Dear Spike Lee,
There have been a few things nagging at me, and it all started with the Warner Bros.’ recent theater release of the Green Lantern live action movie.
Now it isn’t shocking that the movie wasn’t well received by critics; frankly the whole thing looked liked an under-budgeted Pixar film, but that’s neither here nor there. What surprised me most was the decision to have Ryan Reynolds sport the green bling on his right hand. Don’t get me wrong; Van Wilder is a fine actor, but I was under the assumption that the Emerald Crusader had a bit of a darker complexion. That’s what the last decade of Saturday morning cartoons taught me anyway. And also Lex Luthor might be Hispanic. I’m not sure; it was pretty ambiguous.
The Green Lantern actually has multiple incarnations. Two of the most famous are Hal Jordan, a Caucasian Lantern who first appeared in DC’s Silver age of Comics circa 1959, and John Stewart, an African-American successor, who graced the pages of Green Lantern’s Bronze Age in the early 70’s. Kids familiar with the Justice League and Justice League: Unlimited animated series of 2001-2006 have seen Stewart be the only diversifying factor in an otherwise all white lineup of heroes. So when the time came to cast a lead for the Green Lantern movie, what happened?
Technically, Hal Jordan came before John Stewart. It is important to respect the mythos of any hero, especially one that has had an enduring story since 1940. Hardcore comic book fans as well as casual moviegoers can appreciate that. Yet, anyone who has seen a comic book movie adaptation in the last 15 years can see that they are just that: adaptations. Stories like these are begging to be tweaked, rewritten, and updated. It’s a way to keep them relevant and relatable to the viewer. (Superman’s origin story has undergone many revisions over the past 70 years, presumably for this very reason) Underneath the gaudy jewelry and distaste for yellow, the Green Lantern is a story about overcoming fear, and realizing that creativity and imagination can be just as powerful as brute force. Frankly, it’s hard to find any concrete justification for why a black actor couldn’t convey these ideals as the Green Lantern.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Ever since 1966, when Marvel introduced “Black Panther” as the first superhero of color; there has been a perpetual ebb and flow of racial progress in superhero media. Although people of color were now being represented in the comic book world, it seemed as though the 70’s saw writers and artist do everything in their power to make black heroes as stereotypical as possible.
Somehow it was prudent to have black men fight crime sporting gold medallions, bell-bottoms and power fists. And of course, foxy mamas were never far behind, equipped with afro-picks ready to groom their man at a moment’s notice. Pam Grier be damned. “Luke Cage,” the first African-American superhero to star in his own series, employed dialogue that sounded like it came strait out of Super Fly. I’m surprised Shaft didn’t sue for copyright infringement. Indeed, with names like “Brother Voodoo,” “Black Lightning,” “Power Man,” and “Muhammad X,” it’s easy to see why these characters weren’t paragons of the politically correct.
Over the next 30 years, comic books would gradually veer away from the use of stereotypes as a means to fit their cultural expansion allowance and dynamic characters, who just happen to be ethnic, became more widespread. However, the translation of comic book narratives into television programs and feature length films was becoming an increasingly viable market, ultimately providing black actors with as much adversity as it did (and does) career opportunities.
Batman, the live action series of the late 60’s, introduced a black Catwoman to the roster when Eartha Kitt replaced Julie Newmar in its third season. Despite only appearing in three episodes, Kitt was the subject of controversy when an on-screen kiss with Adam West, playing Batman, was ultimately written out of the script due to racial tension. With that said, its understandable why Halle Berry would find it enticing to succeed Kitt as another kitten of color in the ill-fated 2004 film, Catwoman. Finding fault withBerryis difficult, given what the success of Catwoman could have meant for the progression of black women as heroes. Alas, this particular brand of “black cat” appears to be doomed to failure.
Concurrently with Catwoman, Berry was also attached to the X-Men film series, playing marvel’s resident weather goddess, Storm. Storm has the distinction of being one of the first black comic book characters, and first female, to play either a major or supporting role in the 2 major comic book houses, DC and Marvel. Although not the first character introduced, since her creation, Storm has remained the most successful and recognizable black superhero to date. The Beautiful Windrider made her first appearance in the 1975 comic book run of X-Men, along side a “small world” cast of characters, spanning the Soviet Union, Ireland, Japan, Kenya, and Canada, to mention a few. The film series conversely implemented a predominately white American cast, with Berry’s Storm being the only exception. X-Men (2000) and X2 (2003) used Berry as nothing more then a background personality, spouting hackneyed one-liners and shooting the occasional lightning bolt when deemed appropriate. Giving her a different wig each film is not laudable compensation for treating a character, and an esteemed actress, in this matter. It was as if she was only there so the Xavier Institute could fill their Affirmative Action quota.
Berry, unwilling to let this trend continue, stated in interviews that she would not return for X-Men: The Last Stand (2006) unless her character had a significant presence comparable to the comic book version. A successful, and perhaps arrogant, gambit, the Oscar winner managed to employed her sizable clout to guarantee that one of comic book’s greatest heroes of color was not cast to the wayside. You go girl.
Now for the kicker: what if I told you Wesley Snipes, Mr. Income Tax himself, was at the root of all this?
Yes, as luck would have it, the 21st century outpour of whitewashed superhero films, X-Men, Spiderman, Daredevil, Iron Man, Fantastic Four, Ghost Rider, etc., all started with a gritty vampire flick, staring a black actor. And no, I’m not referring to Blacula.
Remember Blade? Wesley Snipes played Marvel’s human-vampire hybrid, equipped with the abilities to protect mankind from their pale-skinned malcontents (Insert irony here). Blade (1998) and its two sequels, Blade II (2002) and Blade: Trinity (2004), were consistent critical and commercial successes, gaining fan acclaim and grossing over $415 million US. It was because of the Blade trilogy that Marvel green lit both the X-men and Spiderman film series. The Blade films are enduring proof that a successful black superhero franchise can exist.
I bet your wondering why I’m telling you all this. Well Spike, I’ve been talking with the rest of the world and I think we all agree that its time for you to make your own superhero movie. Personally, I think the Black Panther would be right up your alley. Black Panther is T’Challa, a king of the African Nation of Wakanda who journeys toNew York Cityto fight crime along side its many heroes, while retaining pride and loyalty to his home nation. If anyone could do this character justice, it would be you. As the first black superhero in mainstream American comics, I believe that you would properly handle this character and respect what he means as an icon for heroes of color. Now more then ever,Hollywoodneeds a voice that properly represents blackAmerica. To quote one of your movies, “Perform the correct action.” I know you’re a busy man, and I won’t pressure you beyond this letter. Just think about it sir; don’t let Aaron McGruder beat you to the punch.
Sincerely,
Michael Nelson
ARTICLE FEATURED IN XEX MAGAZINE: SPECIAL EDITION ISSUE