More to the point, Huntress only takes five minutes of a coroner's time to tag and bag the now deceased criminal. Batman burdens dozens of medical personnel with the care for a violent criminal, both removing them from more deserving patients, and endangering their own lives in the process. Same goes for the death penalty argument - the actual process takes years to be effected, which is ample time for any supervillain to escape custody. I really think superhero universes could use some of those Chinese execution vans for the myriad of unrepentant mass murderers that typically get off on insanity pleas.
However, I don't think it's an anti-government attitude present here, as much as overall anti-competition. The reasoning being that superheroes are still fundamentally amateur volunteers, meaning they always have to justify why they should handle a particular case, rather than the police, military, or even other heroes. Physical power means little in an age of pinpoint precision missiles and high caliber firearms, and there's only so far that government incompetence or malice can be taken before it reads like a conspiracy nut's ravings.
More importantly, the need to keep certain villains in circulation and tie them to particular heroes means the latter get insanely territorial when other heroes threaten to effectively leave them out of a job, or on a personal level, out of a punching bag to release their frustrations on.
I guess it again has to do with the inverse principle of purpose and exclusivity. Back when Batman was still dedicated to fighting crime in general and wasn't obsessed with particular villains, team-ups were more than welcome. Now that it's pretty clear he's more interested in fighting his own emotional demons than safeguarding civil society, anyone who actually does want to take out the trash is a personal threat to his self-styled therapy sessions.
I notice that this is somewhat less prevalent in Marvel, in favor of a more freestyle approach where nobody claims New York for himself, let alone trying to police the whole world, villain immortality isn't turned into a plot point, and the villains themselves are often exchanged between heroes, giving a more organic feel to the overall universe... at least until their registration itches start acting up again.
Also, about nineties anti-heroes and their popularity:
I think part of the problem is that the industry still has a bit of a complex about that. Since the 90's are now a punching bag for a lot of their excesses (not entirely without reason), it feels like a lot of creators have swung too far in the other direction to the point of not understanding how and why a character like that might be able to work.
As far as the audience is concerned I don't necessarily think they won't accept them. The enduring popularity of the Punisher and Deadpool shows you can get people invested in a character like that. You just need to give them something to hang onto in addition to the action and catharsis, whether it be comedy or a psychological exploration of the character. Part of the reason why Spawn was considered to be a step above a lot of the other similar characters at the time is that he had some humanizing qualities and was generally trying to be good even if he killed people.
The thing is this punching bag treatment extends even to characters who don't fit the 90s anti hero mold like Cass Cain, Kyle Rayner, Bart Allen, Conner Kent, the New Warriors and recently Ben Reilly. Even when the character has been shown to embody the ideals the company supposedly champions, they'll still get dumped on.
That's the thing - audiences did accept them. So much, in fact, that the mainstream heroes started feeling obsolete, leading to self-aggrandizing puff pieces like Kingdom Come and What's so funny... to try and denigrate strawmen of the competition. It's just that nowadays would-be comic fans turn to games instead, and the growing genre medium of films and television shows is already used to a highly competitive market. Imagine if comics started mocking mercenary teams like the Expendables or government agents like Ethan Hunt and James Bond, simply because their attitude runs contrary to the capes'.
(If anything, Bond has become off-putting because he turned too much into Jason Bourne, substituting action and style for shaky-cam and grit. Some people like martini, some people like beer, but I've yet to meet anyone who likes beer-flavored martini.)
Unless I'm mistaken, I think it was mentioned on this site that Bond did start out focusing more on grit than style. I could wrong of course
That he did, but his most popular years were straightforward martini. Granted, nowadays it's parodies like Johnny English and Kingsman that have become equal quality spy action films in their own right, so he has to work that much harder to differentiate himself. Oddly similar to superheroes, really.
James Bond is very much an artifact of a certain place & time—more so, I'd say, than superheroes in general. The former's obsolescence is kind of built-in: just keeping him around these days requires a bit of deconstruction. By contrast, I'm not sure there was anything structurally inevitable about post-Alan Moore comic deconstructions, or that modern comics have to observe their precedent.
edited 27th Jun '17 9:04:31 AM by Jhimmibhob
Super-heroes keeping up with the times isn't really much of an issue. Give talented writers free rein (that's the hitch, right there) and watch what they come up with. The flaws are not with concept, for the most part, but with execution. I'd say making all the heroes within a given universe jibe with each other is more of an issue (especially at DC, where most of their characters were not designed to inhabit the same universe, but have been shoehorned into doing so, sometimes to their detriment).
