The Secret Identity and the Divided Self
In the Marvel Universe of the 1960s, the Thing is inevitably linked with the Hulk, usually in some sort of grudge match, but occasionally on the same side. This pairing is obvious according to superhero fan logic at its most basic: don’t we all want to know which one of them would win in a fight? But as satisfying as it might be to scratch this embarrassing itch, the connection between the two characters has to be based on more than simple fan service. Juxtaposing two characters who, on the (literal) surface have so much in common, only highlights the differences that define each of them. The Thing, for all his understandable lamenting over his cruel fate, is always Ben Grimm. The Hulk of the 1960s is captivating precisely because of his ongoing insistence that he is not Bruce Banner.[1]
When Bruce Banner is exposed to the energy released by his Gamma Bomb, the profound and periodic changes in his body are not at first accompanied by as stark a change in his mind. The initial series ran for only six issues before its cancellation (1963-1964); it was only after his appearance in the first two issues of The Avengers, his guest appearances in Fantastic Four and The Amazing Spider-Man, and his earliest adventures in Tales to Astonish (staring with issue 60 in 1964) that he somehow lost the ability to use personal pronouns and express complex thoughts. After Hulk settles into his childlike, cognitively limited persona, and after the mechanism for transformation from Banner to Hulk has become firmly associated with a loss of temper (as opposed to the early issues, when Bruce became the Hulk at sundown), the comic has wholeheartedly adopted the Jekyll/Hyde model. The Hulk is not so much Bruce’s dark side, since he is not evil, as he is the embodiment of Bruce Banner’s suppressed rage.
Thus the Hulk, who constantly professes to “hate puny Banner,” is both Banner and not-Banner. But if he is a part of Banner, he is not merely Bruce Banner’s secret identity, initially unknown to those who would hunt him; he is the part of Bruce Banner that Bruce refuses to recognize as himself. The tensions between Ben Grimm and the Thing nearly always resolve in the recognition of common identity: Ben and the Thing are one persona, occasionally alternating external form. The case of the Hulk is the opposite; no matter how many times we see points of commonality between the two, Banner and Hulk are fundamentally antithetical identities, nearly always in conflict with each other.
In some ways, the characters are closer to Spider-Man: Peter Parker is always more or less the same person, even when masked (though he does become more extroverted when is face is concealed); most of his woes arise from the very fact of being one self maintaining two identities. Bruce and the Hulk are two different people whose troubles at least in part stem from the fact that they are forced into a dissociative time-share. To the extent that Banner and the Hulk are distinct, they are at least consistent in their self-presentation: the Hulk’s body is an appropriate form for reflecting his inner rage, while Banner is every inch the wimpy, repressed egghead.
Lee and Kirby provide yet another example of the divided self in the ongoing adventures of Thor, God of Thunder, initially in the preexisting series Journey into Mystery, and then in his own title. American surgeon Donald Blake, while vacationing in Norway, falls victim to an attack by the Stone Men of Saturn (an uninteresting variation on the aliens and monsters Kirby and Lee had created in the years before the superhero revival). Trapped in a cave without his cane (Blake walks with a limp), he discovers a stick with strange markings indicating that whoever is worthy to hold it will possess the power of Thor. Blake strikes the ground with the stick, which turns into the mystic hammer Mjolnir and transforms him into the Mighty Thor. Thor makes short work of the Stone Men, and a new hero is born.
Or is he? The dual identity set-up seems cribbed from the original Captain Marvel (little Billy Bateson becomes the world’s mightiest mortal when he utters the word “Shazam!”), not to mention Captain Marvel, Jr. (who walks with crutches when he is not in superhuman form).[3] The original Captain Marvel comics did little to exploit the potentially fascinating ramifications of a dual identity involving a child and an adult; the transformation was simply a useful device. Initially, the same might be said for Don Blake and Thor. Though we do get other elements of Norse mythology featuring in some of the early plots (starting with the introduction of Thor’s antagonist and adopted brother Loki), neither Thor not Blake are developed enough as personalities for the contrast between the two to be all that interesting. Instead, we have a very conventional set-up with Blake in love with his nurse, Jane Foster, and Jane infatuated with Thor.
The situation starts to become more complicated once Asgard and its godly inhabitants play a larger role. At that point, the division between Blake and Thor develops as a function of a much more visible evolution of the comic’s plots. Thor is a superhero, of course, but when we have epic battles between gods and monsters, are readers really clamoring to watch the god of thunder fight the Ringmaster and his Circus of Crime? Or are such stories inherently more relatable than a re-enactment of Ragnarok?
