I remember Superman. He was quite the polarizing figure in the superhero pantheon: you either loved him or hated him.

The arguments were endless. Could anyone beat the Man of Steel? Could the Green Lantern’s ring control him? Could Batman really take him in a fight? Was it even worth arguing over? Superman was invulnerable, with limitless strength and speed. He could lift buildings over his head, fly faster than a, well, you know. He could even imprison you in one of his breakaway plastic “S” thingies from Superman II (still haven’t figured that one out.) He represented truth, justice, and “all that stuff.” Despite the broken, winding road of hero-worship on which I have embarked in the course of my lifetime, Superman has always occupied a special place in my heart and mind.

One summer afternoon a few years back, while I was eagerly anticipating the upcoming premier of the second Spiderman movie, I read an article whose author’s name I have misplaced. In the article the author claimed that Spiderman was the new American hero, that his journey from confused adolescent to web-slinging crime fighter better represented an America that has found itself vulnerable to terrorist attack and sensitive to world opinion. If Superman was the pre-9/11 America, Spiderman was what was left when the towers came down.

As Superman Returns (2006) came closer to wide release, I found this article popping up again and again in my mind. Was the author right? If so, why? What was it that made Americans think they didn’t need Superman?

I saw the film and loved it. I had been forced to wait two weeks before I could finally go, and until that time had refused to speak to anyone who had seen it for fear that their thoughts would skew my own perception of what I was sure would be an excellent movie and one of the biggest superhero franchises around.

As the weeks passed, it became clear that I had been wrong, at least as concerned its box-office success. Superman Returns ended up grossing two-hundred million dollars altogether, and although two-hundred million is no laughing matter, a production cost of seventy million more made Supe a flop. When the fact that Spiderman managed to gross nearly three quarters of that amount in its opening weekend alone is taken into account, Supe’s gross gets even smaller. Critics loved Superman, America did not.

My thoughts return to that article, and although I do not wish to rehash via history a comparison of America to either hero, I do think the author hit on something important when he spoke about people’s attraction to different heroes.

Heroes have changed from the half-century ago when they began to make their mark on American popular culture. They are even very changed from when I was younger. Heroes used to be men and women we looked up to; they used to represent a standard that, even if it was unachievable, was at least something to aspire to.

The heroes that thrive at the box office today are somehow different. They are vulnerable, flawed. They have dark sides fueled by mysterious pasts and troubled childhoods. The X-Men for example (a franchise that has combined with Spiderman to become a billion dollar deal for Marvel Comics) are a group of people from a variety of backgrounds who have simply evolved. Their powers are not something special, given to them for a reason, but rather the chance result of a genetic mix-and-match. They must supply their own rhyme and reason for their difference. Spiderman too came about as the result of an accident, a radioactive spider-bite. The general message seems to be that anyone can be a hero, that heroes are all around us. Anyone can be struck by gamma rays on his way to work, or be exposed to radiation from a microwave oven.

Unlike these heroes, Superman stands alone. There is only one last son of Krypton.

Most interestingly, however, is that these other heroes make mistakes. It is Peter Parker’s foolish actions that result in Uncle Ben’s death. It is Wolverine’s inability to heed Professor X’s advice that ends up costing the lives of so many. Like us, these heroes are not perfect. They make mistakes and learn from them, grow from them. Their history is not always clean and wholesome—it is often quite dark and twisted.

Superman never lies.

He never kills.

Superman is perfect.

I think the afore-mentioned author was probably right in claiming that America could view itself more as a Spiderman then a Superman in the world today. I think it is far more interesting however, when this idea is applied not to the nation, but to the nation’s people. I think individuals relate more to Spiderman or the X-Men or even to Batman because these are people, just like them, with flaws, just like them, and with a sense that even if they make mistakes on occasion, they are still good people. Superman is to them unrealistic. He represents an unachievable level of righteousness.

So does the world need Superman? I hearken back to Jor-El’s words, “they can be a great people Kal-El, they wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way.” Superman is a reminder of what we once thought was great. He represents a good that isn’t tainted, or compromised. And when do we not wish we could be invulnerable, stronger then anything out there trying to hurt us? There is no doubt that in our vulnerability we are more like Peter Parker, struggling with responsibilities that might never have wanted. What I think the author forgot is that despite what we are, what we want to be is Superman. That’s why he’s the best.

Buy the DVD. It hits stores November 28th.

by Bo Caudill