The Last Time I Publicly Criticized Someone Else's Art
There's a lot to learn - both as a storyteller and human being - from my poor decision to go off on 'The Man of Steel' back in 2016
If you’re a regular reader of 5AM StoryTalk, then you know I have a fairly strict rule against attacking other artists’ work in my articles or in my Notes. I don’t permit readers to consistently offer only negativity in my comments either, constantly pushing us to focus instead on what we love about art and the creative process instead. There are a lot of reasons for this, I think. The greatest one is the world is already a pretty shit place; since November 2016, I just haven’t had the energy to further contribute to its existential decay, nor am I willing to facilitate others doing the same. But I’ve also come to accept that it’s incredibly poor etiquette (art is hard enough to get anyone to pay you for, and I don’t know what factors made X or Y a failure) and most of the time any frustration I’d be expressing about someone else’s work is really my own frustration (ego is the real mind-killer).
The last time I made the mistake of commenting publicly on another artist’s work was a summer ’16 tweet thread about Man of Steel (2013). It gained considerable attention at the time, including from other filmmakers, which left me feeling momentarily justified. But it wasn’t long before I regretted it terribly – especially since I had greatly admired director Zack Snyder’s work until then. As a kind of penance, I left the thread up rather than delete it.
Today, I’m going to share it with you here.
There are three reasons to do this:
Because as a private exercise, it’s incredibly educational to break down someone else’s film and imagine all the ways you might narratively improve upon it. In fact, professional screenwriters do this all the time when they’re asked to consider rewriting another scribe’s work.
Because I think I made a few lazy missteps in my — at the time, also rather hasty — rewrite take on Man of Steel. It’s been more than a decade since I gave this any thought, so I can see where I went wrong now. In that admission is yet another reason why publicly attacking others’ work is a bad idea; to do so presumes you have the wisdom of Zeus in such matters, which is true of very few of us.
Because at the heart of my decision to publicly attack Man of Steel was a moral failure, you might say – at least as an artist. It aligned me with people I find repugnant, too, which I will discuss more at the end. I think it’s worth reflecting on this yourself before you do similar in the future.
A note first. What follows is the original tweet thread with slight modifications for clarity. If you aren’t familiar with the film, I fear much of this will not resonate with you…though perhaps you’ll enjoy a random Superman tale all the same. What I present follows the Hollywood blockbuster structure to the letter, I think; that alone is worth the price of admission if you want to study the form more.
For the past few years, I’ve had to live with the disappointment that was sitting through Man of Steel. I shall now explain what I hoped I would see when I bought my ticket to the film.
Before I begin, please note my Man of Steel film would not have been a Superman film. It would've been a Clark Kent film. Clark Kent is not the mask Superman wears, as Quentin Tarantino once suggested in Kill Bill, Vol. 2.
Superman is a choice Kent must make.
My Man of Steel opens on Krypton...
General Zod and his allies Ursa and Non are sentenced to the Phantom Zone by Krypton’s leadership – including Jor-El, a brilliant scientist. Zod has acquired evidence that the dying planet is about to explode, but Krypton’s arrogant scientific minds, like Jor-El, believe him alarmist.
But Zod is right. As the shuttle carrying him and his fellow insurrectionists to the space-based Phantom Zone station takes off, Krypton begins to break up.
Jor-El, of course, blames himself for not listening to Zod. He desperately hurls his beloved son Kal-El into the cosmos, toward a small, unremarkable planet in a distant solar system Kal-El carries within his own DNA the DNA of billions of other Kryptonians, to hopefully resurrect the species in the future.
Krypton’s instability knocks Zod’s shuttle off-course. He, Ursa, and Non escape their imprisonment and take over the ship.
Kal-El’s rocket escapes as Krypton explodes. The child races through space and bending time.
Meanwhile, Zod’s ship is damaged. Once repaired, he and the others enter cryostasis. The ship will hunt for Kal-El’s rocket’s signal as they sleep through the passing centuries.
On Earth, Ma and Pa Kent, desperate for a child of their own, are interrupted by an apparent meteorite that crashes near their farm. Inside the rocket, they find a swaddled baby they name Clark.
The Kents raise Clark as their own, and teach him to be good and decent, but to always be careful not to reveal himself. Humans won’t trust what they don’t understand.
As Clark grows, the Earth’s sun mutates his Kryptonian DNA. He grows stronger, faster, seemingly invincible. Sometimes he even floats in his sleep.
The Kents help Clark assimilate, feel human, like he belongs despite his gifts/differences. Clark desperately needs to believe this. He eventually graduates college ill at least with his place in the world. He is, to his knowledge, human with human hopes and dreams…but what should he make of these gifts? What does he do with them?
This is an identity crisis like no others.
The Kents finally reveal to Clark the rocket he arrived on Earth in. The rocket comes alive at his touch.