However, I know that one of the consistent problems with DC utilizing Captain Marvel/ Shazam, for instance, is that the usually end up jettisoning the more cartoony aspects, which is really what made that character distinctive in the first place. The try to turn him into a regular super-hero, which isn't what he was. The same is true of Plastic Man.
edited 27th Jun '17 9:21:42 AM by Robbery
edited 27th Jun '17 9:19:55 AM by indiana404
![[up]](https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/smiles/arrow_up.png "[up]"){kind=icon}
Moore sort of touches on that issue in Watchmen; while it isn't mentioned as a specific reason for any of the characters' retirement (they cite the Congressional edict for that) the fact that in the absence of super-villains or even a perceived "crime wave" they were mostly fighting regular crooks and weren't really capable of addressing larger societal ills and concerns is an idea that gets raised a number of times. In James Robinson's The Golden Age he does mention the defeat of the Nazis and the general decline of the super-villain as one of the reasons why most masked heroes were going inactive, even before the HUAC trial that led to the JSA's official disbanding. Regular crooks, in the words of Johnny Quick, "seemed more like a matter to be left to the police." These really seem more like conditions that exist at a writers discretion, though.
This is what I meant when I said he didn't touch upon supervillains - he mentions their absence and decline, and that's it. There's no consideration, deconstructive or otherwise, on the tendency of superpowers to be hit-and-miss in their distribution, with about a dozen perpetual unrepentant lunatics for every single hero. There's no musing on the rather unnerving fact that entire foreign nations are run by people ready, willing, and often easily able to circumvent all of the civilized world's defenses and wreak havoc at their leisure, with heroes often arriving only after a good deal of damage is done. For all his philosophical fluff about how scary and mind-boggling it may be to realize that God exists, and he's more or less indifferent, not even Moore dares tackle the possibility that the Devil exists, and he ain't.
I've mused before on the apparent complacency of superhero films that wax about how powerful and world-shattering the heroes are, serving as metaphor for America's perceived power, all while in real life Russia can annex entire peninsulas with no resistance, Iran and North Korea got nuclear against everyone else's warnings, and terrorist attacks happen virtually every month. Normally I'd consider it to be pure harmless escapism, imagining you're still the big dog against all evidence to the contrary. However, as comics have become too riddled with various social issues these days, it seems more like writers are trying to displace actual global problems with whatever is fashionable in their home town right now. After all, which is the scarier thought - that evil local corrupt corporate executives secretly manipulate global terrorists... or that a bunch of barely literate fanatics with a box of MS Flight Sims took down a landmark and made a god bleed, and can likely do so again at any time?
I've seen that subject considered before, actually (not in comics, though, to my knowledge). The idea that, really, anyone stands a pretty good chance of being able to wreak a whole lot of destruction all on their own, from killing a high-ranking politician to blowing up a building, and there isn't a whole lot that anyone can reliably do to stop them. Any safety we feel we have is largely illusory. The worst hasn't happened. In all probability, it won't, But it could, at any time. If I had to guess, I'd say it really doesn't get addressed because it's something that anyone who thinks about it for a minute already realizes, and has to learn to ignore in order to function. If you get it, addressing it is just rubbing it in, and if you don't, addressing it ain't gonna make you realize it.
I remember Stephen King wrote about a conversation he had with Stanley Kubrick, regarding Kubrick's film adaptation of The Shining where Kubrick asked in King didn't think that the idea of an afterlife was fundamentally optimistic. King came back with 'What about hell?" Kubrick responded with "I don't believe in hell," to which King came back "Well, that's fine for you, but what about those of us that do?"
edited 27th Jun '17 10:45:32 AM by Robbery
Given how dangerous the Joker and Batman have been written as, I'm not sure the writers are unaware that anyone could be dangerous regardless of physical might. Or that could just be the writers letting real world popularity affect how the character is written
More to the point, the appeal of the nineties anti-hero, the gritty Serial-Killer Killer, and even the simple vigilante man comes from the notion that, while nobody can truly be around to prevent every crime, protect every victim, stop every disaster from happening, they can make damn sure it doesn't happen twice; not by the same hand anyway. Similarly, the preference for simple firearms over fancy gadgets and supernatural abilities can be far more empowering, as guns are not only relatable real life problem solvers, but the solutions they offer come with a user-friendly point-and-click interface that can easily equalize a 400-pound black belt and a random old lady with a fifty buck derringer. None need keep Holding Out for a Hero when the next best thing is in their pocket or purse, and it appears that after a certain ownership percentage threshold is reached, criminals do get discouraged by just what their next cash-in may cost them.
