The truth is--
[CAMERA SHUTTERS CLICKING]
I am Iron Man.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
This moment-- this moment right here-- it's
the moment that changed the superhero
in the popular consciousness forever.
It's the turning point where the superpowered metahumans,
mutants, and pseudo deities that we thrill
to evolved into something else.
By jettisoning the concept of a secret identity
from the superhero archetype, the MCU
pushed these beloved characters into something
less tethered to reality and distinctly less--
[WHOOSH]
--human.
To force mutants to expose themselves
will only further subject--
Expose themselves?
What is it the mutant community has to hide, I wonder,
that makes them so afraid to identify themselves?
I didn't say they were hiding.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
[WHOOSH]
Sidekicks, costumes, tragic origins--
there are many narrative tropes and genre trappings
that have developed since the introduction
of the superhero in 1939 with Action Comics Number One.
The key to making these characters
work is something far more subtle
than their typically primary-colored costumes
or extravagant abilities.
It's their secret identity-- the dichotomy between the regal,
empathetic, and bulletproof Superman, and meek,
mild mannered Clark Kent--
I guess I must have fainted.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
Fainted?
You fainted?
Sorry.
--allowed the entire generation of readers
to fall in love with the idea of Superman.
Secret identities allowed there to be two separate entities
at play-- twin personas representing the polar extremes
of the protagonist's specific personality flaws
or aspirations.
Big man in a suit of armor--
take that off-- what are you?
A genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
The real reason that superheroes need secret identities
is that it allows their superhero personas
to transcend past the daily frictions
of the human condition and into a realm of symbol and icon.
The way this narrative trope manifests
in the stories published by Marvel and DC
are widely divergent.
DC has a massive, sprawling stable
of characters that are by and large demigods.
[WHOOSH]
People who are born all powerful or nearly omnipotent.
[WHOOSH]
Whereas Marvel's characters are usually
street-level individuals who are elevated to the level
of otherworldly ability.
Take for example, the idea of how Clark Kent is dealt with.
He's essentially a fictional persona
that Superman dons in order to seamlessly move
through the human world.
Superman is the real person.
Clark Kent is the performance.
It's how he sees us.
It's his empathetic satire on how difficult
it must to be human.
Similarly, Batman is the real person.
Bruce Wayne is the performance.
However, Bruce uses his fake persona of a foppish playboy
to shield himself from undue scrutiny that might suss out
his true intentions.
Conversely, Marvel characters use their secret identities
to escape the new world they find themselves in.
Being a teenager is hard, but it's
a welcome respite for Peter Parker when
he's been dealing with the world-ending consequences
of being on the new Avengers.
Before we get to deep into today's episode,
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The true narrative function of secret identities
is to facilitate the separation of an individual's
personal history from the tenets of morality
that the hero purports to exemplify.
This is represented visually by a literal icon
on the chest of the hero, more often than not.
Think about the X-Men for a second.
They're tasked with protecting a world that hates and fears
them.
If they didn't have secret identities to hide behind,
life would get a hell of a lot more complicated for them,
which when it came time to adapt them to the big screen,
is an idea that kind of got thrown out.
No one ever really seems all that
concerned with who the individual members of the X-Men
are in the movies.
They just generally hate and fear the idea of mutants.
Have you tried not being a mutant?
But in the comics, mutant symbolism
is used regularly as a call to arms, a cultural rallying cry,
or even as a means by which to violate civil liberties.
Symbology in superhero stories is intricately intertwined
with the character's history.
So much so, it even made it into one of Bruce Wayne's speeches
in Batman Begins.
As a man, I'm flesh and blood.
I can be ignored.
I can be destroyed.
But as a symbol--
as a symbol, I can be incorruptible.
But here's where the cultural prominence of these characters
and their inextricable link to how we process power and wish
fulfillment in our culture has shifted since the first Iron
Man film in 2008.
The MCU has largely jettisoned the idea
that superheroes need secret identities.
All of the Avengers are publicly known.
Do they have code names?
Yes.
I'm Peter, by the way.
Doctor Strange.
Oh we're using our made up names.
