Is it the theater lighting? The gritty cinematography? The alcoholism? Whatever the cause, it looks like the proverbial men in tights (and the moviemakers behind them) may be losing their mirth. At least, judging by some of this summer's latest superhero flicks.

Sure, supermen and women have always battled dark forces. It's part of the job. Superman lost Lois (albeit temporarily) to an earthquake while he was busy saving the world. Then, just when he decides to hang up his cape and settle down with Lane a trio of Kryptonian ne're-do-wells dressed like Russian circus performers attack Earth. In Spider-Man 3 Peter Parker begins to find his once liberating arachnid-abilities a bit burdensome. The X-Men have always struggled with the stresses of mutant-hood (from how to kiss your beau without sucking the life out of him to how to live in a society that regards you as a monster). And Batman's been plagued by lawless freaks since he first pulled on his bat ears; the Joker, the Penguin ... Plus, he can't even find a good bat-babe to come home to as his attempts at mixing love and the bat life always inevitably fizzle.

But something about some of this newest crop of heroes appears darkly different. True the season got off to an irresistibly irreverent start with Downey's smart-alecky, rocket-powered crusader. "I'm sorry. This is the fun-vee. The hum-drum-vee is back there." And, wisecracking demon Hellboy starts off his sequel with his characteristic corny, John-Wayne bravado, but then wait, he's quitting? Not surprising when he can't get any respect from the public after saving their collective rumps from minions of evil mechanical soldiers.

The Dark Knight ends on a less sour but far more somber note with "Gotham's White Knight" reduced to a mad, coin-tossing murderer, Batman's beloved (and his chance for a normal, happy life) blown into tiny bits, and the super-sacrificing Dark Guardian branded an outlaw, a lonely man with few allies and seemingly in despair. Not even a loyal sidekick by his side. "You'll hunt me. You'll condemn me. Set the dogs on me. Because that's what needs to happen."

What's the message in a universe where superheroes seem hopeless and maniacal villains make too much sense? That "the only morality in a cruel world is chance?" Granted, Dark Knight achieves something grander than the average superhero flick. It's a stand-alone work of cinematic brilliance. Still, it seems a gloomier look for Batman. (At least compared to Adam West's campiness and Keaton's wit and easy-going charm.)

And then there's Hancock. A depressed, FWI (Flying While Intoxicated) super-hobo/super-lush whose reckless crime-stopping attempts have cost the city millions in damages. And the people of L.A. want him to shape up or move out.

Is this Hollywood's attempt to make superheroes (and superhero films) more realistic? In an era where reality shows rule the TV networks, how close to reality do we want our heroes? Perhaps these movies were merely a cinematic what-if. What happens when a society turns against (or at least fails to appreciate) its supposed saviors? Is this simply an endeavor to breath new life and dimension into a well-played genre? Or is this murkiness nothing novel?

Not that darker is necessarily a bad thing. The trailer for Watchmen is seductively coated in surreal blackness; consider me hooked. And the ad only seems to echo the theme of disgruntled do-gooders: "The world will look and shout 'Save us!' and I'll whisper 'No.'"

Dark could be the new black, a character shade that complements every hero's figure. I'm just wondering if anything is on Hollywood's mind ...

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