**Due to recent misinterpretations of some one post
from this blog, a disclaimer is now apparently necessary. If this is your first visit to The
Scratched Camera, please read the introductory post and discover, for yourself, that every typed word that
follows is unabashedly my opinion and mine alone. In said introductory post, which,
shockingly, I did not simply type up for my own good health, I state that we
all read events and characters with our own baggage in mind; no one observes
with a perfectly clear lens—hence the
name The Scratched Camera.
Therefore, it is completely your will to disagree with any material that
follows, just as it is my will to agree and advocate for what is mine.** ~End, irritating obligatory disclaimer~
Erik Lensherr—There is No Peace for This Magnetic Force (Requested)
As
I said at the start of my posts on Natasha Romanoff and Jean Grey, (I mean that
literally. Click on the links and
you’ll see I copied what follows right out of there) I’d like to preface this
post with a specific disclaimer.
In all my nerdy habits, I’m afraid I can’t count comic books amongst
them. I have never read a comic
book in my life, despite the deep devotion I feel towards superheroes. That being said, this post will focus
on the film adaptation versions of Erik Lensherr/Magneto.
Villains,
for whatever reason, tend to be some of my favorite characters, particularly on
the male side of the equation. In
the three posts I’ve completed on males, two were distinctly villainous in
nature at their introduction—Spike and Draco Malfoy. Both posts are definitively lengthy as well, with Draco
coming in at a little short of 3000 words and Spike nearing 4000—my longest
post by far. The third male I’ve
covered—the Tenth incarnation of the Doctor—isn’t necessarily a villain,
although I wouldn’t declare him the hero either.
I
have a thing for villains, and not just of the male variety either. Generally speaking, villains, who have
typically (though, it should be noted, not always)
suffered far worse hardships than their corresponding heroes, just seem to
interest me more. They’re deeper
characters; some good guys are good because, well, it is good to be good. Bad guys have to have an organic
motivation or their actions will just seem pointless and silly.
Magneto
is no exception to this rule. As a
child, he went through the particular hell that is a concentration camp in his
homeland—German-occupied Poland.
He knows how powerless it feels to be not only a minority, but one that disgusts
and terrifies the general public.
At the concentration camp, he is separated from his parents, for the
simple fact that that is how they structure the camp. In the process, Erik panics, overwrought with anger. The metal gate separating him from his
family is bent and twisted and destroyed, from him simply reaching out his
hand.
His
horrors are only just starting.
Unfortunately for Erik, he had an audience for his particularly strange
show. Klaus Schmidt—a Nazi
scientist—saw the whole ordeal and is intrigued. He has an understanding of mutations and, therefore, knows
exactly what is happening with Erik, even if the boy doesn’t yet know. Schmidt calls him to his office and
demands Lensherr move a coin. If
he fails, Schmidt will kill his mother.
Schmidt’s first motivator—fear—does
not work. Erik tries to move the
coin, as Schmidt increases the pressure with a countdown, but to no avail. However, as soon as Schmidt shoots
Erik’s mother, the boy—understandably enraged—is more than capable of moving
the coin, destroying the entire room and killing two guards in the
process.
This
instance of adolescent agony follows Erik far past his induction into
adulthood. He carries a torch with
Schmidt’s name on it—which, coincidentally, has changed to Sebastian Shaw—for
the next twenty years, until he is finally able to kill him with the same coin
Shaw hinged Mrs. Lensherr’s life to all those years ago.
Charles
sees Erik’s murder of Shaw as a point of no return for his friend. However, for a change, I’m afraid Xavier
is incorrect. Shaw trained
Lensherr for quite some time and, in the process, imprinted his exclusivist
view on the mutant/human dichotomy onto Erik who was, at the time, at an
impressionable age. As a result, Lensherr,
much like Shaw, believes humans are inferior to mutants—to the point where
humans aren’t even worthy of sustaining life.
But
it isn’t just due to his time spent with Shaw that he feels this way. He did, after all, see the older man
murder his mother and, therefore, knew better than to trust the scientist. The treatment he was subjected to at
the concentration camp—which was, of course, exacted on him for reasons that
were beyond his control—forever influenced how he thinks of humans. He hated being made to feel inferior
based solely on abilities and attributes he was born with.
The
same can be applied to his status as a Mutant. After spending his youth ridiculed because of his blood and
manipulated because of his powers, he refused to spend his adulthood in the
same way. In short, he lacked the
faith and hope in humanity that is always present in Charles. He looked at humans and simply saw
another oppressor, waiting for their moment to come and snatch him up in his
sleep, just as the Germans did.
In
Erik’s mind, the humans have two priorities when it comes to things that are
beyond their comprehension—experiment to see how the object can be of use, and
exterminate out of fear of the unknown.
The Germans attempted both in their concentration camps. Approximately 60 years later, humans
replicate these exact actions on the Mutants. In X-Men, Senator
Kelly introduces the Mutant Registration Act—in which all Mutants would be
required to register and declare their powers (didn’t they see how poorly
that worked for Wizards and their Amimagi?). In First Class,
Lensherr outlines the steps of oppression as a four-step process: identification, herding, experimentation
and extermination. Clearly these
steps are based upon his time in the concentration camp, as it’s almost the
exact replica of German protocol.
