Fear and Loving:
Beauty And The Beast and King Kong Archetypes
in Classic Spider-Man
R. W. Watkins
From the outset in 1961, the magic and allure of Marvel’s superhero comics lay in their 180-degree ‘take’ (some might say ‘take-off’) on traditional comic-book dynamics and archetypes. Unlike National / DC, EC, Dell, etc., the stories were relatively believable, and took place in non-fictional settings—usually New York; they dealt with motifs of a perennial quality, such as Wealth/Greed Vs. Penury/Longing, and Fame Vs. Obscurity (often in the same character), as well as those of a more socially relevant nature in their 1960s / early ’70s context—such as Youth Vs. the Middle-aged, and the Benefits and Evils of technology. These motifs were presented within plots involving the media; the mafia; factual politics, NASA and military manoevres; split personality disorder; and (eventually) psychedelic drugs and the sleazy world of trafficking. Appropriately, the superhero characters themselves weren’t squeaky clean—often fighting amongst themselves (e.g., The Fantastic Four), and sometimes even utilising their powers for profit (á la Spider-Man, occasionally). Even the ‘secret identity’ aspect (so crucial to virtually all of the National superhero titles) was tossed aside for the first year or so;1 after it was introduced (with Spider-Man, in 1962) and had become popular, the new masked heroes were still ‘flawed’ by ’60s standards, with Ironman being Black-American and DareDevil being blind. Therefore, it would be quite safe to say that, as a rule, the messianic cultural archetype of the ‘Great White Man’ was not an earmark of 1960s Marvel Comics, and has never really been in the decades since.2
Cultural archetypes of a more mythological nature—such as Beauty and the Beast and King Kong—are a different story, however. In fact, one can quite reasonably make the argument that virtually all of marvel’s superhero characters (and their nemeses) have fit at least one of these categories—Beast, Beauty or King Kong—over the years. The X-Men, a band of blue-furred, lazer-eyed mutants introduced in 1963 (and recently featured in a hit movie), would probably provide us the most examples of such archetypal figures and corresponding behaviours, but they’re a superteam, and in the context of an essay like this one, it would probably be best to focus on an individual title character and his relationship to his environment; so at this point, I’ll turn our attention to that masked, web-swinging wonder, Spider-man.
Created by writer Stan Lee and artist Steve Ditko, Spider-Man was introduced in Amazing Fantasy #15 in the spring of 1962, and shortly thereafter, in early ’63, was featured in the first of what would be many solo titles, the Amazing Spider-Man.3 Right from the start, in his debut ‘origin’ story, Spider-man was portrayed as the archetypal ‘Beast’ before there was even a ‘Beauty’ figure to return his love, or even before he was Spider-Man. In his civilian identity as Peter Parker, the character was a hapless, nerdish, bespectacled teenage loner—an orphan being raised by his Aunt May and uncle Ben Parker in Queens. Usually labelled a ‘bookworm’ or ‘wallflower’ by fellow teens, he was in many ways an unofficial stereotypical Jewish (remember, his name was Parker) ‘Beast’ in a ‘Beautiful’ Anglo/Celtic-Christian world—possibly a semiautobiographical creation (Stan Lee is Jewish; born Stanley Lieber in 1923). Rejected equally by high-school classmate jocks (like Flash Thompson) and the one ‘Beauty’ he semi-secretly fancied, Liz Allan, young Parker suddenly finds himself rendered a potential golem after being bitten by a radioactive spider at a science fair, endowing him with super ‘spider powers’.4
But, as Stan Lee states in the ‘origin’ story, “With great power must always also come great responsibility”. This is a lesson Parker learns a little too late, for his initial reaction to his newly acquired powers is not to put them to golemic or altruistic usage, but to utilise them to line his own pockets—as a wrestler and television variety-show performer (a self-exploiting King Kong?)—and enhance his fractured ego. This arrogance and self-interest turns tragic after his new costumed persona refuses to help police apprehend a fleeing crook on the spur of the moment. That same crook, a few days later, breaks into the Parker household and shoots and kills Peter's Uncle Ben. At this point, the Spider-Man side of Parker emerges as a mythological ‘Beast’ archetype.
