Super (2010)Punishing crime and avenging wrongdoing is an activity which is often glamorized in comic books and movies, but in reality, would be a brutal, potentially lethal action, one where the concept of vigilantes in garish costumes would not only be absurd, but outright inappropriate. That said, there is an appeal, an allure to assuming the identity of a crusader against evil, distancing oneself from their actions in the guise of a seemingly invincible persona. When mild-mannered short order cook, Frank Darbo (Rainn Wilson) loses his wife, Sarah (Liv Tyler), to local drug kingpin, Jacques (Kevin Bacon), his brand of justice is administered at the blunt end of a wrench.
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To say that Super is a superhero movie is both true and not; Frank's assumption of his mantle as "The Crimson Bolt" is not unlike so many other superhero origin stories, as is his efforts to fight crime--from humble beginnings to the climactic storming of Jacques' stronghold. However, Super is abundantly self-aware; Frank's research-finding quest to discover what he should look for in making his vigilante efforts more successful is not unlike the early efforts of Bruce Wayne to find his calling in the Batman comics, and leads him to visit a comic book shop where a young comic enthusiast, Libby (Ellen Page), works and aids him in his pursuits. Libby feels that Frank's apparent newfound interest in comics, ostensibly to research creating his own superhero, makes her feel connected to him because his interests partner with his. When Crimson Bolt begins making headlines, she fills the role of the inquisitive young lass, a la Lois Lane, who believes Frank is the masked crimefighter, although he fervently denies this. Once Frank is forced to reveal the truth to her, as she appears to be the only one whom he feels he can confide this truth in, she emphatically volunteers herself to become his sidekick, "Boltie". These elements are not uncommon in the superhero genre, currently dominating the movie theaters via the Marvel Cinematic Universe and DC Comics' own contributions. But Super dances to a different drum, one which is more The Toxic Avenger than Spider-Man, a point which is less surprising given director James Gunn's Troma roots; even Lloyd Kaufman has a cameo in Stan Lee style. As a result, Super frequently bounces between extremes of pop exuberance and brutal violence, sometimes from beat to beat, or "beating to beating", such as Crimson Bolt's bloody crimefighting montage with his wrench, cleaning up Euclid Street of rapists and drug dealers, or Boltie's adrenaline-spiked rush after saving Frank from a couple of Jacques' thugs by pinning one of them between a wall and Frank's car. Super is often described as a "subversive" superhero movie, because it defies the tropes of the genre so readily. When Frank sets out to do the work he believe he has been chosen by God to do, he begins in a fashion like Batman, swooping down on a drug dealer, but lacking the muscle or skill to actually punish his target. He learns and gets a wrench--tested to smash a melon at home--and uses brutal force to beat the dastardly purveyor of illegal substances into unconsciousness. What begins on the dark streets at night against people who are legitimate criminals also gets applied against jerks who cut in line at the movies--no crime is too small, apparently. The Crimson Bolt may be the expression of frustration for the people of the city who feel they have no recourse against criminals big and small, but the rationale behind Frank's alter ego is that he fights fire with fire, attacking his perception of crime with a level of brutality which is more appalling than satisfying.
Is Frank crazy? It's a question which has permeated superhero comics in the post-modern era, following comics written with darker tones and moral ambiguity like those penned by Frank Miller and Alan Moore. To me, Frank Darbo's most obvious parallel in comics is that of The Punisher, a man who is hurt by personal trauma and believes his life to be upended by an ambivalent or powerless society governed more by crime than laws--someone who is not above using permanent (read: lethal) means to destroy the virus of crime and inappropriate behavior from the world, under the auspices that he's trying to prevent it from happening to someone else. Both men are even named Frank for good measure. But while The Punisher is a trained soldier, The Crimson Bolt is a quiet man with a menial job, whose saving grace in his life is measured by his "two perfect moments". These moments are the only two which Frank can hold on to in a life which has been miserable and without meaning, save for his marriage to Sarah and his efforts reminiscent of Spider-Man's origin story, where Frank directed a cop where to go to apprehend a criminal. But even these moments are comparatively hollow when Sarah relapses into drug abuse and Frank's civil duty was not one he was really engaged in at all. So when everything is pulled away from him, is it really so surprising in his despair and humiliation that he dreams of a fantasy where he is chosen to do something special? He claims he has visions, but these always seem to come when he has been at his lowest, where he is searching his soul for an answer, praying to God, even influenced by the moralizing public access program showing God's champion, The Holy Avenger (Nathan Fillion) fighting the emissary of Satan, Demonswill (James Gunn), from making kids lazy or having premarital sex. Prior to Super, Rainn Wilson's most prominent role was that of Assistant (to the) Regional Manager Dwight Schrute in the television show, "The Office". Although Frank is a more sympathetic soul, both characters convey a sense that they are hapless and at odds with the world they are a part of, whether they know it or not. Frank's sense of alienation--even from Sarah, really--makes his progression into an avenger also like that of Travis Bickle from Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver, another loner who transforms himself into a killing machine to assuage the sense of moral apathy which he perceives in the world. Frank's world is one where there is a general lack of sympathy or humanity in most people, like the jaded Detective John Felkner (Gregg Henry), who is more interested in getting Frank to give up his wife rather than do something about the drug dealers who have pushed her back into relapse. Frank's actions are born from desperation, from a sense that he has no control, and his life is being ground down into powder all around him. His crimefighting is cathartic, but it too is also something he realizes is just an escape, something keeping him from actually addressing the problem of saving his wife.
