Watching the last hour of the absurdly overlong Zack Snyder’s Justice League, I was struck with a wave of nostalgia as I remembered the summer afternoons I would spend re-watching the animated 2001 Justice League series when I was too young to really understand the stories. I may not remember the plots, and I only owned the second season on DVD, but that didn’t matter—back then, my eyes were glued to the screen. I was awestruck by the action, the drama, and most importantly, the heroes. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and the rest of the League are what inspired me to run around my house wearing a cape and pretending to be a super-powered god.
Since that time, I, along with countless others, have been hooked on the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU). Despite its flaws, the MCU is undeniably a blast, and for a long time I have considered it superior over DC’s recent big-screen escapades. Avengers was on a completely different level than DC movies such as Batman v Superman or Man of Steel. The charismatic, colorful, and wonderfully corny Marvel heroes seemed to come alive from their comic books, while the DC characters who I used to find inspirational seemed dark, unfeeling, and straight-up disturbing in Batman v Superman and Man of Steel. Take Batman for example. Don’t get me wrong, I like a gritty Batman comic as much as the next guy, but Snyder’s version of the character in these films seems to dismiss everything that makes Batman who he is. The Dark Knight is supposed to prioritize life above all else, preventing others from suffering what he was forced to endure when his parents were murdered. The best Batman stories explore his empathy and refusal to kill, even though that might be easier. So when I see Batman torturing criminals and murdering enemies without a second thought, I can’t help but look back at my favorite superhero as I remember him from the old TV shows and wonder where we went wrong.
I would argue that the issue with these movies, more than the cringeworthy costume design or boring plot, is the character portrayals. Batman’s borderline psychopathic treatment of enemies is only the beginning—- Superman has it just as bad. The tonal whiplash I felt watching Man of Steel was unbearable. The Boy Scout and pillar of hope for society is reduced to an unfeeling god who blows up buildings to defeat Zod, robs people of their clothes, and likely kills hundreds if not thousands of people, and then suddenly transitions to crying over one family that he “failed to save.” Not only does this character fail to develop an emotional attachment with the audience, but it shows a fundamental misunderstanding of what makes Superman who he is. Any director who had a basic understanding of Superman would know that protecting the innocent would be his top priority. Instead, the only thing he seems to value is punching hard enough to destroy entire city blocks. Superman may be from another planet, but he spent his whole childhood growing up as if he was human. The lack of emotion portrayed throughout this movie is a crime. I’m not watching Superman; this is merely an imposter wearing his symbol.
It only got worse from there when Joss Whedon’s Justice League was released to theaters in 2017. For those who don’t have time to obsess over cape flicks about adults playing dress-up, here’s some background on this movie’s very troubled production. Zack Snyder was originally set to direct the movie, but had to step away due to a personal tragedy, and Joss Whedon jumped in to finish the movie. The result was a stitched-together Frankenstein movie with conflicting messages and tone, ridiculous dialogue, bad CGI, and a nonsensical villain. You would be hard pressed to find a viewer who considered this 2017 version a success. Warner Bros lost a total of $60 million on Joss Whedon’s Justice League and the future for this series of DC movies seemed darker than the movie’s tone.
Zack Snyder unexpectedly returned after the movie’s release and claimed his original vision for the movie was not represented in the product released to the public. After receiving overwhelming public support, Warner Bros gave him several million dollars to reshoot and edit the movie to his liking. In March 2021 it was finally released straight to HBO Max at a whopping four-hour runtime. Personally, I was skeptical going into it. I considered 300 to be Snyder’s only decent movie, and he had helmed Man of Steel and Batman v Superman, both of which disappointed me. So when, in the final act, I saw the heroes from my childhood triumph over the (still laughably bad) villain, I found myself happily reminded of the Justice League animated series. Snyder’s version of Justice League is far from perfect, but it is also far from the same flop that I watched in 2017. My heroes didn’t kill innocent people or crack jokes while chaos ensued around them. Instead, I was reminded much more of the heroes that inspired my obsession with fictional characters. Batman cares about protecting the weak. Superman is the ray of hope he was meant to be. The Flash is perfect as comic relief. Cyborg’s backstory is legitimately moving. Aquaman is somehow even better than his animated counterpart. Yes, Wonder Woman is still the one-dimensional character she was in 2017, but I never said the new cut is perfect. It’s a superhero movie after all. No one is expecting the next Citizen Kane. But the truth is I was blown away by the improvements made in this version of the movie. It doesn’t reach the heights of comics like All-Star Superman or The Long Halloween, but it’s a strong step in the right direction. The reason I was so enraptured by the plight of superheroes during my childhood was because of the heart that the characters from the Justice League animated series wore on their sleeves. I remember Batman holding a dying girl’s hand on a swing set. I remember Superman crying as he tells his imaginary son goodbye as the dream he was trapped in crumbles away. I was taught what it means to be human by these gods—those who have power far beyond what any human can dream of, but are sympathetic nonetheless. I have been shaped by the heroes of my childhood, so as the credits rolled on Zack Snyder’s Justice League, it meant the world to me to have just a taste of my younger self. A little part of me buried deep inside was itching to put on a cape and run circles around the living room again. Snyder’s version may be more mature than what I remember from my youth, but the characters I saw on screen were undeniably my heroes, and I can’t ask for anything more.