Shazam!
Monday, December 7th, 2009“When I was a child I spoke as a child I understood as a child I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things.” I Cor. xiii. 11.
1938! The birth of the Superman – adopted parents Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel, spawned from the minds of Albert Einstein and Friedrich Nietzsche. Heady stuff for a man who wears his underpants over his trousers. As a fashion statement it caught on and before long they were all coming out of the closet.
This is where the history of the modern superhero starts. Caped Doc Savages, ‘science heroes’, as Alan Moore calls them, often empowered by varieties of pseudo-science like serums; atomic blasts; cosmic energy rods; or indeed simply being born an alien.
But it all could have gone very differently. 1938 saw the birth of another kind of superhero. No mad professors or lab accidents. No benevolent space aliens descending from heaven in a confusion of religion and science fiction. Just a kid named Billy Batson with a secret magick word: SHAZAM.
It’s an acronym of names from biblical and classical myth, a magick word summing up hamanity’s imaginative past, as opposed to the speculative future represented by his peers. His name was Captain Marvel – and he is the hero Billy becomes once he says his secret word aloud.
Sure he looked similar, cape and suspiciously visible underwear so clean any Mormon would be proud – but the best-selling creation of Fawcett comics, with art by C. C. Beck was a different beast entirely. Billy Batson becomes Captain Marvel, a grown man with incredible powers, but when he says Shazam a second time he becomes poor Billy again. A small impoverished child living on the streets. Acting as narrator Billy spoke directly to readers, allowing them to identify with him and the fantasy of becoming the kind of person you always wanted to be.
Compare this to the many other comic heroes produced by National Comics, soon to become DC. Grown men having adventures in masks and gaudy costumes. Maybe there was something slightly unappealing about that, or perhaps children were not as willing to read about vigilante millionaires and bruiser scientists. This may be why so many heroes acquired teen wards like Robin and Speedy.
Marvel did not have this problem. Soon Fawcett had one of the most successful characters on the market, surpassing the sales of the last son of Krypton. Until a legal case was brought against the company by National alleging the character bore too great a resemblance to Superman.
I find the history of the Captain Marvel character fascinating. Buried after decades of litigation and subsequent acquisition by DC, the character should have been little more than a footnote. Instead it inspired numerous copycat creations, including a sly franchise name place-holder by Marvel Comics seeing an opportunity not to be missed; and a British superhero named Marvelman, whose creators would in turn become embroiled in legal wranglings that are still ongoing. All this over a little boy with a magick word?
There’s a lot of history to talk about, but I would like to discuss what the character means to me. I believe Captain Marvel matters not just because of how entertaining his classic adventures were – talking Tigers; an insect-sized villain more devious than you could imagine; the Marvel family! – but for what he represents. The freedom to dream, the power of the imagination. Comic books typically deal with fantasy, but in the wake of the science heroes these adventures become increasingly narrower. The format ever more copied and limited. Heroes went from pastel-coloured imaginauts to grim ‘n’ gritty vigilantes.
Their appeal became narrower and comic books soon seemed to be read by the stereotypical geek only – twenty-somethings still living with their parents.
Captain Marvel is not so easily defined. Is he a man or a boy? Writers tend to parody the character as a simpleton like the child wearing a suit that’s too large for him. He can also be seen as that ideal version of ourselves we all want to be – that we could be if only circumstances would allow. Having a magick word that could do that for us – whether we’re a kid looking to escape our childhood; a teenager confused by a suddenly changed world; or middle aged and trapped by a life that didn’t go our way.
Shazam is the answer.
This is wish-fulfillment in its purest form. It is not reasonable or rational – it is the essence of daydreaming. When Cap appeared in Grant Morrison’s JLA he is described as an expert on the world of the irrational – by Superman himself! Putting these words in the mouth of Marvel’s former sales rival underlines the main difference between them. These issues of JLA are a real treat for classic golden-age fans, featuring a battle between 5th dimensional imps similar to Mr Mxyztplk and Cap’s adventures as a 2d paper cut out figure – complete with a distinctive C. C. Beck squinty face. Think PatrickWarburton with a facelift and you’re halfway there.
So to me Captain Marvel represents the kinds of stories readers used to enjoy. Breezy and fun, absurd but with a message. Today those same familiar heroes from the Golden Age of comics and beyond seem like the shuffling zombies of loved ones, bereft of wonder, more concerned with a strange faux realism of pain and depression. Girlfriend in a fridge anyone? It is strange that Cap is made such a figure of fun considering the comic book readership seem caught in a state of arrested development themselves.
Not to place the blame entirely on them, as the mainstream comic industry itself is selling a product stripped to the bone, stories dictated by shrinking possibilities and ever more congested relations between franchises. The industry is changing, but seems to have no idea what it will become. It’s time to take stock, to assess what might have gone wrong and return to some childhood friends left behind.
Friends like Captain Marvel.