Magneto
sees the Registration Act and immediately applies a check to step
one—identification. In his
opinion, he’s spent more than enough of his life as a lab rat, therefore, he
refuses to see the Act passed, and understandably so.
While
his proceeding plan of action is not to be condoned under any circumstances, I
can understand why he feels compelled to act this away. His studies of mutations—along with the
studies of his old friend Charles—help him create a machine that allows him to
artificially create a mutation in someone without the X-gene. The machine is built purely from metal,
allowing him—and him alone—to operate it very easily. He, of course, chooses the offending Senator Kelly as his
first guinea pig.
The
machine works, but with some slightly unpredicted side effects, which involves
Kelly ending up a puddle of goo on Storm’s shoe. Kelly alone doesn’t suffer either; his operation of the
machine injures Magneto, taking him out of commission for future uses of the machine. This, of course, poses a problem for
Magneto’s grand scheme—he had intended to use the machine to transform all
attendees of a summit of world leaders on Ellis Island into Mutants.
His
plan has a sense of irony to it.
If humans are disgusted by the thought of mutants, what better revenge
is there than to turn their viewpoints around on themselves? However, Magneto fails to see that
there is a deeper sense of irony to the situation that isn’t as comical as that
which is evident on the surface level.
By mutating the humans—experimenting on their genes and changing their
very essence—he is following in the footsteps of his German oppressors, not
avenging the lives of his long lost family and brethren from the concentration
camp.
Regardless
of the flavor of hypocrisy to the situation, Magneto proceeds, forcing Rogue to
copy his mutation so she can risk her life instead of him—an action I can’t
help but agree with Logan on, in terms of its hypocrisy. Logan, Jean and a few other X-Men
insure Magneto fails and Rogue lives to tell the tale. Magneto is placed in a plastic prison,
where an old friend visits him.
They discuss hope—in particular Erik’s lack of it—as Magneto swears to
continue his war against humanity in short order. Charles assures Lensherr that he, in return, will always be
there to stop him.
X2 starts with Magneto in the experimentation
step of his previously mentioned four-step process. A particularly nasty covert government operative—named
Stryker—has been drugging Erik and extracting information from him about
Cerebro, which it should be noted, he helped Charles build. This information is required to
reengage another mutant-wide attempt at the four-step oppression process. Stryker plans to use an altered version
of Cerebro to instantly track down and kill all mutants. This would allow the typical four-steps
to be achieved at a brisk and condensed pace. Cerebro, with the help of Professor X, can identify all
mutants instantly, rendering herding as unnecessary, as the sheer power of
Xavier’s mind can kill them.
Stryker has his own reserves of mutants to experiment on—several of
which were stolen from the X-Mansion.
From there, extermination takes only as long as Charles takes to find
them.
Much
like Magneto’s plan in X-Men, there
is a definite sense of hypocrisy involved in Stryker’s idea. He detests mutants—yet he doesn’t mind
using his own son’s powers to his advantage, nor is he above brainwashing
mutants to break various laws to encourage a hatred for their kind.
Magneto sees all of this and knows
what the only solution is. The
Brotherhood of Mutants pairs with the X-Men—albeit temporarily—to insure
Professor X doesn’t destroy their kind and Stryker’s plans fail. Unfortunately for Professor X,
Magneto’s plans don’t stop at disabling Stryker’s power over him; he wishes to
utter one last command before releasing Xavier—kill all the humans. Again, this echoes back to Magneto’s
sense of hypocrisy, however I don’t honestly think Magneto expected the plan to
succeed. The X-Men were too close
for the plan to be followed through before the others found Charles and
released him of the connection to Jason.
In
a sense, X2 shows Magneto at his most
passive. It isn’t his plan that
they’re fighting against. He isn’t
even truly the antagonist—I would reserve that title for Stryker. Last
Stand, however, is driven by Magneto.
Certainly, the Phoenix is the main antagonist, driving in the most
damage. However, it is Magneto’s
dislike for humans and his agenda for Jean that drives the plot.
That
and the cure, of course. Once
again, Magneto sees the rumored cure for mutation as a threat to his
species. Sure, it’s voluntary for now; but Magneto sees a not-so far
off future where its administration is mandatory. With this in mind, he assembles the Brotherhood of Mutants
once more—this time only with mutants who oppose the cure.
He
hears of the return of the Phoenix and is instantly intrigued. Erik looks at her and sees an
attractive ally and an alarming adversary; persuading her to join his cause is crucial
for his success. Therefore, he
meets the X-Men, including his old friend Xavier, at Jean’s childhood
home.
