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Captain America

In an earlier post, I tackled the connection between Steve Rogers’ transformation into Captain America as a government sponsored PED initiative, and while I still stand by that assertion – and the way in which America’s sponsorship of PED use to “escort Adolf Hitler to the gates of Hell theoretically absolves them of blame because it’s for “the greater good – there is something additionally eerie about the emergence of Captain America when examining it through the narrative of Captain America: First Avenger.

Before delving too deeply, let’s first say that this addition to this segment of superhero stories that will ultimately compose The Avenger is rather solid for the first one hour and forty minutes – until the producers remind you that their ultimate goal is to elicit your cash for the aforementioned superhero crescendo. Some hints throughout the film – like the search for Oden’s treasure room or the emergence of Howard Stark as a main character – were subtle enough that the focus of attention could be Steve Rogers and his transformation from strong-hearted weakling to warrior with an equivalent body. At the same time, the final moments of the film that thrust Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) onto the screen seemed a bit too blatant of a teaser – and almost serves as a plea for everyone to see The Avengers – lest they had forgotten that’s what this wave of Marvel characters was ultimately destined to converge into.

That aside, the film is successful because there is much less time spent on an origin story and more time spent on watching Captain America exterminate bad guys and rescue good guys. A good origin story should be appreciated; at the same time, less interesting origin stories should be bypassed in favor of the reasons that the character is successful. Here, Rogers’ issues are readily apparent. He’s too small to join the army, and this emasculates him because he has an ancestry of enlistment. Moreover, his inability to join clashes with the radio-rhetoric that “every able-bodied young man is lining up” to defeat the Nazis. As the seemingly only person who is unfit to join Uncle Sam in his march against Hitler, Rogers repeatedly attempts to enlist by forging his papers and fabricating various identifications. His efforts are all for naught until his application is gleaned by Dr. Abraham Erskine (Stanley Tucci), who admits him into the armed forces in order to bring him into the hands of the “Strategic Scientific Reserve,” where he will be injected with a serum that will transform Rogers into Captain America.

While Captain America does well to avoid belaboring the origin story, its brevity impelled the eeriness hidden beneath the narrative – namely the use of a form of genetic modification to engineer the an “army of super soldiers” for the United States Army. As some subterfuge prevents the creation of an army, Rogers is the sole product and is initially relegated to a widget in advertising campaigns geared toward increasing bond sales. Certainly, this is a clever addition to the superhero genre inasmuch as the storyline, at first, makes Captain America less a superhero and more a propaganda-peddling cartoon – which is what the original Captain America was (the very first issue in 1941 depicted Cap punching out Hitler).

Despite the cleverly intelligent references to its own literary history, there is one major issue skirted over within the film: the similarities between the successful serum created by Erskine and the atrocities committed by Dr. Josef Mengele, the resident doctor at Auschwitz whose sobriquet “The Angel of Death” was rather ironic in that his selecting of certain prisoners most often saved them from immediate extermination but exposed them to torturous surgeries and experiments used to further the study of eugenics and the possibility of creating an ubermench – or superman.

A refugee from Germany, Erskine seems well aware of the atrocities occurring in various labor camps, and it is suggested that he left his position in the Nazi regime because “The serum amplifies the inner qualities of its taker, as well as their physical attributes. Good becomes great… bad becomes worse.” Granted, he is speaking specifically of Johan Schmidt (Hugo Weaving), but as Schmidt represents the evil within the Nazi ideology, Erskine’s sentiments can be applied to the entire Reich. Likewise, Erskine seemingly erases any overt connection to the Nazis in a minor history lesson where he notes, “One of the things that people always forget is that the first country the Nazis invaded was their own,” thus establishing himself as an outsider brought into their web of annihilation and conquest. However, his service for them – if a connection be made to the future Nuremburg trials – is that one cannot blame orders for one’s actions.

Throughout the first half of the film, Erskine is portrayed as nothing less than noble and sincere in his quest to vanquish evil from the Earth. At the same time, this utopia lies within the creation of a serum capable of creating an army of benevolent soldiers, who will – ideologically strike down evil, not perpetuate it.  Not a bad idea on the outset, but the successful serum also needs tests and subsequent modifications. These tests rely on subjects, something that Erskine confesses when he informs Schmidt that the “serum [is] not ready.” The only way for Erskine to know whether the serum was ready or not was to have tested it previously, no? Perhaps he used primates or canines, but the Nazi rhetoric suggests that he probably would have used human beings.

So, Schmidt ignores the warning and injects the serum, thus becoming the Red Skull and ultimate villain of Captain America: First Avenger. And it seems, this is when Erskine flees Nazi Germany, where he lands in the arms of the United States. But here’s the snag. While Steve Rogers was a successful experiment, how did Erskine move from an immature serum with dastardly side effects to a successful serum? More than likely through further tests and experiments. Perhaps this is why Colonel Chester Philips (Tommy Lee Jones) initially suggests that Rogers “will be useful to [Erskine] – like a gerbil.”

