In Hellboy (2004), writer-director Guillermo del Toro developed his adaptation by stitching together a story from two major arcs in the comics (those collected in Seed of Destruction and The Conqueror Worm)*, and re-imagining the characters (Liz and Hellboy in love, Abe Sapien as a mystical brain-y guy), but without changing their basic qualities (Liz's biography is more or less intact up to the point we meet her, as is Hellboy's, Abe is still a fishman of unclear origin; Bruttenholm dies differently, but is essentially the guy you meet in the books). With Hellboy II: The Golden Army (2008), del Toro takes Hellboy and the BPRD and transports them into a world almost entirely of his own making, which is not only within the spirit of the texts, but also produces something unique and special for comic book adaptations: an original story.
Most of the time these projects end up being created in the manner of the first Hellboy, that is, built largely from elements taken from the books. There is nothing wrong with this, and when done well (see also, for examples, Iron Man, 2008, and Spider-Man, 2002) the approach can produce entertaining and thoughtful interpretations of the source material, but in addition to being safe and conventional, also has the taint of interference from corporate rights holders. However, in the case of the latest Hellboy film, the use of a new story intensifies questions that I have about del Toro's handling of Mike Mignola's characters.
Spoilers for Hellboy II to come.
First off, it needs to be emphasized that any questions or ambivalence I might have about the choices that del Toro has made are offset by his obvious love for the books and, particularly in the case of the new film, the imagination he brings to his work on these adaptations. I don't think that there is a single wasted frame in Hellboy II. del Toro does everything with care and creativity, putting thought into details that lesser film makers would just gloss over (consider, as examples, the fact that he gives the tooth fairies personalities instead of just treating them as a horde of interchangeable pieces, or the way the death of the forest elemental is envisioned; in most cases the creature would have just gone splat, and that would be the end of it. Here, the death actually becomes a meaningful part of the narrative). del Toro also bothers to create a moral universe where the nature of the characters and the choices they make are rarely clear cut. Indeed, it is probably fair to say that the writer-director has a certain amount of sympathy with Nuada (Luke Goss), even though he is the putative villain. As with Sam Raimi and Bryan Singer, del Toro further demonstrates the value of hiring real artists to handle comic book material.
Of course, one of the risks of hiring auteurist directors is that they may make choices that don't sit well with the already existing fandom for a set of books or characters. And, so here I am to prove that point, but I don't want to overstate my objections. I don't hate any of the choices I comment on below, but I am unsure about them.
Liz and Hellboy. In the books, there is no Liz and Hellboy. Hellboy is, I think, best described as asexual. His friendship with Liz is no more romantic or intense than is his friendship with Abe or Roger or Kate, who is, it should be noted, more likely to be his field partner than is Liz. Liz's sexuality isn't much of an issue in the texts either. Indeed, in the hands of Mignola and Guy Davis, Liz is about as far from the stereotypical comic book babe as you can get without making her “ugly” – she dresses sensibly, and looks like a normally proportioned woman. Of course, "normal" here is pretty relative. Mignola's work is often described as expressionist for a reason, while I would describe Davis' work on BPRD as a sort of cartoonish realism with characters drawn on a very human, as opposed to super human, scale. Even given the “canonical” treatment of these characters, as evident in the Weird Tales books, del Toro is hardly the first guest artist to show a fascination with Hellboy's and Liz's sexualities, although their relationship is unique to the movies. And re-imaginings of both that seek to explore or invent such dimensions of the characters are entirely understandable, if predictable where Liz is concerned (the whole fear-attraction dynamic of girl “firestarters” lends itself to sexual/romantic imaginings, for both better and worse).
del Toro takes Liz and Hellboy's relationship to another level in The Golden Army not only by having Hellboy (Ron Perlman) and Liz (Selma Blair) living together as a couple, but also by making Liz pregnant.
