Ah, the mutant, which is just another term for “yikes but why not put in a gene splicing calamity into the storyline glorifying genetic manipulation.” At every comic-con, a primed-to-go mutant cosplayer awaits with multiple tentacles, an extra goggle-eyed face, or if they’re truly vintage, a couple of gills. And still, the debates rage on — and not just on stage, in the dark, Reds theatre: Does every work of science fiction need a quintessential background character like a mutant? Unfortunately to my horror, the answer is going to be “Ye-uhs,” with a lot of sighing in between.
Let me ask you this: Give it a thought — what are you without mutants? It really puts the dampers out on things, because all you’re left is a dystopic future with no flavor whatsoever. Instead of relief you just drown in a sea of cookie-cutter corporate dystopia where an evil genius is bound to be cooking stuff in his lab. There and then I can guarantee you, that is going to be the birthplace for an everlasting breed of mutants. The tagline should read “If it ain’t mutant, it ain’t dystopia.” And if that has you covered for now, let us lovingly guide you on a much deeper excursion, into full blown fully catered brochure-wielding, non-ironically intended mutants, graphical novel gasoline that are the sort you would expect to see use for limited edition merchandise packaging.
For years, I have attended multiple director Q&As and midnight showings, however, I do not remember them being nearly as exciting as the mutant films. During one of the recent screenings of X-Men: Days of Future Past, I noticed a particularly curious case of a viewer who debated with a friend whether Mystique’s powers qualify her as a societal commentary workaround or just another mindless bait. Spoiler alert, friend: she does both. And that’s the brilliance of the mutants—commentary after thrilling commentary on the portrayal of an accepting society. Grab ‘em, we need them in our sci-fi armor.
Now let’s dive headfirst into the subjects who are genetically crafted to be evil, but are ironically just as crucial to the form as humanity is during those relentless, doom-laden monologues. We’ll go over some of the most recognized examples, analyze the critical and fan love/hate relationships with the mutants, and if we get lucky, change some minds about the anti-mutant stance, despite countless stories revolving around them. Buckle up, because it may get a tad intense.
The Mutant’s Manifest—Explaining why Science Fiction’s Unsung Heroes are Mutants
The grotesque spectacle that mutants present to the so-called “normies” is utterly trivial in contrast to why we first include them in sci-fi – they serve the purpose of examining the genre’s most unfashionable and unthinkable questions. Take The Fly (1986). David Cronenberg’s infamous masterpiece isn’t simply about a man who turns into a fly and a half. Rather, it is about the most profound examination of the horror of perhaps losing your humanity. The Fly is wrapped tight and slick with Cronenberg’s trademark bodily fluids and still delivers a gut-punch payoff that is infuriatingly small for the trek you undertake to reach it.
The realization of the gruesomely devolving reality of a man transforming into a fly is where you come to the conclusion that the actual nose-wrinkle pumpkin moonshine ha-ha for mutants is a hostile place where attempts to remain unchanged become serious business.
And that’s only scratching the surface. Think over the cultural colossal of the X-Men franchise as “an entirely devoted phenomenon” unto itself. Without a doubt, the X-Men movies and their media tie-ins have exploited mutant-kind the most out of every franchise, using it as a lens through reckon and even at times, deconstruct society’s discrimination and multicultural aspirations. The X-Men fandom has granted an opportunity to witness an art form—American comics—transform into not only entertainment in the ‘pulp’ sense but also, holy Gothic storytelling in what Gothic does best through the Gothic lens.
As juxtaposition: it empowers the author, and likewise the artist, to wield and ponder over the messy contradictions we humans face in our daily lives: the ultimate inescapable blend of power and frailty, virtue and vice, and trying to navigate which side we should conform to and which side we should break out.Years ago I attended a panel at San Diego Comic-Con. I don’t recall the specific storytelling aspect that was being discussed on the panel. I do remember how somewhat heated it became, as these conversations do get when nerds of my kind start getting worked up over something. But what stood out for me is the angry Magneto (cape included) cosplayer in the back who Los Angeles Comic Con was full of passionately berating writers and accusing them of lazy storytelling for using mutants as characters. Sure, I get that. A mutant who’s a powerful nothing is a shortcut, after all.
But, I also think that as long as you do it right, making mutants your main characters is an “almost foolproof fictional device.”
Let us delve into the original Ridley Scott 1982 classic Blade Runner and its often criticized sequel. Remember the heart-wrenching final monologue given by Rutger Hauer’s character, Roy Batty? That’s right. He is more than a human, and, in the context of the movie, induces sympathetic emotions due to his societal struggles. One strikes a beat of empathy for “flawed, beautiful aberrations” who navigate between the narratives of sanity versus madness.
It’s not fair to assume that bat people and mermaid women will mark the calendars too, though. Science fiction does not universally improve with a sprinkle of addled chromosomes here and there. For instance: 2012’s The Amazing Spider-Man—you turned Los Angeles into a spineless city of crime, so fair game—what’s up with Lizard? Why even have the ability to shift a hero’s nemesis into a mutated behemoth? Sure, Spider-Man’s weak-willed rogues gallery gets a mutated upgrade, but tell me, when the character is void of these core traits of mutation, does it stop being fine? It’s not an issue of warping a character’s integrity. When a character is laden with intricate threads of narrative construction and is coherent enough to reshape our understanding of what a good story is while entertaining us, that’s when the show begins.
