Some years ago I would have certainly been at the cinema tonight, hoping for happy surprise and ready for disappointment. An earlier Captain America movie came out in 1990, long before the superhero craze of the past decade, and it was nearly unwatchable, even to the most rabid of fans like myself.
The point is that when I sold off my comic book collection last summer, the only comics I decided to keep were the Captain America. While some of the Silver Age issues had some value, my motivation was primarily sentimental. From earliest childhood Captain America meant something to me. I would go to the grocery store every week with my grandparents with the understanding that they would buy me one item, up to $1 in value. The weeks when I saw the distinctive and inevitable red, white, and blue covers of Captain America were always my favorite.
I still have no explanation for this proclivity; Batman and Superman were more iconic, and the X-Men were far more popular even before the movie franchise. Furthermore, Captain America was one of the worst-written comics for years and years. He fought absurd villains like the French Batroc:
And crossovers between him and any another major hero only served to highlight how outdated and naive the whole concept was:
This changed somewhat in the new millennium as writers attempted to make the title edgier, with the biggest shift coming after 9/11. Like few other mainstream comics, Captain America attempted to wrestle with the moral and ethical implications of the War on Terror.
The attack itself had seemed almost comic book-like, both in its frightening novelty and its ghoulish magnitude, and of all characters Captain America was the one best-qualified to work through our nation's trauma. Somehow the problem seemed more complex than simply punching out Osama Bin Laden:
Looking over the images above (and hundreds more in my own collection),
I now know that my affection for Captain America rests on two things: nostalgia for those trips to the market with my grandparents and the subtle ideological coercion of the image. Neither of these phenomena are as simple as they seem.
The afterglow of childhood often blinds us to the reality of the past, laying the seeds for disillusionment and conflict as we age, and the beauty of the image can seduce into actually believing that the world can be understood through mere appearances. Captain America speaks to both impulses, allowing our society to indulge in the fantasy of a pristine childhood by embodying difficult abstractions like "patriotism" and "democracy" into a single character whose moral compass is certain.
I doubt that I will see the film this, or any other weekend...
But this is beside the point.
The point is that when I sold off my comic book collection last summer, the only comics I decided to keep were the Captain America. While some of the Silver Age issues had some value, my motivation was primarily sentimental. From earliest childhood Captain America meant something to me. I would go to the grocery store every week with my grandparents with the understanding that they would buy me one item, up to $1 in value. The weeks when I saw the distinctive and inevitable red, white, and blue covers of Captain America were always my favorite.
I still have no explanation for this proclivity; Batman and Superman were more iconic, and the X-Men were far more popular even before the movie franchise. Furthermore, Captain America was one of the worst-written comics for years and years. He fought absurd villains like the French Batroc:
And crossovers between him and any another major hero only served to highlight how outdated and naive the whole concept was:
case in point
This changed somewhat in the new millennium as writers attempted to make the title edgier, with the biggest shift coming after 9/11. Like few other mainstream comics, Captain America attempted to wrestle with the moral and ethical implications of the War on Terror.
The attack itself had seemed almost comic book-like, both in its frightening novelty and its ghoulish magnitude, and of all characters Captain America was the one best-qualified to work through our nation's trauma. Somehow the problem seemed more complex than simply punching out Osama Bin Laden:
the first issue of Captain America (March 1941)
Looking over the images above (and hundreds more in my own collection),
I now know that my affection for Captain America rests on two things: nostalgia for those trips to the market with my grandparents and the subtle ideological coercion of the image. Neither of these phenomena are as simple as they seem.
The afterglow of childhood often blinds us to the reality of the past, laying the seeds for disillusionment and conflict as we age, and the beauty of the image can seduce into actually believing that the world can be understood through mere appearances. Captain America speaks to both impulses, allowing our society to indulge in the fantasy of a pristine childhood by embodying difficult abstractions like "patriotism" and "democracy" into a single character whose moral compass is certain.
I doubt that I will see the film this, or any other weekend...
Ah, give Cap some credit. He exposed Nixon as the leader of the Secret Empire, leading to Nixon's suicide, and at some point during nearly every Republican administration he changes his title from "Captain America" to "Nomad" or "The Captain." He even went toe-to-toe with Tony Stark when Iron Man supported the fascistic Registration Act. Captain America may represent a very mainstream vision of America's ideals, but he hasn't always done it in a way that just capitulates to the establishment.
ReplyDeleteI couldn't agree more, especially the "Captain America No More!" storyline that kicked off in Cap #332. I still remember how the price box had an image of Lincoln with a tear coming down his eye...
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