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An Open Letter to Movie Critics

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By now, if you’re a movie critic, you’ve filed your Avengers — sorry, Marvel’s The Avengers — review and are girding your loins for The Amazing Spider-Man and The Dark Knight Rises. Before you hold forth on the evils of comic book movies, or write an essay about superhero decadence, let me offer a few suggestions for reviewing Spider-Man and The Dark Knight. These tips won’t guarantee that every DC or Marvel man will be wowed by your references to Rio Bravo and Yojimbo, or swayed by your measured criticisms, but they will ensure that movie-goers like me — smart folk who like Lawrence of Arabia and The Walking Dead — won’t roll our eyes in disgust at yet another review that begins, “Hollywood must be out of ideas, because they sure do like to make comic book movies.”

1. Don’t trot out the “superheroes are for kids” line.

Neither DC Comics nor Marvel have been publishing superhero comics for kids since the mid-1980s. OK — that’s not entirely true. In the interest of reaching out to younger readers, both companies have created all-ages versions of Batman, Spider-Man, and other popular stories. That both companies felt the need to create kid-friendly versions of these properties ought to tell you something about the content of most DC and Marvel products. Just compare an issue of any New 52 title with Tiny Titans if you don’t believe me; the difference in tone, presentation, and content will astonish you:

This DC Comic is for kids.

This DC Comic is not.

It’s fair to criticize the plot of a comic book movie as being too obvious or simplistic to sustain an adult’s interest, of course, but that’s not the same thing as dismissing the entire enterprise as “kids’ stuff” because ten-year-old boys used to be Stan Lee’s target audience. Comics have evolved. So should your critique of movies based on comics.

2. Get your facts straight.

Take it from a comic book reviewer: if you whiff a detail — no matter how insignificant — fans will stop following your argument and start building a case against you. Amy Nicholson — who wrote a smart, informed review of The Avengers — was eviscerated by fans who fumed that she’d referred to Samuel L. Jackson’s character as “Nick Frost” instead of “Nick Fury.” (The error has since been corrected.)

As someone who reviews Japanese comics in translation, I have deep sympathy for this reviewer. I’ve made similar mistakes, and have endured withering comments from readers who think it a cardinal sin to credit the wrong publisher for a book, or misspell a secondary character’s name. What I’ve learned from that experience is that you might demonstrate your erudition in ten other ways — through the quality of your insights, the depth of your cinematic knowledge, or the creativity of your language — but comics fans won’t give a damn about your opinion if you call Captain America “Stephen Rodgers.”

3. Do your homework.

The best comic-book films work equally well for devoted fans and newcomers alike: think Ghost World (2001), Spider-Man (2002), or Superman (1978), all of which had something to offer both groups of viewers. And while it’s beneficial to share your impression of a comic book movie as a member of the general public — as someone who knows Batman from the campy Adam West show, for example, or from watching Saturday morning cartoons — your review will be more authoritative if you take the time to learn a little more about the characters’ histories. Think about it this way: you wouldn’t review a big-screen adaptation of Sense and Sensibility without reading the novel or watching other versions, so why would you walk into a movie version of a long-running comic book franchise without at least familiarizing yourself with the characters? Read Wikipedia. Visit your local comic book store and talk to the sales clerks. Buy a few trades. It won’t kill you, I promise.

4. Remember that there are many comic book fans who will appreciate a thoughtful review.

We aren’t all rampaging monsters with a taste for critics’ flesh; many of us like an elegant turn of phrase or appreciate a Truffaut reference as much as you do. Don’t insult us for liking comic books, and we won’t sneer at you for suggesting The Avengers was overly long. Scout’s honor.

An Open Letter to Movie Critics

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By now, if you’re a movie critic, you’ve filed your Avengers — sorry, Marvel’s The Avengers — review and are girding your loins for The Amazing Spider-Man and The Dark Knight Rises. Before you hold forth on the evils of comic book movies, or write an essay about superhero decadence, let me offer a few suggestions for reviewing Spider-Man and The Dark Knight. These tips won’t guarantee that every DC or Marvel man will be wowed by your references to Rio Bravo and Yojimbo, or swayed by your measured criticisms, but they will ensure that movie-goers like me — smart folk who like Lawrence of Arabia and The Walking Dead — won’t roll our eyes in disgust at yet another review that begins, “Hollywood must be out of ideas, because they sure do like to make comic book movies.”