Parker / Spider-Man makes amends somewhat by catching the homicidal burglar and bringing him to justice, but ironically this does nothing but turn the very excitable (and envious) Daily Bugle / Now Magazine publisher J. Jonah Jameson against him. Jameson calls the rather naïve young hero a “menace”, a “bad influence on...youngsters” who “may try to imitate his fantastic feats”, and most notably (given the context of this essay), a lawless, inhuman monster (emphasis mine). Jameson manages to sway the authorities—not to mention the widowed Aunt May, the general public, and even other superheros to a large degree—against Spider-Man and (eventually) have him officially designated an outlaw, which is a status the character has more or less maintained ever since (Amazing Spider-Man No. 1, 1963). Writes Peter Sanderson:
Just as he had been shunned in high school, so too, as Spider-Man, he found himself isolated in the world at large, held in suspicion, and even feared, an icon representing the sense of alienation experienced by adolescents, a theme of growing importance in the 1960s.5
Such media-generated mass hysteria is more reminiscent of the public outcries and panic surrounding the Kong archetype than Beauty’s Beast. It is the ‘cloaking’ of Spider-Man in this archetype that has kept the character interesting—by staying outside the law (and authority’s grip in general), he draws readers’ sympathy (we know the truth about him), and perpetually allows young fans identification with the rebellion inherent in being a ‘menacing freak’ turned fugitive.
While Spider-Man is undergoing the Kong treatment by the general public, his Peter Parker identity is experiencing its first true Beauty And The Beast episode. Peter’s first girlfriend, the older and more mature Betty Brant (who, ironically, works as J. Jonah Jameson’s secretary), reaches out to him, and boosts his self-esteem by accepting him for the intelligent (and attractive) young man that he is—something he has certainly never experienced in his high-school environment. She also accepts his Spider-Man side (still hidden from her) to a certain extent by recognising the now constant crime-fighter’s good intentions; however, she cannot accept the fact that her criminally inclined brother died in the midst of a battle between the masked hero and Doctor Octopus (Amazing Spider-Man No. 11, 1964). As a result, the Beast’s ‘sins’ are only partially absolved, so to speak: Parker knows he can never tell Brant about his ‘Spider’ identity, therefore they have no future together, and—in keeping with the mythological archetype analogy—Beauty has not completely turned the Beast to her ways of constraint, calm, order, and ‘polite society’. Such an hopelessly sour end to a teenage/youth romance is nothing unusual in any era, and kept the young (especially male) readers of 1964 relating to the title character.
Parker’s next loving relationship develops after he has entered university and met Gwen Stacy, the daughter of retired policeman Captain George Stacy. The couple date fairly steadily for roughly three years (in real time, 1967-1970), with Peter’s self-confidence increasing all the while with the young woman’s encouraging love. But then, in a battle with Doctor Octopus reminiscent of Kong atop the Empire State Building, a large chimney gets smashed to rubble and comes tumbling off a tall NYC office structure onto the gathered crowd below—crushing Captain Stacy and any hope that Peter has of revealing his secret identity to Gwen (who now blames Spider-Man for her father’s death) in the process (Amazing Spider-Man Nos. 90-92, 1970). What this ultimately means is that the young man can no longer propose marriage to the grieving young woman (who, orphaned and without siblings, now craves a male in her life more than ever to replace her deceased father) unless he ceases to be Spider-Man—an act which will conflict with his need to continue avenging his Uncle Ben’s death by warring on crime (more about this later). As with the Betty Brant romance plot, only the Peter Parker side of the archetypal Beast has been won over by the archetypal Beauty. As a result, Peter lets marriage ‘slide’, which so irritates the proposal-expecting Gwen that she breaks it off with him, running off to relatives in London (Amazing Spider-Man No. 94, 1971).