As the series progresses, Asgard becomes a much more thoroughly realized place, with more and more adventures unfolding in this unearthly setting. Kirby’s art appears to grow the more he explores his mythological setting; even the panels start to get larger, with frequent full-page spreads showcasing the grandeur of Odin and his enemies. When read in quick succession, a given year’s issue of Thor gives the impression of an unresolved duality, with months-long space epics or mythological sagas punctuated by Thor’s earthly battles with conventional super villains. It is not Thor himself who changes as he moves between worlds, except when he assumes the form of Don Blake, a persona who remains underdeveloped for decades. Rather, the familiar contrast between civilian and heroic identities is shifted from the self to the story. The Thor/Blake binary is a device that points to a split between genres.
It is a split that also appears to mirror the conflicting priorities of the comic’s creative team: Lee’s humanism and Kirby’s mythologism. Throughout the 1960s, The Mighty Thor is the most comfortable vehicle for Kirby’s interest in the cosmic and the numinous, just a step away from his Fourth World stories at DC in the 1970s. Even when the comics are not about Asgard (but still not about street-level crime), The Mighty Thor tells tales of failed or successful transcendence, such as the conflict with the High Evolutionary. The High Evolutionary is a human scientist who transforms animals into humanoids, but by the end of his encounter with Thor, he has become a godlike being of pure consciousness. Kirby’s vision has little need for the mundane to ground it, whereas Lee’s impulse is generally to use the superhuman as a lens through which to view the human.
The comic’s generic hybrid status, its tensions between the godly and the human, comes to a head in Thor 136 (January 1967), when Odin finally relents and gives his blessing to his son’s marriage to Jane Foster. Thor uses the dimension-spanning powers of his hammer to transport them to Asgard, a process that leaves Jane overwhelmed. Asgard itself is also a shock to her earthly sensibilities. Making matters worse, Odin grants her immortality and the powers of a God. Technically, she can fly, but she is terrified and nearly plungers to her doom. When Odin arranges a test of her courage (can she face the “Unknown”?), she collapses in terror and demands to be restored to her former self. Odin sends her back to Earth with her memories erased, and sets her up to fall in love with Dr. Kincaid, a convenient Don Blake substitute.
DON’T WORRY, JANE! SOMEDAY YOU’LL GET CANCER AND BECOME THOR!
This story serves as a resolution for a plot line that was clearly going nowhere (the Thor/Jane romance), but it also tips a heavy hand on the cosmic side of the scale. Thor still returns to Earth periodically, but now accompanied by Sif, a warrior maiden he knew in his youth, set in Thor’s path by Odin just as conveniently as Dr. Kincaid was set in Jane’s. In The Mighty Thor 139 (April 1967), Thor has lost his hammer, and is about to be turned back into Don Blake (Odin’s enchantment requires Thor to hold Mjolnir at all times; if it is out of his grasp for a minute or more, he reverts to human form). The only solution Thor can imagine is to die and be transported to Valhalla, but Sif saves the day: she just happens to have the power to move them between time and space, shunting them off to Asgard. Where Jane threatened to keep Thor earthbound, Sif is the perfect girlfriend: not only can she follow him from one world to another, she can take him back and forth unaided. [4]
Notes
[1] The Hulk/Banner relationship has taken multiple twists and turns in the nearly 60 years since the characters were created, ranging from fusing the two into one personality, adding additional Hulk personas, and revealing that the Hulk is the manifestation of Banner’s pre-existing identity issues resulting from abuse at the hands of his father. Since this chapter is about the 1960s, none of these later permutations is relevant here.
[2] According to Wikipedia, Tales to Astonish 54 (February 1965) was the last time Hulk spoke in complete sentences. This is accurate concerning the “classic” Hulk, but not some of his subsequent iterations.
[3] As Alaniz puts it, "“Blake and Thor by definition cannot coexist; each succeeds the other in a binary economy of opposing body types."
[4] Later writers will complicate this scenario. Sif restores Jane from the brink of death by giving the human her godly life essence. Sif disappears, replaced by Jane. Eventually, the situation is reversed, and Sif takes Jane’s place. Years later, they will be separated, and eventually, Jane will even become the new Thor for a period of several years.