Erik
and Charles both attempt to persuade Jean to join their side of the cause. Charles promises to finally
teach her how to control her powers, instead of repressing them as he’s done
for the previous twenty years of her life. Magneto laughs this off, claiming that Charles should’ve
done that from the start, and that his offered reparations are too little, too
late. The Phoenix—not to
mention me—agrees with Magneto as
she sets to destroying the house and, in the process, disintegrates the
Professor.
While
I agree with Erik that the Professor dug his own grave on the Jean issue—albeit
in a small sense—I had never guessed the Phoenix would’ve taken her retribution
as far as she did. From the
perpetual watchful eye he keeps on her from this point on, I’d wager Magneto
hadn’t quite anticipated her actions either.
Erik
holds a lot of guilt on the issue of Charles Xavier. We see in First Class
just how our beloved Professor X became wheelchair-bound. His dear friend Erik Lensherr is, at
the very least, partially responsible.
Sure, McTaggert wielded the gun, but it was Erik’s defensive turning of
the missiles that prompted the shots to be fired. It was also, of course, Magneto’s magnetic manipulation that
allowed him to deflect the bullets, sending one directly into Xavier’s spine,
forever paralyzing his friend.
While
Magneto’s hands did not fire the bullet that changed Charles’ life forever, he
still feels responsible instantly, troubled to the point of literally dropping
his issue with the missiles to rush to his friend’s aid. He attempts to blame McTaggert, going
so far as to almost choke her to death, before Charles informs him that no one
is to blame but him.
The
remorse written on Magneto’s face after Charles takes his bullet mirrors the
expression he will display shortly after the Phoenix murders Xavier. While he had intended to goad Jean into
joining the Brotherhood with his ridicule of Xavier’s means of approaching her
powers, he had never thought she would go so far as to murder his old
friend.
His
guilt over the results of his missile attack and his sniping for Jean’s sake is
strong. Unfortunately, it does not
outweigh his fear of returning to an oppressed state, much like he struggled
through in the 1940s. As such, as
he typically does, he carries on his plans with an impeccable amount of
internal motivation, going so far as to dismount bridges and move islands for
the sake of destroying the cure.
At
the end of X-Men, Magneto promised he
would always keep fighting, no matter how insurmountable the odds may be. After Last Stand, in which he is injected with the cure by the X-Men’s version
of HankMed credible Dr. Hank McCoy, he gets his opportunity to prove
it. Alone, without his old friend
for company, Magneto plays a match of chess against himself and, against all
odds of probability, at the very last moment he manages to move his medal chess
piece without laying one finger upon it.
We part ways with Magneto with the smallest smirk evident upon his
face. The expression says it
all—the fire for a fight has once again rekindled. There may be no peace in Magneto’s world, but no one could
ever say he is without dedication.
From Gary King to Nicholas Angel: Is Erik a good role model? Erik is driven by the atrocities he experienced as a child
in a concentration camp. The oppression
he suffered at the hands of Nazi Germany affects his opinion of all humans into
his ascension into adulthood. With
his mutation, he is given the rare opportunity to eventually turn on his
oppressors and serve them a dose of their own medicine. As young Erik, there was very little he
could do to improve his situation—he was outnumbered by Germans who wanted
nothing more than to poke and prod him for his mysterious mutation. Adult Magneto, on the other hand, is
fully in control of his talents—ironically thanks to his previous
persecutors—and, therefore, is more than capable of seeking revenge. While his turn around from the
oppressed to the avenged is inspiring, his means and slow downward spiral
towards an obsession with revenge doesn’t necessarily provide a stellar
example. While his incredibly
strong motivation and dedication to his cause are admirable, he chooses
horrible procedures by which to proceed.
He shows no qualms at the prospect of murder—whether it is justified or
not is insignificant. Magneto’s
plans also often have a sense of duplicity to them that I can’t overlook. It is perfectly okay for him to be prejudice
and hateful of humans, but it is not okay for them to do the same to
mutants. Had he found Xavier at a
younger age, there might have yet been hope for Magneto. But, unfortunately, by the time their
paths cross, Erik is simply too far gone beyond the point of no return.
Role Model Rating:
3/10
From Peter Parker to Spider-Man: Is Erik relatable?
Erik has truly suffered—his time in the concentration camp, while different
than most of the oppressed due to his mutation, was undeniably no less
unpleasant than most others who suffered time there. While the audience can appreciate the particular stain this
has placed on his point of view towards humans, the drastic measures he’s
willing to go to remain a bit out of reach for most. Killing Shaw could be seen as justified from some points of
view, due to Shaw’s cold and unfeeling murder of Lensherr’s mother—although,
I’m assured there are others who would be repulsed by this action as well. His repeated insistence that all humans
need to die, on the other hand, reaches a point most people couldn’t follow him
to; it is punishing the innocent along with the guilty. In school, we all hated when the
teacher punished the whole class just because one annoying kid wouldn’t shut
up. In a sense, Magneto’s
insistence that all humans must be killed due to his generalization that all must hate mutants runs along these
same lines. It’s a frustration
belief, which Magneto only worsens by gripping with an adamant tightness that
simply refuses to give any slack.
Relatability Rating:
3/10
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