Super is thematically about the perceptions of heroism versus the complexities of a reality where violence is a taboo response to crime--and yet everyone paradoxically cries out for a hero who will make a difference. Frank's work is one motivated by a noble effort to save Sarah, but Libby's interest in her role as Boltie is principally a fetishistic power fantasy. Her first assignment, which she propels Frank into doing with her, is to assault a man who "probably" keyed her friend's car, where she exuberantly indulges in the brutal attack on the alleged culprit, smashing a crystal vase over his head, and nearly killing him in her bloodlust. One suspects that Libby has immersed herself in the world of superheroes and comics so fully, that when Frank chooses to come to her to reveal his secret identity, it is such a turn on that she is willing to kick all her friends out of her own birthday party at her apartment--even a guy she was making out with--just to indulge in this episode. Libby is essentially a kind of "addict" like Sarah, although Frank deals her into her rush by allowing her to accompany him in his work, wearing a costume so well-tailored, one suspects she had it ready and waiting in her closet for just such an occasion. Libby's apparent attraction to Frank has less to do with him than his embodiment of an internal passion and unresolved need, something which inspires her to let loose in a power fantasy fueled by her manic obsession. There is no sense that Frank sets out to motivate others to vigilantism or a comic book paradigm, but he does so all the same by his actions; not just Libby, but even Jacques, who appears more and more like a mustache-twirling villain as the violence escalates. In this, Super approaches violence and the circumstances which suggest it is necessary with an objective eye, in the sense that it necessitates questions like "what is the cost of violence as a response" to be answered.
Recommended for: Fans of an eclectic movie, mixing heartfelt drama, bloody action, and darkly funny irreverence in its take on the superhero film. Super merges portrayals of violence as an answer to crime with evidence to the contrary, forcing the audience to decide for themselves.
Is Frank crazy? It's a question which has permeated superhero comics in the post-modern era, following comics written with darker tones and moral ambiguity like those penned by Frank Miller and Alan Moore. To me, Frank Darbo's most obvious parallel in comics is that of The Punisher, a man who is hurt by personal trauma and believes his life to be upended by an ambivalent or powerless society governed more by crime than laws--someone who is not above using permanent (read: lethal) means to destroy the virus of crime and inappropriate behavior from the world, under the auspices that he's trying to prevent it from happening to someone else. Both men are even named Frank for good measure. But while The Punisher is a trained soldier, The Crimson Bolt is a quiet man with a menial job, whose saving grace in his life is measured by his "two perfect moments". These moments are the only two which Frank can hold on to in a life which has been miserable and without meaning, save for his marriage to Sarah and his efforts reminiscent of Spider-Man's origin story, where Frank directed a cop where to go to apprehend a criminal. But even these moments are comparatively hollow when Sarah relapses into drug abuse and Frank's civil duty was not one he was really engaged in at all. So when everything is pulled away from him, is it really so surprising in his despair and humiliation that he dreams of a fantasy where he is chosen to do something special? He claims he has visions, but these always seem to come when he has been at his lowest, where he is searching his soul for an answer, praying to God, even influenced by the moralizing public access program showing God's champion, The Holy Avenger (Nathan Fillion) fighting the emissary of Satan, Demonswill (James Gunn), from making kids lazy or having premarital sex. Prior to Super, Rainn Wilson's most prominent role was that of Assistant (to the) Regional Manager Dwight Schrute in the television show, "The Office". Although Frank is a more sympathetic soul, both characters convey a sense that they are hapless and at odds with the world they are a part of, whether they know it or not. Frank's sense of alienation--even from Sarah, really--makes his progression into an avenger also like that of Travis Bickle from Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver, another loner who transforms himself into a killing machine to assuage the sense of moral apathy which he perceives in the world. Frank's world is one where there is a general lack of sympathy or humanity in most people, like the jaded Detective John Felkner (Gregg Henry), who is more interested in getting Frank to give up his wife rather than do something about the drug dealers who have pushed her back into relapse. Frank's actions are born from desperation, from a sense that he has no control, and his life is being ground down into powder all around him. His crimefighting is cathartic, but it too is also something he realizes is just an escape, something keeping him from actually addressing the problem of saving his wife.
Super is thematically about the perceptions of heroism versus the complexities of a reality where violence is a taboo response to crime--and yet everyone paradoxically cries out for a hero who will make a difference. Frank's work is one motivated by a noble effort to save Sarah, but Libby's interest in her role as Boltie is principally a fetishistic power fantasy. Her first assignment, which she propels Frank into doing with her, is to assault a man who "probably" keyed her friend's car, where she exuberantly indulges in the brutal attack on the alleged culprit, smashing a crystal vase over his head, and nearly killing him in her bloodlust. One suspects that Libby has immersed herself in the world of superheroes and comics so fully, that when Frank chooses to come to her to reveal his secret identity, it is such a turn on that she is willing to kick all her friends out of her own birthday party at her apartment--even a guy she was making out with--just to indulge in this episode. Libby is essentially a kind of "addict" like Sarah, although Frank deals her into her rush by allowing her to accompany him in his work, wearing a costume so well-tailored, one suspects she had it ready and waiting in her closet for just such an occasion. Libby's apparent attraction to Frank has less to do with him than his embodiment of an internal passion and unresolved need, something which inspires her to let loose in a power fantasy fueled by her manic obsession. There is no sense that Frank sets out to motivate others to vigilantism or a comic book paradigm, but he does so all the same by his actions; not just Libby, but even Jacques, who appears more and more like a mustache-twirling villain as the violence escalates. In this, Super approaches violence and the circumstances which suggest it is necessary with an objective eye, in the sense that it necessitates questions like "what is the cost of violence as a response" to be answered.
Recommended for: Fans of an eclectic movie, mixing heartfelt drama, bloody action, and darkly funny irreverence in its take on the superhero film. Super merges portrayals of violence as an answer to crime with evidence to the contrary, forcing the audience to decide for themselves.