Growing Pains of the Superhuman Teenager
Are you there God? It’s me, your friendly neighbourhood superhero.
BY: TANISHA AGARWAL
In the words of every punk band, indie teen film, and bildungsroman that ever existed, growing up sucks. With every new piece of content targeted at teenagers, it seems there couldn’t possibly be anything left to say about mood swings, unrequited crushes, overnight acne, and gym class embarrassment. Yet art continues to find new ways to capture, reframe, and recapture the unique confusion and excitement of growing up. The success of the coming-of-age story lies in its timelessness and universality with an audience that doubles as its muse. Hungry to be known at a time when it feels impossible to know themselves, they lap up the genre like so much iced coffee.
At first glance, it’s hard to see what the fantastic, supernatural, and superhero stories beloved by young people have in common with their target audience’s life. Perhaps part of the appeal is escapism: chasing a lizard monster across New York beats algebra homework, while a school with wands and flying lessons sound better than one with gum under the desks and outdated sex-ed. Maybe there is also something in these stories to which their youthful audience can relate, something making them equally attractive to this demographic. Poised on the boundary between childhood and adulthood, little about the adolescent’s life is stable. Puberty, developing identity, and the newness of university after 14 years of school, all mean that for teens change really is the only constant. It’s unsurprising, then, that they are drawn to superhuman narratives. Somewhere between the fantasy and barely-plausible science, these are stories about change—sometimes physical, sometimes mental, often unexpected, and always life-altering.
The characters in young adult fantasy and science-fiction narratives often experience a superhuman development of some kind. This may be triggered by an external event such as a spider bite or a werewolf’s scratch, or the realization of one’s abilities that were previously latent or misunderstood. Either way, the transformation process parallels another big change in these young superhumans’ lives: growing up.
Part of this change manifests in the body. When Peter Parker is bitten by a genetically modified spider, his first battle is not with the supervillains terrorizing Queens, but with his own newfound physical abilities. The once-dorky Peter must grapple with superhuman strength, ultra-quick reflexes, and the weird ability to stick to anything he touches. Each of these is a superpower which soon enables him to fight crime as the iconic Spider-Man. But when they first arrive, they seem more like an unfortunate breakout—the frustrating and embarrassing bodily changes that adolescents are all-too-familiar with. There is something instantly recognizable in Peter’s frantic Google searches to anyone who has ever found themselves scouring the Internet for an answer to the question that has plagued teenagers throughout the ages: what the hell is happening to me?
Andrew Garfield as Peter Parker in The Amazing Spider-Man // Photo via IMDb
The same question may be asked of the emotional rollercoaster that characterizes the adolescent years. Often, superpowers have a deep-rooted connection to the young superhuman’s emotions. The journey to get these abilities under control mirrors the struggle of real-life adolescents—and their friends and family—against the moods that seem to change in the time it takes to watch a TikTok. In the brilliant but short-lived Netflix series I Am Not Okay With This (2020), the main character Sydney grapples with grief following her father’s suicide as well as repressed feelings for her best friend. To the perpetually-scowling Sydney, who walks down the halls to The Kinks and is prone to losing her temper, these problems are equally, if not more, pressing than her emerging telekinetic abilities. “It’s probably just puberty,” Sydney convinces herself of her powers. But coupled with her volatile emotional state, it proves dangerous: a fit of jealousy leads her to give her best friend’s obnoxious boyfriend a telekinetically-induced nosebleed, while her emotional spiral over a drunken kiss causes her to accidentally destroy a sizable patch of forest. Her powers are triggered by her emotions, and she can’t seem to get a handle on either.
Sophia Lillis as Sydney in I Am Not Okay With This // Photo via IMDb
If the teenagers’ superpowers are tied to their emotions, so are their skill levels. The process of a character learning to control their powers reflects that of growing up, through which one learns to be comfortable in their transformed self. Peter Parker hones his spidey senses in a montage of self-discovery and stunts of which an adolescent boy might dream. In the MTV series Teen Wolf, protagonist Scott goes from being a liability on the lacrosse field to the best player on the team after a werewolf scratch. Whether it’s developing newfound athletic skills, successfully standing up to bullies, or finally landing the love interest, the superhuman transformation comes with benefits that are straight out of a teenage fantasy. There is a clear message to the young audience: growing up can be confusing and scary, but it does get better. For teens entering university and perhaps even living away from home for the first time, the sudden independence and responsibility can be overwhelming. But given some time and support, they can use their freedom to pursue new interests, explore their identity and grow into the person they have always wanted to be—a superhero transformation of their own.
