Heroes, season one
Tim Kring et al, 2006-7
Premise
Dozens of people have discovered that they have superpowers. A shadowy
organization tracking these people is up to something nefarious. Up to
something even more nefarious is a sociopath killing the paranormals and
absorbing their powers. And a time traveler, a precognitive, and a
dreamer all predict that most of New York City will be destroyed in a
nuclear blast in two months.
Evaluation
Dan Schmidt once complained about how reviewers of a certain book were
falling all over themselves to congratulate the author on her audacious
premise, when it was fairly tame compared to stuff one aisle over in
the sci-fi section. Somewhat similarly, Heroes became the hit
show of the 2006-7 TV season — enough of a hit that I heard about
it and ended up watching it, even though I don't have a TV and had to
get the episodes online — and while all in all I'd have to say
that I enjoyed it, I also feel duty-bound to report that this series
isn't really doing anything that Marvel Comics wasn't doing in 1986.
The best thing about Heroes is the way it brings to life the
wonder of people doing extraordinary things. The fact that superhero
movies have become immensely popular even as the superhero comics
market shrinks down to almost nothing suggests that it isn't the
genre to blame for the decline of the American comics industry; blame
the business model, blame the silly conventions like bright costumes,
or maybe blame the abstracted nature of the medium itself. If I had
to select one moment as the highlight of the first season of
Heroes, it would be that in which Claire, the cheerleader
with the healing factor, approaches the out-of-control nuclear guy
to stab him with a tranquilizer before he blows up, and as she
fights through the energy blasts, her flesh starts to burn away...
I've seen that scene countless time before, with Wolverine and the
Hulk, and yet there was something moving about seeing it in live
action, even with only the effects a TV budget can buy.
Heroes also has a good touch with establishing characters,
creating people who are easy to root for (or to despise) in just a
few strokes. Good thing, too, because there are just so damn many of
them and none of them gets much chance to be developed properly. Now,
you might well ask, how deep is the characterization of comic book
superheroes? And the answer is: very deep indeed. Superheroes in
comics often have their own titles and so don't have to share the
spotlight in every episode with twenty other characters. Even in
team books, it's fairly rare that anyone is off panel for very
long — a key difference between a team book and an ensemble
piece. Besides, when you appear in thousands upon thousands upon
thousands of pages over the course of several decades, your
character is going to get thoroughly fleshed out even if no one's
really trying. One of the problems with Heroes is that
when the writers do try, as in the scenes attempting to add some
depth to the villain Sylar by delving into his childhood, the
results tend to be more embarrassing than anything else.
So that's one problem with Heroes so far: the way it flits
around like a hummingbird trying to touch base with twenty characters
in every show. I can understand the temptation — the Marvel
and DC universes are so vast that naturally you wish you could have
an equally vast universe to play with — but it is no coincidence
that the best episode, "Company Man," was the one episode that spent
its entire length on one story thread. I would also contend that in
establishing over two dozen characters who secretly have superpowers,
Heroes not only stretches plausibility (not one goes
public?) but also loses one of the advantages of not being Marvel or
DC: the opportunity to make superpowers seem truly miraculous, which
is difficult to pull off in a world with more superhero teams than
rock bands.
Another problem is that 23 episodes into the series, it is still
unclear what the story is with these powers. At first it seems that
they are a new phenomenon, just beginning to manifest at the time the
story gets underway, but then it turns out that some people have had
powers for years and that in fact there has been a cat-and-mouse game
surrounding this phenomenon for generations. I'd like a little more
clarity on the premise — I'm bored with stories that revolve
around the revelation of a mysterious past. I'm equally bored with
stories that give portents of the future and then revolve around how
that future will come to pass or not. While this is not always the
case, all too often these tricks are employed primarily to hide the
fact that the story is not good enough for the writers to get the
audience up to speed quickly and have sufficiently interesting things
happen that we don't need a prize at the finish line to wonder what
will happen next.
On the other hand, maybe more of you would have read this page the
whole way through if you had known that there would be a picture of
a kitten at the end.
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