What’s up, Wisecrack? Jared, eternally trapped in your computer,
here. Self-aware humor is all around us: Deadpool,
Cabin in the Woods and even Galaxy Quest are all well-loved, and it’s easy to see why:
they make fun of the very genres they inhabit, and they’re all part of a growing trend
of media that makes fun of, well, itself. “Be a superhero.” “Listen! The day I decide to become a crime-fighting
sh*t-swizzler who rooms with a bunch of other little whiners at the Neverland mansion of
some creepy, old, bald, Heaven’s Gate-looking motherf**ker — On THAT day, I’ll send
your shiny, happy ass a friend request.” And since this trend isn’t going away any
time soon, we thought we’d give you a little primer on the complex nature of self criticism. So, in order to gain elevated insight on how
we sh*t on the world around us, let’s explore the ever-so important distinction between
satire and parody. Both satire and parody exist to criticize
the world. And hey, that’s like my #1 favorite thing
to do. But like all things, there’s lots of bad
satire and bad parody. Today, we’re going to figure out the heart
of what each is with two Wisecrack faves: Watchmen and One Punch Man. So, join us as we dive deep into the nuances
of their respective genres, so that we can appreciate these amazing properties even more. Welcome to this Wisecrack Edition on Parody
and Satire with Watchmen and One Punch Man, and as always: spoilers ahead. And we’ll be using images from the Watchmen
movie and the graphic novel, so please don’t freak out. Let’s start with a refresher course, in
alphabetical order. One Punch Man follows Saitama; a hero capable
of defeating any enemy in a single punch. On the flip-side, we’ve got Watchmen, a
story that asks the question what if superheroes were just people like us, which is to say...
a**holes. Before we get into categorizing, let’s talk
about what these stories have in common. Most clear is their willingness to take the
archetypes of their respective genres and twist them around. One Punch Man takes an anime trope like magical
girls, a la sailor moon, and distorts it with a swole ex convict. There’s also the familiar hard working everyman
hero, but he’s just a debuffed version of Toku Hero Kamen Rider. And of course we have a Goku-esque world savior,
but he looks like a low rent halloween costume attached to an egg. On the Watchmen side, we’ve got an army
of superhero knock-offs. Both Rorschach and Ozymandias are distillations
of certain elements of Batman. Ozymandias is the charismatic, rich, and hyper-intelligent
Bruce Wayne; the force of good that the world needs, clean cut and above the fray. Rorschach on the other hand is the detective
batman, fighting crime, and searching for Truth with a capital T. Much like The World’s
Greatest Detective, Rorschach’s quest for Truth and Justice veers dangerously close
to a horrifying obsession. He’s like the ugly version of Frank Miller’s
take on the Caped Crusader. And for good measure, there’s Nite Owl,
a recreation of the nerdy, inventor version of Batman, a la Adam West and his shark repellant. Both stories use these twisted up versions
of recognizable characters to make observations about what we take for granted in superhero
stories: the types of heroes we see, what we expect them to do, and what we think motivates
them. “I’m just a guy who's a hero for fun." By changing up what we’re used to, the departure
from the original trope sticks out like sore a thumb. In both stories, this contrast explores what
we’ll call a more realistic version of superhero power. What is having god-like power really like? To find out, let’s turn to a pair of hairless
wonders, Saitama and Dr. Manhattan. While a pair of galactically powerful heroes
isn’t exactly the kind of thing you’d see in real life, their reaction to power
very much is. Both Saitama and Dr. Manhattan confront the
boredom afforded by omnipotence. Saitama spends his time mourning his lack
of a true challenge, “Not again! All it took was one punch!” while Dr. Manhattan mostly has weird sex,
hangs out on Mars, and contemplates the nature of time. Despite their vast power, neither is a traditional
protagonist like Batman or Goku because neither one struggles in a traditional way. While Goku has to train with King Kai and
sprint along passages between worlds, Saitama just does some push ups. Batman puts together clues to solve mysteries,
Dr. Manhattan literally knows everything. "The comedian is dead. Rorschach wants me to look into my future
and see if the killer is ever publicly identified." We’re used to stories about good guys overcoming
the odds, but for Saitama and Dr. Manhattan, physical confrontations are over before they
start. Dr. Manhattan won the Vietnam war by himself,
and Saitama beat up an alien that searched entire galaxies for a worthy f**kin’ adversary
without ever even giving it his full effort. "You lie. You had strength to spare. I never stood a chance." So what is the one critical difference between
the method of One Punch Man and Watchmen? Watchmen is a satire, and One Punch Man is
a parody. While one is ultimately an adoration of the
genre it lovingly pokes fun at, the other is a “burn it all” approach to the heroes
who used to cover our jammies. According to ‘Satire: A Critical Reintroduction
by Dustin Griffin,’ “A work of satire is designed to attack vice or folly… it seeks to persuade an audience that something
or someone is reprehensible or ridiculous… When it takes over another literary structure,
it tends not just to borrow it… but to subvert it or… direct it’s energies towards alien
