At a time when the superhero film was just getting into its full stride with a golden era of new modern classical form Warner Brothers allowed Christopher Nolan to bring in a fellow maverick director and friend, Zack Snyder, to deconstruct the genre. It was an incredibly ballsy, risky move. It was a gamble that artistically succeed in my opinion, as I will argue here. But at the time in 2016 from a public perception standpoint in popular culture it failed catastrophically.
Rightly or wrongly DC superheroes have a reputation as being a fair bit “darker” than their Marvel counterparts. Perhaps mainly due to Batman and his Gothic elements. Deconstruction therefore perhaps seemed like the logical next step after the massive critical and financial success of The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises.
Nolan had appeared tempted to move in that direction with his brilliant Dark Knight trilogy. But instead he kept with a relatively grounded and realistic approach that simply reimagined what superheroes might look like if they could somehow exist in our real world today—and, crucially to the success of those pictures, without examining both the practical and philosophical implications of such a scenario. Nolan’s Batman films belong to the new modern classical form of the superhero film that is exemplified by the early MCU, Spider-verse, and X-verse. The Dark Knight trilogy’s action is pure escapist fun. And it also treats the basic premise of superheroes existing both relatively seriously from a realism standpoint and uncritically, i.e., simply accepting the existence of superheroes at face value.
But deconstruction is a different animal. Deconstruction of superheroes poses and explores the following questions: if superheroes were to exist in our real life present day world, what would that actually look like? Would that actually be a good thing? Is that something we would really want? Deconstruction explores that.
A proper understanding of this traces back to 1986 when Alan Moore’s Watchmen and Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns, independently and alongside one another, introduced deconstruction to the art form of comic books. Snyder has commented how both of those influences figured massively into his conception of BvS.
And indeed, in 2009 Snyder was first hired by Warner Brothers, at Christopher Nolan’s urging, to adapt Watchmen to film. In so doing Snyder heavily triggered a great many hardcore purist comic book fans by making some controversial changes to the story and aesthetically by giving Watchmen’s superheroes a kind of sexy cool aura—especially including Rorschach.
Much of Snyder’s adaptation is surprisingly faithful. But a good deal of what he did contradicted Moore’s work. This is not because Snyder failed to understand the essential meaning of Moore’s comic run. He absolutely did. Rather, as an auteur filmmaker Snyder chose to use the adaptation to make his own personal statement about what superheroes mean. And in effect, Snyder out-subverted Moore’s subversion. He deconstructed Moore’s deconstruction. (And we may well ask: hindsight how could he not? How could he resist?)
Moore shows how most likely unsolvably problematic the existence of superheroes would be if they existed. Moore also regards superheroes as fantasies created for 12 year-old boys that are… well, in the final analysis… frankly embarrassing for adults to escape into. He views the comic book industry (i.e., late stage capitalism) as responsible. But if Moore tacitly excuses readers for that it’s arguably to avoid biting the hand that truly feeds him.
In any event, while the reader is genuinely awestruck by just how beautifully and skillfully the message is delivered by the comics, it’s a rather bleak conclusion that Moore leads us to. Moore’s core message about superhero mythology is that it simply provides a distraction and excuse to avoid taking on the real world’s actual problems. The tone of this logical deduction is rather hopeless. Which I would suppose stems directly from Moore’s anarchist political philosophy.
Snyder concurs with Moore that if superheroes existed in reality it would create enormous headaches and practical difficulties both for society and for them personally. He runs hard with that in BvS. But at the end of the day Snyder chooses to honor and celebrate superheroes as fundamentally numinous archetypes that carry out a vital function within the psyche. (Key concept there being numinousity, I’ll elaborate further on.) And he does so through the lens of Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey which ultimately stands on the shoulders of Jungian theory.
For Snyder the sense of what superheroes signify psychologically is inherently hopeful in tone. Snyder fundamentally disagrees with Moore’s nihilism about what superheroes signify.
Snyder says that he took the same basic approach to superhero mythology in Watchmen and applies it to Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman in BvS. And of course the project of deconstruction of superhero mythology is clearly undertaken. But an important aspect that many critics overlook is that, same as Moore does with his alternate history timeline of an ersatz 1980s that is altered from the world we know in real life (apparently created by virtue of superheroes actually existing), Snyder too creates an “elseworld” that deviates from the classical canon of Superman and Batman.
Similar to Watchmen, one may conceive of BvS as simply one of infinite possible parallel universes in the multiverse for the characters. It seems that the premise is that if superheroes somehow were to come into existence, the timeline itself would be changed. And the perturbations or ripple effect that are thereby created would show up in ways that in today’s terms we would identify more or less as the concept of the “Mandela effect.” Moore’s Watchmen is chockfull of those differences and they are strewn throughout.