The problem with the 90's grim'n gritty anti-heroes was that they were overdone, and seldom done well. Deadpool, for instance, started out as one and rapidly became an overt parody of them (as did Lobo, though he's a bit of a different case). I knew more than one reader of X-Men comics who questioned what Cable was even doing there, given that he didn't seem to be a mutant (and yes, I know he was, but you'd hardly know it in those early appearances). And if you think Batman carries an arsenal, those guys frequently felt the need to carry guns the size of bazookas at the smallest. The mockery the era gets is very much deserved.
The other problem with 90's grim 'n gritty anti-heroes is that, for the most part, they aren't what people read super-hero comics for. While the gun-toting vigilante and the super-hero can and frequently do exist within the same reality, they belong to two different genres. Genre mash-ups can be clever and interesting, but they seldom last once the novelty wears off. What you get is frequently something that points out the unreality of one or both of the genres in question, which leaves you with a story that is mostly about itself. And there's too much of that in super-hero comics as it is, super hero comics that are about super hero comics, and nothing else. People who want to read about super heroes want to read a good story that features super-heroes, not a meta-textual tract on how ridiculous the genre is.
That said, when not written by semi-literate fanboys, the gun-toting vigilante hero can be great, all by itself. Take the 80's DC hero Vigilante, for instance (who didn't use ridiculously oversized super-weaponry) or the Punisher under Chuck Dixon. Or, again for a different take on the same ideas, Walt Simonson's Manhunter, from the 70's.
edited 28th Jun '17 11:49:39 AM by Robbery
Then again, the same could be said of a lot of archetypes that are common in superhero comics.
The 90 anti heroes didn't have a no kill rule. What was Batman's excuse for packing more heat than a Texas tail gate into the Batmobile?
However, I'd also argue that much of what is featured in superhero comics are things people don't read them for like villains who make real life war criminals look cuddly and heroes who seem to grow more and more ineffective after the last bad guy murder spree. With that in mind, is it hard to imagine that maybe readers would gravitate towards more seemingly effective protagonists like the Punisher? And I say this as someone who doesn't even like the guy that much.
What was Batman's excuse for packing more heat than a Texas tail gate into the Batmobile?
You know... for emergencies
.
One thing Marvel has going on is the intriguing division of labor, where Spider-Man takes down unstable and powerful but not irredeemable criminals, Iron Man tangles with internationally operating masterminds and local corporate villains, Doctor Strange deals with mystical monsters, and the Punisher mops up the mob and the occasional serial killer. Even Daredevil's arch-enemy, the Kingpin, is written as a necessary evil, or at least better than the chaotic alternative his absence would leave.
Essentially, there's a great sense of reciprocity in the way they handle their respective foes, so fans can pick and choose what they want to see, without being treated to a nigh-obligatory downer ending where the villain laughs all the way to the most corrupt prison system this side of the Equator, and the hero tries to shill it as some sort of moral victory. I'm not sure if superhero fans are any more eager to see that instead.
edited 29th Jun '17 2:46:38 AM by indiana404
So...the reason for the existence of the Punisher is that fanboys like to look clever by manufacturing Watsonian reasons for the Doylist practice of keeping popular villians around? Or because of the writers who want to manufacture moral arguments out of what again is a purely Doylist practice? Seems iffy.
I get that fans of the Punisher and characters like him get a satisfaction from them that they likely would not from less lethal heroes, but considering them "effective" requires the same suspension of disbelief that considering Batman effective does. Ultimately, the Punisher is no more effective than Batman is, because he's a fictional character who has to have enemies to fight in order to remain profitable. No matter his body count, he's gonna have new people to fight. Almost everything that is true of Batman is true of the Punisher, except that The Punisher gets a rotating cast of people to kill. His world remains fundamentally the same, and his effectiveness in it is, for all practical purposes, nil.
