Smallville

The new Warner Brothers Network TV show "Smallville" was obviously inspired by "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." Smallville is the hometown of a teen-aged Clark Kent, long before he has adopted the Superman persona. Endowed with super powers, he divides his time--like Buffy--fighting the powers of darkness and--also like her--working through the painful ordeals of adolescence. In both shows, you are likely to find a plot combining elements of being turned down for a prom date and demonic possession. Obviously, this genre owes much to Stephen King's first novel "Carrie," which depicts high school as a living hell whose only escape might lie in telekinetic destruction.

But after having appropriated Buffy's basic premise, "Smallville" veers off in a brooding "noirish" direction. Perhaps last night's (January 29, 2002) episode best indicates the greatest sort of influence on "Smallville." Based on the 1933 "Invisible Man" film, the episode pits the young Lex Luther against a servant, who has made himself invisible through kryptonite-laden rose petals. Lex Luther, the sneering and sybaritic son of a powerful industrialist, has rejected the servant's sister. Standing above the cowering Luther with sword in hand, moments before Clark Kent rescues him (this is before the two have become sworn enemies), the invisible servant explains why he has become executioner. He says that his servants were always invisible to him in a figurative sense. Now that he is truly invisible, he no longer can be ignored. Invisibility becomes a metaphor for class, just as it was a metaphor for race in Ralph Ellison's classic novel.

Starring Tom Welling as Clark Kent, perhaps the most riveting character is Lex Luther, who is played to perfection by Michael Rosenbaum. Unlike the cartoon character that figures in the Superman movies, this Lex Luther is more human. As such, his budding tendencies toward all-too-human frailties such as greed and avarice resonate more powerfully than a super-villain's desire to rule the world. Not only does he possess certain innate positive qualities, he is also far more sensitive and artistic than those around him, including the rather prosaic Clark Kent, the quintessential boy next door even if he has X-Ray vision.

In last night's episode there is a beautifully written scene between the two during in which Lex explains the importance of a missing watch. (Unbeknownst to Lex, secret obsession with him has led the servant's daughter to build a shrine consisting of his photos and purloined items such as the watch.) The watch's face was made from a Napoleonic gold coin that the Emperor commissioned in honor of his mother, who died too soon to see his rise to glory. Understanding this background, Lex's mother had the watch made for him when she was in the final throes of a heart disease that would ultimately prove fatal.

This is in keeping with the sometimes startlingly literate quality of the show. In a January 27, 2002 NY Times article, TV critic Hal Hinson notes:

When Clark collapses at Lana's feet, his books scatter onto the ground, among them a copy of "The Portable Nietzsche." By itself, this would be a nifty little in-joke. But as Lana returns the book, she demonstrates that, like all well-rounded Kansas teenagers, she is up on her 19th-century German philosophers. "So which one are you," Lana asks, "man or superman?" "I don't know," Clark sputters, still weak in the knees. "I haven't figured it out yet.”

The Superman movies and television shows of the 1950s through 1970s have a kind of kitschy charm, their cartoonish tales of good-conquering-evil perfectly matched to the cold war simplicities of the age.

If "Smallville" is a better fit to the post-cold war ambiguities of the period we are living in, it is useful to remember that the original comic book was very much a product of the New Deal:

Glasgow Herald October 24, 1998, Teddy Jamieson, "Profile: Last of the real heroes":

The character we now know first appeared in 1938, though writer Jerry Siegel and artist Joe Shuster had previously used the same name for a megalomaniac villain and a non-powered hero, who first appeared in 1933, the same year as Hitler's accession to power in Germany. . .

Siegel and Shuster were, according to Daniels, classic nerds. "Bespectacled, unathletic, shy around girls", they gave their own character traits to Superman's mild-mannered alter ego Clark Kent in a slice of typical comic-book wish-fulfilment, though their hero was also made of the best stuff of humanity to add to his Kryptonian heritage.

He was undoubtedly a child of the 1930s. The influence of New Deal America is obvious in Superman's early adventures. The character is something of a Roosevelt liberal. His first ever good deed is to save an innocent woman from a lynch mob, and he was soon tackling corrupt politicians, munitions manufacturers, and wife-beaters. In his third appearance, Superman forces a greedy mine owner to improve the working conditions of his employees by trapping him in his mine to experience the conditions at first hand.

The two creators were keen to see how Superman would work in the real world and liked to hail their hero as a "champion of the oppressed". He was not above playing judge, jury, and executioner. In his first newspaper adventure Superman tears the wings off the plane of the villains of the piece, leaving them to plunge to their deaths. Such extreme actions were rare and by the 1940s editor Whitney Ellsworth imposed a no-killing code on the character. Ellsworth's role was increasingly important as the character began to move beyond the control of his two creators. Demand for the character was growing, and DC met it by publishing new Superman comics. To fulfil commitments, new writers and artists were hired. Shuster, admittedly, needed the help. By the early 1940s his eyesight had begun to fail, and was considered poor enough for him to avoid the draft. (In a poignant reflection of Shuster's plight, Clark Kent wasn't drafted because his X-ray vision meant he misread the eye chart).

Siegel, meanwhile, was increasingly unhappy as his creation drifted away from him. From the start of the decade his scripts had to be forwarded for approval and in 1945 DC rejected his idea of Superboy as a troublemaker, opting for the cosier vision of writer Don Cameron. Dissatisfied and aware of the immense profits Superman was earning DC, the pair attempted to regain the rights to their character in 1947, only for the court to decide that they had no "property rights" over their creation.

They were given $ 100,000 for signing a quit claim - money mostly eaten up by legal costs - and found themselves out of the comic business. It was to take another 30 years before DC, then owned by Warner [the same company behind "Smallville"], recognised their obligation to the two men whose creation was the foundation of the company's success. In the 1970s Siegel was working as a clerk, while a nearly-blind Shuster was keeping house for his brother. In the face of a concerted public campaign, Warner accepted it had a "moral obligation" to the two men, awarding them both pensions.