Something’s been bugging me since I last read Birthright. In the beginning few chapters of the book, Superman is portrayed with a regular average human sized stature, but his entire torso is designed to look like he actively engages in intense physical workouts regularly. But, two chapters later, Superman is shown to have a massive torso that completely dwarfs his arms, which were relative to his chest earlier. And he’s only 25. His Superman debut makes him look like his body grew and matured 10 years in less than a month, within the narrative.
The last few pages of Birthright by Mark Waid might leave a reader feeling a bit empty because it’s called Birthright. Therefore, we expect it to focus heavily on Superman’s heritage. And his reasons for wearing a red cape and flying around. We expect to know him and who he is. Instead what we get is an aesthetically pleasing tale about a boy who finds out he’s an alien. Therefore, the only logical solution is to wear a bright costume and threaten guns at people.
Back in the 70s, Richard Donner showed Superman in an amazing light: We was the symbol of hope. The symbol. He was sent to Earth to lead Humans out of the darkness and onto a path of peace. This was his mission. It’s why his father sent him to Earth. To be an inspiration to people. But in Birthright, Superman’s father, Jor-El, apparently only sends his son, Kal-El, to Earth because it’s convenient. Because it’s one on a long list that looks promising. And that defeats the whole purpose, the very ideal, of Superman. An example of this is on page 9. Lara, Superman’s mother, says, “It doesn’t matter. He can’t stay. He’ll die here, with us. And soon.” “He’ll die out there,” His father says. “Alone. And suffering.” This is disappointing because Jor-El, well any father, is supposed to believe and know that his son, his child will achieve greatness. To succeed where the father failed. Richard Donner made us believe that Jor-El sent his only son to Earth because he knew that his son would be the symbol of hope. That not only is a greater future possible, it’s within reach. And it’s with that hope that Superman starts his superhero career. Birthright completely takes that away. There’s no clear motivation for Superman doing what he does. Superman’s supposed to be the ultimate force for hope and justice. But, just to prove a point that black market dealings are bad, he shot a gun at a person. Granted he caught the bullet, but that’s going too far. He’s not supposed to become like them. When you hear Superman, you think justice. That was not justice. That was an alien flaunting his superior power towards regular humans.
So far, the dual identity of Clark Kent and Superman in Birthright might remind a reader of the Charles and Hank relationship in Me, Myself & Irene. In Me, Myself & Irene, Charles is a good man who is a bit tired of being taken advantage of. But, rather than explicitly state that rage, his mind creates a second personality, Hank. Who is borderline amoral. He vents his rage and vocal authority over everyone who within earshot. This kind of dichotomy is evident in Birthright. Clark Kent is a clumsy, shy everyman who goes out of his way to remain unnoticed, which, of course, causes everybody to metaphorically step on him. So, he uses Superman as a way for him to send his message. And his message is, “I am an alien. I am stronger than you. You will follow my example.”
After this part of the book, most readers probably will be looking forward to reading the rest of this book because they might be hoping to get a glimpse of what Superman is supposed to be, and what he will become (Since this book showcases the very start of Superman’s career, therefore he might realize what he’s doing is wrong). What's probably going to happen next is Superman will continue to flaunt his personal brand of justice, and not operate within the law. If this is his birthright, if this what Krypton promotes, then maybe it’s for the best that his planet blew up.