Why I think Martin Scorsese is wrong about superhero movies | MARK HUGHES COBB

For Halloween, I'm pondering this costume, a horrifying-pathetic figure: Monotonous Once-Important Ghoul, aka I Prefer My Cinema Glorifying Sociopathic Thugs, aka Get Off My Lawn, You Peons Enjoying Yourselves!, aka These Kids Today and Their Thumpity-Thumpity.

Probably the joke wouldn't land any more than Martin Scorsese's powder-puff punches. Sure, film — wait, CINema — writers, those who'd weep tears of life fulfillment if only they could follow Marty to the toilet and wipe his bum, care when he wheezes "These kids today won't know movies if we don't tell them exactly what to watch!"

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Yes, because telling people what they MUST do? That always works.

In a moment of utter befuddlement during his last whine-rage, he notes that nice Christopher Nolan is one of those making real CINema, overlooking the fact Nolan co-wrote and directed three of the most epic superhero flicks, and contributed story ideas to "Man of Steel," then piddled around with science-fiction, fantasy, action-adventure, magic and more, each notable works of art, before creating what made Marty's eyebrows wobble in exultation, the devastating "Oppenheimer." Nary cape, radioactive spider — well, none that lived — nor laugh nor breath in sight.

Scorsese should take a note from his contemporary Francis Ford Coppola, who beat Marty at his own criminal game with the "Godfather" flicks, and retire. Give his talented craftspeople and creative crew their own heads, and see if they can tell a story sans a sociopathic lead, every other go. Put on a straw hat and make wine, instead of whine. Write memoirs, instead of churning out technically lovely, soulless cinema, ala his also-sorta contemporary Woody Allen, whose output tends to be less artistically crafted, but at least still funny once in a while.

Or take lessons from veteran moviemakers Steven Spielberg, Steven Soderbergh or Nolan, those who continue to craft CINema while also creating art people pay to see. Or study younger kids such as Greta Gerwig ("Lady Bird," "Little Women," "Barbie"), Ryan Coogler ("Fruitvale Station," the "Black Panther" and "Creed" movies), or Jordan Peele ("Get Out," "Us," "Nope"). Even though those kids tote just a bagful of credits, they're pulling from Mary Poppins' endless magic carpet ride.

Gerwig's gone from zits-and-all contemporary breakdown to layered cake deeper than its lovely frosting to a surreal fish-out-of-water billion-dollar baby based on one of the world's most immediately recognizable figures.

At 27, Coogler stunned with his 2013 "Fruitvale Station," a historically-based tragedy, then did something an arena full of defibrillators wouldn't have thought possible, and jump-started life into boxing movies. That was leadup to the critical and box-office gem "Black Panther," earning universal praise and $1.3 billion, making it the highest-grossing film directed by a person of color, ninth-biggest box-office success in history. (The Top 10 all-time are superhero, science-fiction, fantasy, or "Titanic," yet another true reason for Scorcese's chronic case of the Mondays).

First known as half of a chameleonic comedic team with Keegan-Michael Key, Peele has shocked all but those who knew him with his mastery of suspense, science-fiction and horror, wielded with a sweeping authority, piercing vision and unnerving tone Alfred Hitchcock or Rod Serling would have been proud to steal.

Like the hipster-silliness of The Dude bemoaning the Eagles, when there are FAR worse bands deserving hatred — Journey, the Police, Rush, DMB, Sex Pistols, and 99 percent of movie star side projects, though, ironically enough, not those of Jeff Bridges — there's this knee-jerk "Ooh, superhero movies are .... " Fill in your derogatory blank.

But there's Roy Rogers, and there's "Unforgiven." There's "Love, Actually," and there's "Casablanca." There's "You Nazty Spy!," and there's "Duck Soup." Don't slam an entire genre for its troughs, unless you're willing to admit its peaks.

It's not about capes, bizarre powers, fistfights and SFX. It's gods, heroes and villains, wars of good vs. evil, though in the 21st century, more like wars between lesser evils, and struggles against seemingly indomitable monsters.

They're often about the degradation concentrated power can rust through even the basically decent, because a weave takes no shape without flaws in the fabric.

They're the most ancient and enduring subjects of literature, theater, music, all art: Beowulf, Heracles, Arthur, Bellerophon, Theseus and Hippolyta, Pandora, Perseus, Tristan and Isolde, Zeus and Thor, Diana, Achilles and Jason. They're romance and tragedy, triumph and heartbreak. They're stories we've told since we've told stories.

Great writers don't shy from fantasy, horror, heroic rises and tragic falls: Shakespeare, Poe, Dickens, Twain, Tolkien, Bradbury, LeGuin, Gaiman, Murakami, Dahl, Baum, Carroll, Verne, Wells .... What are considered our first written works of literature? "The Epic of Gilgamesh." "Beowulf."

And the first modern novel, Miguel de Cervantes' "El ingenioso hidalgo Don Quixote de la Mancha," better known as "Don Quixote," concerns a man for whom real life isn't vivid enough, so he takes on the mantle of hero, jousting sheep and windmills, dreaming impossible dreams.

It's about exemplars, those being and doing more, to make life better. Let Marty wallow in his miasma of casual psychotics. There's room for all the things, really, even though his last good movie was "Cape Fear," and his last great one "After Hours." But as long as he keeps flinging impotent spitballs at other folks trying to create, I won't be wasting time or money on anything he's selling.

I refuse to support those who drag other creatives down, and suck joy out of life. As a critic, that's MY job.

Reach Tusk Editor Mark Hughes Cobb at mark.cobb@tuscaloosanews.com.

This article originally appeared on The Tuscaloosa News: Martin Scorsese is wrong about superhero movies | MARK HUGHES COBB