Maybe it’s a sign of
advancing age, but I start to notice simpler and simpler things these days,
obvious beyond mention but hitting me like a revelation. Reading around in Mr.
English’s fine blog here it dawned on me; that special combination of fantasy,
sci-fi, and all other kinds of heroic activity was something my generation
experienced like no other before or since.
I’m a child of the
superhero age. Headline in “Duh” magazine.
I was that kid just old enough to be on the edge
of my seat during the “Batman” show on TV. I could never figure out why my mom
and dad were chuckling. And every odd-numbered episode, with the Caped Crusader
in an impossible jam- I lost sleep, really. That show was not funny, not to me-
getting the heroic ideal under my skin and into my DNA was serious business.
Ditto “Star Trek”,
“Wild Wild West”, and the real, true golden age of comics- when they didn’t
just exist, but there were lots of them in the store near where you lived, and
you could afford them. Load me up, dude; Iron Man, Spider-Man, all the stuff
YOU KIDS TODAY :: wags finger, practically drools :: have seen in the blockbuster
movies. I knew the real guys, you
know, the ones who didn’t exist except in my soul- I can judge whether the
flicks did it right or not.
I was there.
Never you mind what year it started precisely. If
you’re not already nodding your head and grinning like the kid who got an extra
bubble-gum cigar for the nickel, here’s when it was. During that gilded window of
time when the media had just descended on us and no one was carping yet about
how TV rotted your soul. Your folks left you in the land of wonder for long
periods, in between eating. Saturday morning cartoons were a solid seven-hour
block of time; three networks all loaded with The Mighty Mightorr, The
Impossibles, Jonny
Quest, Space Ghost.
Afternoons were filled with tree-branch swinging and barn-roof derring-do,
launching model rockets and chiseling away at the rock face out back, trying to
create a personal Fortress of Solitude (got about a quarter-inch along, lots of cool
sparks though).
Even the ads were
heroic. First product I ever bought purely because of the commercial was Hai
Karate After-Shave. The ads featured a regular joe (Dan Resin, he was Dr.
Beeper in “Caddyshack”), who slapped on the Hai Karate, and immediately had to
use martial arts to beat back gorgeous women trying to tackle him. You bet I
ran right out and bought me some of that. I was twelve. Didn’t shave until I
was sixteen! But the bottle came with a little self-defence manual- a bargain
at twice the price.
Fare like that set me
up perfectly- my mind and spirit prepared by struggle and victory in any genre
you could name. Then the closer, the deal-sealer and mind-stealer, a show that
stamped itself forever in my memory and to this day stands as the acme of
heroism. And I had to wait until evening to watch.
The Prisoner.
If I say much more I’ll need another blog. But
Patrick McGoohan in that show swept me into a world
of enthralled horror and excitement
the likes of which I’ve never known. One man, completely isolated, surrounded
by those he can’t trust using technology he can’t understand. The definition of
hope-less, and he still thrusts his fist into the air and shouts the immortal
words, “I am not a number, I am a free man!” I couldn’t tear myself away- I
mean now, forty years later. The show’s not on, the remake was bad, the graphic
novel a mess. But everything I write, I look for the heroes and what they’re
thinking. Nothing else matters- the struggle, the decision, the unhesitating
moment of self-sacrifice. And sure, the witty quips as they head into the fray.
I know what the
non-nodders are asking. So what? Here’s what, you little whips. If you like these
movies today- and you should love them- remember this. Nicholas Cage and Morton
Downey and Gary Oldman (Comm. Gordon) and Andrew Molina (Dr. Octopus); these
guys are all MY age. From my time. You read about how Downey wasn’t up for the
role, and kicked in the door on the producers to insist, “no, you don’t get it-
I AM Iron Man”, and then knocked their socks off in the first audition. How
Cage sold his comic collection for $1.6 million, wanted to be Superman but
happily took on Ghost Rider.
I
know these guys I never met. They saw the same stuff I did (Cage’s comics
collection was bigger, OK). And this is our time. So what again? (Always so
what with you kids.) So this- guys my age are driving this bus. Just sit back
and enjoy the ride.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Will Hahn is the
chronicler of the Lands of Hope, a world of fantasy adventure. The tales of
Hope are available online at Amazon,
B&N
and Smashwords.com,
and a free Compendium
about the Lands can be found at his shared website, the Independent
Bookworm.
His most recent tale is “The Plane of Dreams”-
see the trailer on YouTube
That was great! What a fun post. Thanks for the trip down amnesia lane, to paraphrase Robin Williams.
ReplyDeleteI'm pretty sure you meant Robert Downey Jr (actor born in 1965), not Morton Downey (singer born in 1933), but hey, I'm guessing the memory isn't what it used to be. ;-) And I should know. I apparently have a few years on you (born 1961).
Best of luck with "Plane of Dreams." It sure has a nice cover.
Hah- Thanks Dan, of course ROBERT Downey, thanks. But you don't have any years on me, mister. Most of the known world is younger than I am.
ReplyDeleteThanks for weighing in as a "child of the superhero age," and sharing with us, where it all came from.
ReplyDelete