ends." Watchmen, as satire, doesn’t just attack
the vices and follies of society and the superhero genre, it specifically assaults the idea of
anyone possessing powers that even approach that of a nuclear weapon. It’s largely about nuclear fear, only this
time it’s not just directed at a bomb, but a blue-skinned super being. Jon Osterman becomes Dr. Manhattan in a nuclear
accident. He’s then recruited and used as a weapon
to win the Vietnam war. Even his name is a far from subtle reference
to the Manhattan Project. He’s fascinated by both time and clocks,
and throughout Watchmen we often see clocks counting down toward... undesirable outcomes. In the graphic novel, this is even clearer. Nuclear security is referenced all the time,
and fear of nukes drives many kinds of conflict. The Vietnam war was a response to fear of
nuke-wielding Russians. Riots and violence on the home front, in opposition
to superheroes, all return to the fear of a nuclear threat, symbolized by blue-skinned
space wizard Dr. Manhattan. The USSR and USA need a fabricated attack
on the earth to even set aside their differences, exposing the extreme lengths taken, and casualties
sustained, just to de-esclate the nuclear stand-off. Watchmen shows the dangers of power, but also
its indifference. Dr. Manhattan gets bored of everything, and
in his boredom becomes increasingly conflicted about the nature of his own existence. "I prefer the stillness here. I am tired of Earth and these people. I'm tired of being caught in the tangle of
their lives." It’s ultimately a grim joke about Superman. If he were really an all powerful being, why
would he worry about humanity? “In my opinion, the existence of life is
a highly overrated phenomenon.” It’s even clear in his sartorial choices. Superman rocks his costume to evoke the American
values of truth, justice, and the American way. Dr. Manhattan strips himself of ideology and
gets naked. Watchmen makes a more explicit point about
the corrupting influence of power with The Comedian. Superhero stories ask us to believe that the
“good guys” with power are the ones who deserve it, but Watchmen is more than willing
to point out that they are not. The comedian is a hero in the mold of Captain
America or Wolverine, an extra strong, intelligent, hyper-capable, super soldier, but he’s also
a sadist and a psychopath. Watchmen isn’t just making these observations
to satisfy your brain’s thinky-parts. It uses the form of the superhero genre, like
Batman clones and all-powerful beings, and the content of the story to try and persuade
an audience. But, persuade them of what? Well, there’s certainly the problems of
nukes. But Griffin also says that satire wants to
prove “that something or someone is reprehensible or ridiculous” - and in this case that something
is the very idea of superheroes. Watchmen is dedicated to making the case that
the very existence of superheroes is a dangerous fantasy. You can compare it a classic work of satire,
Jonathan Swift’s “A Modest Proposal”: where the author suggests solving famine by
eating children. Of course, Swift wasn’t actually pro kid-eating,
he was just trying to show the failure of society in his time, and did so by inhabiting
the form of a political essay that overtly exhibits the indifference to suffering that
characterized those in power. Just as Swift used the form of a political
essay to make the people who write political essays look like heartless monsters, Watchmen
uses the form of a superhero narrative to make superheroes look dangerous and sh*tty. It posits that superheroes create an asymmetry
of power that defies regulation. Superheroes can violate the rules and commit
acts of violence at their own discretion. Even if they have everyone’s best interests
at heart, that degree of power inevitably becomes dangerous as different ethical frames,
a la Rorschach and Ozymandias, come into conflict. Whether it be super powers or nuclear powers,
that degree of power will inevitably lead to some f**ked up sh*t. Watchmen can make these arguments so effectively
because it uses the structures of superhero stories to make its argument. Like Griffin says, “When it takes over another
literary structure, it tends not just to borrow it… but to subvert it or… direct it’s
energies towards alien ends”. Every inch of Watchmen is dedicating to turning
the traits we love about superheroes against themselves. At the end of the day, Watchmen condemns superhero
fiction as a genre because it promotes a dangerous fantasy. But Saitama might want a word about that. There’s no doubt that One Punch Man is poking
fun at superheroes of both manga and western comics, as well as the genres themselves. The villains in One Punch Man give intentionally
over the top versions of classic villain monologues. “I am the King of the deep, lord of the
seas. All life on earth comes from the sea, as if
she were our mother. In other words, as ruler of the seas, I am
the pinnacle of a pyramid that includes every living organism on this world!” Every character has a dramatic backstory,
"He destroyed everything in sight: parks, schools, buildings, my house. He even took my family’s lives,” and a
fighting spirit. It uses anime and manga tropes like ocean
creatures, swarms of people in suits, Kaiju-style monsters, and more. It’s always in conversation with other works
in the same genre, but without the judgement we see in Watchmen. Why? Because One Punch Man isn’t a satire. It’s a parody. Now let’s investigate the difference, and