One issue here is the symbol that Captain America personifies. His creation in itself is viewed in a positive light because he took down Hitler (in the comic) and prohibits the Red Skull from annihilating the Eastern seaboard. The potentially larger issue here is how the curse of omission rears its ugly head in this superhero narrative. We’re only privy to the result – the heroics of Captain America, the ubermench. But the road to this creation is one seemingly paved with carcasses of the unfortunate, perhaps even those who were swayed by the desire to serve their country but were too diminutive to be of any use of the battlefield – like Rogers was prior to his run in with Erskine.

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While this spring is riddled with the resonance of winter, summer can always be looked forward to, where eventually the threats of storm warnings and advisors will die away. And summer will soon bring the perfunctory celluloid sales pitches, striving to draw each of us to the biggest “blockbuster” or “action-packed thrill ride of the year,” replete with ellipsis that cut out any negative portions of reviews, only offering tidbits that suggest how “excellent [this film could be if the script weren’t pieced together from rejected fortune cookie].”

However, this summer brings life – and perhaps notoriety — to the asterisk; in fact, it’s already begun as the perjury trial of Barry Bonds commenced last week, providing as Ben McGrath suggests, “our great reckoning, a legal remedy for a generation’s worth of cultural complacency”1 over the use of performance-enhancing drugs in baseball. By this point in time, it’s generally assumed that Bonds – and myriad other athletes – used steroids, given the way that he “bulked up before the 2000 season and [had] acne on [his] back, which prosecutors allege is a side effect of steroid use.”2

So, a few years after Bonds’ baseball career officially raisinated on the vine as teams chose to keep themselves – and their players – away from abject suspicion, this trial fashions a new importance to the summer of 2011 inasmuch as July brings us the trial of Roger Clemens, undoubtedly the game’s greatest and most resilient pitcher – until a few years ago. Then, suddenly people remembered why Boston originally parted ways with Clemens, who was in the “twilight of his career”3until he made a miraculous recovery in Toronto on his way to winning four more Cy Young Awards, all of which came after he turned 35. Fairytale-esque? Clearly, and that’s why we loved to root for both Clemens and Bonds, two men descending from the presumed zenith of their careers, only to dominate the rest of the league on their way to retirement – despite the blatant physical changes in both men.

Shortly after Clemens’ trial begins, “there waits the all-time Tour de France victor Lance Armstrong, currently named as the target of a drug-related federal grand-jury investigation,” 1 making us all recall our wonderful it was when Armstrong successfully defeated cancer and then went on to win four additional consecutive Tours through the mountains of France, proving once and for all that defeating cancer provides the former victim with seemingly preternatural ability.

Or, perhaps the impetus for these alleged PED users was the facing of their own mortality, the chance they would fall out of the public spotlight and become a name lumped with other footnotes of those who were almost the best, but not quite close. Perhaps. But, perhaps we’ve groomed these athletes to make these choices. Perhaps the knowledge of weakness and the desire to overcome it is endemic to our cultural makeup. For further illustration of this thesis, no one needs to look much further than the release of Captain America: The First Avenger, which makes its timely debut in July.

Originally appearing in March 1941, Captain America’s battles with the Axis powers appropriately articulated America’s anger and angst during World War II. At the same time, his conception is a bit more nefarious if we take a socio-political look at the trailer, which begins with a scrawny Steve Rogers waiting in a line at an Army recruitment office with brawny and muscular men who are ready to sacrifice their lives for the greater good and the betterment of the world. Thus, Rogers is instantly the outsider, connecting with those of us who don’t fit the archetype of “defender.” At the same time, the desire burns deeply within Rogers who pleads “just give me a chance,” but who is quickly dismissed by the doctor who asserts he is “saving your life” before pounding a giant red stamp on Rogers’ paper that now reads “REJECTED.” So, not only does Rogers not fit the archetype, but he has also been rejected, another occurrence that fosters emotional appeal, and places the viewer as collective battalion behind the young lad who just wants to stand up for what’s good and right.

What goes unsaid is that Rogers – because of his exaggeratedly diminutive figure – would be virtually useless in fighting a war and relegated to the position of human shield, so our compassion – and maybe even empathy – for Rogers stems from his dreams being deferred.

However, a silver lining presents itself when Colonel Chester Phillips (Tommy Lee Jones) offers an opportunity for someone in his unit to be the “first in a new breed of super soldier,” the one man who represents indestructability and who can “escort Adolph Hitler to the gates of hell,” a noble endeavor that only Tarantino has successfully illuminated on film.