Upon her return, their relationship resumes, with the issue of marriage dropped indefinitely. They date happily again for a long period, until a situation arises that entails the title character being once again reinforced as analogous to the Kong archetype. Spider-Man’s arch nemesis during this period was the Green Goblin, a.k.a. Norman Osborn, a chemical engineer with a compulsive split-personality disorder, who also happened to be the neglectful father of Parker’s university roommate, Harry. As the result of a dual unmasking during a battle many years earlier, Peter knows the Green Goblin’s real identity, and, when trauma jolts his lapsing memory, Norman Osborn remembers Spider-Man’s. It is after these sudden stress-induced recollections that Osborn resorts to his ‘Goblin’ identity and stalks both the costumed and civilian sides of the title character. Like the archetypal Kong, the Peter Parker / Spider-Man of the Goblin’s twisted mind’s eye is a threatening mutation who is undermining (and will continue to undermine) everything for which his other personality—the rich, powerful, middle-age gentleman Osborn—has worked so hard. He blames his (often shady) business problems on Spider-Man. He blames his (perceived) ill health—he obviously suffers from hypochondriasis—on Spider-Man, and appears to simultaneously fear and envy the hero’s youth (there’s that 1960s / early ’70s theme again!). There’s even the sexual/macho insecurity element associated with white-male relations to the Kong archetype: The Goblin’s son, the aforementioned harry, turns to psychedelic drugs and ‘burns out’ after being dumped by his girlfriend, the rather flighty Mary Jane Watson, who much prefers Peter Parker (Amazing Spider-Man Nos. 96-98, 1971). This results in Osborn’s Goblin side seeming to develop a view of Peter as a virile young ladies’ man. Thus it’s not surprising that, after rearing itself again during yet another stressful episode, the Goblin should symbolically ‘hit Parker/Spider-Man where it hurts’, so to speak, by abducting his would-be fiancee Gwen and knocking her off the Brooklyn Bridge to her death (Amazing Spider-Man No. 121, 1973). This murder may be looked upon as a variation on both the archetypal slaying of Kong, and, ultimately, the castration symbol inherent in said slaying. Of course, Osborn’s Green Goblin eventually pays dearly for this injustice, but I’ll be discussing that aspect of the plot a little later, when we examine the King Kong and Beauty And The Beast archetypes as utilised in the presentation of Spider-Man’s foes....
Parker/Spider-Man’s next major romantic relationship proved to be his most unique to date, for not only does it mark the first time the character reveals both sides of his double identity to a female, but it also involves a double application of the Beauty And The Beast archetype, due to the young woman in question being a masked/costumed criminal. After apprehending and privately ‘exposing’ the Black Cat (specialty: cat burglary, of course) as poor-little-rich-girl Felicia Hardy, a bizarre relationship (á la DC’s Batman and Catwoman) ensues—one heavily dependent on trust and subtle blackmail. Following a period of occasional, restrained ‘dating’, during which the Black Cat agrees to drop the costume and ‘go straight’, Spider-Man finally complies with her wish, and reveals his Peter Parker identity to her (Spectacular Spider-Man No. 87, 1983). In symbolic and archetypal terms, the warmhearted, understanding Beauty in each as reached out to the frail, love-deprived and/or emotionally crippled Beast in the other. But the ‘reaching out’ is too contractual, and reeks of self-interest: Beauty = Virtue Without Disguise Only seems to be the equation at work in the male approach. Parker craves the soft, warm and overtly feminine goodness that he came to expect from his Aunt May, Betty Brant, and the late Gwen Stacy, but he cannot accept seeing Hardy in the Black Cat costume (i.e., her symbolic ‘Beast outfit’), even after she offers to become his super-partner in crime-fighting (Spectacular Spider-Man No. 83, 1983). Possibly, Felicia’s costume simply reminds him too much of the dark side of his second identity (e.g., allowing the fugitive the opportunity to kill his Uncle Ben; permitting his friends [Harry, Gwen] to become dangerously involved in his perilous personal world of anti-criminal intrigue, etc.). Inversely, Hardy desires a man of virtue, or vice—anything—as long as he’s cloaked in a mantle of excitement and action-adventure. This is probably the result of her attempting to escape a stuffy, overprotective ‘all mod cons’ upbringing of luxury, and locate an enduring male who can serve as both lover and father figure (Hardy is being raised by her wealthy single mother). Whatever the case, the young woman yearns for the beast as a beast—albeit a loving (read: partially conformed) one. She cannot accept Spider-Man without his costume, and soon grows bored with the ‘dull’ Peter Parker—losing interest altogether once she realises that ‘Boring Parker’ is the dominant, self-desired side of his personality. Following this realisation, Parker/Spider-Man’s only ‘Beauty-as-the-Beast’ romantic figure gradually drifts out of his life and into the background, where, like Batman’s Catwoman, she has swung giddily between virtue and vice, and law and order, ever since.
This seems as good a place as any to make what Frank Zappa would have called a ‘somewhat rickety segueway’ into an exploration of the reliance of Spider-Man’s foes on the King Kong and Beauty And The Beast archetypes for their characterisations and ‘issues’ resolutions. As I’ve alluded, the behaviour of Norman Osborn’s Green Goblin personality certainly reeks of King Kong derivation. The demented villain abducts Gwen Stacy (‘reviving’ Fay Wray’s Ann Darrow role), and knocks her off the Brooklyn Bridge (‘stand-in’ for the Empire State Building?) with his metallic jet flier in a dark 180-degree ‘spin’ on the original film version.6 Later, he pays the ultimate price for his murderous action: while battling the retributive Spider-Man, he accidentally impales himself on his jet flier—“crucified not on a cross of gold... but on a stake of humble tin” (Amazing Spider-Man Nos. 121-122, 1973). It appears that the Goblin is being presented in this story as the ‘evil twin brother’ of both the Kong archetype and Spider-Man, who has been ‘cloaked’ in that archetype. In other words, the Goblin is one Kong who gets what he deserves.
