Alan Jenkins
May 08, 2007
Alan Jenkins is Executive Director of The Opportunity Agenda, a communications, research, and advocacy organization with the mission of building the national will to expand opportunity in America.
Nearly one out of three people on the planet who saw a movie last weekend went to see “Spider-Man 3.” The Spider-Man series remains wildly popular despite (or perhaps because of) a storyline that favors human relationships over fight scenes and special effects. That storyline—both the action and drama—carries values that Americans are increasingly craving in public and political life: shared responsibility, humility, sacrifice and redemption.
Okay, so it’s just a movie. But in the pop culture universe, superheroes have always been especially reflective of the national mood and ethos. Superman, for example, was created in the 1930s as an immigrant (from planet Krypton) fleeing a troubled land. He soon used his powers to fight Hitler and, when Superman first appeared on the big screen in 1948, his adopted dad advised him to always use his powers "in the interests of truth, tolerance and justice." When the Cold War hit, Superman’s credo was amended to feature “truth, justice, and the American Way.”
Wonder Woman had a similar profile, fighting fascists through WWII. But when she made it to television in the post-Vietnam 1970’s her theme song featured the lyrics: “Make a hawk a dove. Stop a war with love. Make a liar tell the truth!”
Spider-Man’s always been the most human of heroes. Despite his awesome powers, his alter-ego Peter Parker is a geeky student who has trouble paying the rent and bad luck with women. At the heart of the Spider-Man narrative, though, is Peter’s credo, conveyed to him by his adopted father, Uncle Ben, just hours before the older man’s death: “With great strength comes great responsibility.” At one level, it’s standard superhero stuff: you have to protect the world because you’re the only one who can. But Spider-Man, in film and comic books, has taken that principle to a deeper, more meaningful level that speaks to the human condition, as well as to our current political moment.
In the first Spider-Man, Peter learns the credo’s first lesson when, out of spite, he fails to stop a thief who’s robbed someone who swindled Peter out of money. Instead of using his powers for the common good, Peter savors his rival’s comeuppance. The thief escapes and, moments later, is responsible for the murder of Peter’s beloved uncle.
The lesson, that we are all connected, gives unexpected depth to the hero’s credo of strength as responsibility. The hero’s burden, it turns out, is something we all share. It recalls Martin Luther King’s statement that “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
Okay, so it’s still only a movie. But read on.
In the second installment, Peter learns that doing the right thing—using his great strength responsibly—often requires great personal sacrifice. He struggles to maintain relationships, grades and finances, while answering the call to protect the people of New York. He hangs up his costume for a time, only to find that the things he loves are at greater risk without his sacrifices.
As interesting as the hero’s struggles are the villains who oppose him. In the first two films, the villains—the Green Goblin and Doctor Octopus—are alter-egos of people whom Peter admires, but who turn to the dark side through a combination of weird science and all-too-human tendencies like hubris, jealousy, or lust for power. We see that the hero’s struggle is not so much about good fighting evil as it is about seeking the goodness in all people while preventing the evil in all of us from dominating our character.
This makes Spider-Man’s job doubly complex; he hates the villain’s acts, but not the villain. He wants to stop the mayhem, while redeeming rather than killing the foe. We’re reminded why doing so is both the smart thing to do and the right thing to do in Spider-Man 2, when Doctor Octopus reclaims his humanity and gives his life to save New York City from an atomic meltdown.
Spider-Man 3 may be the most interesting from the standpoint of values. Peter is forced to confront directly his own dark side: his desire for revenge against his uncle’s killer, his desire to be popular as a hero and a man, his hubris as protector of the city. His enemies include his best friend Harry Osborne—Peter literally loves his enemy—as well as the man who killed Peter’s uncle, and a new black costume that channels the dark side of Peter’s own character.
Without giving too much away (for those who haven’t seen it), Spider-Man learns the dangers of hubris and vengeance and the value of forgiveness and redemption—saving the city and himself in the process. It is a remarkable character arc in a film about a guy with the powers of a spider. Again, Dr. King’s words echo: “We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us.”
Okay, so it’s only a movie. But its values have so much to say about where our country finds itself today. As we grapple with problems like the terrible, senseless shootings at Virginia Tech, the war in Iraq, our spiraling prison population, and other issues of the day, Americans are seeking a more complex approach than good versus evil. Certainly there are real villains in the world who mean us real harm. But history has shown that good and evil are less relevant than the reality that well-intentioned people can do terribly wrong things when their human frailties—hubris, greed, prejudice, lust for power—are not offset by caring, compassion, and human connection. We forget at our peril that great strength is a heavy burden to be used with care, humility, conscience and sacrifice. And that redemption—the idea that people grow and change and deserve a chance to start over—is something we all end up needing.
What makes Spider-Man a hero is not his web shooters, wall crawling, or the proportionate strength of a spider (although those are awesome!). It’s the fact that he understands sacrifices and is willing to make them. He understands that even villains warrant compassion as well as correction. And he understands that sometimes even the hero can become the villain when he gives in to the lure of power and aggression.
It remains just a movie. But what a movie.