I promise it’s more than just semantics. We’ve already seen how satire has a specific
persuasive function, usually in opposition to something, but parody isn’t quite like
that. Parody exaggerates certain elements of its
target, but it ultimately affirms the literary form it inhabits. To be more specific, we’re turning to Robert
Phiddian and his essay, “Are Parody and Deconstruction Secretly The Same Thing?” Parody accepts the logic and rules of its
genre and takes them seriously as tools of its criticism. As Phiddian says, “It operates from inside
of the texts and ideas it criticizes.” Think of how Genos mirrors a classic anime
protagonist. He suffered a trauma and is trying to become
strong enough to get revenge for the people he loves, but at every turn he’s rendered
a joke by Saitama’s immense power. That doesn’t diminish Genos’s appeal. We can still relate to his desires, and they
aren’t treated as stupid. They’re just irrelevant because Saitama
has thrown all the rules out of whack. All the things we mentioned before: the tropes,
the references, even the structures of character arcs and stories are all classic manga. There’s no doubt that One Punch Man’s
creators truly love the genre, but don’t think it’s above ridicule. The show makes this argument by exaggerating
the overpowered hero archetype. In many manga, anime, and even western comics,
no matter how powerful the villain gets, the hero gets stronger to match. Take Goku for instance: enemies get stronger
and stronger, but Goku is always able to save the day, usually through some intense training
regimen. Dragonball Z celebrates this, but One Punch
Man asks why there even are other characters. Genos and Mumen Rider, much like Krillin or
Yamcha, train hard to match their stronger friend, but they never can, and honestly don’t
need to. The real hero will always be there to save
the day. By turning anime and manga on their heads
to make these points, One Punch Man is critiquing superhero stories by “showing...precisely
where they double and collapse.” For a great example of where the lessons of
superhero stories collapse, let’s get back to Mumen Rider. He has a classic backstory and a hero’s
motivation. "It's not about winning or losing. It's about me taking you on, right here, right
now." He just wants to help people and be like the
heroes he looks up to, "I'll go rescue them right now." Not unlike Midoriya from My Hero Academia. And much like Midoriya before he gets his
powers, Mumen Rider constantly gets his ass kicked. It’s a message about real life. Some people just don’t have what it takes
to be a superhero, and telling everyone they can might get them seriously hurt. We can see this same intrusion of reality
in Saitama. Most superhero stories end with the hero happy
to be saving the world, and waiting for the next challenge. Saitama has a more relatable reaction, boredom. There’s nothing to overcome, and that leaves
you without a reason to get out of the bathtub. This may sound like the satire rules so far,
but instead of trying to show something as “reprehensible or ridiculous,” “The
crucial point for parody is that the body of words is always preloved and redirected.” Parody is used to awaken us to the flaws in
the things we love, but not to demolish a flawed genre, like Watchmen aspires to do
with superheroes. One Punch Man makes clear it’s mocking anime
to help expand the possibilities of what it can do. It’s a complicated relationship, mocking
the things you love. It can be hard to tell how to approach a parodic
text, but, according to Phiddian, “if we read parody ‘straight’ as sincere expression
without relating it to a structure of criticism, we misunderstand it.” That’s the key. Parody is a tool for criticism but that criticism
operates on the assumption that the genre it’s criticizing is worth improving. One Punch Man calls on us to get away from
the bigger monster, bigger gun and find other stories to tell. Stories about chefs, ice skaters, and even
mahjong players. Opening up the possibilities of anime storytelling
is a noble goal, and one that is sorely needed. The ending of the show amounts to a criticism
of the Dragon Ball Z model of storytelling. Much like Goku, Boros is constantly seeking
the strongest opponents in the universe, but unlike our Saiyan hero, he’s willing to
destroy innocents to find the ones he wants. At the same time Saitama, the actual strongest
being is bored of all the power. One Punch Man is displaying both ways this
infinite power model can fail. Now, it’s important to remember that One
Punch Man may criticize a certain kind of superhero narrative, but it doesn’t disavow
the value of heroes. The show wants us to recognize and emulate
the bravery we see from Genos and Mumen Rider, but also recognize the silliness of the story
we find those lessons in. That’s the critical difference between One
Punch Man and Watchmen. Both use their overpowered characters to make
points about the genre they inhabit, but Watchmen makes condemnations of all sorts of social
systems beyond the context of superheroes, and even condemns the superhero genre itself. One Punch Man feels different. There’s a general agreement that the stories
we’ve told forever need a little refresh, but that doesn’t mean abandoning them completely. With that in mind, we can label things like
Team America, Dr. Strangelove, and Heathers as satire alongside Watchmen, and Deadpool,
Galaxy Quest, and Blazing Saddles as parody alongside One Punch Man. And The Big Bang theory is none of these things,
‘cause f**k that show. And, as always, thanks for watching, guys. Peace.
