As a boy, I was a slave to DC Comics. When the new issues of Superman, Batman, Action, Adventure and World’s Finest hit the stands, I was off to the drugstore to purchase and devour a fistful of 12-cent comics. It was a ritual that continued for many years, until I finally moved on to sports biographies. Little did I realize that years later, as a student, critic and teacher of film, I would be bombarded by movies based on my comic-book heroes.
Like other baby boomers with fond memories of their days consuming comic books, I didn’t embrace the film adaptations. They were too glib or too grim, too loud or too self-conscious. I longed for a screen version that might resurrect my long-buried bliss.