Heroes and Villains

In a 2006 interview with The Believer, Marjane Satrapi, author of the graphic novel Persepolis, discusses her attempt in her portrayal of Iran to humanize and complicate the common Western stereotypes of Iran, which George W. Bush had recently dubbed a member of the “Axis of evil.” In discussing her work, Satrapi says, “Today, the description of the world is always reduced to yes or no, black or white. Superficial stories. Superhero stories. One side is the good one. The other one is evil…[but] the world is not about Batman and Robin fighting the Joker; things are more complicated than that. And nothing is scarier than the people who try to find easy answers to complicated questions.” It’s interesting that Satrapi refers specifically to superhero stories in her response, since this genre of story is intricately linked with comics, her chosen medium. In a sense, Satrapi seems to be encouraging readers to question their pre-conceived notions of graphic narratives overall, and to examine assumptions and stereotypes associated with the format.

It’s interesting to consider some of the works we’ve examined this semester with an eye to their representations of “good” and “evil.” In Stitches, for example, David Small clearly positions himself as a hero, a small child victimized by the inscrutable and cruel whims of his terrible family, who manages, in the end, to overcome the wrongs done to him (even, problematically, the genetic “wrongs” of inherited mental illness). Although Small has the opportunity to complicate the portrayal of “evil” in his book by considering the impact of mental illness on his family, or his mother’s unexpressed homosexuality, he largely glosses over these issues. And his mother’s deathbed tears are similar to the punishments doled out to villains at the end of many superhero stories in that they represent, presumably, her awareness of the wrongs she has committed along with her guilt and regret.

Gilbert Hernandez’s Human Diastrophism presents a more complex portrayal of “good” and “evil,” although, on the surface, the story follows a traditional crime narrative format, as the citizens of Palomar try to solve a cruel series of murders. Although crime stories often rely on similar didactic representations of right and wrong, Hernadez complicates this expectation in several ways. While Tomaso’s motives for killing are not completely clear, the coincidence of his murders with the sudden onslaught of aggressive monkeys, who are killed by the townspeople seemingly without concern, suggests a kind of animalism at work in human nature, implying that murder may even be an aspect of humanity. Characters such as Doralis and Humberto mimic or resemble monkeys at various times in the story, further complicating the line between human and animal. Even the town sheriff accidentally shoots Casimira while killing monkeys, illustrating that even the act of murder (or protection) might not be easily classified as villainous or heroic.

Mat Johnson engages most overtly with superhero tropes in Incognegro, a story which relies heavily on action sequences and suspense, and centers on several characters who are undercover in some way, who are not what they seem on the surface. Johnson’s work highlights the fluidity of identity, as well as the arbitrary ways that external expressions of race and gender can have a profound influence on the circumstances of a person’s life. Johnson’s work presents a question that is as equally important today as it was in the time depicted in the novel: How is it that two twins, similar in appearance except that one appears more “white” than the other, can live such vastly different lives and have such varied access to safety? Johnson’s use of the superhero trope offers an insight into the ways in which expression through the arts such as writing and drawing is itself a kind of activism. If identity is fluid, as Johnson suggests, then those who shape perceptions of identity wield incredible power. In an act of justice at the end of the book, Zane publishes a photograph, which compels the citizens to take action against the KKK member responsible for killing his friend. In the eyes of the populace, the man’s true identity is subsumed immediately and completely in the photograph. The public, in this case, is clearly made up of people, who as Satrapi says, “find easy answers to complicated questions.” And in a world of such people, the ability to influence and shape perception is perhaps the most formidable superpower of all.