Holding Out for a Hero

Holding Out for a Hero

It’s apparent that the world is in a state of turmoil. The economy is plummeting faster than a cow thrown out of an airplane, the Earth is heating up, and swine flu has effectively felled the allimportant bacon industry. It’s enough to make you pull out your hair, gaze up at the sky, and shout: "Who will save us, since we clearly can’t save ourselves?"

Now, just out of curiosity, how many of you have seen “The Dark Knight?” A good
portion, I’d bet, but not because of its Academy Award-winning sound mixing or car chases or tense action sequences or your love affair with the late Heath Ledger. You went to see Batman because, like the indomitable Bonnie Tyler once said, you “need a hero.” You and I are both holding out for a hero, until the end of night, if necessary.

Humanity has lived in a perennial conquest of heroes; of people stronger or wiser or
better looking than we are, to guide us through the waters that we find difficult to navigate alone.The Greeks, prolific writers that they were, came up with dozens of heros. Adventurers, warriors, demigods and fighters, their stories were told to inspire soldiers to battle, or to teach complex morals in an enticing way. From Achilles to Odysseus, Perseus to Jason, Hercules to Phil, their epic tales live on in our English classes…. Except the tale of Phil—the momentously dull. It’s worth noting that he was the first investment banker, though.

With the advent of photography and film, real people were able to become heroes known
to thousands. Actors, astronauts, singers, and politicians—their accomplishments and talents were broadcast to the masses, and every last morsel was devoured. From the images of the Beatles’ plane being swarmed on arrival in America, to the dedicated following inspired by people like Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, or the Octomom today, the common people have accepted celebrities as their idols...for better or worse.

Instead of focusing on their creative skills, or their ability to have many children, the celebrity magazines are filled cover-to-cover with former beauty queens, now
overweight and poorly dressed; young singers high on anything nearby that can be smoked; and endless, endless, endless paternity suits.

Maybe it’s our own modern sadism, but the people we once looked to as "heroes" have
become a travelling freak show of decadence, self-indulgence and more self-destruction than a bomb test factory. People buy the magazines that snap our idols with their trousers down—more literally than figuratively, I’m afraid—but with People magazine reporting its first annual loss since 1996, their sales are falling. Is that because money is so tight that the average person has to recycle Kleenex, even with the swine flu? Probably. But the fact remains—mocking the rich and fabulous is only fun for a while. Eventually, misery stops loving company. Misery stops inviting Company over for dinner. Eventually, we all want to move on to something better.

So, given that our real-life idols have abandoned us, and the world is in peril, what’s a
girl to do? To be honest, you’ve already answered that question, with your wallets. You bought a ticket to see “The Dark Knight,” or “Watchmen,” or “X-Men,” or “Spiderman,” or all of them. Some might criticize superhero films as plot-less, overly flashy, or just another excuse to sell action figures, but that’s not the truth. Well, not the whole truth. They sell lunchboxes too.

Superhero movies, ladies and gents, fill a void in the human soul that can only be filled
by pure, abject heroism. Be it the smoldering angst of Batman, the chipper boyscoutishness of Superman, or the wise-cracking Spiderman (pre-Toby McGuire, of course) there’s a superperson for everyone. Even when these characters walk the line between good and evil—even when they make mistakes—they are still representing the absolute good that we desperately crave on the streets of the real world. There’s no room for moral ambiguity in those brightly coloured tights.

Superheroes are capable: they fix major problems, first hand, with minimal assistance. By
virtue of a rift in the space-time continuum, or another convenient plot device, they make things right again. If Superman can save the world and everyone in it, then surely we can solve our own, relatively mundane ones. Sure, we may grumble a bit, but in the greater scheme of things, passing classes, destroying an alien race, and preventing a global epidemic are really all the same. It’s only a matter of time before we see "Maskman versus the Sinister Swine!" on bookshelves everywhere.

So superheroes appeal to our childish sense, to the wide-eyed child with the Pokemon
bed sheets (or Star Wars, if you’re a little older) who knew, without a second thought, what was right and what was wrong. A child who lived in a world where the good guys always won, and the bad guys went off with their tails between their legs.

Is that the real world? It most assuredly isn’t. But who wouldn’t want to return to that
world, to that state of mind, for an afternoon, or even just a moment? Well, you can. It’s as easy as picking up a superhero comic.