Making a central female character either pregnant or having them be raped is a cliché in the superhero world. The effect, or maybe explicit purpose, of these devices is to mark the character as irreducibly different from the real, that is, male, heroes. No matter what her skills or powers, rape and/or pregnancy emphasizes that she is ultimately, “just a chick”, and as a chick, she is inherently limited by her body. These are tools which maintain male supremacy in the comics by rendering women as always more vulnerable and less capable than men (and, just to be clear, I'm not saying that women actually are inherently more vulnerable and less capable than men; I'm saying that rape and pregnancy are often used so as to affirm that impression, at least in comics, and in fantasy and science fiction more broadly. They are narrative tools which ensure that female characters remain within the predominant comfort zones of the presumptively hetero-male audience/readership).
I'm not sure that these purposes necessarily hold on a conscious level in Hellboy II. There isn't a single moment in the film where Liz is sidelined by some male authority figure because of her pregnancy. Hellboy doesn't even make a special point of facing down Nuada and the Golden Army for his unborn children (yes, he is motivated to “get up” by Liz's love and the prospect of being a father, but there is no big moment where he overtly tries to protect Liz from harm due to the pregnancy, nor does he issue his challenge to Nuada with some declaration about his woman or his children; he pretty much just does what he always does, which is to take on the big bad with fearlessness and wise-cracks). And, arguably, it even pays off in a nice scene where Liz literally stands by her man and outs herself as a “freak” when she doesn't need to (unlike the other BPRD “freaks” she can pass as normal, at least until she loses control of her power and burns a city block down or some such thing). But the fact remains that there is a certain predictability to moving from Hellboy and Liz being romantically involved to Liz being pregnant.
In del Toro's favor is that fact that, despite the actual suggestion of sex, he doesn't tart Liz up. While her BPRD uniform is hardly a sack, it is entirely functional, the best index of which is her military-styled boots; not a stiletto in sight. Even with the two “lingerie shots” in the new film, Liz is wearing underwear that seems entirely appropriate to how she dresses for field missions; sexy, yes, but only insofar as anything relatively slight and formfitting is going to look good on Blair (think the undergarments that the pilots on Battlestar Galactica wear). And, to be fair, both Abe and Hellboy are shown walking around in nothing more than their boxers, or, at least, shorts than might as well be boxers. On balance, the influence of the “male gaze” on Liz is pretty muted, especially alongside most comparable characters in other superhero comic book films and TV. This is true even as compared to the Liz in the animated movies where she is visualized as much more of a “hottie”, pun not intended. In that regard, it also should be noted that she is very much an active field agent, and not a victim, especially in the new film (you can argue about the extent to which she doesn't get to be in on the action, but I don't think she's any less marginal relative to Hellboy than any other agent. She's a strong, assertive personality with a power that is only dwarfed by what Hellboy reputedly contains within him).
I think that the gender dynamics broached by the Hellboy-Liz relationship in the movies is complicated. What Liz's pregnancy actually portends for the films will probably have to wait for Hellboy III (should it come to be). I think it would be interesting to see a comic book or comic book movie take seriously the question of pregnancy, instead of simply using it to render a character as vulnerable or passive. Probably more than anything, my current ambivalence about making these two characters romantically involved is that it sets this relationship apart from Hellboy's other friendships at the BPRD. In the books, Hellboy is everyone's good friend and is a defender of all of the agency's freaks (a key reason why he leaves the BPRD). I'm also sure that one reason why Kate Corrigan is not in the films is to keep things simple with regards to Liz and Hellboy, which is a pity, because Kate's a good character (I also have to say that the BPRD is generally a very male operation in the films, which it isn't necessarily in the books).
Characterization of Abe. In the books, Abe Sapien is just an expert field agent. The only thing supernatural about him is, well, him. In the movies, as played by Doug Jones and voiced by David Hyde Pierce in the first movie, he's more of a researcher and mystic than an action-oriented agent.
If I had to choose, which, of course, I don't, I'd probably pick the Abe of the books over the Abe of the films, but that's only because I feel I know the guy in the comics better than I know the guy in the movies, or maybe I'm just sticking with the familiar. In any case, the changes that del Toro has made are perfectly understandable. As a narrative medium, film is more intensive than comics are or can be, and making Abe the “brains” of the operation probably gives him more to do than if he was largely another action man like Hellboy. In the comics, there is more time and opportunity to show Abe in the field, and even given that, it was likely necessary to split Hellboy from the BPRD to give the other characters more room to breathe. Most importantly, nothing that del Toro has done with the character changes anything basic about him. However, the introduction of Johann Krauss (voiced by Seth MacFarlane) puts the initial characterization of Abe in a different light. So ...