Elsewhere in the universe, Zod’s ship detects the signal and begins to wake Zod, Ursa, and Non.
Clark follows a green crystal in his rocket, all the way to the South Pole. Here, the crystal manufactures a fortress of Kryptonian's vast history. Clark is now confronted by an AI version of his biological father — Jor-El.
Jor-El explains to Clark who he really is — Kal-El of Krypton — and admits the mistake he made. Krypton died because of him, in a way. Clark can redeem him of that sin by becoming the hero Earth needs. “They are a lost people stumbling through ignorance and cruelty,” Jor-El says. “But they have greatness in them, too. Lead them.”
Here, we get our first glimpse of a blue, red, and yellow suit. Clark turns his back on it. No, he is human — he won’t give that up despite his heritage. This is every immigrant’s struggle, if we look at Superman as a metaphor for it.
Clark sets out on a global journey of self-discovery, and along the way finds himself anonymously saving lives. He is always careful not to reveal himself. He is human, not some god amongst men.
Clark finally returns home after four years away, much to the relief of Ma and Pa Kent. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever truly belong on Earth, but he has to try. His gifts will remain a secret and he will continue to save lives in secret if and when the needs arise.
Clark arrives in Metropolis, where he gets a job at The Daily Planet and meets intrepid reporter Lois Lane.
Meanwhile, Zod, Ursa, and Non are en route to Earth.
Clark embraces his life as a professional reporter, working under Lois. After he saves her life, romance blooms. After so many years “lost,” Clark starts to feel like he has a life. He could even have love. Like everyone else.
Zod, Ursa, and Non arrive on Earth. They track the Kryptonian signal to the Fortress of Solitude. Zod confronts his old enemy Jor-El, and overrides Kryptonian security protocols. Zod is able to discover Kal-El is alive and well, though unidentified in his human form. He will stop at nothing to resurrect his civilization with the Kryptonian DNA inside Kal-El.
Clark and Lois are visiting Ma and Pa Kent for Thanksgiving when news breaks of an attack on Beijing. Zod, Ursa, and Non are making mincemeat of the Chinese army – seemingly invincible. Note: not flying.
Zod demands “Kal-El” come to face him, to reveal himself.
Pa Kent can see how horrified Clark is. Outside, he cautions Clark. If he does this, everything changes. Everything Clark has worked so hard to keep for himself will vanish. Let someone else fight for once.
“You don’t mean that, Dad,” Clark says.
“No, but I had to try. I love you too much to lose you.”
Clark walks away, not saying goodbye to the others. He runs faster and faster, bounding into the air. It’s awkward and embarrassing, but determination wins out. He finally soars into the sky, racing toward the North Pole. This is the first time we've seen him fly.
At the Fortress of Solitude, Jor-El has been expecting Clark. He wishes it could've been some other way, because that's what his son wanted. Clark asks how he beats Zod and his allies. Jor-El answers, “By becoming what you’ve tried to avoid your entire life – a son of Krypton.”
Clark’s eyes find the Superman costume now. It's glorious. Music swells. We all cry.
Jor-El explains: “They are weaker than you, because they haven’t been exposed to this planet’s son for as long." He adds, “There’s more…” But we cut away.
As the Chinese scream for a savior, Superman arrives. He lands so dramatically that cars overturn and buildings shake. This is his first appearance anywhere in costume.
Fight! None of the three Kryptonian soldiers can fly, so they must attack Superman with cunning and brutality – which they have in spades. Superman manages to beat the Kryptonians into space, literally slugging them the whole way until they’re broken.
A nuclear rocket appears, sent by the U.S. to destroy all the aliens. Superman escapes. The other three are caught in the explosion.
Superman returns to the Kent farm, where Lois runs outside. She can't believe what he really is — her flying man. Then, they kiss.
Clark, Lois, and the Kents watch the news. The world is stunned. Who is this hero who saved them all?
Meanwhile in space, Zod, Ursa, and Non are resuscitated by the sun’s radiation. The Kryptonian soldiers realize they can now fly and their other powers have grown. They listen until they identify Clark’s voice in the sonic chaos created by Earthlings everywhere.
Clark and the others are watching the news when Clark reacts. He grabs the others, pulling them to the ground as a tractor tears through the house. Zod and the others have arrived – it’s time for a rematch!
Clark insists he will kneel before the Kryptonians, as long as the others are let go. “You love them, these puny humans?” Zod says. He’s disgusted by them, but even more that a Kryptonian would value their weakness.
“They’re anything but weak,” Clark counters.
Zod moves so quickly, Clark doesn’t have time to react.
Pa Kent’s neck has been snapped. He collapses as his wife and Lois scream.