Ultimately Rogers is chosen to become this ubermensch because “the weak man knows the value of strength, the value of power,” which is interesting inasmuch as, here, Rogers’ desire to serve and protect his country – which will ultimately bring him praise, acclaim, and possible fortune – is aided by a serum that creates a total body transformation from scrawny, mediocre weakling to a muscular figure with a superb physical and mental acumen to achieve the pragmatic goal of dominating the Axis powers. In a similar scenario, the aforementioned alleged PED users – and for the sake of argument, those who have already confessed to using or have tested positive – used similar serums (what else would you call a “cream and clear” regimen?) to achieve praise, acclaim, and fortune by dominating the opposition. If needed, we could take the argument further by using the “The Evil Empire” New York Yankees as stand-ins for the Axis Powers.

Sure, perhaps Captain America’s actions are justified because lives are at stake – as opposed to royalties and merchandizing rights – and perhaps this entire issue is negligible because he is, admittedly, a cartoon, but as Jason Dittmer posits in “Captain America’s Empire: Reflections on Identity, Popular Culture, and Post- 9/11 Geopolitics,” “the producers of comic books (and Captain America, specifically) view their products as more than just lowbrow entertainment; they view their works as opportunities to educate and socialize,”4 and if part of the education gleaned from such characters – along with positives – is to achieve success through unorthodox means because it’s for the greater good, who is to suggest this is a wonky perspective, particularly if – in the case of athletes – the greater good might be added philanthropy or positioning one’s family in the realm of the illusory American dream?

And, if Captain America’s “characterization as an explicitly American superhero establishes him as both a representative of the idealized American nation and as a defender of the American status quo,”4 then perhaps Bonds, who “approaches even casual conversation with the defensiveness of a hostile witness, is not inclined [to give his contrition]”1 has every right to abhor his castigators who cheered him on with the ignorance of their own culpability.

 1. McGrath, Ben. “King of Walks.” The New Yorker 87.6 (2011): 52-58.

2. “Ex-Giants Trainer Testifies and Bonds Trial.” Espn.com source.

3 Silverman, Michael. “No return fire from Sox brass tried to keep ace.” Boston Herald. (1995).

4 Dittmer, Jason. “Captain America’s Empire: Reflections on Identity, Popular Culture, and Post- 9/11 Geopolitics.” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 95.3 (2005):  626-643.

Article first published as This Summer Brings Movies, the Rise of the Asterisk, and Steroids! on Blogcritics.

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Somewhere in the comic universe, there is a Mason-Dixon Line (a Stark-Wayne Line?) that separates Marvel from DC. Fierce battles take place across that line. As you may guess, dear reader, this is…not…one of them.

You’ve heard about Iron Man 2, right? It’s, like, the biggest movie in the world. Right now. (But not of ever. Some other movie has that title.)

The Losers? Well…that one is…not so big.

Which is to say that this post has absolutely nothing to do with fair fights.

Iron Man 2 represents the Marvel camp. It is, of course, the sequel to Iron Man, a pretty classic book that has gone in and out of print and gave great inspiration to the Ghostface Killah (never gettin’ iller). The sequel stars Robert Downey, Jr., an Oscar winner, the guy who toplined Angel Heart [SPOILER], and the hottest woman on the planet*. It was released in early May and has earned north of $250 million in North America since its opening. There’s a strong likelihood that you’ve already seen it. 

The Losers represents the DC camp. It’s a really old school comic from WWII that has kinda been rebooted a couple of times and lacks a cool rapper to give it any credibility. It stars Nancy Botwin’s dead husband, Stringer Bell [SPOILER], the guy who is about to play Captain America, Michael from The Lost Boys [RIP] and the hottest woman on another planet*. It was released in late April and has earned south of $25 million in North America since its opening. There’s a strong likelihood that you hated having to watch so many commercials for it during the closing weeks of the NBA regular season.

The tale of the tape is pretty obvious, huh? This match-up was a bit like asking a clementine to battle a Red Delicious apple. If the NBA play-offs hadn’t taken a couple of days off, it may never have happened. But they did. So it did. When I bought one ticket and watched both films a couple of nights ago.

Iron Man 2 is very six-y. That dude Dustin said so. I’m inclined to agree. To a degree. Any time you plop down to watch a movie that has the number 2 in its title, you can only really expect one thing: it’s gonna try to make another boatload of money based on all of the cool things that happened in the movie that preceded it. Hollywood is a business. No one has gone too far to see that. Iron Man 2 is an exercise in cool. And it works. Mostly.

I cannot say the same about The Losers. It’s also an exercise in cool. But it doesn’t work. Whereas Iron Man 2 made a sincere attempt to develop or expand a narrative, The Losers was just a collection of scenes where some kinda cool shit happened that involved some people who were trying to act cool, but the story didn’t tie together at all. It’s a popcorn movie that forgot to bring the butter. And the salt. Which is not necessarily a fail. But is really, really, really far from success.

To be perfectly frank, the best thing I can say about The Losers is that it provided an opportunity to see a trailer for this movie. Which looks like it could be the popcorn-iest movie of all time. Which ought to be a very cool thing. As long as the butter helps it all congeal properly.

WINNER: Iron Man 2.

LOSER: Screenwriter for The Losers.

*Denotes that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And you should probably go on ahead and behold that.

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