It is incredible to think about to just how different comics fit into the cultural landscape in 2010 versus 2020. By January 3, 2010, exactly two entries in the Marvel Cinematic Universe had been released, one of which was a meager success at best. It had been years since comics themselves, not adaptations, had been featured in things like television commercials or billboards. The general public was still leery of comics as anything other than a niche source material for some films and ‘kids stuff.’
By the end of 2010, a few factors creeped in to begin the build into what has, undoubtedly, been the most successful decade in recent memory of bringing comics, both the characters and the comics themselves, into more of a mainstream appreciation. The success of The Walking Dead, the rise of comiXology, the financial success of Iron Man 2, and the installment of Jim Lee and Dan DiDio as DC co-publishers all set pathways for comics to change and grow, not always for the better, but certainly more towards the mainstream.
Fast forward to 2020, and digital comics are ubiquitous: Marvel is the most trusted film brand in the world, DC has relaunched their line two times (with rumors of a third forthcoming), and comic TV shows are quite literally everywhere. But more than any of that, comics are finally getting to a place where they are no longer thought of as the little brother to prose. They aren’t there yet, but they are far closer than, frankly, I ever thought I would see.
So why am I so pessimistic about the future of comics? Didn’t we win?
If you had told me when I was in middle school that, one day, comics would not be something that would set me apart from my peers as ‘odd,’ I don’t know if I would believe you. I work with teenagers, and about 7-8 years ago, I started to see the influence of comics hitting not just the kids I knew were avid readers, but their significant others and siblings and friends. It was no longer something that labeled someone, for good or bad. “Brian reads comics” could either have been a rallying cry for a new friend, or a reason to call me a name. Now, it seems like being a comics reader is as ‘normal’ as watching a sport of being into a TV show.
I thought this is what we all wanted; I thought this was victory. And this is all good news; hell, even the fact that my non-comics reading wife knows who Thanos is, or is aware of something called ‘Crisis on Infinite Earths’ means that comics are permeating deep.
But there’s something about this that makes me very uneasy.
When something emerges from the subterranean levels of fandom, whether it is a band that was ‘yours’ or a fashion trend you were an early adopter of, there is something scary about your joy becoming something bigger. And this isn’t me pulling an indie snob position of ‘Oh, I liked comics before the plebes did.’ I’m legitimately excited by the ease in which comics can be read today. I’m glad that the average kid has access to not just my favorite superhero comics, but “Maus” and “My Favorite Thing is Monsters,” and “All Summer Long.” There is a comic for everyone out there and, today, it is available easier than ever before.
But when something becomes fashionable, or at least accepted, it also means that it can be more easily rejected. We’ve likely all been the person who was ‘into’ something long after the rest of the world moved on. It makes it easy for comics to become a phase for someone, rather than something that takes root. And yes, comics have been phases for many people, but typically, if you were still reading comics as a high school or college student, you were a reader for life. Sure, dips out happen, but you speak the comics language, you know the (bullshit) secret handshakes of fandom, and you know how to navigate through the world.
My fear is that the decade that just ended will be thought of as the ‘comics decade,’ the way the world thinks of the 1920s as the time of flappers and the Charleston or the 1980s as big hair and bad glam metal. The 2010s may be remembered for to the 20 Marvel films released, which might legitimately be the biggest pop culture moments of the era. That means that, more than likely a backlash is coming. And, honestly, that’s probably deserved. It starts with Martin Scorcese making valid points, and it ends when a Marvel film eventually tanks so hard that everything backs off (something I’ve been [wrongly] predicting for years).
Continued belowAnd looks, the MCU isn’t comics; if it was, I wouldn’t be as much of a crusader as I am for comics. Comics aren’t superheroes, they aren’t anything but a delivery system for stories. It happens to be one of my favorite delivery systems, but that’s still all it is. There hasn’t been a film backlash when the box office numbers go down, because people don’t think of film as a monolithic industry. Films have comedy, romance, action, etc. Comics have that, too, but this decade has more firmly planted the flag in the superhero camp, and it seems likely that, when the superhero bubble bursts, it may take some other stuff with it.
That isn’t to say I’m anti-superhero; far from it. I love superheroes, and I’m so happy that I can be on the train and see people watching Legends of Tomorrow on their phone. But all of this feels less like conversion and more like adoption. People are adopting comics like Madonna adopted a British accent, and they may get discarded just as easily.
As I’m writing this, I’m trying very hard not to come off as advocating for comics to remain underground, nor as a ‘gatekeeper’ of true fandom. All of that is bullshit; more readers is a good thing. Familiarity with characters that might lead folks into life-changing stories is a good thing. But a lifetime of comics being something that needed explanation has made me aware of the rope-a-dope. I remember friends hiding their comics collections from significant others, I remember the eye-rolls at recommending a friend, looking for a book to read, to pick up “Green Lantern” by Ron Marz and Darryl Banks. Comics have always, for me, been a difficult sell to people who weren’t already comic readers.
More than anything else, I want people to be able to enjoy what they enjoy without criticism. And while today is clearly one of the more accepting times of comics, all comics, fandom, I’m not sure that mainstream acceptance is what I’m talking about.
All of this is to say that I’m very uncomfortable with the relationship that comics has with culture right now. It feels transient. And look, I’ve been wrong about, oh everything, before, and this may be another example of that. People called rock and roll a fad; it wasn’t, but certain bands were. If this really is comics’ coming out party, I’m fine with any one brand or type of comic being seen as passé. The MCU can be the Starland Vocal Band or New Kids on the Block of 2020, as long as comics are still as available as possible.
I’ve been trying to find a point to all of this (as the readers nod vigorously), and I think that it is simple: in the end, I just want this type of access to comics to continue. Even if it is weird to see blue hairs – both punks and old folks – at Avengers: Endgame screenings, if it leads people to comics, I’m cool with it. Hopefully, more attention on a wide variety of comics will allow for a greater understanding of the breadth of comics.
And even if it doesn’t, I was able to, in one year:
– watch a fantastic sequel to Watchmen on HBO, replete with Dr. Manhattan’s dong and a comics-accurate Ozymandias costume
– see five films in the theater based on superhero comics which, if I saw as a kid, would’ve melted my brain.
– see folks like Charles Forsman’s work being adapted for Netflix, which is somehow even crazier to me than seeing both a Shazam and Captain Marvel movie a few weeks apart.
– have relatives in their 60s ask me about New York Comic Con in a genuinely curious way.
– live to tell the tale.
Whether it feels comfortable or not, comics are in the forefront of entertainment in 2020. I’m still not quite sure how we got here, but I’m glad we’re here. Here’s to navigating these waters together, and for me being very wrong about this appearing to be a fad.
I do not want to be the comics equivalent of the Decca Records producer saying “Guitar groups are on their way out, Mr. Epstein.”
