Our Obsession With Particular Actors for Particular Roles

One of the developments that I really liked after seeing The Avengers was how the character of Bruce Banner was so amazingly handled.  I truly enjoyed Mark Ruffalo's portrayal of the character, and think his rendition of Banner will be considered the definitive modern portrayal of the character.  He was charming, intelligent, and just a bit bumbling as the gamma-irradiated doctor who's learned to control the beast raging within him (to an extent, at least).  It was truly a joy to watch, and I have no problem saying his performance in The Avengers dwarfs Edward Norton's portrayal of him in The Incredible Hulk.

Of course, that's not to say I didn't like Norton's version of the character, either.  His Banner was also intelligent and charming, but had a little bit more of an obsessive edge and an action hero feel to him than Ruffalo's (who was mostly a nerdy guy out of his element among superheroes,  until he turned into "the other guy), which I can honestly see a need for in a movie where Banner has to be the main hero.  I'm glad his star power and recognition helped that film do what it needed to do to be successful, and I respect that it allowed the character to come to The Avengers and take a different direction.  It reinforced, in my view, the idea that different actors can play the same part when a project needs it, and each contribute to the overall success of the whole thing.

But some people just can't avoid picking a fight.

I can't tell you how many snide comments I'd heard--mostly before the movie was released--of people claiming that Edward Norton's absence was going to ruin the character and, somehow, the whole rest of the film.  It was like continuity itself had taken a hit, and would alter the entire trajectory of the movie, simply because Bruce Banner would be sporting a new face and frame.

While these naysayers have been for the most part roundly silenced by the success of The Avengers, it reminds me of the obsession so many moviegoers and television watchers have with associating one actor so exclusively with one single part.  I remember, on more than one occasion, fans of the Harry Potter films claiming that if Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, or Rupert Grint ever left their roles, that they would stop watching the films because, as they put it, those actors were "the only ones" who could play those parts.  The audiovisual establishment of a character in a movie or a television show is, apparently, a sacrosanct thing that can not be violated for any reason for these people.

Umm, no.

In the Harry Potter films, Richard Harris plays the character of Albus Dumbledore for the first two films, and then is replaced by Michael Gambon for the rest of them due to Harris's death.  In the awesome 2009 Star Trek reboot film, the parts of the Enterprise crew members are portrayed by a number of new actors, for the simple reason that the surviving originators of those parts are too old to play their characters as young as the movie needed.  What do these situations have in common with Ruffalo's succession of Norton as Bruce Banner?  Simply, they collectively stamp the reality that parts change actors in the film industry with regularity, and for a number of legitimate reasons.  Contractual disputes and creative differences are just as valid reasons for shifting parts to another actor are as death and aging are, which is something I feel many fans need to remember and respect about their favorite films.

Was Ruffalo a better Bruce Banner than Edward Norton?  In many ways, I think so.  But even if I'd favored Norton's performance, I wouldn't be (and wasn't) upset that Ruffalo replaced him after The Incredible Hulk.  I loved Richard Harris's Dumbledore, but also thought Gambon did a wonderful job with the role, and that he contributed largely to the franchise's success.  And as for Star Trek... come on.  That was just a no-brainer.  If you're rebooting the franchise after several decades, you have to go with another cast.

As The Amazing Spider-Man approaches release, I'm seeing more iterations of this obsession, as people bemoan Tobey Maguire's absence and claim that Andrew Garfield just won't be anywhere near as good as Peter Parker.  It's difficult for me to sympathize with them, not because I didn't like Maguire--on the contrary, I thought he was great--but because I understand that these are films, with there own sets of rules and conditions that go into their production; and that these stories are separate from the films that preceded them.

Tobey Maguire, while a great Peter Parker and Spider-Man for the Sam Raimi films, was never the only Peter Parker to me.  He embodied a lot of the qualities of Peter Parker, but not all of them.  There were different looks and attitudes I'd seen of the character in the comics.  There was Peter Parker as drawn by Mark Bagley in the 1990s.  There was Ultimate Peter Parker, also drawn by Bagley.  There's also the post-One More Day iteration of Peter Parker, who's similar but not quite like the others.

What I'm liking so far about Garfield's Peter Parker is that he brings a bit more sass and edge to the role.  While I know some old-school purists will decry that aspect, I think he's channeling a lot of Ultimate Peter Parker in that respect, and I think for this day and age, it makes a lot of sense.  Even nerdy kids feel the need to lash out or quip back at a world that often seems out of their control, and I think a lot of the decisions I've seen Garfield make as an actor make for just as valid an interpretation of Parker as Maguire's.  He's bringing us a different Peter Parker who's just as much the real thing as the others.