1. Don’t trot out the “superheroes are for kids” line.

Neither DC Comics nor Marvel have been publishing superhero comics for kids since the mid-1980s. OK — that’s not entirely true. In the interest of reaching out to younger readers, both companies have created all-ages versions of Batman, Spider-Man, and other popular stories. That both companies felt the need to create kid-friendly versions of these properties ought to tell you something about the content of most DC and Marvel products. Just compare an issue of any New 52 title with Tiny Titans if you don’t believe me; the difference in tone, presentation, and content will astonish you:

This DC Comic is for kids.

This DC Comic is not.

It’s fair to criticize the plot of a comic book movie as being too obvious or simplistic to sustain an adult’s interest, of course, but that’s not the same thing as dismissing the entire enterprise as “kids’ stuff” because ten-year-old boys used to be Stan Lee’s target audience. Comics have evolved. So should your critique of movies based on comics.

2. Get your facts straight.

Take it from a comic book reviewer: if you whiff a detail — no matter how insignificant — fans will stop following your argument and start building a case against you. Amy Nicholson — who wrote a smart, informed review of The Avengers — was eviscerated by fans who fumed that she’d referred to Samuel L. Jackson’s character as “Nick Frost” instead of “Nick Fury.” (The error has since been corrected.)

As someone who reviews Japanese comics in translation, I have deep sympathy for this reviewer. I’ve made similar mistakes, and have endured withering comments from readers who think it a cardinal sin to credit the wrong publisher for a book, or misspell a secondary character’s name. What I’ve learned from that experience is that you might demonstrate your erudition in ten other ways — through the quality of your insights, the depth of your cinematic knowledge, or the creativity of your language — but comics fans won’t give a damn about your opinion if you call Captain America “Stephen Rodgers.”

3. Do your homework.

The best comic-book films work equally well for devoted fans and newcomers alike: think Ghost World (2001), Spider-Man (2002), or Superman (1978), all of which had something to offer both groups of viewers. And while it’s beneficial to share your impression of a comic book movie as a member of the general public — as someone who knows Batman from the campy Adam West show, for example, or from watching Saturday morning cartoons — your review will be more authoritative if you take the time to learn a little more about the characters’ histories. Think about it this way: you wouldn’t review a big-screen adaptation of Sense and Sensibility without reading the novel or watching other versions, so why would you walk into a movie version of a long-running comic book franchise without at least familiarizing yourself with the characters? Read Wikipedia. Visit your local comic book store and talk to the sales clerks. Buy a few trades. It won’t kill you, I promise.

4. Remember that there are many comic book fans who will appreciate a thoughtful review.

We aren’t all rampaging monsters with a taste for critics’ flesh; many of us like an elegant turn of phrase or appreciate a Truffaut reference as much as you do. Don’t insult us for liking comic books, and we won’t sneer at you for suggesting The Avengers was overly long. Scout’s honor.

Superman vs. Muhammad Ali

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I was six in 1978, the year DC Comics first published Superman vs. Muhammad Ali, so I can’t claim to have fond memories of reading it or seeing it on the newsstand. But as a product of the 1970s, the idea of putting a superhero and a celeb in an “event” comic makes intuitive sense to me. In 1978, it seemed like every TV show featured a special guest star or assembled a large group of Hollywood luminaries for some kind of friendly competition: remember The New Scooby-Doo Movies, in which Sandy Duncan and Cher helped the gang solve preposterous mysteries? Or Battle of the Network Stars, a forerunner of modern reality TV?

Superman vs. Muhammad Ali combines these two trends into a shamelessly entertaining package in which the world’s most famous superhero teams up with the world’s greatest boxer to defeat an alien race called… The Scrubb. (If you had any doubt that ten-year-old boys were the target audience for the original comic, look no further than the names; The Scrubb’s ruler is named Rat’lar.) Better still, Superman and Muhammad Ali duke it out in front of a distinguished audience of fictional DC characters, Hollywood actors, DC Comics personnel, and the POTUS himself, a veritable who’s-who of 1978. (At least on the cover; in the actual book, the fight takes place in front of a large, boisterous crowd of aliens that does not include Raquel Welch, Joe Namath, Kurt Vonnegut, or The Jackson Five.)

