Superhero Animation Grows Up in X-Men '97

X-Men: The Animated Series adapted its source material with all the gravity a superhero cartoon made in 1993 could possibly have, but even Magneto himself couldn't bend network television's iron-clad standards and practices. And while Saturday mornings were certainly filled with other mature takes on the superhero subgenre compared to earlier fare — shows like Batman: The Animated Series, The Tick, and Gargoyles were a far cry from the likes of, say, Super Friends — comic-based cartoons still had their limits, and Charles Xavier's mutant team had to operate within them.  

In 2024, streaming offers substantially more creative freedom than Fox Kids ever could. Marvel Animation's revival series X-Men '97, created for Disney+ by Beau DeMayo, is uninhibited by network censorship, yet it still recognizes the importance of restraint, pushing the boundaries established by its predecessor while embracing the vivid mutant action that made X-Men a juggernaut in the ’90s. This calibration of edge, smarts, and fun highlights a recent trend of maturity in superhero animation; X-Men '97 demonstrates that Marvel cartoons can transcend their inherent commercialism, even rival their live-action counterparts, when executed well. It's taken longer than it should have, but modern superhero animation is finally growing up.

[Note: This includes spoilers for Season 1 of X-Men '97, including the three-part finale "Tolerance Is Extinction."]

Season 1 of X-Men '97 is 10 thrilling episodes of thoughtful mutant vs. Sentinel action. While it pulls from several complicated X-Men comic events — in keeping with its grand design, the series adapts "E is for Extinction," "Zero Tolerance," and "Inferno," among others — it's best to sum it up like this: Cyclops (Ray Chase), Jean Grey (Jennifer Hale), Rogue (Lenore Zann), Storm (Alison Sealy-Smith), Beast (George Buza), Jubilee (Holly Chou), and Wolverine (Cal Dodd) go on the offensive following a Sentinel attack from Mr. Sinister (Christopher Britton) and the mysterious Bastion (Theo James) that decimates the mutant nation of Genosha and reverses Magneto's (Matthew Waterson) shaky peace between mutants and humans, done in the name of his fallen friend, Xavier (Ross Marquand). 

Naturally, Magneto's failure to thwart Sinister and Bastion — coupled with the unexpected return of Xavier, revived courtesy of Shi'ar technology — causes the mutant leader to revert to his aggressive ways, fracturing an already unsteady team at a time when unity is crucial to their survival. In the three-part "Tolerance Is Extinction" arc, DeMayo et al. most effectively incorporate concepts of prejudice, hate, and forgiveness into the story, themes just as vital to the series as time travel, space aliens, and secret clone reveals. (No shade to Madelyne Pryor, The Goblin Queen, though. R.I.P.)

This use of theme feels most impactful during the finale, especially during a sequence where Magneto and Professor X debate each other inside Magneto's fury-addled mind. There, Xavier briefly wipes his friend's memories (seasoned X-fans know what that decision might hold for the future), but what takes place just before and after cuts to the core of this series's ability to convey a point without preaching or diluting it for mass consumption. 

Before, we see Charles and Magneto sharing a drink in lab coats; it's a memory of when they were dear friends, and their mutual goals were more aligned. (This sequence also harkens back to the XTAS Season 1 episode "Deadly Reunions.”) Charles uses this memory to soften his friend's hard heart, and when that fails — "I'll show you what happened when my people talked peace while others used tanks," Magneto growls — the professor digs deeper. 

Here, we notice the background of this cerebral heart-to-heart has been filling with water; it's the vast darkness of Magneto's mind, and Charles helps him face it. Together, they seek a lone boat that carries the precious few people Magneto might call his family. It's an elegant metaphor for the pain people carry with them and how vast it can feel — not bad for a show about spandex heroes with blast powers — and the boat represents the peace they might find should they choose to seek it. Xavier knows peace because he has chosen love. Magneto has only ever known the storm. 

The old directives for network cartoons were firm: no swearing, blood, or suggestion of sex. Exploring complex themes of war — especially those of World War II, where Magneto developed his unyielding worldview — was outright discouraged. It's refreshing to see how DeMayo and his writing team, operating under a loose TV-14 rating, have exercised their freedom to emphasize this aspect of Magneto's Jewish history; they show the character's identification tattoo received during Auschwitz, and words like "Nazi" and "pogrom" are used with the requisite gravity. It adds dimension to the character's zealotry and complexity to his many philosophical conflicts with Professor X.  

The heavier aspects of X-Men lore and the real-life history that so often informs it aren't tossed out to make X-Men '97 more palatable to wider audiences; it's embraced passionately. The series is confrontational about its intentions to push the envelope further than casual viewers might have experienced with these characters, but this isn't a creative decision made simply to be provocative. (Though provocation is certainly an aspect of its design.) There's untapped dramatic potential in going to uncomfortable places in a way that popular superhero animation largely didn’t, and couldn’t, before; the brain trust behind X-Men '97 knows it. "Ya'll thought we were playn' [sic]," director Chase Conley posted on X (formerly Twitter). "Ain't no games being played." That’s well put.

Does mature content automatically make an animated superhero show better? Not necessarily. Like anything else, there's a balance between having freedom and using it. For instance, the prerogative to tell superhero stories with a Deadpool-like yen for sex and swears can hinder a show's goals just as help them, as is often the case in adults-only fare like Max's Harley Quinn. There is thought put into Quinn and a clear love for its characters, but the way it leans into raunchiness makes much of its humor and action feel like a put-on. 

There are other examples, like Prime Video's Invincible, where violence is used to show the brutal consequences of splash-page battles. As fantastic as its premise is, Invincible operates on a relatively grounded level in that the fallout of its violence takes a physical and psychological toll on its characters. X-Men '97 takes a page from Invincible in this regard; when mutants fight each other, the aftermath can be devastating. 

Consider the episode "Remember It," where Gambit (A.J. LoCascio) sacrifices his life in a last-ditch effort to stop the Sentinel attack on Genosha. It's arguably the series’s most impactful moment (so far, anyway; there’s a minor thrill in contemplating how it can possibly top this season). In establishing a new dawn for superhero animation, DeMayo and his team have thrown down the gauntlet. X-Men '97 is about as thrilling as Marvel gets, not just with smarts but because there’s no question it’s playing for keeps.

X-Men '97 Season 1 is streaming on Disney+. Join the discussion about the show in our forums. 

Jarrod Jones is a freelance writer currently settled in Chicago. He reads lots (and lots) of comics and, as a result, is kind of a dunderhead.