I think we need to occasionally step back from our obsessions with this aspect of storytelling, and take pleasure in simply enjoying the stories.  It's perfectly fine to like one actor's interpretation of a role better than another's.  And it makes perfect sense to be upset or bummed when an actor leaves a particular part.  But making categorical statements like, "I won't go see these films anymore if Maguire's not Peter Parker!" or claiming that Norton, Harris, or Shatner's absences from the roles they originated will ruin all subsequent films or shows is simply absurd, and doesn't make for a good appearance to others.

If nothing else, remember that these are fictional characters.  Mythological figures, if you will.  They may seem real, but they're not.  The actors who play them are real people, with their own talents, lives, flaws, and motivations.  I think it's showing a measure of respect for them not too obsess too much over their portrayal of one particular character.  In the end, they're portraying this one character in addition to hundreds or thousands of others.  Enjoy those portrayals, but make sure it doesn't come at the expense of your enjoyment of the rest of the story.

You may find that, once you get into the overall experience of the story, one actor's departure from it may not be so bad.

This Week's Adventures In Comic-dom

So, it looks like I'm completing a resolution I hadn't even consciously made for this year.

I think I remember at some point, telling myself that one of my goals in life was to be able to attend comic book or pop culture conventions as more than just a fan, as someone who has at least the slightest shred of authority and/or community in the comics world.  I figured that, eventually, when if I ever manage to get some comics written and published, this would be the reason it happened.  In the mean time I'd work on attending as a fan, making connections, and so on.

It turns out, in some small way, that I'm already going to be doing the expert thing.

For those of you who don't already know, Houston will be playing host to Comicpalooza, which is in its fifth year (I believe), and has grown significantly with each passing year.  I've been to all but one of them, including the first year, which was way out on the northwest side of town in a small strip mall.  Now it's at the George R. Brown Convention Center, its third year in this venue, and attendance is expected to be in the many thousands.

I will be attending all weekend this year, and can't wait to see all the celebrities and cosplayers, the writers and illustrators, both famous and struggling.  I've met and worked with a few of them already, and will hopefully lay the foundations for working with others in the future.  But unlike previous years, I won't just be attending as a fan and an annoying chatty guy looking to rub elbows with the people who make the comics industry work.

I'll be attending as a presenter.

This Friday, on the first day of the convention--heck, during the first couple hours of the convention--I and three other comic book-inclined librarians from the Houston Public Library system will be giving a presentation entitled, "Barbara Gordon and You: The Library's Role in the Comic Book Industry."  It's an hour-long panel about how libraries can benefit the comic book industry in various ways, and vice versa.  Essentially, we'll be discussing how libraries benefit the various communities associated with the industry: the publishers, the reading public, creators, schools and academic institutions.

My section--which should last all of 10 minutes, if I'm lucky--will talk about how libraries have, do, and will continue to benefit creators.  It's something I have a little experience with, as I've moderated panels at both the library and at Teen Book Con that have been about graphic novelists, their contributions to the field, and how they got their start in comics.  I've therefore gotten to work with some pretty remarkable individuals, and aside from my librarian work with customers, have a little perspective on what they would consider helpful and positive about libraries.

Does this mean I will stop pursuing my dream of writing comics?  Hardly!  One of the big reasons I want to go to Comicpalooza this weekend is to network with artists and see if I can find a collaborator or three for my comic.  I've had good and bad experiences working with artists, but there's no reason not to try again, and this is the perfect environment to get a partner and see what we can do.

But in the meantime, I at least get to say that I'm attending in at least a semi-professional capacity.  And this makes me smile a little in my soul. :-)

Watchmen, Prequels, and Marc Hirsch

It has truly been an interesting week in comics for me, particularly on Comicvine.  A number of topics relevant to the industry and of personal interest to me have been discussed, and while I've taken part in some of them, I've also been content to just lurk on others and watch the dialog roll.  But now that I've had a bit of time to read and digest them, I figure it's a good time to put my two cents out on these issues.

I suppose it's the news about the Watchmen prequels  that's brought most of this to a head for me, for a number of reasons. Watchmen is a comic that I read much later than I should have, and it really blew my mind when I finally got around to it.  It was literary, apocalyptic, genre bending, and an amazing commentary on both the superhero comic and our how our own fears affect us as a culture.  It was indeed one of the milestone reads in comics for me, and if I ever review it, expect me to gush for a while.

