Superman's Clark Kent Disguise Would Totally Work
Some slicked back hair & a pair of glasses. It’s a disguise that’s elegant in its simplicity.
“Bullshit,” I hear you bellowing from your high horse. “It's famously stupid in its simplicity. It’s the go-to example of a shitty disguise.”
Indeed. The Clark Kent disguise has been a joke for decades now; low hanging fruit that I too have nibbled upon. But as I gorged upon that dirty drupe, I felt sick; not just because I’d eaten fruit from the floor, but because I knew, in my heart, that the Clark Kent Disguise would totally work (with or without hypno-glasses).
Here are four reasons why…
4. People Don’t Know Superman Has A Secret Identity
Why would they? He doesn’t wear a mask. Why would anyone suspect that he’s anyone else to begin with, let alone some nerd at the Daily Planet?
When you look at someone’s face, you typically don’t speculate about what alternate identities they might have. You process their identity at face value (sorry) — even if they remarkably resemble a celebrity you know. There’s a dude who works in my office who looks like Jesse Plemons. Logic dictates that it is not actually Jesse Plemons. It would be *unhinged* for me to tell people that I work with Jesse Plemons.
“SHUT UP ABOUT JESSE PLEMONS,” you holler from your high horse, circling around me at an aggressive canter. “Clark Kent and Superman live in the same city. They look identical. Clark Kent writes stories about Superman. People would work out that they’re the same person.”
Maybe… but before you resign to that, please factor in that…
3. Clark Kent is More Than A Costume; It’s a Performance
The Clark Kent persona is far more than hair and glasses. It’s a full commitment to the bit that even the most seasoned of thespians — be they posting an offensive meme in my work slack-chat, or gracing the red carpet with their wife Kirstin Dunst — would be impressed by.
Let’s start with Superman’s most prominent camouflage; Clark Kent’s mild-mannered personality. Clark is everything that Superman is not: meek, insecure, and in many cases, cowardly. When he’s not working within the confines of the written word, he’s jittery and inarticulate. On top of that, he’s clumsy, bumbling and oafish, and exudes an uncultured naivete that makes him the laughing stock of the office. The very idea that this fumbling farm-boy nerd could be a superhero is laughable.
This character work is bolstered by a baggy wardrobe that hides Superman's sculpted physique, as well as a sizeable shift in body language. Certain actors, principally Christopher Reeves, and artists, notably Frank Quietly, have shown Supes adopting a slouch that alters his posture, height, and general presence.
As well as a change in physicality, Reeves gave Clark a different voice that was higher and more nasal than Superman’s, ensuring that the two identities both looked and sounded different.
“NOT DIFFERENT ENOUGH!” you roar from your lanky steed. “I WOULD KNOOOOW.”
Ok, but have you considered that…
2. Superman Puts His Whole S’pussy Into It
When people try to uncover his identity, Superman is not limited to basic repudiation. He can haul ass at super speed in one direction, a second before Clark casually enters the room from the other direction. Oh, you want to see Superman and Clark in the same room at the exact same time? Well, Superman has friends in very high places (sorry). His shapeshifter pal Martian Manhunter can step in and pretend to be Clark. This duty has also been fulfilled by Superman’s look-alike robots. On fewer occasions (but still often enough that it’s become a cute trope), Superman and Batman will trade places in order to throw off their enemies.
“SILENCE, NERD”, you scream, your horse’s legs now resembling Dali’s The Temptation of Saint Anthony. “Of course the Clark Kent disguise works for a fictional character with superpowers and super friends; I’m saying it wouldn’t work in real life”.
Ah, but I think it would. See…
1. We’re Not As Observant As We Think
Remember when Donald Glover hosted SNL alongside musical guest Childish Gambino?
A change in wardrobe and a different name was enough for casual observers on Twitter to remark that “these two could be brothers”.
You ever see Zooey Deschanel without her trademark glasses and bangs?
No, me neither, that’s an entirely different person.
We shouldn’t feel bad about it; it’s basic human neurology. It’s called top down processing; our brains have evolved to perceive the world based on our prior information. Each brain patches together an idea of reality based on its prior experiences.
You know how you can scan an email for typos, and you’re positive there aren’t any, but then you catch a bunch after you’ve already sent it?
That’s because your brain already knows the intended context of the sentence, and it doesn’t want to waste precious energy looking for aberrations that it doesn't need to process. We use pre-existing information and concepts to quickly interpret what’s going on in the world so we can do our best to keep up.
The same goes for faces and identities. If we’re used to someone being defined by a certain look, then our brains are less likely to recognise them if they alter their appearance. It’s science. Look, they even did a study on it: the paper is literally called “Disguising Superman: How Glasses Affect Unfamiliar Face Matching”. Care to guess what the results were?
“I DON’T CARE” you snarl, as your leggy equine tramples my trachea. “I’D STILL BE ABLE TO TELL THAT CLARK KENT IS SUPERMAN”.
And maybe you could. I’m not saying the Clark Kent persona is bulletproof (sorry). But I am saying that it would absolutely work en masse.
Look, astute observer like yourself could work it out. Smart, creative, and sexy people like my subscribers could work it out. Lois Lane could, should, and usually does work it out.
But this would do nothing to affect the large-scale efficacy of the disguise. There would 100% be theories floating around that Clark Kent is Superman, but I sincerely believe that every one of these would be drowned out by a hundred more conspiracy theories about who and what Superman is, and whether or not his freeze-breath can give people autism (canonically, it cannot).
“Down, Ferguson,” you say, calming your leggy horse, gently pulling its hoof out of my crushed cartilage, finally convinced that that the Clark Kent disguise would work in real life.
“You were right, and I was wrong,” you say, “and to atone, I will subscribe to your Substack…”