Um, I'm Spider-Man, then.
But they don't have the personas that those names shield.
[WHOOSH]
The general public is aware that Captain America
is Steve Rogers--
that Natasha Romanoff is Black Widow,
and that the Hulk is Bruce Banner.
The MCU has done away with the idea of secret identities
so thoroughly that Thor's alternate self, Donald Blake,
literally has never made an onscreen
appearance other than as the name of Thor's fake driver's
license in the first Thor film.
So why is this?
Well initially, it didn't seem to be an intentional choice.
The climax of Iron Man One shows Tony
being told that he should pretend that the Iron Man suit
is actually his bodyguard--
It's a bodyguard?
He's my body-- I mean, is that-- that's kind of flimsy.
Don't you think?
--and then choosing to forego that by admitting to everyone
that he is Iron Man.
This choice was made to boil close to 40 years of Iron Man
continuity down into a few lines and move
on to where the character was current day
as a public futurist.
However, after the rampant success of Iron Man,
this same creative approach was given to all of the Avengers.
The fact that Hulk, essentially a domestic terrorist
with a big case of the Jekyll and Hydes,
is just welcomed with open arms into the staff
of an unregulated, superpowered, governing body
is surreal and bizarre.
The MCU versions of a lot of these characters
are almost viewed as celebrity CEOs.
And a few of them, like Tony, Bruce, and Hank Pym,
are literally celebrity CEOs.
The character of Superman comes from a time
when the ravages of depression, racism, and street violence
were real fears.
His creation as a bulletproof man
was sparked from the tragic fact that Superman's
co-creator Jerry Siegel's father died of a heart attack
during a convenience store robbery.
Clark Kent is the emotional core of those ideas.
It's not only an endearing metaphor of how Kal-El sees us,
but what we should expect from people in positions of power.
You will give the people of Earth
an ideal to strive towards.
Without this core, the character could easily
veer into dystopian and deeply disturbing interpretations.
And in some ways, that's a problem
for a lot of the MCU characters.
They rarely have a deeper, complex relationship
with humanity.
They want to protect us because that's the right thing to do,
but it doesn't come from an individualistic connection.
As their secret identities have been stripped,
so has their inner connection to mankind.
Cap is a perfect character to explore
how America has evolved throughout the last 60 years
that he was frozen in the ice.
But he never really struggles with the contemporary world,
outside of filling a notebook with stray movie
titles he needs to catch up on.
And that's largely because Steve and Cap are the same person.
If they were two separate personas,
the narrative possibilities are endless.
Instead, whenever Cap isn't at home in the modern world
or at odds with contemporary ideals,
he just dons a hoodie and a baseball cap
and tries to blend in.
None of this is to say that the MCU's adaptation
of these characters are bad.
They're not.
In fact, by and large, they've been
more fidelitous and accurate to their four color counterparts
than the DC ones have.
However, with the removal of secret identities,
the MCU versions of these characters
have become something else--
a new breed of character-- one that serves simultaneously
as a standard bearer for American ideals,
a harbinger of death for a traditional filmic experience,
and a masthead for a new age.
The Disney era--
[WHOOSH]
These characters who were created
by oppressed citizens of the lower class
are now emblematic of the issues that
come when power is allowed to run amok unchecked.
It stinks, and I don't like it.
They dominate the box office, pushing out
every other type of media and simultaneously are becoming
more homogeneous by the day.
The filmmakers that are hired to work on these characters
aren't interested in cementing a symbolic call to arms
that future generations will look
to as an example of moral rectitude--
the army of people with a simple goal.
Make something that the masses will love and want to consume.
There's an argument to be made that you can do both,
but the key is to have these characters have
a deep connection to humanity.
You have a superhero persona that
is a symbol shining in the darkness.
And to do that, you need a secret identity.
[PAGE TEARS]
Well, that's all we have for this episode of Nerdstalgic.
What do you think?
Should they try and give some of the characters
secret identities?
Could it push them onto a broader narrative canvas?
If so, comment down below.
And as always, please subscribe to the channel
in order to stay up to date with everything we've got going on.
[MUSIC PLAYING]