I was also asked if I would be commenting on this, and as I have more than one friend who has strong opinions about this franchise, both positive and negative, I figured I should at least share my take on the situation.  Because the good friendships can withstand the most inevitable and passionate of arguments.  :-)

NPR's Marc Hirsch has laid out a few logical sounding reasons for why this is a bad idea and should not happen, and it's doubtless that many other comic book nerds are going to agree with him.  And I can't say I blame them.  The idea of a superhero comic being respected, and in some cases revered, in literary circles, is such a rare thing--why would you want to mess with that, and possibly dilute (or worse yet, taint) it by expanding it with a prequel?  I can understand the need to protect what you perceive as the integrity, nay the sanctity, of a superhero tome that has garnered significant literary acclaim and respect among the mainstream of readers.

That doesn't mean this particular comic book nerd necessarily agrees with them, however.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not jumping up and down and shouting for joy at the prospect, either.  I'm not sure what I feel about this development, beyond a general astonishment about the announcement.  I do, however, think more than a couple of Hirsch's points bear examination.  To paraphrase them:

• Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons's non-involvement alone means this series is in trouble.

Dead wrong, Marc.  Alan Moore is an amazing writer--he's one of my favorites--but his curmudgeonly manner and smugness are legendary.  He's much like Rorschach himself, as best I can tell: uncompromising, even when common sense dictates the need for it.  His non-involvement in a project based on one of his early works is pretty much par for the course, and hardly an indicator of its likelihood for doom.  As for Gibbons, his quote about telling the complete story they wanted to tell is a perfectly reasonable explanation of why he isn't being involved.  

Furthermore, nothing in the news about this indicates that either of them were even asked.  DC simply might have decided to move on without them in  any case, which is certainly their right as the publisher.  As creators, they have the right to comment on and critique what goes on, but their non-involvement at this point is immaterial to the material's outlook.

• The devaluation of of Watchmen outside of comics fandom is likely due to confusion.

I understand the direction you're going here, but I don't think it really holds up under inspection.  In this age of Google, Wikipedia, smartphones, and ebooks, the potential for confusion--due to the name of the collected works being Before Watchmen--does exist, but is generally a snap to clear up with a modicum of effort.  If I pop "watchmen" into a search engine, chances are huge I'll find entries for the comic, the film, and (likely in the future) Before Watchmen.  They are similar in title, but distinct enough that confusion shouldn't be an issue.  Point of entry confusions are also unlikely; unless this proves as earth-shattering as the original, it will almost certainly live in the shadow of the original, as so many derivative works tend to do.

• DC doesn't get that Watchmen shouldn't be expanded upon, because that was never intended.

Wrong again.  Maybe the original creators didn't intend for it to be expanded upon, but that doesn't mean interesting and relevant stories couldn't possibly made from their material at a later time.  It's been a quarter century, and Watchmen has held up amazingly well.  

I think DC may understand this property better than some will give them credit for.  Watchmen, for all its respectability as a literary work, is a superhero story (a satirical one, but still).  And, like it or not, superheroes tend to be staples within our modern mythology.  Mythologies, by their very nature, are tales that get repeated, reinvented, and expanded upon as necessity dictates.  And that's precisely what DC is going to do with Before Watchmen.

Are there big risks here?  You bet your ass there are.  They'd better make damn sure they know what they're doing, risking, and avoiding by waking this sleeping giant.  Failure would mean so much more than a few scuttled series: Jim Lee and Dan DiDio would need to adopt new identities and give up their comics careers with all the rage that would be directed at them.  The tarnishing of the Watchmen name would be hard to overcome, even with time, among literary circles.  It would be more than not pretty: it would be distinctly disastrous.

And I think DC is aware of that.

They waited 25 years to do this.  They've had time to think it through.  They know the risks, and will keep them in mind when they undertake this challenge.  And it's not like they haven't done this kind of thing before.  When they announced the reboot of the DC universe with the New 52 materials, I thought that was a disaster bound to happen, and for the most part, they've laid my fears to rest.

My final word on this issue, at this point, is the somewhat boring mantra of wait and see.  Wait and see, people.  They're going to do this--there's little chance of turning back now.  There's plenty to fear about it, but if you consider the rewards that could come with successfully extending Watchmen...

Well, let's just see if anyone can write about that instead of the potential pitfalls.