But just like in real life, these changes rarely affect adolescents alone. Family stands squarely in the blast radius of a young person’s life: close enough to notice something is happening and even to be affected by the outbursts and moods, but still too far to know what that something is. Sydney frequently clashes with her mother who, despite her best intentions, must prioritize providing for her family over connecting with her troubled daughter. When Peter comes home jumpy, sweaty, and past curfew, a baffled Aunt May can only guess, “Drinking?”
You don’t need to have been bitten by a genetically modified spider to relate to this // Photo via IMDb
The adults’ confusion is understandable. Teenagers are complex creatures. They are a work in progress, a transformation half-finished. Amid the thrill and confusion of growing up, they become alienated from the adults around them, who seem completely out of touch with the problems that preoccupy teens most. This is especially true for international students, who struggle to connect with their family overseas while navigating changes and new responsibilities in a completely foreign environment. After all, there’s only so much you can tell your parents about your life over a blurry video call when they don’t even see the sun at the same time as you. To the teenage mind, most adults appear too well-adjusted and in control of their lives to understand the epic whirlwind of adolescence. It is this whirlwind that carries Michael, the protagonist of The Lost Boys (1987), to the titular local vampire biker gang. Just like the never-ageing companions to Peter Pan in the stories by J.M. Barrie, the vampires of the film reject adulthood for an eternity of parties and teenage freedom. In his pursuit of the gang leader’s beautiful girlfriend, Michael is drawn into the alluring world of the vampires and participates in their increasingly frightening initiation rituals. When he wakes up sensitive to sunlight and oddly aggressive, his mother assumes a girl is involved. Over the course of the film, Michael races to find a way to reverse his transformation before it’s too late. While the cult classic makes for a popular Halloween movie choice, it can also be read as a metaphor for both the appeal and the danger of shunning adulthood. In the end, everyone must grow up—or be impaled on a stake.
Sunglasses indoors and sleeping till 2pm—vampire, teenager, or both? // Photo via Lethal Amounts
At their best, the teen superhuman’s family is confused; at their worst, they are cruel. In the X-Men franchise, the young mutant superheroes face suspicion and prejudice not just from the government and public, but also in their own homes. A scene in X2 (2003) stands out for its painful familiarity. Bobby, a mutant with the ability to generate and control ice, reveals his powers to his parents, who react with shock and disgust. The parallels to the coming-out process are too strong to be accidental: Bobby’s mother asks, “Have you tried not being a mutant?” Indeed, director Bryan Singer revealed he had this allegory in mind when filming this scene. Incidentally, the comic book version of Bobby’s character was revealed to be gay over a decade after Singer’s film, though persecution and lack of acceptance is a struggle for all mutants, as it is for LGBTQ+ youth in real life. That the mutant powers first manifest during adolescence is also significant, as this is when one generally also discovers their sexuality. Mutant teenagers are forced to leave their homes and navigate a world bent on studying and controlling them. For many teens, this is an unfortunate reality: estimates indicate that anywhere between 25–40 percent of homeless youth in Canada identify as LGBTQ+, while only 5–10 percent of the general youth population does so. Bobby’s X2 storyline makes the parallel obvious, but to young audiences experiencing the emotional distress of unsupportive families, the mutants’ situation is one with which they can identify right away. This is also what makes the found family trope at the heart of the franchise so important. Seeing mutants who are ostracized by their families find a new, loving home with the X-Men may provide some comfort to queer and non-binary youth searching for acceptance in their own lives.
“You should see what Bobby can do.” Anna Paquin and Shawn Ashmore as teen mutants Rogue and Iceman in X2 // Photo via Rotten Tomatoes
Thus, these teens undergo two changes: the first transformation into a superhuman, and the second, subtler transition from adolescence to adulthood. All of a sudden, they find themselves pushed into a world of changes that are both frightening and thrilling, and they must learn to navigate this world without the familiarity of childhood. Their perseverance through the transition period and eventual contentment in their new ‘form’ can be a source of inspiration to their audiences.
The spider and the girl next door: Kirsten Dunst and Tobey Maguire in Spider-Man (2002) // Photo via IMDb
Biased though I am towards The Amazing Spider-Man, I recall a moment in Sam Raimi’s 2002 version of the web-slinger’s origin story that speaks to the confusion and excitement of adolescence. Discussing future plans, MJ asks Peter the question that so many to-be high school graduates ask themselves: “What do you see coming for you?” A recently-bitten Peter hesitates, seeming to reflect on the change that has characterized his life lately. He smiles. “Whatever it is, it’s something I’ve never felt before.”