Clark cries out, voice shaking the barn, then realizes his mother and Lois are still there. To protect them, he leaps into the sky, racing away – instantly in his Superman suit.
In short, he runs. Kryptonians give chase.
The battle continues through the Andes and across the South Pole, far from humans. Mountains and glaciers are torn apart rather than cities. It’s glorious and heroic…and Superman has no chance of winning. Even he knows it.
Zod drags the bloodied, defeated Superman into the Fortress of Solitude by his cape. He will extract the DNA now and turn this world into a New Krypton. No more humans.
Jor-El, nothing but an AI program, can’t intervene. Zod controls the Fortress now.
But Superman has one more twist up his sleeve. After all, he's a thinking hero; not some simple brute. His final solution is a spectacular sacrifice of his alien identity, in a way (this was the other half of Jor-El’s answer about how to beat Zod and the others).
Superman use the Fortress to create a Phantom Zone generator, powered by the Earth’s core. In other words, Earth will save Superman for once.
Ursa and Non are seized by the generator’s impossible force, and ripped out of this dimension.
Zod pins Superman, and growls, “I will kill you yet, son of Jor-El!”
Superman roars back, “My father’s name was Jonathan!” At that, he escapes Zod and begins to pound on the face of his father's murderer. But when Zod's face is nothing but pulp, Superman stops himself.
He's not a murderer.
He hurls Zod into the Phantom Zone instead.
There’s a price to be paid, though, as mentioned. The Phantom Zone generator has devastated the Fortress’s integrity and computer systems. This is the end for Jor-El’s AI – meaning, Superman must also lose his biological father today.
The two say farewell to each other. "You can be more than their hero, Kal-El,” Jor-El says. “You can be the light that guides them through the dark.”
Jor-El adds, “I wish you could have had the life you wanted for yourself, my son.”
Superman replies, “Thank you…Father.” It’s the first time he’s called him that.
The Fortress of Solitude begins to collapse. Superman flies away, looking back one last time at the culture/world he came from.
Time to return to the one he calls home now.
Clark and Ma Kent bury Pa Kent, Lois by Clark’s side.
Afterwards, Clark tells Lois they cannot be together. The world needs a Superman, Clark has accepted. And being Superman’s girlfriend will get her killed.
“I’m willing to take that chance,” she says.
“I’m not,” he says.
Clark kisses Lois goodbye, a kiss that’s interrupted by something he hears – a cry for help miles away. Lois nods. “Go.” Clark begins to open his shirt, revealing that glorious, symbolic S.
Superman soars away, sonic boom following him. Theme music swells and plays over credits.
Clark doesn't get his happy ending. Earth does – because he chose to be not just a hero, but a Superman.
Okay, so what’s good about this Man of Steel take?
I think first and foremost, it creates a conflict between Superman’s two identities – Kal-El and Clark. The home country and the adopted country, so to say. Superman has always been an immigrant story, after all. In this conflict, a choice must ultimately be made very late in the film. Clark can save lives forever, without breaking a sweat. He can move so fast, nobody ever needs to see him. He could even wear a mask. The choice to put on the Superman suit, though — to become a god, so to say — is an entirely different one. It’s to surrender something of himself, to put the good of the world over himself, a sacrifice like no other. It’s profoundly…human.
This is why I position it as my low point.
This take also does something I very much like with regard to Clark’s heritage and Krypton’s fate. It makes Jor-El the villain, in a manner; he failed Krypton, dooming it. It also makes Zod a far more sympathetic villain; he failed Krypton, too, and the DNA in Clark is his chance to fix that. I understand these two people in this story in a deep, meaningful way.
I should add, there are two controversial aspects to my take, I think.
Jonathan Kent’s murder at the hands of Zod. I’m not sure if this has been done in the comics in some way or another over the years, but I haven’t seen it before. It’s a crisis point like no other for Clark; if anything is going to drive him to murder, it’s this. I think that’s what I like most about it, that it makes Clark coming back from killing Zod so morally impressive.
The destruction of the Fortress of Solitude and Jor-El and Clark’s permanent disconnection from his Kryptonian heritage. I’m sure many will disagree with this decision, but one of the most painful stages in an immigrant’s life is realizing you can never go back to where you came from. Allowing Clark to move forward as a human, not a Kryptonian, seems necessary to me.
I’ll skip getting into how Superman doesn’t kill (he doesn’t).
Now, what don’t I like about this take looking back on it today?
Well, the biggest problem is one that I would describe as glaring and embarrassing today – the nearly pointless presence of Lois Lane in this story. In my defense, she has no real point in the Man of Steel film either. I’m not even sure if she does in Superman: The Movie (1978). The best use of her in live-action is probably the much more recent “Superman & Lois”, which just wrapped its final season (my dear friend Elizabeth Tulloch played Lois, so maybe I’m biased). Whatever the case, the part I’ve described here is not one any actress should want to play and certainly not one any screenwriter should be excited to put on the page. There’s so much more work that must be done with the character here to justify her existence.
