Hyper-Normative Heroes, Othered Villains: Differential Disability Narratives in the Marvel

1 Hyper-Normative Heroes, Othered Villains: Differential Disability Narratives in the Marvel Cinematic Universe By Kelly Kane Given the escapist nature of superhero stories, which are notable for not being constrained by concerns with realism and which have widely been regarded as “low-brow” or inane, many writers and fans of the genre have argued that such stories need not be held to strict standards of cultural justice (Gavaler 2015, 76). However, the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), a sprawling franchise that includes over 20 films (e.g., Iron Man 2008) and over 10 television series (e.g., Daredevil 2015) all within the same story framework, is arguably the most important benchmark of American popular culture in the last decade, and it therefore cannot escape such scrutiny. This franchise has brought widespread awareness of and appreciation for superhero stories even among audiences who might not have traditionally engaged with such media in the past; for instance, its entry Avengers: Endgame (2019) currently ranks as the highest grossing film ever released (Tartaglione 2019). The MCU’s wide reach helps it set many cultural trends and allows audiences to enter the world of superheroes (e.g,. McMillan 2019). Although these films and shows are part of a broader superhero canon, they nevertheless set trends followed by other superhero franchises (e.g., the D.C. Cinematic Universe, named for the Marvel Cinematic Universe). They also define the very comic books they adapt, such as in the case of Baby Groot becoming part of the “Guardians of the Galaxy” comic canon only after appearing in MCU movie Guardians of the Galaxy in 2014 (Duggan, Kuder, and Svorcina 2017). These stories’ role as a cultural benchmark then invites interrogation and further examination. However, this franchise’s appeal occurs not merely despite the relatively unchallenging subject matter, but because of the escapism it offers. Superhero stories are straightforward and 2 familiar, which can contribute to their problematic portrayals of character appearances. In fact, social psychologists David Pizarro and Roy Baumeister (2013) assert that superhero stories are a form of “moral pornography” because “much like the appeal of the exaggerated, caricatured sexuality found in pornography, superhero comics offer the appeal of an exaggerated and caricatured morality that satisfies a natural human inclination toward moralization […] built to satisfy our moralistic urges but ultimately unrealistic and, in the end, potentially misleading” (20). This analysis characterizes superhero stories as appealing because they remove the complexities of moral decision-making, portraying the triumph of clearly marked moral agents over clearly marked immoral ones. According to this framework, superhero stories are morally pornographic because they focus on simple, satisfying endings and high success rates (Pizarro and Baumeister, 22). Just as pornography features the most enjoyable aspects of sexuality with an unrealistically nonexistent risk of sexual rejection, superhero stories depict moral struggles with extremely low risk of failure and unambiguous answers about the moral course of action. Superhero stories must thus have clearly demarcated heroes and villains, in order to signal to the reader who the moral and immoral agents will be. Ergo, some of the most popular Marvel comics characters include Loki, a self-described “agent of chaos” (Lee 1962, 1) and Magneto, leader of the “Brotherhood of Evil Mutants” (Lee and Kirby 1963, 8). Pizarro and Baumeister point out that in the early stages of most literary forms, “the villain could be seen twirling his mustache, cackling, and rubbing his hands together […] Later, such overtly wicked characters were dismissed from serious literature as not being sufficiently realistic. But their perennial popularity in comic books indicates the appeal of moral clarity” (24-25). If superhero stories at least partially derive their appeal through portraying simplified moral conflicts, then by necessity, they rely upon these overt signals of 3 villainy. Many surface-level markers have lost their popularity in superhero stories: the film version of Magneto simply leads a “Brotherhood of Mutants” with no mention of evil (X-Men: Last Stand 2006), and MCU Loki claims to be motivated by a desire for justice rather than destruction (Thor 2011). However, one especially troubling visual symbol has persisted: that of disability marking a character’s immorality. To understand how disability so often functions as a visual symbol of a fictional character’s alleged virtue (or lack thereof), it is illustrative to look at the evolutionary psychology of moral judgment. Contrary to popular belief, natural selection prioritizes a bias