(I had previously written about Irredeemable here.)
Exactly what it says on the tin- more of my quasi-random thoughts on the comic book series Irredeemable by Mark Waid.
The Plutonian is a freaky fellow, no? I can’t easily recall the beginning of a graphic novel that so thoroughly shook me. As is often the case with such things, the proverbial super-powered devil was in the details. As Plutonian murders his former superhero associate The Hornet (along with The Hornet’s entire family), he pauses for a bit of implicitly-confessional gloating (describing the Hornet’s daughter as a ‘carbon bag of atoms and bioelectrcity’). After that, The Plutonian indulges in the pseudo-mercy of killing the father first so as to spare him the sight of his daughter being incinerated. He then gifts himself a more overt, darkly ironic confession- delivered to the frightened girl- which establishes the theme of the entire comic- ‘I’m a superhero.’
As I’ve had occasion to mention before, the word ‘deconstruction’ is thrown about a little too easily by fans and critics when it comes to stories like Irredeemable. If one employs some elementary Google-fu, the first definition of deconstruction that will come up reads as follows- ‘a method of critical analysis of philosophical and literary language which emphasizes the internal workings of language and conceptual systems, the relational quality of meaning, and the assumptions implicit in forms of expression.’ Obviously, language evolves and is as context and use-bound as nearly anything else anthropocentric, so this definition need not be comprehensive. I don’t know the specific history of this semantic drift, but it would seem at some point the common understanding of ‘deconstruction’ shifted from ‘method of critical analysis literally nobody understands’ to ‘creative work which takes an overtly critical stance towards a certain set of familiar tropes.’ In the case of Irredeemable, we have a story which emphasizes, for what is definitely not the first time, the fact that superheroes are kind of ideologically dodgy. It doesn’t run with this premise in quite the same satirical spirit as something like The Boys, but nonetheless it emphasizes those old truisms about the alienating capacity of unchecked power, the tyrannical qualities of agents of violent authority operating outside the official sanction of public institutions, and the stark fact that few can do the vigilante schtick without coming away morally compromised. In short, the narrative draws attention to those in-built features of superhero stories that may stop a non-negligible portion of people from enjoying superhero stories if they thought about them too much. There’s your ‘deconstruction.’ The Plutonian himself is, of course, another on a long list of subversions of the most quintessential of superheroes, Superman. The core of Superman’s appeal is also his least plausible quality- boundless, unchallengeable power in possession of one man who only ever uses it for good, despite the inevitable alienation and ambivalence such power would produce. The subversive force of the ‘evil Superman’ trope comes from an innate audience tendency to appreciate being subjected to the bleeding obvious after it has been denied them so often in certain kinds of stories.
The remarkable thing about the Plutonian’s eventual break-down is that it is so recognizably human. He doesn’t taste increasingly large doses of prestige and power, gradually getting drunk until he takes his intoxication to a hapless mortal public. He doesn’t run into increasingly powerful and dastardly villains who are nearly impossible to subdue, summoning the possibility of necessary executions and the dreaded slippery slope that may entail. No. The Plutonian makes a very foolish error in the spirit of altruism. In order to better humanity, he donates a piece of alien technology (salvaged from the wreckage of one of their crafts in the wake of a failed invasion of earth; as a sidenote, I will say that these aliens, called the Vespa, are some of the most memorably nasty hostile extraterrestrials I’ve ever seen in a work of fiction.) to a scientist who had previously been critical of the Plutonian for retaining it. The scientist, apparently being an inveterate bungler, ends up unleashing an alien virus that travels on soundwaves and has the horrifying effect of stripping the flesh off the bones of children and animating their skeletons. This plague is eventually brought to heel, but knowledge of the Plutonian’s involvement remains with the scientific team who were experimenting with the Vespa technology. In yet another compelling narrative choice on the part of Mark Waid, this knowledge does not lead to a public shaming of the Plutonian; the scientist instead makes the decision to inform only Tony’s sidekick, friend, and confidante Samsara. The poisoning of this relationship, probably the most significant Tony had, is the major precipitating event for his psychological break-down and subsequent rampage. Dramatically, this works much better than a hypothetical estrangement from an adoring public. It showcases that emotional intimacy, not abstract social prestige, was of central importance to Tony. This makes his character more complex and sympathetic than the alternative publicity-conscious evil Superman that would have been more intuitive for a great many readers.
Although the Plutonian is the most obvious archetype subversion in the story, he is hardly the only one, and I feel special attention should be paid to the Hornet as an especially depressing (ahem) ‘deconstruction’ of the ‘badass normal’ superhero type. The term I’ve shamelessly culled from TV Tropes, and it is basically exactly what it sounds like: a superhero with no innate superpowers who depends on a combination of wits, skill, and technology to hold his own in a world of superpowered beings. They are often viewed as inspiring since they frequently prevail in superhero narratives despite their mortal limitations, earning the respect of their metahuman colleagues and soundly defeating much more powerful adversaries. However inspiring they may be, though, it can be difficult to construe them as realistic even by the fanciful standards of superhero comics, and Irredeemable delivers a blunt-force dose of reality by having its resident badass normal, the aforementioned Hornet, killed off by the Plutonian with little seeming effort. The reader is then not even granted the consolation of sympathy, as it is later revealed that the Hornet’s insecurities concerning his lack of powers led him to an absolutely unconscionable act- handing over Qubit’s teleportation technology to the Vespa so that they may more easily continue their genocidal campaign of conquest throughout the multiverse in exchange for leaving the earth, and the promise of returning to assist in containing the Plutonian should he ever go rogue. This act presumably condemns countless sentient beings to a gruesome death. In the universe of Irredeemable, the badass normal is not ennobled by his lack of powers, but rendered a coward. And a dangerous one at that.
I still need to say something about why I’ve titled these Irredeemable posts as I have. Of course, it has something to do with the villain Modeus and Bette Noir (personal favorite character, perhaps along with qubit and the Plutonian himself), but we’ll save that for the follow-up. And then after that, I believe it will be time for Incorruptible.
High Pressure Days 