Bigotry, Thy Name Is Fanboy!

The release of X-Men: The Last Stand has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that comic-book fanatics will immediately turn out en masse for any film featuring their favorite characters. The film broke box-office records this past weekend, stunning prognosticators and putting smiles on the faces of executives at 20^th Century Fox who had bet their careers on the fierce loyalty of Stan Lee’s “True Believers.” But like Rip Van Winkle’s nattering wife, these fans discover even the tiniest flaw, and these complaints, both pertinent and achingly trivial, will guarantee that they’ll rise up and declare that the director be drawn and quartered. The filmmakers have forgotten to include their favorite c-list character, or have changed a small detail about a character’s personality, or deviated slightly from the story arc laid out thirty-odd years ago in back issues they have poured over dozens of times. No matter if the quarrel stems from Moira McTaggart’s accent or which of Spider-Man’s girlfriends plummeted from the top of the Queensboro Bridge, fanboys are quick to dismiss the film, the director, the actors, and any higher-level executives involved in greenlighting the film. Innovation is anathema to this section of the population; they wish to see exactly what Chris Claremont or Todd McFarlane or Alan Moore created, and nothing else. While it is easy to dismiss these complaints as trivial and small-minded, especially when it comes to adapting a work into a medium as complex as film, the problem behind this form of critique is far more alarming.

For, you see, these fanboys are bigots.

I wish I didn’t have to type those words; after all, I am an active participant in this culture, albeit nowhere near as voraciously as some. I was one of the first in the country to read the Funeral for a Friend series which recounted the death and rebirth of Superman, nearly every issue of Groo the Wanderer has fallen into my collection, and I can recount which stories were my first for each of the major Marvel and DC Comics characters. I want to stand tall and be counted with those who know the history of the Secret War better than they know the progress of the current one, and for whom every crisis will be compared to the one which occurred on Infinite Earths. I can’t, though, as long as my peers display such blatant discrimination when it comes to adaptations of their favorite works.

This bigotry is displayed through two avenues. The first, and less damaging, is an institutionalized form, one that is akin to something you might find in any club, organization, or religion with long-established hierarchies. Fanboys are notoriously intolerant of anyone they view as an outsider, any man or woman who is not as well-versed in the chronology and etymology of the characters who inhabit the comic book worlds. For example, say that you have just been hired to direct an adaptation of the short-lived book Slapstick. The character was at best a third-tier hero, and his title ran for only a few years, but fans would immediately appear out of the woodwork to question your abilities on the internet and harass you when you do your Q&A at the San Diego Comic Convention. They’ll want to know whether you’re keeping the chronology of both versions of the book, whether you’re changing the character’s alter-ego, and whether you’re including the character’s most famous one-liner. If you do not answer these questions correctly, and you won’t, fanboys will feel that they have been given free reign to vilify you everywhere they can, referring to you by a vulgar epithet that rhymes with your last name and declaring that you are the dumbest single life form to ever walk the planet. Don’t worry that you’ve done something personal to offend them; anyone who accepted the job was immediately doomed to months of persecution at the hands of the fanboys. You see, you’ve stolen their job from them. There is only one person who is ideally suited to direct this film, and they’re it. Only this given fanboy has the distinct knowledge of the book in question, and has been given, presumably by God himself, the power to discern what would go into the most slavishly accurate, and therefore best, adaptation of the work. You’re not as proficient in the way of comic books as this rare specimen of a human being, and therefore you are “f**king retarded.” Such is the plight of the director who dares to helm one of these films.

The second form of discrimination was once less seen, but now poses a much greater problem for the fan population. There is a section of the comic-reading world which has become infinitely more vocal since the propagation of internet forum discussion that thrives on ignorant and hateful stereotypes. It is a common sight to spy postings in the forums of Ain’t It Cool News which serve to remind us that Bryan Singer, the director of the forthcoming Superman Returns, is homosexual. This fact was all well and good when Mr. Singer was directing the first two installments of the X-Men series; in fact, his outlook supplemented the comic’s interpretation as outcast parable. However, Singer’s move to the character of Superman, seen by many comic fans as the embodiment of wholesome middle-American values, has prompted fears that the director will “gay up” the franchise. Similar fears of a director’s personal affiliations interfering with a project came to light last year during the build-up to Fantastic Four. Tim Story, the director of that film, had previously worked in the minority comedy milieu, scoring gigantic hits with such pictures as Barbershop. Through the gratifying anonymity of the internet, fanboys can air their favorite bigoted epithets without having to own up to them. It’s lamentable, but you could have heard the same discussions in the back corners of your favorite seedy comic shop at any point since the Silver Age. The fans represent all kinds of viewpoints, and will voice them loudly and repeatedly when their favorite book is threatened.

Not a word was uttered by the cashier at Jim Henley’s the other day when I handed him the trade of X-Tinction Agenda and the new issue of Astonishing X-Men. The newest installment of the X-Men films had just reached the cinemas, so I almost expected some sort of comment about my choice of books. But the damage had been done; an interloper, someone not of the comic-book sect, had made an objectionable film, one which failed to meet all the often unreasonable demands of the most devoted. God help the next director to venture there.