toward trusting and helping close others (De Waal 2008), and even a “truth bias” wherein individuals are inclined to believe all assertions unless given reason to disbelieve those assertions (Vrij and Baxter 1999, 27). However, natural selection did not favor absolute trust in all conspecifics; humans have always had to decide who to trust and who to avoid. Therefore, Pizarro and Baumeister argue, moral judgment is inherently pleasurable for the same reason that sexual intercourse is inherently pleasurable: it increases the odds of survival for both groups and individuals. Given that “individuals so easily arrive at conclusions about the dispositions of others (and are motivated to do so) with only minimal information” and the act of deciding who to trust conveys intrinsic pleasure to the judging individual, superhero stories thus provide the same category of unrealistically simplified pleasure offered by pornography (Pizarro and Baumeister 2013, 27). As disability scholars David Mitchell and Sharon Snyder discuss in their analysis Narrative Prosthesis: Disability and the Dependencies of Discourse (2000), disability has been treated as an external marker of one’s moral status at least as far back into human history as Aristotle’s writings, and perhaps even earlier (57). This specific human bias, also known as the 4 “what is beautiful is good” effect, leads to the automatic assumption that individuals who are physically attractive according to the conventions of their society are more trustworthy and moral than those who are less physically attractive (Dion, Berscheid, and Walster 1972, 285). Within many Western cultures, standards of masculine beauty emphasize smooth skin, large muscles, broad shoulders, short but thick hair, and narrow waists (Murnen and Karazsia 2017). The MCU overwhelmingly portrays masculine superheroes as conforming to these beauty standards. Superhero Punisher is usually depicted with enormous musculature and smooth skin (Punisher 2017) while Punisher’s nemesis Jigsaw demonstrates characteristics that are less traditionally masculine (e.g., he self-describes as “pretty”) and less traditionally beautiful (e.g., he incurs facial scarring) by Western standards. This physical marker of “goodness” thereby makes moral judgment easy and pleasurable, while also reinforcing cultural stereotypes. One can even see such contrasts manifest within a single MCU character. During Captain America: The First Avenger (2011), Bucky Barnes is a heroic sidekick to protagonist Captain America. In this film, Bucky’s appearance adheres closely to Western ideals of masculinity, including short hair, smooth skin, and a non-disabled body. However, when Bucky reappears as the antagonist in sequel Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014), his appearance has moved away from these traditional ideals: he now has shoulder-length hair, bodily scarring, and a highly visible prosthetic arm. The third film Captain America: Civil War (2016) then hybridizes Bucky’s appearance with moderate-length hair and a de-emphasized prosthesis, reflecting his morally ambiguous role in that film. Thus, the obvious signal of normative American masculinity becomes synonymous with the literal goodness of Bucky’s character.1 1 For a discussion of feminine beauty standards and adaptations of DC superheroes, please see the chapter in this volume on Wonder Woman’s portrayal of Dr. Poison. 5 Although empirical investigation of disability has definitively refuted the assumption of the physical body as a reflection of morality, superhero stories nevertheless demonstrate bias against the moral character of disabled individuals. One reason for this persistent prejudice derives from implicit biases in the system of moral judgment. Evolutionary psychologists David Buss and Douglas Kendrick (1998) posit that humans have evolved to judge one another rapidly based on appearance, and that this system of judgment can be prone to error to the extent that it perceives evidence of untrustworthiness where none exists. Specifically, human perception is the product of many “good enough” mechanisms that lead to errors and accurate judgments, but usually prioritize avoidance of the more serious class of error. This principle then biases humans toward mistrust for any individuals whose outward appearance potentially signals unfamiliarity or disease. This framework most certainly does not excuse the “armchair psychologists” who assume that external disability must necessarily reflect character defects, but it does help to explain why humans often make snap judgments to avoid individuals perceived as physically unusual, including those with non-normative physicality or gait (e.g., individuals with wheelchairs, visible scarring, or mobility impairments). Humans not only can but should overcome

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