Please understand, I'm not arguing against the Punisher, I'm only arguing against the illusion that he's significantly different from any other comic book hero. It just a matter of tone; dark fantasy in a genre that's usually light fantasy.
edited 30th Jun '17 8:57:23 AM by Robbery
It's not so much a Watsonian reaction to Doylist reasoning, but rather, that the in-universe situation resulting from said reasoning is still fairly believable and relatable in its own right. One need not live in a thoroughly corrupt post-soc de-mock-racy to find palatable the idea of lethal action against people immune to the established legal system.
Furthermore, the Punisher may be no more effective than Batman in the long-term (which applies to every serialized action hero ever, and could still be debated given that New York has cleaned up considerably for the past few decades, while Gotham is still as messed up as writers prefer it to be - that is, very), but within a single Punisher story, one is much more likely to find a happy conclusion - if dark and bloody - than in any of the more recent Batman arcs, where the most one could hope for is a not quite total downer ending.
Same goes, by the way, for the idea of Superman being "optimistic", when the most he manages to muster these days if a half-hearted "some time from now, in a possible future, things might be better, maybe". Guy's been a buzzkill of epic proportions for decades , so I don't really get the complaints of him being too dark and brooding in the recent films. Nor would I consider the modern superhero genre to be part of light fantasy anymore, considering all the shock value tricks writers tend to pull, from mass murder to rape. Right about now, even Dexter would be too soft for a good deal of supervillains.
I'll agree with you insofar as the popular way to handle Batman, Superman, etc, these days tends towards being depressive, but that's the fault of current writers and editors rather than the fact that these characters traditionally don't kill their enemies. You could lay pretty much all your complaints at the door of current fashion rather than inherent concept.
Interestingly, in going back and reading Denny O'Neill's original Ra's Al Ghul arc from the early 70's, Batman at one point says that he's never intentionally killed anyone (implying, of course, that he has done so unintentionally) and he flat out tells Ra's at one point that unless Ra's surrenders he's willing to kill him. It's just interesting to see how fashions have changed in regards to these characters.
I'd say the main conundrum is that writers aren't too keen on lightening up the villains, likely out of fear of losing their deep and serious street cred - not every story has to be a dark and deconstructive consideration of the personal tragedies of emotionally immature billionaires taking out their impotent frustrations on random thugs. When was the last time Batman actually enjoyed himself while dealing with larger than life crimes and only vaguely threatening disasters?
More to the point, it's not so much the killing aspect, but the dealing aspect that draws fans to the Punisher and the like; the notion that if you want something done, you can do it yourself. The non-lethality of traditional superheroes isn't depressing on its own, but coupled with the in-universe admission of how shoddy the legal system is, one can't help but get the impression that their efforts are pointless even in the short term, because they ultimately defer to it.
The "in-universe admission" is debatable. I can't remember a story where the legal system that keeps putting the Joker in Arkham has ever been questioned (if there is one, please, let me know). It ends up, again, becoming a problem by inference, and one that exists because certain fans (and ascended fanboy writers) insist that it exist, rather than one of the vagaries of serial storytelling.
Again, I understand the appeal of the Punisher and characters like him. You should accept, though, that any number of the folks who are fans of Superman, Batman, and other no-kill heroes usually cite that no-kill status as one of the things they like.
Quite. I don't dispute the right to preference in that regard, both of the fans and in-universe for the heroes. However, as Batman and Superman in particular are frequent guest stars in other titles, it is then that this actually becomes a problem. Imagine reading a nice recent Deathstroke book where he's taking a break from killing his family members, and is focusing on some brutal dictator that actually has it coming... so of course, a wild Superman appears, having ignored the dictator's atrocities, but somehow being persuaded to try and protect his life, even as Deathstroke explains exactly what happened to the witnesses and arresting agents the last time that guy was incarcerated.
Similarly, Batman not wanting to kill anyone is a personal choice, the unrealism of how he pulls it off notwithstanding. But the moment he starts expending more efforts trying to protect his rogues than to prevent them from doing harm - and writers just love inventing scenarios for such moments to happen - that's where he pretty much loses the moral high ground, particularly as he tolerates dames that aren't nearly as picky about who they kill.
edited 30th Jun '17 11:50:46 AM by indiana404
And the reason the "it's not their place" rationalisation fails is that it applies to everything superheroes do. You can't condemn Huntress for putting a bolt through a murderer's eyes while cheering on Batman for putting him in a body cast for a month.
edited 26th Jun '17 9:46:50 PM by windleopard