Can a play help tell the story of the world's most famous whistleblower?

'The Radicalisation of Bradley Manning' seeks to redress the balance.

Bradley Manning probably has greater name recognition in Pembrokeshire than in any other part of the UK.  Nearly 700 days on from his arrest in Iraq on suspicion of passing material to WikiLeaks – yet still months away from any court martial – a play based on Bradley’s story has just opened in the school he attended as a teenager.  The National Theatre of Wales production moves to Cardiff and then north Wales in the next two weeks, with all the performances being broadcast live, online.

Haverfordwest is a small market town set among gently undulating hills, pastel-coloured terraced houses in dispersed with the occasional dark green or bright pink.  Bradley Manning was born in Oklahoma but spent most of his teenage years here after his parents’ divorce. His mother still lives in the area, as do many members of her family.

I first visited Haverfordwest almost exactly a year ago in aid of the campaign to get the British Government to recognise its responsibilities towards Bradley, who was experiencing conditions in military detention that the UN Special Rapporteur on Torture has said constituted “cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment”.  In the end, the FCO were prevailed upon to make representations to their US counterparts, which contributed to Bradley’s move to better conditions at Fort Leavenworth;  they are, however, currently refusing to send observers to his pre-trial hearings, which continue later this month.

Playwright Tim Price has faced some interesting challenges in putting The Radicalisation of Bradley Manning together.  The scale of the issues around Bradley’s case – tracing as they do seismic shifts in the control of information and the conduct of war and diplomacy – have meant that much of his personal background has been obscured, to say nothing of his possible motivation and moral agency.  Much of the journalistic treatment to date has sought to explain Bradley away by emphasising his divergence from the norm, which is more or less par for the course for those accused of blowing the whistle.

The Radicalisation of Bradley Manning is one of a series of works that seek to redress that balance - there’s a couple of books recently published, with another soon to come. The play cuts back and forth between a Welsh schoolroom, the mid-West and a Boston hackerspace before entering the military and finding itself at Forward Operating Base Hammer in Iraq.  Some of this is drawn directly from source and some is imagined – the online presentation of the play makes it clear which is which, by presenting the source material as the action unfolds.

Six actors of different genders and backgrounds all play Bradley at points and the play encourages the audience to draw parallels between the different situations and the character at their centre.  There’s a constant duality in the production between casual injustice and the idealism of those who would challenge it, but how much Bradley’s inner conflict is a product of context and how much of personality is ultimately something that the audience has to decide. 

As someone who has followed the story for a while, this feels like the right approach. There’s a wealth of comment out there on all aspects of the case, but getting any closer to Bradley as a personality is extraordinarily difficult.  What information has come out since his arrest has been mediated by visitors and legal counsel and it’s one of the many ironies of the situation that the channels of communication have been more or less cut off since Bradley was moved out of solitary confinement last year.

Another irony is that the two significant documents that do relate to Bradley personally– the chat logs that led to his arrest and the complaint against his treatment issued from prison - are presented in the first person, addressed to an audience whose sympathies you, as a reader cannot help but be aware of.  As a result, those texts have an inherently theatrical quality: you cannot read the chat logs without being acutely aware that Adrian Lamo delivers his correspondent to the FBI.  Equally, you know that the US navy will deny there is any case to answer about what happened to Bradley at Quantico. Many would argue that’s not an easy position to sustain given that the then-commander of the brig was dismissed and the facility closed altogether at the end of last year – but watching a dramatisation of what prevention of injury watch actually entails is more eloquent than any editorial gloss.

 

 

 

Source: Getty Images/AFP
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Defining The Defenders: the long history of the superhero team-up

Netflix's new show draws on an established traditon of bringing together disparate characters.

Today Marvel’s The Defenders dropped worldwide. It’s the culmination of Marvel Studios’ interlinked series for Netflix, and all episodes will be available simultaneously as is the streaming services’ wont.

The Defenders, and the Netflix series that have preceded it, seem modelled on how the Marvel Cinematic Universe films have worked in multiplexes. At least superficially. Characters get their own solo films/series, which become increasingly interlinked over time, before all featuring together in an onscreen ‘team up’. Here, they combine against a threat greater than any they could plausibly win against on their own, sparring and generating alliances, friendships and even enmities in the process.

This structure, of course, is Marvel’s film and TV projects aping their source material. Marvel’s comics, and superhero comics more generally, have long relished the "team up" and the "super team". The use of this approach by Marvel’s other media ventures is intuitively right, allowing the mass audience for film and television to experience one of the specific pleasures of how superhero comics work in the characters’ new medium.

The concept of the super team goes back a long way. The Justice Society of America, from Marvel’s Distinguished Competition, is usually considered the first. They debuted in All-Star Comics #3 (1940) and the team consisted of the Flash (the Jay Garrick version, Flash TV fans), Green Lantern, Hawkman, and now lesser known characters like Hour-Man, the Sandman (not the Neil Gaiman one), the Atom, The Spectre and Doctor Fate. Within a few issues Wonder Woman would join: as secretary. Because it was the 1940s.

What’s interesting about this initial super team is that half of these characters were published by All-American Comics (who actually published All-Star) and half by DC Comics themselves, making this an inter-company crossover. (The companies would later merge). It also used to be claimed as the first example of characters created separately, and with no intention of them being connected, interacting. It isn’t. There are countless examples in the pulp fictions of the late nineteenth century, but the claim stood for so long because it felt right that the original super team should be the source of such meta-fictional innovation.

