverting Gender in the X-Men. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2023. ISBN: 9781477325452. https://utpress.utexas.edu/9781477325452/

For those of us who followed J. Andrew Deman’s “@ClaremontRun” account on Twitter/X, this academic work treads familiar ground. On his Twitter/X account, Deman would practice public facing scholarship in order to discuss the importance of Chris Claremont’s writing run on the X-Men, often discussing gender, race, and disability issues, using a multiple post thread to lay out an argument in a short amount of space. In my estimation, it was an excellent use of tweets to reach a wider audience. The book under review here can be said to be a translation of the use of that social media platform into an academic book. The Claremont Run looks at key characters in the X-Men and the ways they subvert gender. Each chapter deals with two or three characters (as I will discuss below). Deman’s book is successful on many levels, but what I find admirable is the way Deman uses the intersection of the digital humanities and traditional close-reading to examine gender roles in Claremont’s run. By basing his readings on statistical analysis which may show, for example, that Wolverine has more interior thought bubbles than other male X-Men, Deman is able to then show how that statistic is important in understanding how Claremont is subverting gender roles during a period of time in comic book history that rests on gender stereotypes for male and female characters.

            The introduction lays out the framework for the book explaining the critical family that Deman draws from including works by Carolyn Cocca, Joseph Darowski, and Ramzi Fawaz. As well Deman explains the support of his university which allowed him and his team to create data sets of Claremont’s run for the purpose of present and future analysis. Deman explains that for the book, he is focusing on gender as it provides a foundation for other intersectional concerns. Gender is a through-line to thinking about its subversion as, according to Deman, 82% of Claremont’s run on the X-Men passes the Bechdel test. While Deman explains that this is not the only rubric he uses to understand gender in the X-Men comics, this statistic also suggests how important gender subversion is to Claremont’s characterization of the X-men,

            The first half of Deman’s book focuses on female characters, and he begins, in Chapter One, with a discussion of Jean Grey and Moira McTaggart. For Deman, Moira MacTaggart, who originally poses as Charles Xavier’s housekeeper but soon reveals she co-created the team (and the housekeeping role was a ruse), is a powerful scientist who embodies both a scientific mind and a nurturer. By opening his analysis with Moira, Deman can show how Claremont undermines gendered stereotypes of the cold female scientist or the mother-figure as they are knit together in one character. Jean Grey inhabits the rest of this first chapter, and while Jean has a body of analysis behind her, Deman is able to show how Jean undermines Cyclops’ alpha male dominance through Claremont’s representation of Jean as enacting her own sexual agency.

            Chapter Two focuses on Storm who Deman argues “achieves greater significance and complexity by entangling gender performance with social categories of religion, race, and sexuality” (35). In this chapter, Deman utilizes data sets to show how important Storm is to Claremont’s run. She has the most (nearly double) thought bubbles and interior monologues; she appears in the most panels of the Claremont run; she appears on the most covers; and she achieves a number of milestones including being the first female and first black lead of a Marvel superhero team. However, as Deman shows in the rest of the chapter, it is not merely numbers and firsts that make Storm such an important female X-Men character; rather her representation is complex as Claremont’s characterization of her touches on issues of religion, her African heritage, her leadership style, and her sexuality.

            Chapter Three examines two other woman X-Men characters Psylocke and Dazzler. Psyclocke is a mutant with psionic powers, while Dazzler can create light from sound. Each of these characters subvert female gender stereotypes. For Psylocke, her feminine appearance belies her fighting prowess and, as Deman, writes, “reflect[s] on the artificiality of female gender roles” (63). Placing Psylocke with Dazzler in this chapter allows Deman to show the range of female representation, as much as Psyclocke becomes a warrior, Dazzler tends to be discussed in terms of hyper-femininity—she was an aerobics instructor, movie star, model, and disco star. However, Deman shows how Claremont uses Dazzler to plumb a deep interior life, as well as use her character to comment on toxic masculinity. Rather than a damsel-in-distress role, Claremont characterizes Dazzler as commenting on the performance of femininity. By placing Dazzler in this role, it shows how powerful she actually is and further reveals the value of the feminine in the male-dominated comics world.

            The second half of the book turns to the men. Chapter Four focuses on Cyclops and his struggles with masculinity. As Deman argues, the characterization of the men relies on their interaction with their female teammates. Cyclops’ masculinity is critiqued both through Jean’s sexual agency, as well as Storm’s powerful leadership. As someone who was hand-picked to lead the X-Men, Cyclops’ ouster of his role as leader by Storm shows how toxic masculinity has no place in the X-Men. With the conclusion of the Dark Phoenix Saga, for example, Scott leaves the X-Men realizing how toxic his relationship is with the team, and turning to the domestic sphere to find true happiness.

            Chapter Five focuses on Wolverine. Much like the Storm chapter, this chapter is strong in its analysis of the importance of Wolverine for his subversive potential. Despite characterizations of Wolverine as a killer and as a berserker, Deman shows how Claremont approaches Wolverine with much more nuance in terms of masculine stereotypes. Wolverine is a nurturer expressing a reluctance to fight more than any other member of the X-Men. His characterization is complex in that it portrays the harm of hegemonic masculinity as he most desires to be loved.

            Chapter Six examines another range of masculinity examining the characters of Nightcrawler and Havok. Each of these characters critique masculinity in unique ways. Nightcrawler expresses sexual agency and acceptance of his mutant state despite not being able to pass as human like the rest of the X-Men. His blue fur and pointy tale labels him quite explicitly as different. Yet, it is often Nightcrawler who expresses an alternate masculinity through his difference. Havok’s representation undermines traditional toxic masculinity in that each time he attempts to mimic his brother’s leadership style or Wolverine’s violence, it conflicts with who he is. By reveling in the performance of masculinity, Claremont is able to show how toxic masculine traits hurt the community of mutants.

            Deman’s book offers us extended meditations on gender in the X-Men. It is a masterful work on the ways Claremont’s run is not only iconic, but achieves a level of gender subversion at a time when comics stood by traditional masculine and feminine roles. If I had a critique, I wish that some of the chapters were longer. For example, the Moira MacTaggart discussion was a great way to start the book, but it felt too short as it gave way to analysis of Jean Grey. As well, Deman uses the data sets in some chapters (for example Storm, Wolverine), but mentions them only lightly in others. All in all, however, this is an excellent work of scholarship showing the ways public and academic scholarship can meet to open up new perspectives on works of popular culture. 

 Editor's note: We'll be running two reviews of this book on the blog, as one of the editors (ok it was me) assigned it twice. However, I think there is enough room in the field for multiple reviews of the growing literature.