Snyder takes this up as well in his own imagination. In the universe Snyder creates Alexander Luthor Jr. has caused the murder of his father; who had he lived presumably would have basically been the supervillain of classical Superman canon. Thus instead we have a millennial tech savant/guru with Asperger’s and Tourette’s Syndromes as Superman’s arch nemesis rather than the suave charismatic captain of industry from the DCAU. Junior is a deeply disturbed, heavily traumatized, massively insecure and tortured soul with seemingly unlimited wealth and power. I think many would agree that that’s a much scarier proposition in real life than smooth, macho, sexy ubermensch Luthor Sr.
Other differences include that in this timeline it is Dick Grayson that is killed by the Joker instead of Jason Todd. That loss being more consequential by comparison. An entire plot-line about that is suggested is actively at work in Batman’s psyche, a tale that presumably would have been shown via flashback in the next film that was slated to have been made, Justice League 2 (which would have been set in the so-called “Knightmare” apocalyptic future of Darkseid’s conquest of earth). The reveal of that Joker-Robin backstory may have been all the more compelling for having had to wait so long to see it in JL2. It would have belonged to the Batman-Joker relationship arc as the two are forced by circumstances to join in stealing a Mother Box from Darkseid. Now of course we’ll never know.
Similarly, Jimmy Olsen is not a “cub reporter” as he was in the Golden and Silver Age canon, but rather a CIA operative who masquerades as a photographer for the Daily Planet, initially as a cover for a covert op in Africa. Which begs the question: had Jimmy not been killed would he have gone on to befriend Clark? Lol, of course! Without a doubt: to gather intel on Superman, sure. And what deliciously subversive idea that is in the “what would it look like if this existed in real life?” framework. And it comes and goes in nearly the blink of an eye as throwaway idea because in that particular timeline it simply couldn’t come to pass.
For making BvS Snyder was also heavily inspired by Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns. It is not an adaptation of that masterwork, of course. (Although Snyder has repeatedly said he would love to do that.) Rather, Snyder simply borrows TDKR’s theme of Batman being older, and having become disillusioned, cynical, and jaded. Batman in an existential late midlife crisis. And as a key element of that of course he also features the basic plot of Batman using a mech suit and Kryptonite to battle Superman.
In both TDKR and BvS Batman perceives Superman as his chief antagonist primarily due to his existential crisis. But Snyder’s Superman is not Miller’s TDKR figure. Rather he is the continuation of the youthful character established with Man of Steel, a far more earnest and sincere figure. In BvS Snyder in some sense more realistically (compared with TDKR) shows Batman to be massively projecting his own unresolved psychological issues, his personal inner demons, onto Superman. In TDKR Moore’s Superman is a sell-out to the establishment, literally doing favors for his pal Ronald Reagan. He has become a tool of the government. In TDKR Moore—who identifies politically as an anarchist—is sympathetic with Batman’s contemptuous attitude towards Superman. But in BvS Snyder shows Batman instead to be both tragically and in some sense heroically decompensating psychologically. And Superman is simply humbly questioning what his role should be in society, given his godlike powers and living within a democracy.
BvS’s Superman is a more Christ-like figure. “Jesus-Superman” is an idea often derided by comic book purists. But it is mocked without any attempt at reflection about what near omnipotence would mean in our real world today for a person in Superman’s position if such a figure could actually exist. And what sort of archetypal energy is represented by such a scenario.
And that brings me to the discussion of numinosity to the archetypes in BvS—and for that matter in Watchmen, Man of Steel, and Zack Snyder’s Justice League as well. C.G. Jung noted that archetypes of the collective unconscious are imbued with a fundamentally mysterious, awe-inspiring, and transcendent quality when our conscious mind becomes aware of them, and as we experience their presence.
This is conceived in religious terms as “divine.” But we need not rely on metaphysics. Even if we’re inspecting it as a core attribute of Spinoza’s God, i.e., Nature appreciated as everything in creation entirely unified and exhibiting an orderly purposefulness, this seems an intuitively satisfying way to describe the qualitative, aesthetic direct experience of “a whole greater than the sum of its parts.”
One way that this numinosity often shows itself in the human psyche is through the experience of a union of opposites, or a duality. In other words, it is the notion that the two opposite sides of a coin are grasped as one thing, a whole coin.
A similar conception of wholeness uniting opposites is found in the “block universe” theory that everything in time exists at a cosmic level as a single unitary thing; and in that sense that all moments in time, i.e., past, present, and future, exist as a whole simultaneously. It is an idea that is central to Heraclitus’ philosophy, which later was termed in Latin “coincidentia oppositorum.” Jung elucidated it through the medieval alchemist’s pursuit of the “coiniunctio” or conjunction of the astrological archetypes of Sun (logos) and Moon (anima) in an eclipse, which like the radiant penumbra reveals the qualitative nature of the Self—which, again, qualitatively speaking for the human psyche is inherently numinous in nature.
