LIFE MODEL DECOY: THE PLIGHT OF THE SMALL SCREEN COMIC BOOK SUPERHERO
BY DAVID KEREKES

The popularity of the comic book superhero movie shows no sign of waning. A superhero movie is an event movie—certainly now that digital technology has caught up with the kinetic energy of the comic books themselves, and clued-in individuals are hired to translate these characters and stories for the screen. Superheroes are also a big deal for TV, for much the same reasons, with numerous ongoing shows and several more on the horizon as of this writing—Luke Cage, The Flash, Iron Fist, The Defenders among them—their hard-hitting trailers promising impressive special effects and some above average acting. It wasn’t always like this. Superheroes were once kids’ stuff, but not in a good way; they were flat and awkward and self-conscious in a bad TV movies way.

Many small screen superhero adaptations have been attempted over the years, but likely only the Spider-Man and the Hulk will spring immediately to mind. In any case, the results are far less amazing and incredible than the Marvel comic books that inspired them, grounded by modest TV budgets and technology. I would guess that the real reason these two particular heroes caught on with viewers when a number of others did not was the presence of a catchy theme song and a snappy catchphrase. Viewers of a certain age can easily reel off the (animated) Spider-Man main theme, so too David Banner’s plaintive warning, “Don’t make me angry… you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry”.

I haven’t forgotten about Batman. The 1960s live action series based on the DC Comics character is also fondly remembered, but perhaps for reasons of kitsch and great guest stars and by people who haven’t actually watched a single episode in its entirety, rather than as a serious comic book contender. Adam West’s Batman—more Vegemite than vigilante—along with the show’s high camp silliness, arguably did more to hinder superheroes on-screen than it served to benefit them.

Yet, at least the zany Batman kept things rolling. As we see time and again throughout this book, exposition can hide a multitude of sins; less so when it comes to superhero action narratives. Comic books race along apace, with Captain Smashing zipping from this panel to the next for a bad guy to smash. His TV counterparts on the other hand don’t even attempt to leave the house without first having a good chat about it.

Few live action TV superheroes share the success of Batman and Spider-Man and the Hulk. Who remembers what The Spirit got up to or what he even looked like on the small screen, much less can hum his theme tune? The same goes for the small screen Captain Americas, all three of them.

Which brings us to Dr. Strange and Nick Fury. These two A-list Marvel characters appeared in feature length TV pilots of their own, but don’t be ashamed for not knowing it. Dr. Strange (1978) and Nick Fury: Agent of SHIELD (1998) are sorely bereft of pulse-pounding action, and while each movie concludes on a note to suggest our hero will be back again very soon, they never came back.

Philip DeGuere’s Dr. Strange opens with a portentous warning about the battleground that lies beyond the threshold of known and unknown, where the forces of good and evil are in eternal conflict and the fate of mankind hangs in the balance. Enter Stephen Strange (Peter Hooten), a psychiatric doctor with an eye for the ladies. He cares a lot, however, as someone points out early on, more so than some other doctors. Presently, Strange forgoes his chronic womanizing to become a master of the mystic arts for no good reason I can recall, other than his dad was a friend of The Master (John Mills), now too old and decrepit for the job.

Strange must battle Morgana LeFay (Jessica Walter) in the Netherworld, a “Dark Queen” for whom failure means the loss of her beautiful looks. A glowing eyed monster gives her this ultimatum. Unfortunately for LeFay, she finds Strange too damn attractive, and hence she fails. Yes, it’s true: womanizing can be a virtue. It evidently was in the late seventies, when Dr. Strange was made. But who could know of its usefulness in the eternal fight against evil? A lesson for us all.

Rod Hardy’s Nick Fury: Agent of SHIELD is a more terrestrial enterprise. David Hasselhoff plays the titular Fury, a macho cigar-chomping agent for the covert law enforcement organization known as SHIELD. He is introduced cracking rocks in semi-retirement in the Yukon, returning to SHIELD soon after when his old nemesis, Nazi Baron von Strucker, is freed from a cryogenics holding cell. Enemy of the free world, HYDRA, is behind it all, hatching new plans with an international cabal of terrorists and Hitler’s doomsday weapon, the Death’s Head virus, which is part of von Strucker’s DNA.

Clockwise from left, above: An evocative TV Guide ad for the not so evocative Dr. Strange; David Hasselhoff as Nick Fury puts the chokehold of love on Lisa Rinna; and Spidey looks out for Nicholas Hammond in a promo for the live action 1970s Spider-man.

Quite an enticing idea. But that’s not accounting for the pratfalls the plot makes to avoid the idea, with ho-hum details of Fury’s past, the frayed working relationship he maintains with his superiors, and the seductive allure of the Baron’s daughter, Viper—eye candy with a bad German accent, lest we forget she’s evil.

Fury is more entertaining than Dr. Strange and Hasselhoff is surprisingly okay in the lead role. He plays it straight and is a decent simulacrum of the iconic comic art of Jim Steranko. But the film’s failing, which is effectively the failing of all small screen superhero adaptations, is that Fury has no grand stage on which to perform, nothing much by way of thrills beyond popgun shootouts in confined spaces.

To be fair, both Nick Fury and Dr. Strange take a swing at SFX. The former has a semi-decent animated SHIELD headquarters floating in the sky, and draws on the LMD (Life Model Decoy) of the comics, here an automaton that resembles Fury for use in a firefight. Dr. Strange is more adventurous with a stop motion monster in the Netherworld (it wobbles well) and a laser effect that mimics the star tunnel in 2001: A Space Odyssey. As humble as these effects are, they undoubtedly proved a huge drain on budget, and watching the prototype LMD and the wobbling monster is like watching money falling out of a window. But that’s not all. Despite two decades standing between them, Dr. Strange and Nick Fury: Agent of SHIELD are films that could easily have been made the same week. Not a lot appears to have happened nor improved in the years from one to the other: they are both clumsy in terms of concept and presentation; neither fish nor fowl, not exactly for kids but not wholly deserving of adults either.

I like superhero movies. But I like them more now than I did back then. Most things of a fantastical nature were essential to this kid, yet the screen approach to superheroes remained desperate and disappointing. Jump to a screening of The Avengers in a theater in 2012 and the revelation that Wow! They’ve finally figured it out! The journey here, to today’s megabuck superhero franchise, has taken many years, but conversely it’s also relatively sudden. The spandex outfit, ridiculous last Tuesday, looks pretty cool now, and the latest incarnations of our comic book myths are, on the whole, far more spectacular and better balanced; they are more believable than the TV shows and movies that have gone before. Yet, while high fiving the new freaks and mutants, let us not forget Hasselhoff’s Fury, Peter Hooten’s Dr. Strange and all those others who got left on the bus: the world might not salute you, I-Man, Exo-Man, M.A.N.T.I.S., unaired pilots for Justice League of America (1997) and Birds of Prey (2002), but it would be no less a place without you.