Characterization of Johann Krauss. I would argue that del Toro takes more liberties with Krauss than he does with any of the other core characters. This starts with his look. In both cases he remains an ectoplasmic man, but the suit for containing his essence is radically different between the books and the movie.
In the comics, his containment suit is fairly simple and modern in design, and, indeed, he often is able to dress in standard BPRD wear on top of it when he needs to. By contrast, del Toro has outfitted in him in what looks like a Victorian era diving suit with an insectoid head. I warmed up to the new look over time, or maybe just to the character, but it does imply a very different timeline for Johann. In the comics, he finds himself bereft of his body in 2003, well past when you would come up with a get-up like in the movie. Of course, given that Bruttenholm (John Hurt) is supposed to have created the suit, maybe del Toro just likes the way the suit looks. To be sure, it is not the only evidence of a steam punk aesthetic in Hellboy II, nor is Victoriana unseen in the Hellboy/BPRD universe.
The look aside, the officious German team leader in the film is pretty different from the more introverted medium in the comics. In fact, in the books, I would characterize Johann as being more heart than head, very different from the rationalistic bureaucrat in the new movie. del Toro comes back around to this characterization by the end of Hellboy II, but by that point he had already fundamentally changed the nature of the character.
In relation to Abe, what Johann does, which is to animate and speak to the spirits of the dead, is similar to the former's mystical sensory powers. One way of distinguishing between the two is through the decision to ramp up Johann's power, making him into a kind of self-willed poltergeist as well as a medium. As a result, he and not Abe, or Liz, gets to fight the Golden Army next to Hellboy, not to mention smacking the big red guy around a little in an earlier scene. As with Liz's pregnancy, it will take another film to see how Johann pans out, and what his presence portends for Abe's role.
The secrecy of the BPRD. While not strictly speaking a character issue, it is also the case that one of the major differences between the books and the films is Manning's (Jeffrey Tambor) emphasis on the team operating on the QT. It isn't so much that the BPRD of the books is operating out in the open, but that the issue of secrecy just doesn't come up. We rarely see them interacting with people who haven't already seen some pretty weird things that, I suppose, make Abe, Johann, Liz et al seem fairly believable. In other words, in the comics Hellboy and the BPRD are both firmly in and of the world, whereas in the films the conceit is that they are in the world, but not quite of it.
Where this focus on secrecy is most problematic for me is in how it is treated as a fixation of Hellboy's. I don't actually feel his desire to be embraced by the world, nor do I think it adds much to the character to give him that desire. I prefer the way that the Hellboy in the comics simply acts without much regard to such questions. Either people accept him in the same honest way he does them or they don't. There's a charming innocence to the paper character that is at least diminished by the movie character's celebrity desire, however slight and fundamentally about acceptance it is. And while there are some good tabloid jokes in the first movie that come from this premise, I'm actually more intrigued by the idea of the BPRD operating in a world where they may be unique, but not entirely alien.
Aside from these adaptation questions, the one additional nit I would pick about Hellboy II is that its underlying mythology can't quite be contained by a single film. As the beautifully rendered prologue/bedtime story indicates, del Toro certainly understands this and takes steps to address the problem, but I don't think he quite manages to convey the depth of the world that must exist in his head and notes, and probably in Mignola's as well. At the end of the film, I felt like I had only grazed the surface of the deep mythic structure of the narrative.
Of course, this problem also points to enormity of del Toro's imagination, and I'd much rather see a film maker of his intelligence and skill managing the cinematic Hellboy than some hack who slavishly hews to the print canon of a beloved character.
(For another take on the differences between the comics and the movies, see Mike Russell's latest CulturePulp comic).
*He also plays around with elements from smaller stories, such as this.
Belated post-script: I was ever so slightly bummed that the scene with young Hellboy watching TV wasn't taken as an opportunity to sneak in a reference to Lobster Johnson (maybe Dark Horse is saving him for his own film. Hmmm. Doubtful, but still ...).
Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs