So as I've theorized previously, the thematic purpose supervillains serve in comics is to contextualize the superhero -- by mirroring, opposing or inverting what qualities or ideas the hero personifies, villains shed light on what exactly their rival is supposed to represent. So when a single villain becomes a collective threat every individual superhero unites against - one that crosses-over each individual hero's mythology within the larger continuity - this "final boss" contextualizes the mythology of that entire comic book universe. At Marvel, that villain is Lee/Kirby's planet-eater Galactus; his brand of antagonism makes apparent the greater thematic symbolism of the MU. In the DCU, that role is occupied by another Kirby creation, a very different beast.
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DIE! DIE! DIE FOR DARKSEID!
Darkseid (as in "Dark Side", subtle I know) first appeared in Superman's Pal, Jimmy Olsen #134, cover-dated November 1970 -- four years after Galactus' debut. The evil overlord was one of Kirby's first creations for DC after he left Marvel under less-than-amiable terms, and served as the main antagonist of Kirby's Fourth World saga, a colossal and groundbreaking meta-series which has since become a cornerstones of the collective DC mythos. Time and time again Darkseid has attempted to enslave the universe, only to be defeated by a last-minute Hail Mary from a union of the world's greatest heroes. Of course there have been plenty of other villains that sentence could apply to, but there's always been something special, something greater about the Lord of Apokolips (yes, he rules a planet named Apokolips), largely do to the intrinsic characteristics Kirby imbued him with. Whether menacing the New Gods, the Legion of Super-Heroes or the Justice League, Darkseid has long been the DCU's number one baddie. He is perhaps the greatest archetypal character in all comics (except Superman - why else do they always find themselves fighting one another?), and is certainly the greatest archetypal villain. Don't get me wrong, Doctor Doom is beyond awesome, but even his megalomaniac posturing can't match the grandiosity Darkseid brings to the table. It's a matter of scale. And metonymy.
Darkseid is not just unambiguously, unrelentingly evil on a grand scale, he is evil itself - not in the trite way of the Saturday morning cartoon vice figure but, as described in Final Crisis, the Platonic ideal of evil given flesh and blood and brought into the physical world. It helps that Darkseid brilliantly avoids the trap vice figures often fall into: the "evil" they represent being undefined, an empty buzzword blindly hinting at some general violation of Judeo-Christian morality or opposition against Platonic good. In Kirby's original Fourth World saga, Darkseid is specifically characterized as the personification of fascism - the absence of choice, the elimination of free will by way of domination, control, enslavement...whatever noun resonates best for you. God I am the worst at this writing thing. Anyway he, as Tim O'Neil states, "isn't a tragically flawed Doctor Doom or an abstract force of nature like Galactus: rather, he is a living embodiment of a very human tendency towards obedience and power." What makes Darkseid so affecting is how this apotheosis is characterized; not only do we see in him a primal, unrelenting authoritarian drive, but also an undeniable clarity of mind in his quest to achieve that total power. Marc Singer writes of the villain:
"...Darkseid is a more mature, more psychologically stable, and therefore far more threatening figure: imagine a Hitler who's both physically intimidating and not the slightest bit insane. Darkseid is what Hitler wanted to be, the visions he sold to himself in his sleep made real... It's an old chestnut that the greatest villains--Magneto, Doom, Luthor... don't think they're villains, even see themselves as the heroes of their own stories. Darkseid is all the more chilling for knowing exactly what he is and what he's doing, and not feeling the slightest remorse."
Following in Kirby's footsteps, Paul Levitz was the first to associate the cosmic dictator with the qualities of darkness, paving the way for his (however blatantly) implied status as the God of Evil to become an official title. Darkness, after all, is the absence of light - humanity's preeminent metaphor for enlightenment and all things spiritual, sacred and divine. Grant Morrison, one of the few true Kirby disciples, placed this trait within the cosmic-oriented framework characteristic of Jack Kirby's work: Darkseid as the void, the empty black singularity from which not even light can escape. The darkness that pervades the entire universe, exists deep within us all (again, 'cept Superman) and will inevitably control us. The dreaded finality of existence - symbolized by Darkseid's Omega-themed armaments - which utterly transcends interpretation or definition. The single best description of Darkseid comes from his own mouth in JLA: Rock of Ages --
Kirby wasn't the first to understand that superheroes and villains function best as symbols, but he was the first to fully take advantage of it. Under his pen their monthly brawls became titanic philosophical debates between opposing ideas, with magic rings and repulsor rays in place of rhetoric. As the God of Evil, Darkseid benefits from this metonymy being literal, the embodiment being explicit in the text itself. Where Galactus is the cosmic indifference of the universe - humanity's predilection toward complacency and social apathy - in Darkseid we have a grandly iconic rendering of totalitarian wickedness, one of truly mythic proportions. The conflict against him is the ol' battle of "good" versus "evil" on a Biblical scale --who would want it any other way?
And that's the big difference between DC and Marvel, isn't it? It's often said that Marvel heroes have historically been the more fully-realized in terms of character. They're people with distinct, relatable personalities, everymen burdened with "real-life" problems and baggage. They live in New York, not in fictional cities like Gotham or Metropolis. No matter how cosmic, mystic or esoterically cross-dimensional the stories get, they always seem - or at least strive - to take place in "the real world" because we can so closely identify with the characters. The idea was revolutionary when Marvel first introduced it in the 60s, and much of the company's success to this day should be attributed to this innovation.
DC Comics has grown to take another approach in its publications, one that understanding Darkseid and his role within them enables us to define. Whereas Marvel brings their superheroes down-to-earth, DC raises them up. Their comics approach heroes and villains primarily as archetypes, representations of something greater, more heightened than the everyman. They are symbols, and their own symbols take on great iconographic importance within the stories themselves. Of course we're supposed to identify with the characters, but beyond that we're supposed to be inspired by them and aspire to be like them. As always, writers will often subvert the standard - a la the post-Killing Joke Batman of the 90s - but these interpretations are effective precisely because the standard is so ingrained in fundamental mythos of the DCU.
DC's editorial seems acutely aware that their characters are icons in a way that most Marvel characters aren't, and their comics much more consciously attempt to replicate the structure and qualities of myths. So it makes sense that the thematic fabric holding the DCU together is the archetypal conflict between good and evil, which finds its origins in classical mythology and, later, the foundational Judeo-Christian literature. In other words, where Marvel is all about morality against amorality, DC stories deal with morality against immorality. It's Beowulf vs. the Dragon with these guys. Advancement against destruction. Compassion against malice. Democracy against fascism. Freedom against slavery.
What's so funny about truth, justice and the American way?
Especially if it saves you from this guy?
