Word of the Day
Primogeniture (n., pry-mo-JENN-ih-TYUUR)
The state of being the oldest child or the legal structure that passed on all the inheritance to the eldest son. Clearly, the lawyers who came up with this were oldest sons.
Gif of the Day
MarvelYonduDadsMary Poppins, y'allIn spaceBlue man group?
Link of the Day
Marvel: Families
Families is not a theme I expected to write about for Marvel. It’s something we associate much more with the Fast & Furious franchise after Vin Diesel, a frontrunner if there ever was one, recalibrated the franchise mid-stride. But it hit me as I began planning these essays while also thinking about families, fathers, and men in 2019 culture. Family is a common thread through a lot of Marvel’s movies, but it’s almost always broken.
Marvel’s family problems start with its first onscreen hero. Tony Stark’s daddy issues provided the backdrop for Iron Man 2, and it’s safe to say the legacy is secure. Tony is restless, forever chasing peace and approval. He sarcastically comments to Steve Rogers that he always heard the stories about how perfect Steve Rogers was, and we see his frustration at never living up to that ideal. It’s not hard to read his attempts to fix everything as a desire for love or his lack of commitment as a fear that it’s not quite right. Tony passes on his family baggage to Peter Parker by effectively becoming an absentee father. He treats Peter like he imagines a son wants to be treated but with none of the personal relationship. The first time he admonishes Peter, it’s done remotely, through an empty robotic suit. Tony isn’t interested in being involved, just in delivering a message. When he does show up, it’s because he had to step in to save the day. He’s more mad about his inconvenience and doesn’t consider that Peter, for all his flaws and immaturity, is better at helping others than he is.
But if you think that messing up one surrogate son is bad, have no fear. Marvel has worse examples. Odin takes Loki from his kin out of hubris, believing he could be a link between two kingdoms, but then never tells him about his true lineage. When Loki finds out—after growing up in his brother’s shadow, forever looking for his father’s approval—he understandably melts down and begins his turn to supervillainy. (Thor isn’t that much better; he’s forever an impetuous son who fails to rule well.) Or consider Black Panther, where king T’Chaka kills his brother in self-defense but then abandons his brother’s son. The son grows up to be an archenemy. The old king dies without telling anyone, leaving his son to painfully discover the truth and have to reckon with the past wrong. And all this is nothing compared to Ego the Living Planet, who fathers children so that he can draw their power to take over the universe.
Oh, and in that film, the hero’s adoptive father sacrifices himself so that his son can live.
Marvel’s daddy issues aren’t a bug or a feature; they’re part of the scenery. Family issues pervade everything. There are a myriad of family fights: Peter Quill vs. Ego, T’Challa vs. Killmonger, Thor vs. Hela, and Tony Stark vs. Steve Rogers on behalf of Bucky Barnes (who, while brainwashed, killed Tony’s parents). It’s saying something that Thanos—the ultimate villain of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the one whose parenting caused some of the daddy issues in the Guardians of the Galaxy series and sacrificed his daughter so that he could obtain his ultimate goal—fits into Marvel’s pattern rather than breaking it. Marvel, at nearly every turn, has a maimed vision of the family.
Given all that, it’s perhaps understandable that there are so few lasting relationships in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The romances that are there almost always end quickly. Steve Rogers gets frozen before he can pursue a relationship with Peggy Carter, then visits her as she dies. Thor has one romance that ends, then starts another one that (presumably) ends when the other one dies. Bruce Banner has two relationships end painfully. There’s also Stephen Strange and Nurse Whatsername. Vision and Wanda both perish in Infinity War. Comics have featured relationship pairs and families for decades, but Marvel’s comic book movies don’t keep them together for long.
In place of the family, Marvel has positioned the Avengers. Tony becomes a surrogate dad to Peter because of the Avengers. Tony has a family fight with Steve because of the Avengers. (Actually, two fights, both because of the Avengers.) Thor has to fight his sister with the help of the ~Avengers~ Revengers. Even the way Marvel deals with the kingship of Thor and T’Challa—a relationship with elements of father and children—is to either make the character not care about it or to deviate from the family tradition in favor of an individual’s choice…so that they can go fight with the Avengers. The one character with a solid family life is Hawkeye, and he’s barely featured plus his family life was a complete secret…so that he could go fight with the Avengers.
Is it any surprise that the lingering personal thread for Marvel’s main hero in a movie entitled Endgame is whether he will be able to make it home and start a family?
This is the end for Marvel’s greatest hero: to become boring (or, charitably, a character Marvel doesn’t know what to do with). To quit doing the thing we love so that he can do the thing we escape from to watch his adventures. To leave a professional legacy before considering a personal one. To chase fulfillment by pursuing personal dreams instead of learning contentment and teaching the next generation to do that too.
Whether it is art imitating life or life imitating art, Marvel’s movies are all about the workplace supplanting the burning husk of a family. Is it the legacy of Generation X? Is it because the movies were aimed at 18–34 year olds who are just now looking at capstone marriages and families? Is it the writers and directors? The death of the American small community? All of the above? I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know, honestly. It’s depressing to think about all this.
But there is one Marvel franchise that I find interesting in its concept of the family, and that’s the Ant-Man films. Scott Lang is the single most normal hero that Marvel’s shown us. He’s a single dad, and he’s a noble screwup. Scott got thrown in jail for trying to be Robin Hood, and during that time, his wife divorced him and remarried (to a cop!), taking custody of their daughter. Scott leaves prison determined to keep his life on the straight and narrow so that he can be involved in his daughter’s life. Naturally, this doesn’t happen. Scott ends up caught up in another family’s tensions and issues. (Daddy issues, again. Also, he falls in love.) The tension of the Ant-Man films is found here. Scott is frequently positioned between his desire to be worthy in his daughter’s eyes and his ex-wife’s eyes and the challenges that Hank and Hope Pym have involved him in. There’s real, interesting stuff in these films. At the climax of Ant-Man, Scott battles the villain in his daughter’s room. He’s trying to both stop the villain and protect his daughter. Eventually, he can’t do both, and he entrusts his daughter’s safety to her new father so he can focus on the threat only he can neutralize. Afterwards, he and his ex-wife’s new husband have a newfound respect and shared purpose. No one comes out looking like the clear hero or villain. It’s the closest thing Marvel has to a nuclear family, but in some ways it’s more interesting.
I don’t just want more blended families like Ant-Man, though. I want more stable relationships and families, period. If these films are supposed to take place in the real world, they need to feature something that is a foundational part of society. We, society, have demanded that Marvel represent diversity and inclusiveness in their films; why should we not demand the good thing that allows humankind to continue and societies to flourish?
Up Next: The Hulk
Note: when searching for a header image, I discovered an article about Ant-Man’s family theme by the great Keith Phipps. Go read it over at Slate.
EssaysMarvelFamiliesVin DieselScott LangAn F for Family?