The double “watching the news” at the Kent farm rubs me wrong.
I’m going to also say that although I like the death of Jonathan Kent here, especially since I think it actually matters to the story unlike the one in Man of Steel, I don’t care for how close to Batman’s secret origin it gets. I’ve seen it before, even if I haven’t seen it in a Superman story.
Likewise, I’m not crazy about Clark turning his back on Lois at the end to keep her safe. At the time, I suspect this evoked Superman II’s finale for me, which is problem enough if originality matters to you. But it leans too close to other selfless superhero film finales I’ve seen, too — especially Spider-Man 2 (2004). Total hack work.
I want to close by returning to my observation that posting any of this on Twitter back in 2016 was a moral failing as an artist. I knew Zack Snyder’s work on the film was – while not for me – exciting to many audience members. Warner Bros.’s leadership fundamentally misunderstood the character at the time, something I’d say about its relationship to every DC superhero besides Batman, and that prompted the studio to pursue a “dark and gritty” version of Superman that I think most people had no appetite for.
The same thing happened over at Sony around this time when that studio produced two “dark and gritty” Spider-Man films audiences similarly weren’t especially interested in. We call this the “Christopher Nolan effect” today; maybe you call it “The Dark Knight effect”.
What I mean to say is, Snyder made the film he wanted to make, that WB also wanted him to make, and good for them. Sure, I wish the studio had gone with a director who hadn’t once complained to a roomful of journalists (of which I was one) that Superman wasn’t an interesting character — not like Thor was — but, hey, what are you going to do?
I mean, yeah, you can go on social media and scream about it like I did, but what does that add to the discourse? How does that level of toxicity make the art form – or the world – better? What is the eventual outcome of that kind of cultural division?
Obviously, the general answer to these questions is: “Fuuuuuuuuuck, everything is terrible now” thanks to culture trolls. Just look at what it’s like to be a fan of anything today. It’s a minefield that makes sharing our passions a painful, often discouraging experience. Where once we bonded over these things, sometimes forging friendships for life, now it can feel like we’re actually risking our mental health discussing something we love. Can you imagine what would happen if I admitted here I believe Star Wars: The Last Jedi is one of the best Star Wars films ever made?
Oh shit, did I just type that? I’ll just go back and scratch that out now.
Art helps us challenge and better understand our place in this world. It creates meaning where once little could be found. Film, in particular, is a deeply communal art form, even if it can be enjoyed individually. It relies upon a shared experience for it to reach its most meaningful, transformative potential, which for me and millions of others for the past 125 years approaches something holy. So, what I did in 2016 — inadvertently aligning myself with culture trolls I despise, most of which are deeply misogynistic and racist — was a kind of sacrilege, as far as I’m concerned. It’s another reason why I’ll always discourage you from embracing negativity when discussing art, too.
In short (and as trite as it sounds): Don’t be a dick like I momentarily allowed myself to be. Shout about what you love, not what you hate. The world needs more of it.
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I can understand why harping on about loathing a piece of media can be regressive, and even that in some scenarios it can align you with all sorts of people that you don’t want to be aligned with - the discourse surrounding The Last Jedi is a classic recent example.
But saying, publicly or otherwise, that you dislike a film or a book or what have you isn’t necessarily toxic. The expression of a negative opinion isn’t a moral failing. Criticism isn’t poor etiquette.
Artists have to be robust enough to be able to withstand criticism - that criticism only becomes unhealthy when it becomes obsessive, becomes harassment or abuse.
If you’ve decided for yourself that you’d prefer not to express a negative opinion about another artist’s work, that’s fine. If you’ve elected to police the comments of your own online space to align with that decision, that’s fine too. Expressing that decision as a moral imperative that you hold other people accountable for is less so.
It’s not ‘being a dick’ to blog or post why you don’t like a movie. ‘Being a dick’ would be posting and reposting that opinion increasingly vehemently, crapping on anyone who dissented, or arguing that anyone involved with making the movie needs to be censured or punished in some way. It’s not expressing the opinion, it’s the behaviour that sometimes follows that makes it toxic.
I'd rather waste my time publicly talking about things I love and admire. So, in theory, I agree with this post. However, i don't see the point of re-posting the take down. You didn't like it, you ranted, you learned the lesson. That feels like you're needlessly drawing attention to it. It's okay to call out the mistake and move on, in my opinion. But YMMV.
If someone asks me about something I hate and I feel compelled to answer, the most I'll say is "it's not for me." Because that's the truth! Plenty of people like stuff I don't like, and the last thing I'd want is for my opinion to disrupt their enjoyment of something. I believe firmly in the no guilty pleasure rule, too.