The monters or the epitome of chaos in science fiction films are the mutants. Attempts to ‘socially condition’ them into society’s boxes, as ‘acceptable behavior catalogs’, would end as futile as nailing these boxes shut.The ‘chaos agents’ are an essential component of conflict within megabudget sci-fi cinema franchises. Society is not equipped to cater for the discomfortingly honest reflections one would find in “confessional cinema”.
Fighting Back — Analyzing the Counterarguments and the Grounds for Defending Inclusion of the Mutants
Of course not everyone agrees with the agenda of the mutants, and these are the voices that show up for every sci-fi panel discussion, podcast, and Twitter thread for their attention-grabbing claims against the mutants. The pathetic claim of ‘overused plot device’ and ‘anger framed alienated outsider’ screams of starked mindedness. Sci-Fi is apparently lacking its edge granting dismissive judgment and sometimes even resorts to sentiment, as in the case of The New Mutants (2020) which considered its superpowered misfits a burden. Lets look at those arguments one at a time.To begin with, I would like to point out that I have come across this age-old, popular and at the same time boring complaint about mutants that says they have become too commercialized and popularised to be considered relevant counterculture figures, which in itself is a critique of sorts. Nowhere, things are far worse. I don’t deny it. But I feel a narrative does not lose its credibility no matter how popular it becomes; in reality, I can provide you with some important and thoughtful examples of popular narratives just because they reached a level of popularity where they can contribute to a society, and as a by-the-way remark, pop culture languishes at the brink of being liberating or completely repressive.
As a particularly rich and poignant example, I would mention the narrative of the X-Men character called Rogue.
Do not disregarded the context this time. The concept of ‘mutants’ itself stems from the gruesome reality of nuclear explosion aftermath, crossbreeding of genes, and a suspenseful Cold War. Mind controlling, three headed creatures from the golden age of sci-fi literature stemmed from the rich imagination of writers who were culturally baffled with the constant changes science would bring into the world. Rampaging radiation born monsters from semi-scientific or pseudoscientific nerd tales were not specific to having Japanese roots like Godzilla either. Coming of age dreams reached their peak not too long ago, morphing into all-encompassing “Japanese style” animation, while American mutant tanks and soldiers with comic book scripts encapsulated the essence of Western culture.
We cannot ignore the impact that mutants have on the superhero narrative. If anything, they resemble nothing more than “magic people.” Failing writers do, and often do, write untold stories overflowing with mutant characters with few that are remotely interesting because turmoil is a reliable justification for a “bad guy chasing” scenario that could only loosely fit the outline of a plot. Indeed, when was the last truly great superhero movie? Perhaps 2014’s X-Men: Days of Future Past? (There can be an argument made for that being it, at least so far.) But even that film feels like it was made a long time ago when you stack it next to the more recent ones that have been released.
I truly couldn’t remember how quickly time passes, can you?
Let’s not ignore what’s clear: do mutants at times overshadow the “hard science” comprehensively believed to be the domain of purists in science fiction? Sure; I will concede that. A film like Gattaca (1997) does not require a mutant to give life to among the soul-crushing visions of genetic determinism, and 2001: A Space Odyssey is about as close to sci fi gospel as one can get—with no mutants to be found. But, here is the kicker: these movies do not succeed because of the lack of mutants; they succeed because their attention is driven to one concern: their own thematic concerns. I suppose different strokes for different folks. But even in their absence, the spirit of the mutant—characters dealing with fractured identities, humanity’s struggle to grapple with the laws of nature—reigns just beneath the skin.
It is impossible to escape the context in which the world might be pushed beyond reach and implies human evolution; be it biological, mechanical, or social: mutations are unavoidable.
On the intersection of science fiction and social commentary, sits “District 9” (2009). The film reflects on themes of humanity through the lens of an oppressed alien race and their refugee struggles. In The “District 9” and it’s parallel universe represents a group of people denied recognition during the Apartheid era in South Africa. Within Camus’ philosophy of the ‘man’ and the ‘other’, is found the core pillar of a comic book narrative focused on human and alien mutations.
An alleged division of genres is an excuse to overlook the coherence of the Snoopy universe and to dismiss all kinds of comic strips in “serious” sci-fi literature. I have heard that frame arguments through the lens of one character cannot be construed to uphold the bald claim that “evolution is all around.” But imagining it differently, perhaps mutants embody social rejection and exclusion — like in Guillermo del Toro’s The Shape of Water (2017) — or take the shape of tormented creations in Alex Garland’s Annihilation (2018), where dna fusion turns a landscape into a terra incognita — not at all what WHO imagines when advising to maintain a ten-foot radius post-Ebola or Zika outbreak. Yes, the notion of a mutant may bring to one’s mind images of mad scientists and cadaver exhibitions.
And they can also serve as ample and crucial fictional representations of the types of “serious” issues sci-fi is confronting—on its plate—yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
If you still think that the mutants are of no importance to sci-fi, then let me ask you why do fans get attracted to conventions in the first place. It’s not only to pay respects for the good science fiction as a piece of art. Rather, they have a burning urge to celebrate the very foundations of the genre that fires them up, the characters battling the complex ethical dilemmas that are signature trademarks of all sci-fi proposals and predictions. For numerous fans, it’s the mutants that become the hallmark signifying the really deep, really daring stuff that turns sci-fi into an art. And that is precisely those reasons that makes mutants significant, not only as a trope, but as the very “living, breathing (and sometimes plasma-shooting) soul” of sci-fi.
To those who want to defend their pure stories of speculative fiction by saying that “[the] mutant is a too-frequent trope”, I say: You keep your narratives free of the “other” and allow me to have my fiction with mutants. When given a choice, I will choose the misunderstood, the unfathomable, the mutant, over anything mundane any day.