That theoretical level of wholeness to the human psyche, both conscious and unconscious and everything in between is what Jung termed the “Self” with a capital “S” (in contrast with the ego, the small “s” “self”). He proposed that this totality to the psyche by definition exceeds the limitations of human conscious experience. The Self is therefore fundamentally unconscious in nature where the ego is concerned. But the human unconscious is part of Nature. (Indeed it is directly rooted in Nature.) And Jung theorized that is also is has an organizing center to it, similar to the ego being organizing center of conscious experience. Jung further therefore proposed that the goal of evolution for the psyche… Nature’s “plan” as it were… is to progressively work toward increased integration and facility between of those two respective organizing centers. For them to move toward increasingly operating in sync, or stronger resonance. And this is best conceived as an ongoing developmental process rather than to have an expectation of somehow arriving definitively at a final destination, such as spiritual “enlightenment.” We don’t “individuate” and then we’re done, we are continually individuating.
Jung also asserted that experience of wholeness, which carries that aura of numinosity, is inherently healing to the psyche. The psyche is an expression of Nature in human consciousness. Contact with the unitary aspect of existence, of the wholeness at the heart of Nature, integrates the disconnected, fragmented psyche.
Our human brains have evolved to organize and access progressively deeper structures and layers of archetypal and mythic information through storytelling. Stories have relatable characters, plots, themes, lessons, and so forth. And indeed they contain all the various elements that we associate with drama and theater. Or with fiction more broadly speaking. Our brains employ fantasy and imagination as the primary engines with which to craft those stories.
This has given rise to symbols that can be found to recur across time, place, and culture. Jung dubbed them the archetypes of the collective unconscious. One common form of an archetype is that of “gods.” And then too of the monotheistic conception of a single Godhead found in religions and various mystical traditions throughout history. And of Nature spirits in shamanic cultures as well. And the notion of coexisting parallel spiritual dimensions, broadly speaking.
Superheroes, with their extraordinary superpowers, are a relatively recent (i.e., less than a century old), modern day reimagining of the ancient gods and other such divine or demonic spiritual entities.
Archetypes are symbols, of course. They are thought to represent meaningful, real, subtle and abstract things in the human psyche both structurally and developmentally in the ego maturation process. For example listen to Jungian analyst Edward Edinger’s thought on The Christian Archetype and consider it when contemplating the story of Superman. Then compare that with what Snyder did with the character’s arc in his trilogy.
There is so much to say about that. It could literally make a book. But I’ve traveled far beyond what I intended to try to capture simply in order to comment on Snyder’s use of numinosity in his exploration of superhero mythology.
All this is to simply say that superheroes, when appreciated from a Jungian standpoint, are inherently numinous. Their existence is uncanny, a marvel. They are wondrous to behold. Snyder fully understands that emotionally, intuitively, psychologically, and viscerally. And in a way that visual imagery specifically communicates with such tremendous force and power. This is not “style over substance.” The numinosity of superheroes is their substance.
And that stands in direct contrast to Alan Moore’s comparatively nihilistic conclusion about the meaning of superhero mythology in Watchmen.
Still, though, remarkably I think, with BvS Zack Snyder manages to achieve an alchemical “coiniunctio” of his own. Like Moore he deconstructs the genre and shows how troubling superheroes would be if they existed in reality. But he concludes that as archetypes of the collective unconscious, which therefore have expression and a kind of life through our shared cultural collective experience, they perform a valuable function, and have useful purpose. They carry within their essence the wholeness of the psyche at the level of the Self.
And in a sense Snyder uses that to heal the seemingly unfixable fragmentation and emptiness in the soul that Moore’s Watchmen leaves us with. It mends that sense of nihilism where by extension deconstruction of the superhero genre leaves us. The ego grows through suffering, trials and tribulations. But the Self is probably beyond harm. Or at any rate it certainly cannot be destroyed as the vulnerable ego can. The Self ultimately prevails by gradually integrating the psyche and maturing the ego. As Cyborg says at the end of ZSJL, “I’m not broken. And I’m not alone.”
A final thought for now: as a kind of thought experiment it might be interesting to connect all this to the infamous “Martha” scene… That scene is so surrealistic and arresting. What even is it? I doubt that it’s just sloppy, poor writing. Or that seems improbable in my opinion. Chris Terrio, and Ben Affleck, two excellent Academy Award winning writers, were directly involved. I think it’s very much part of the deconstruction and an attempt to heal.
But if I ever do it I think I’ll write a separate essay for that.
The Snyderverse 