Doctor Octopus is another story altogether, evoking the Beast archetype to a great extent in his sad lot. Originally a well-intentioned scientist extraordinaire known as Dr. Otto Octavius, he transforms into an evil genius following an explosion in which his four artificial arms (utilised in handling dangerous chemicals, radioactive material, etc.) are somehow bonded psychically to his central nervous system (Amazing Spider-Man No. 3, 1963). The radioactive blast transforms his brain into that of a brilliant, yet paranoiac megalomaniac who feels that he has gone relatively unaccredited and underappreciated in the scientific community, and now—as intellectually demonstrative retribution—plots to eventually ‘take over the world’. Ironically, the only woman intent on playing Beauty to this rather pathetic and largely involuntary Beast is Peter Parker’s Aunt May, who envisions ‘Doc Ock’ as a poor, misunderstood middle-age gentleman. She is willing to take him in as a lodger when no one else will give him the proverbial time of day (Amazing Spider-Man Nos. 53-54, 1967), and eventually (and shockingly) agrees to marry him under dubious circumstances—an event which does not come to fruition, thanks to Spider-Man (Amazing Spider-Man Nos. 130-131, 1974). Although May Parker’s showering Doctor Octopus with love and appreciation does virtually nothing to calm his ‘savage Beast’ (remember, he’s been mentally damaged), the long and winding (and somewhat confusing) storyline is heavily dependent on Beauty And the Beast for its germination, as well as its ability to tap into readers’ sympathy by having such a complex yet understandable character as Doc Ock ‘evolve’ from the archetypal Beast—regardless of whether or not these derivations were arrived at consciously by writers Stan Lee and Gerry Conway.
Even more reminiscent of the Beauty And The Beast archetype is the bizarre, tragic case of Dr. Curtis Connors and his indirectly effected wife and son. In an attempt to regenerate the arm that he lost in the (presumably Korean) War, Dr. Connors ingests a lizard-enzyme-based serum that he has specially prepared. Much to his family’s astonishment, however, the concoction not only produces a replacement limb, but transforms him into a talking human-size lizard! The doctor, whose mind has been dimmed to a certain degree in the process, abandons his family and begins frequenting and terrorising the local Florida Everglades. Despite this, his wife and young son, Billy, refuse to contact the authorities, even after various sightings of him (á la Sasquatch) have been reported, for fear such a ‘freak story’ might ruin his scientific reputation as a reptiles expert, or even get him killed. Spider-Man enters the story at this point. The genius-level physics major soon concocts an antidote, tracks down The Lizard (as Connors is now known), and forces the potion down his throat. The reunited Connorses are extremely grateful to Spider-Man, who promises never to reveal their family secret (Amazing Spider-Man No. 6, 1963). This scenario has been repeated several times over the years—in both the various comics titles and at least two of the animated television series—for the antidote proves to be not 100-percent infallible, with Connors temporarily metamorphosing into his Lizard ‘persona’ whenever coming under stress, and Spider-Man saving the day by updating/reinventing the fantastic ‘elixir’. As in the original, in each ‘retelling’ of the story, Connors’s Beast is literally and symbolically brought out into the open (he’s usually been hiding in a swamp, sewer or zoo), and transformed and recivilised by the love of Beauty—or, more accurately, Beauty By Proxy, because it is Spider-Man who serves as an agent of sorts for the loving, faithful and tight-lipped Mrs. Connors (and Billy) in reaching out to her resentful, introverted husband-turned-reptile.
