Who's more famous: Superman or Jesus?

1. World Famous Trademarks
May 18th, 2011 · Robert Scott Lawrence
The other day a friend of mine was talking about
the way we recognize symbols and what they
mean to us. He suggested that with the end of the
series Smallville a huge portion of the nation’s
television audience would no longer be exposed
to even a hint of the symbol of strength and
courage by which the Man of Steel is known, but
instead would find themselves unhappily
relegated to watching re-runs of Cheers or M.A.S.H. or even older late-night
paradigms of hopelessness (e.g., Archie Bunker). A symbol that we can look
up to in times of trouble is something we all need, of course, but I found it
oddly intriguing that the symbol he looked toward was a make-believe
superhero from the Golden Age.
Upon further reflection, I attribute his thinking to the society we live in,
which is inundated with stars both real and imagined, but which of late
seems to have openly embraced the icons created so long ago by the
stalwarts of the comics industry. Thus, recent years have seen a spate of
movies about the Dark Knight, Daredevil, Iron Man, the X-Men, Wolverine,
the Hulk, and the Fantastic Four — to name a few — and the superhero
bandwagon shows no signs of slowing down anytime soon. This year alone
has witnessed new films about the Green Hornet, the Green Lantern, and
everyone’s favorite hammer-loving knucklehead, Thor.
America has grown so fond of heroes leaping around in multi-colored tights
like jesters in a Shakespearian farce that a cottage industry has grown up
devoted to making fun of superhero movies. Do you remember that Oh-so-forgettable
Will Smith vehicle about the drunken superhero who drank to
forget the sorrow of losing his one and only super-mate? Who had ditched

2. him to marry a human and was hiding her own stupendous array of
superpowers? Yes, I’m talking about Hancock, for any of you brave enough
to own up to having seen it.
But I’m not just talking about overt (and some
might say ham-handed) rips on superhero-dom,
but about more subtle plays on the nature of the
beast as well. For example, let’s look at Kung Fu
Panda, which I will admit was a winner not only
at the box office but in the hearts and minds of
little kiddies everywhere. Like many a Jack Black
film, if you liked the Jack Black vibe you were
already halfway to liking the movie. Unlike many of his lesser efforts,
however, this had a sustained brilliance that perfectly encapsulated the idea
behind much of superhero fandom — i.e., it captured the idea of the lonely,
overlooked boy who acquires fabulous powers that make the world sit up
and take notice. That’s the bit that draws boys in, but if they graduate from
the comics of the 60s and 70s and grow up to be lifelong fans (or even
sporadic enthusiasts), attentive readers will recognize that after the initial
phase of “Hey, this is great! Look everyone! I’ve got super powers!!” the
other shoe drops, and the recipient finds that with great powers comes
great responsibility. I like to call this the “Oh, c^*%. I’ve got to save the
world!” phase of the superhero relationship, in which our hero stalks about
all broody and reluctant until struck by a much-needed ray of
enlightenment. This concept was magnificently riffed on in the utterly
fantastic Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, which is a thoroughly engaging
hybrid of the superhero supernova. It is — literally — a movie that makes
fun of the concept of superheroes while embracing and making the concept
itself fun. Which is almost a zen koan, really.

3. Of course, I’m oversimplifying. I recognize that
some superheroes were created broody from the
start. The Silver Surfer only assumed the mantle
of his powers in order to try and save his dying
race and/or bring back his one true love. And
Batman’s psychoses, of course, sprang from
having witnessed his own parents’ murder.
Other of the supers were created in a burst of
patriotism, and we will soon be privy to the birth
of Captain America as he steps to life from the
narrow silhouette of his tubercular mortal host,
Private Steve Rogers. Cap’s heroism was born in
WWII and his history is an almost perverse echo of America’s own — he is
steeped in the blood of America’s enemies, having fought in virtually all its
wars, including the Cold War, as well as other wars that are too secret to
reveal to our citizens outside the confines of Marvel Comics. If Wikileaks
could reveal Cap’s history, I have no doubt we would be appalled and
thrilled in equal parts.
What does all of this mean from the standpoint of symbols? In a very real
way, what the public focuses on and recognizes, what draws our attention,
is the same sort of packaging that corporations use to draw the public in.
We recognize the Superman symbol in the same way we recognize the Nike
swoosh. We recognize the Bat signal thrown up in the sky the same way we
recognize the shadow of the Golden Arches. The logos of our favorite
superheroes are no different than the logos of our favorite football teams,
Catwoman’s costume indistinguishable from Louis Vuitton’s magical
monogram.
What is amusing to me is that these symbols have stepped out of the pages
of books and have taken on power in the real world. Though they were
never intended as trademarks by their creators, they are among the most

4. powerful marks ever known. Just try and use the Superman symbol for
your business and see how fast you get sued by DC Comics and whatever
movie studio is contemplating the next installment in the series. In truth,
these symbols have now become enshrined in our collective consciousness
to such an extent that they are at least as famous as any other mark.
If you doubt that this is so, then riddle me this. Other than the cross, what
symbol is more famous than the Superman logo?