Ask JKM a Question: That Which We Call a Superhero...

A reader, Hugh, writes:

“On a message board I frequent, there has recently been a thoughtful & thought-provoking discussion on whether or not the Lone Ranger should be classified as a superhero or not.

This sort of thing (once a playground debate) has always been a draw to me, and I thought I would see your take, particularly given you had to make that call for what to include in one of your books.

For the Lone Ranger himself, a few posting have set up some of their criteria to note that he hits them (to be fair, they are arguing for his inclusion with these):

• Costume (the white hat & black mask especially)

• Sidekick (Tonto, obviously)

• Unusual Weapons (silver bullets)

• Unusual/Notable Mode of Transportation (Silver)

• Secret Identity (John Reid, which some debated, as Reid is believed dead, but certainly there is something noteworthy about John Reid; others also noted the LR's penchant for disguise)

• Source of (Secret) Wealth (the silver mine)

• Catch-phrase ("Hi-Yo, Silver")

Of these, I probably count the catch-phrase as lowest on "expectations of a superhero," but it does recognize a trope.

For that matter, having a sidekick or partner has less to do with superhero than just hero (after all, the singing cowboys all had sidekicks but really aren't super, no matter how well Roy Rogers yodeled). 

When I was younger, I read such things as Fred Rovin's Encyclopedia of... books and noted distinctions he made in whether a character made the cut for superhero or just adventure hero, and I had a Super-Hero Photo Guidebook which defined who it included with these criteria:

1. The character wears a distinctive costume

2. The character has powers beyond normal human abilities.

3. The character fits both 1 & 2.

As a result, the Doctor of Doctor Who (some mental powers, considerably superior intellect, ability to regenerate) was included, but Flash Gordon & Buck Rogers were not (nothing special about their dress for their time period, generally great athletes but not super-powered). 

Using this notion, the Lone Ranger and Zorro definitely fall under the label of superhero, as would some of what I call proto-superheroes (based on when they were created), such as the Scarlet Pimpernel (often but not always presented with a mask and clearly having a dual identity), and there are many masked cowboys that have been created in pulps and comics in the vein of LR and Zorro (and when Bob Livingston was the LR in a serial, he made some of the Three Mesquiteers b-westerns in a mask to cash in on that image and popularity).

I've recently discovered a 1949 swashbuckler film, The Pirates of Capri (also known as The Masked Pirate), with Louis Hayward as a masked buccaneer who I suppose would also qualify.

What criteria do you find most compelling?

I like these discussions, so the open debate is always fun. Is Achilles (nearly immortal and a killing machine) superheroic, while Odysseus ("merely" clever, not to mention "Athena's favorite") not?

How elaborate does the costume need to be (or is a mask on top of normal attire enough)? Are the deductions made by Sherlock Holmes or C. Auguste Dupin beyond normal ability and thus super-heroic, or are they just especially smart?

As always, I look forward to your response.”

Hugh, that’s a great question to debate.

As you note, back in the early 2000s, I set about writing the reference book The Encyclopedia of Superheroes on Film and Television, and grappled with many of the ideas that you have so expertly diagrammed here.

I remember at the time I began writing, I toyed with a number of qualifiers and disqualifiers in the superhero definition, because the definition of “superhero” is just so nebulous. 

I knew there was no way I could write a reasonably complete book if I assumed the widest possible definition of the term.

But basically, Superman and Batman were the ones who caused me the most problems, and kept the definition from easily narrowing.

Here’s why:

I first though to eliminate characters without powers: the Lone Ranger and Zorro, in particular.  But I soon realized that if I removed these particular icons from consideration as superheroes I would also have to lose Batman, not to mention The Green Hornet.

So “powers” could not be the rubric that defined a superhero.

I next thought to remove extra-terrestrials from consideration, because I don’t consider the teens of Roswell (1999 – 2002) to be superheroes.  Same went for the Time Lord of Doctor Who. Or Mr. Spock, with his mind-meld and nerve pinch.

But of course, if you remove extra-terrestrials entirely from your definition of superheroes, you also lose Superman. 

Not to mention Martian Manhunter, and the Green Lantern Corps.

So you can’t “blanket” disqualify extra-terrestrials, either.

Then I thought about costumes.   How about making costumes the defining factor in terms of superheroes?

But of course, if costumes became the “qualifier” for superheroes, what about the bionic duo, Jaime Sommers and Steve Austin?  What about Buffy the Vampire Slayer?

They were all clearly superheroes, but didn’t don costumes or uniforms.  The same could be said of the stars of Mutant X, or Heroes.

Thankfully, there were two categories where -- rightly or wrongly -- I was able to eliminate characters for the purposes of my book, if not in broader usage. 

I decided to eliminate anthropomorphic dogs and other animal superheroes (like Underdog, or Dynomutt). 

They probably deserve to be included in the definition, but I felt I could safely remove them from consideration and readers wouldn’t mind.  Not much, anyway.

Next, I considered Antiquity, and mythical figures such as Hercules, Theseus, Perseus, Achilles, and Odysseus.  I also removed them from consideration, also rightly or wrongly. 

I believe firmly that these very figures from Greek myth originated the idea of superheroes in western culture, but that I could safely remove them as “fantasy” figures, and focus instead on the modern – 20^th and 21^st century – superheroes. 

So I decided to settle on a “time scale,” essentially.  The superhero form could be said to have been born in the 20^th century,

Eventually, I settled on a very generic and imperfect definition, which I use in the book:

“a superhero is a character of extraordinary capabilities or powers who has a propensity to fight evil in all its forms, whether criminal, terrorist or demonic.  For the most part superheroes also wear unique or recognizable costumes that separate them from normal heroes, but even that distinction is not always the case…”(page 8).

Now, by my definition, Dexter Morgan likely qualifies as a superhero (his lack of emotion is a power, in a sense, and he wears a costume when he hunts…). 

So I have no illusions that my definition is perfect. 

But notice that I mention both “powers” and “capabilities.”  I felt that by expanding the power definition to include “capabilities,” we could squeeze in Batman, or The Green Hornet.

Another negative: my definition uses weasel phraseology like “for the most part…”  That provides some wiggle room in terms of coverage.

I did choose, in the above-definition, to focus on what a superhero does: combating evil in all its forms.

 I felt that this way, we could safely eliminate Spock (an explorer), and the kids from Roswell (angsty teens in hiding just trying to remain in hiding).

But my definition is a mere starting point, like the notations you make above.  I believe that when it comes to superheroes, everyone needs to agree to be…flexible in terms of definition.

Because the only way to know for certain who is and who is not a superhero,  I feel, is to rely on Justice Potter Stewart’s famous quote about pornography.

How do we determine a superhero?  

We know one when we see one.