On this familially reconstructive note, I now turn our attention back to the right (relatively speaking, of course) side of the law, and focus on Peter Parker / Spider-Man’s most significant romantic attachment to date. ‘Most significant’, because it has proven to be the most enduring in nature, and is the most indebted to one of the two mythological archetypes to which I’ve been referring throughout this analysis. In the mid 1980s, Peter begins again dating Harry Osborn’s ex-girlfriend, Mary Jane Watson, for the first time in several years (the two were an item from 1974 to 1978, following Gwen Stacy’s death and Watson’s breakup with Harry). Eventually, Peter proposes and Mary Jane accepts, but before even any talk of marriage can materialise, Watson must drop a bombshell: she has secretly known of his Spider-Man identity for years (Amazing Spider-Man No. 257, 1984). This may very well be the single most important plot development in Peter Parker / Spider-Man’s personal life since the death of his Uncle Ben, for everything is now out in the open between Mary Jane and him; the air has been cleared. The burden which ruined any chance he had had for a future with Betty Brant or Gwen Stacy has been lifted in this relationship. Mary Jane has proven herself to be trustworthy; not only in keeping such a tattle-tempting (and potentially profitable) secret so well and so long, but also—unlike Brant and Stacy—in her acceptance of his costumed life to a certain degree, given the fact that she did not dismiss him upon learning his said secret. She is the first woman to both know and (unlike the Black Cat) love Peter Parker and Spider-Man. In other words, she plays the quintessential archetypal Beauty to both sides of his Beast. As their relationship progresses from this virtual year Zero, Parker, like the Beast archetype, becomes more vocal and open with his emotions, allowing Watson in turn to better relate to, and thereby develop even more acceptance of, his superhero identity and all that it entails. At this point, the aforementioned marriage becomes not only possible, but inevitable (Amazing Spider-Man Annual No. 21, 1987).
Many longtime fans thought that then-writer Tom DeFalco must have been writing out of his armpit when he had Parker/Spider-man married off (read: civilised and adulterated), but such doubts and fears have proven to be so much hogwash in the fifteen years since then. Hotshot young Canadian Todd McFarlane’s taking over as artist on Amazing Spider-Man just shortly thereafter (thus diverting attention away from the actual subject matter) may have had something to do with this major plot transition unfolding so smoothly; but probably deserving more credit for such an accomplishment is the fact that in subsequent stories the character’s marriage has not meant a solution to all of his problems (on the contrary, it has instigated some new ones) .
This brings me to the final point which must be made in regards to culturally mythological archetypes in the context of Spider-Man: As long as the title character possesses his spider powers and maintains memories of his beloved Uncle Ben, Gwen, Captain Stacy, etc., his Spider-Man will persist in playing Beast to his Peter Parker’s Beauty. Spider-Man must continue to utilise his special ‘gifts’ in righting the world’s wrongs, even if it means sometimes making mistakes of a serious nature in the process. Similarly, Peter Parker, in some obsessive-compulsive, Sisyphusian psychological quest for closure, must continue avenging his Uncle Ben’s killing—only now assisted by Mary Jane Watson-Parker in an emotionally and psychologically ‘supporting role’. If this winning formula is sustained, I see no reason why the character—in comics, on television, and in films—cannot continue for another four decades; so stay tuned....
NOTES
1Captain America was an exception, being a Jack Kirby / Joe Simon-created holdover from 1941. (Captain America, like Sub-Mariner, the Human Torch, etc., first appeared in Marvel Comics’ earlier incarnations, Timely and Atlas, which published between 1939 and 1960.)
2Again, Captain America was/is an exception; and maybe Thor, but he’s not as much a messianic cultural archetype as what he is a mythological cultural archetype—being a god and all. Any other exceptions to the rule were found outside of Marvel’s superhero genre, in western (e.g., Rawhide Kid) and military (e.g., Sgt. Fury and His Howling Commandos) titles. (Non-superhero titles probably accounted for only 20 percent of Mavrel’s output in the 1960s and ’70s, and even less in subsequent decades.)
3At one point, in the mid 1990s, there were as many as nine Spider-Man titles on the market—no wonder Marvel went bankrupt!
4To exactly what extent Lee (and Ditko?) based the Spider-Man characters on Jewish myth, history and cultural stereotypes is unclear. It is interesting, however, that Parker is rather popular as a Jewish surname, and that Spider-Man’s biggest, loudest media enemy, the publicity-craving, editorially raving J. Jonah Jameson, has a Hitlerian moustache....
5The Marvel Universe, Peter Sanderson (New York: Abrams, 1996) p. 78.
6There is a more literal example of Gwen Stacy ‘reviving’ Fay Wray’s Ann Darrow in Amazing Spider-Man Nos. 103 and 104, but this is a highly fantastic, ‘comic relief’ episode, with Gwen being abducted by some dinosaur-like creature in an uncharted or ‘lost’ jungle, and Spider-Man, of course, coming to her rescue....
(Original cover page of Watkins’s university essay)