May 08, 2007
Alan Jenkins is Executive Director of The Opportunity Agenda, a communications, research, and advocacy organization with the mission of building the national will to expand opportunity in America.
Nearly one out of three people on the planet who saw a movie last weekend went to see “Spider-Man 3.” The Spider-Man series remains wildly popular despite (or perhaps because of) a storyline that favors human relationships over fight scenes and special effects. That storyline—both the action and drama—carries values that Americans are increasingly craving in public and political life: shared responsibility, humility, sacrifice and redemption.
Okay, so it’s just a movie. But in the pop culture universe, superheroes have always been especially reflective of the national mood and ethos. Superman, for example, was created in the 1930s as an immigrant (from planet Krypton) fleeing a troubled land. He soon used his powers to fight Hitler and, when Superman first appeared on the big screen in 1948, his adopted dad advised him to always use his powers "in the interests of truth, tolerance and justice." When the Cold War hit, Superman’s credo was amended to feature “truth, justice, and the American Way.”
Wonder Woman had a similar profile, fighting fascists through WWII. But when she made it to television in the post-Vietnam 1970’s her theme song featured the lyrics: “Make a hawk a dove. Stop a war with love. Make a liar tell the truth!”
Spider-Man’s always been the most human of heroes. Despite his awesome powers, his alter-ego Peter Parker is a geeky student who has trouble paying the rent and bad luck with women. At the heart of the Spider-Man narrative, though, is Peter’s credo, conveyed to him by his adopted father, Uncle Ben, just hours before the older man’s death: “With great strength comes great responsibility.” At one level, it’s standard superhero stuff: you have to protect the world because you’re the only one who can. But Spider-Man, in film and comic books, has taken that principle to a deeper, more meaningful level that speaks to the human condition, as well as to our current political moment.
In the first Spider-Man, Peter learns the credo’s first lesson when, out of spite, he fails to stop a thief who’s robbed someone who swindled Peter out of money. Instead of using his powers for the common good, Peter savors his rival’s comeuppance. The thief escapes and, moments later, is responsible for the murder of Peter’s beloved uncle.
The lesson, that we are all connected, gives unexpected depth to the hero’s credo of strength as responsibility. The hero’s burden, it turns out, is something we all share. It recalls Martin Luther King’s statement that “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
Okay, so it’s still only a movie. But read on.
In the second installment, Peter learns that doing the right thing—using his great strength responsibly—often requires great personal sacrifice. He struggles to maintain relationships, grades and finances, while answering the call to protect the people of New York. He hangs up his costume for a time, only to find that the things he loves are at greater risk without his sacrifices.
As interesting as the hero’s struggles are the villains who oppose him. In the first two films, the villains—the Green Goblin and Doctor Octopus—are alter-egos of people whom Peter admires, but who turn to the dark side through a combination of weird science and all-too-human tendencies like hubris, jealousy, or lust for power. We see that the hero’s struggle is not so much about good fighting evil as it is about seeking the goodness in all people while preventing the evil in all of us from dominating our character.
This makes Spider-Man’s job doubly complex; he hates the villain’s acts, but not the villain. He wants to stop the mayhem, while redeeming rather than killing the foe. We’re reminded why doing so is both the smart thing to do and the right thing to do in Spider-Man 2, when Doctor Octopus reclaims his humanity and gives his life to save New York City from an atomic meltdown.
Spider-Man 3 may be the most interesting from the standpoint of values. Peter is forced to confront directly his own dark side: his desire for revenge against his uncle’s killer, his desire to be popular as a hero and a man, his hubris as protector of the city. His enemies include his best friend Harry Osborne—Peter literally loves his enemy—as well as the man who killed Peter’s uncle, and a new black costume that channels the dark side of Peter’s own character.
Without giving too much away (for those who haven’t seen it), Spider-Man learns the dangers of hubris and vengeance and the value of forgiveness and redemption—saving the city and himself in the process. It is a remarkable character arc in a film about a guy with the powers of a spider. Again, Dr. King’s words echo: “We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us.”
Okay, so it’s only a movie. But its values have so much to say about where our country finds itself today. As we grapple with problems like the terrible, senseless shootings at Virginia Tech, the war in Iraq, our spiraling prison population, and other issues of the day, Americans are seeking a more complex approach than good versus evil. Certainly there are real villains in the world who mean us real harm. But history has shown that good and evil are less relevant than the reality that well-intentioned people can do terribly wrong things when their human frailties—hubris, greed, prejudice, lust for power—are not offset by caring, compassion, and human connection. We forget at our peril that great strength is a heavy burden to be used with care, humility, conscience and sacrifice. And that redemption—the idea that people grow and change and deserve a chance to start over—is something we all end up needing.
What makes Spider-Man a hero is not his web shooters, wall crawling, or the proportionate strength of a spider (although those are awesome!). It’s the fact that he understands sacrifices and is willing to make them. He understands that even villains warrant compassion as well as correction. And he understands that sometimes even the hero can become the villain when he gives in to the lure of power and aggression.
It remains just a movie. But what a movie.
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