When I was a kid and an avid consumer of Superman comics, I would look up in the sky and say to my playmates, “It’s a bird, it’s a plane, no, it’s Superman.” I would then pretend to fly away with the cape my mom made for me flapping in the wind.
I wasn’t an uber menchen of the Nietzschian variety; in fact the only Nietzsche I knew played middle line-backer for the Green Bay Packers. But I was obsessed with Superman. After all, he had a secret identity as fledgling reporter and he had Lois Lane, in what appeared to be unrequited love.
I’m reminded of this because of the opening of the much heralded film, “Superman Returns.” Here is my chance to revisit atavistic yearnings. Needless to say, technical marvels are evident throughout the movie. The Christopher Reeve look-alike is a passable Superman and Kate Bosworth as Lois is terrific.
But I have a gripe; in fact, a major gripe. The screenwriters have committed a transgression that is simply inexcusable. Superman’s motto, “Truth, justice and the American way” has been rewritten to “Truth, justice and … all that stuff.” “All that stuff!”
Obviously in the era of political correctness, the screenwriters wanted to avoid the charge of jingoism. As Mike Dougherty, one of the screenwriters, explained, “He’s not just for Metropolis and not just for America.” Dougherty’s colleague Dan Harris elaborates, “He’s an alien from Krypton; he has come to Earth to be kind of a savior for this world, not our country. … And he has no papers.”
Admittedly Superman’s Lex Luthor is intent on creating a new continent, which might serve as a rationalization for the politically correct motto, but I am upset that the new Superman, like most of his Hollywood creators, has been converted into a transnationalist. I suspect that in a sequel, Superman will be employed by the United Nations.
A politically correct Superman will soon be asked to establish his miraculous feats on an affirmative action schedule. Of course, the sport he plays is soccer; excuse me, I should have said “football.”
Could it be that the producers were concerned about ticket sales in anti-American settings like France? In the past, Superman would have said “Je ne suis pas francais” or words that are less polite.
Superman was invented here; he is ours. Raised on a Midwestern farm, he is distinctly American. He came to Gotham, not to Paris. It doesn’t make sense to internationalize Superman, even if he came from a distant planet.
On one level, this is a silly exegesis into popular and adolescent fare. But, as recent history would suggest, symbols matter. Is the flag merely cloth dyed in red, white and blue? Is the Red Cross the residue of a Rorschach test?
Superman is a symbol of extraordinary actions, actions — I should note — that only the United States can perform. If the day comes when American military forces are obliged to wear a U.N. insignia, the United States’ stature on the world stage will be in decline.
I think the Superman of my youth should be disinterred. He should fight for the American way; he should change his red, blue and yellow outfit for the red, white and blue. And he should tell Lois Lane — like Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz” — “there’s no place like home.”
We don’t need a man of tin; Superman is the Man of Steel whose steely resistance to evil is the aim of American policy, notwithstanding the critics who harp on government blunders, mistakes and imperfections. Superman is the popular exemplar of the American creed. He is the American popular hero: humble, brave and resourceful.
How dare the Hollywood radicals convert him into a symbol of their misguided vision.
Herbert London is president of Hudson Institute and professor emeritus of New York University. He is the author of “Decade of Denial.”