The Defenders were created much later in comics history and first appeared in 1971’s Marvel Feature #1. The team, though, had its origins in the "Titans Three" an informal grouping of heroes who appeared in a three part story serialised across Doctor Strange #183 (November 1969), Sub-Mariner #22 (February 1970), and The Incredible Hulk #126 (April 1970).

All three of those comics were written by Roy Thomas. Caught on the hop by the sudden cancellation of Doctor Strange (#183 was the final issue), he wrapped up ongoing plotlines from the cancelled comic in other series he scripted, bringing the now title-less Strange into those other series in the process. A couple more appearances of the group together followed, before the team was formally named in the aforementioned Marvel Feature #1.

Dr Strange. The Sub-Mariner. The Incredible Hulk. It’s quite likely that anyone reading this who is only familiar with the publicity for Netflix’s The Defenders would be surprised by that roster of headline characters. (And that’s assuming they’re even familiar with Namor the Sub-Mariner, a character of 1939 vintage who has not yet reached the MCU.) This is a radically different group to Daredevil, Jessica Jones (a character not even created until the 21st century), Luke Cage and Iron Fist, the stars of the current TV series. None of the telly team are characters a Marvel zombie would associate with The Defenders, although Iron Fist has been a very occasional member of the team’s roster, as has Luke Cage. (In which context, it’s unfortunate that Iron Fist has been the least liked of Netflix’s series, with a mere 17 per cent approval on Rotten Tomatoes.)

The complete absence of all three of the original Defenders from its television incarnation could be seen as an odd decision. Neither Benedict Cumberbatch’s Steven Strange nor Mark Ruffalo’s Bruce Banner are expected to turn up, even for cameos. Marvel Studios has policed a strict division between its Netflix series and its cinematic outings, despite announcing them as being set in the same "continuity". The fourth "classic" Defender is even less likely to turn up. The Silver Surfer (who joined the team in 1972, less than a year after it was formed) is, due to some bad deal making in the 90s, off limits to the MCU. His film rights sit with Fox, who utilised him in the rightly all but forgotten Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (2007). 

One of the reasonably consistent features of previous incarnations of The Defenders is that the characters have generally faced mystical threats. They first teamed up to fight monsters from HP Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos, and generally their antagonists have operated on that kind of scale. With Stephen Strange in the gang, that makes sense. You don’t need the sorcerer supreme to take out organised crime. But organised crime is largely what you’d expect Daredevil, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones and Iron Fist to take on, especially based on the Netflix versions of the characters. All four are "street-level" heroes, operating in New York, interacting with characters like murderous vigilante The Punisher and Kingpin of Crime Wilson Fisk. Perhaps splitting the difference, their team up series will see them take on The Hand. This is a ninja organisation, with mystical origins, that is nevertheless involved in organised crime and can be presented, as it has been so far for Netflix, within the context of crime stories.

Marvel’s Chief Creative Officer Joe Quesada has defended The Defenders being The Defenders by pointing out that the original team are largely unknown outside comics fandom, and their name means nothing to the public at large. (Although they have, of course, heard of all three of its constituent members.) Of course, for some this might sensible provoke the question "Why use it then?" What is this series called The Defenders at all?

The (original) Defenders were seen as a "non-team", a phrase occasionally used in the pages of their appearances. There was something deconstructive about this kind of team up. It was the pairing of characters who were unsuited to working, even to appearing, together and who would really rather not. (They had, after all, been brought together in the first place simply because Roy Thomas happened to write their separate titles.) The stories told with the group in some ways challenged and confronted the cliches of the decades old form that had begun back in All-Star Comics #3.

The line-up, and tone, of Netflix’s Defenders more resembles that of another, deliberately slightly interrogative non-team, that of the short-lived Marvel Knights book of 2000-2001. This did share The Defenders somewhat abstract definition of "team", featuring characters who didn’t like each other and didn’t want to work together, albeit without any mystical element to how they were brought together. Marvel Knights was also, in theory, the flagship of the line of the same name, at the time edited by... Joe Quesada. Hmm.

In recent years, Marvel have frequently cheerfully remodelled their comics - the original medium for almost all their characters - in order to incorporate changes and innovations pioneered as part of their film and television projects. Remixing their characters and the way they are grouped together in response to the success of their screen empire. The Guardians of the Galaxy, for example, have become more prominent in the comics, while characters whose film rights lie with film companies other than Marvel’s own, such as the aforementioned Fantastic Four, have been pushed to the margins. Accordingly, this August sees the launch of a new The Defenders title, featuring the lineup of characters from the television series.

Some loyal comics readers see this a case of the tail wagging the dog. Others might like to take notice of the metaphor used by comics writer Grant Morrison in his 2011 book SuperGods: Our World In The Age Of The Superhero. There, Morrison argued that comic books, while the medium in which these characters were created, was essentially the discarded booster section of the rocket in which they had been fired into the public consciousness, reaching vastly greater audiences in the process. 

“That’s not The Defenders,” commented a friend of mine on seeing a publicity photograph for the series a few weeks ago. It is now, mate. It is now.