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Superman vs. Muhammad Ali

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I was six in 1978, the year DC Comics first published Superman vs. Muhammad Ali, so I can’t claim to have fond memories of reading it or seeing it on the newsstand. But as a product of the 1970s, the idea of putting a superhero and a celeb in an “event” comic makes intuitive sense to me. In 1978, it seemed like every TV show featured a special guest star or assembled a large group of Hollywood luminaries for some kind of friendly competition: remember The New Scooby-Doo Movies, in which Sandy Duncan and Cher helped the gang solve preposterous mysteries? Or Battle of the Network Stars, a forerunner of modern reality TV?

Superman vs. Muhammad Ali combines these two trends into a shamelessly entertaining package in which the world’s most famous superhero teams up with the world’s greatest boxer to defeat an alien race called… The Scrubb. (If you had any doubt that ten-year-old boys were the target audience for the original comic, look no further than the names; The Scrubb’s ruler is named Rat’lar.) Better still, Superman and Muhammad Ali duke it out in front of a distinguished audience of fictional DC characters, Hollywood actors, DC Comics personnel, and the POTUS himself, a veritable who’s-who of 1978. (At least on the cover; in the actual book, the fight takes place in front of a large, boisterous crowd of aliens that does not include Raquel Welch, Joe Namath, Kurt Vonnegut, or The Jackson Five.)

The concept was the brainchild of legendary boxing promoter Don King, who first pitched the idea to DC Comics in 1976 after seeing the media frenzy that accompanied the release of another event comic, Superman vs. The Amazing Spider-Man: The Battle of the Century. Working with editor Julie Schwartz, Dennis O’Neil and Neal Adams developed King’s Superman-versus-Ali concept into a storyline in which Superman and Muhammad Ali are ordered by alien invaders to fight each other to determine who is Earth’s greatest warrior. The winner, in turn, must go mano-a-mano with The Scrubb’s best fighter; if Earth’s representative loses, the planet will be annexed by The Scrubb as a slave labor colony.

On many levels, the Superman vs. Muhammad Ali is cheesier than a plate of Velveeta: who but a ten-year-old boy would dream up a scenario in which the fate of the world rested on the outcome of a boxing match between a fictional superhero and a larger-than-life athlete? Yet the well-crafted script keeps the idea in the realm of the… well, I won’t say plausible, but… logical, at least within the established parameters of the DC universe. Dennis O’Neil anticipates the reader’s many objections to the premise — doesn’t Superman have an unfair advantage over Ali? how could Ali possibly defeat a giant green alien who’s bigger and meaner than George Foreman? — by addressing them head-on: the big fight, for example, takes place under the glare of a red sun, thus draining Superman of his powers, while Ali proves the intergalactic versatility of the rope-a-dope when fighting The Scrubb’s best boxer.

The other secret to Superman vs. Muhammad Ali‘s success is that O’Neil captures Ali’s charisma and swagger without imitating his famous verbal mannerisms — a wise decision, I think, as it would be awfully hard to write Ali-esque dialogue without shading into parody. What O’Neil does instead is pure genius: he inserts a brief speech in which Ali explains the grammar and syntax of boxing to Superman, comparing various punches to declarative and interrogative statements. It’s hokey as hell but it works, showcasing the boxer’s quick wit and flair for metaphor while walking the reader through the basics of the sport. O’Neil’s characterization of Ali is nicely supported by Neal Adams’ artwork; not only does comic-book Ali look a lot like the real man, but he moves with the agility and speed that were hallmarks of Ali’s boxing.

If I had any criticism of Superman, it’s that DC published two different versions of the book: the cheaper, smaller “Deluxe” version includes some nice bonus material — an essay by DC publisher Jenette Kahn, preliminary sketches — but not the glorious, wraparound cover, while the “Facsimile” version reproduces the comic at its original trim size, with the full cover gracing the outside of the book. (The Deluxe version’s slipjacket only reproduces part of the original cover; the full image appears inside the book, to decidedly lesser effect.) At $39.99, the Facsimile version is nearly twice as expensive as the Deluxe version, further limiting its appeal to all but the most dedicated Superman fans.

Still, that’s a minor complaint about an eminently worthwhile project. I’d love to see DC and Marvel re-issue Superman vs. The Amazing Spider-Man in a similar, hardbound format. And if DC would really like to make me happy, they could commission a special 35th anniversary tribute to Superman vs. Muhammad Ali in which Supergirl and Laila Ali picked up where Clark Kent and Cassius Clay left off in 1978. Now that would be awesome.

SUPERMAN VS. MUHAMMAD ALI • BY NEAL ADAMS AND DENNY O’NEIL • DC COMICS • 96 pp. • NO RATING