PROJECT ZARATHUSTRA

Free Comic Book Day, Part One: Blackest Night #0

2009-05-09T11:24:00.000-07:00

Full disclosure: I've been a Marvel reader since I was a kid, drawn in by the '90s prominence of an X-Men coming off more than a decade of classic Claremont stories. But in the last several years, I've become more and more of a convert to the DC faith. I'll admit that Marvel's done a few things to alienate me, One More Day being the worst and most recent (unlike Joe Quesada, I grew up with a Spider-Man married to Mary Jane Watson). But DC has done even more to win me over: Kevin Smith's Green Arrow relaunch, Identity Crisis (plus Meltzer's "Archer's Quest" arc in Green Arrow), and perhaps most prominently, Geoff Johns' incredible run on Green Lantern.

Johns doesn't seem to have quite the cachet of a writer like Grant Morrison or Brian Michael Bendis, but over the last several years he's been one of the architects of the biggest and best stories in the DC universe. From Green Lantern: Rebirth (and Recharge, and Sinestro Corps War) through Infinite Crisis and 52 (writeup forthcoming), not to mention his own regular work on the GL monthly, Johns has been weaving a tapestry through the DCU that's primed to reach a climax in the upcoming Blackest Night.

In a lot of ways, Johns is almost the anti-Morrison: the latter made his name with a revisionist take on a forgotten character (Animal Man), the former by resurrecting Hal Jordan, one of the most beloved and prominent characters in the DC universe. Morrison's stories are intensely revisionist, with even the most archetypal heroes becoming malleable clay in his hands. Johns is more of a classicist, celebrating the essence of his characters by letting them take flight in grand, elemental epics. Morrison's most at home challenging what we know, as much a destroyer as he is a creator. But Johns is a natural world builder; witness the rainbow of Lantern Corps he's created.

What they have in common is a shared belief in rebirth, and it's rebirth that seems to be the core of Blackest Night. But it's a very different form of rebirth than what Hal Jordan received. Blackest Night #0 opens in a graveyard, with Hal Jordan standing over the grave of Bruce Wayne. (Of course, it's a small, unmarked headstone, next to his parents'.) He is joined by a freshly-resurrected Barry Allen, and the two spend the rest of the issue discussing death and rebirth. It doesn't sound like an especially exciting comic book, especially for a writer known for his epic, world-shaking superpowered blowouts, but it's a perfect distillation of where Johns has been and where he's going. No other comic writer has conducted such a sustained confrontation with the impermanence of superhero death: where many have tried to rage against this fact by making death seem more final, Johns instead embraces the inevitability of resurrection and tries to endow it with elegance and power.

But elegance may be in short supply for Blackest Night, as the issue's conclusion demonstrates. After Hal and Barry leave, Black Hand, now empowered as a Black Lantern, emerges to raise the dead. The lineup of confirmed and suggested Black Lanterns includes everyone from Aquaman to Earth-2's Superman to Ralph and Sue Dibny, who finally found peace in the afterlife at the close of 52. But the issue points another apparent inevitability, which is the resurrection of Batman, the character recently killed by none other than Grant Morrison.

Even as the Battle for the Cowl rages on, it seems like Bruce Wayne's death will last about as long as Clark Kent's. It's kind of sad in a way: Johns' work on Green Lantern has been infinitely better (pun not intended) and more exciting than Morrison's convoluted and ultimately tedious run on Batman. It's depressing to think of Johns having to clean up the mess left by Morrison's R.I.P. and Final Crisis. But this is Geoff Johns we're talking about, so there's no fear (pun, again, not intended) that Blackest Night will be anything but a galaxy-spanning epic worthy of DC's greatest heroes. It's impossible to say exactly what will happen, but Blackest Night #0 is an exciting, galvanizing prologue to what promises to be a story for the ages.

Keep hope alive

2007-09-28T13:53:00.000-07:00

So I guess Jessica Biel turned down the chance to play Wonder Woman in the JLA movie. But I've got to say that I'm not eager to see who's next on the list. For now, let's just enjoy cheesecake merchant Adam Hughes' (I don't mean that as a slight, he's a great artist) gnarly take on the Amazonian:

You think that's good, you should see his Catwoman.

Also, Dread

2007-09-26T18:41:00.001-07:00

Scuttlebutt has it that I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry starlet Jessica Biel is in talks to play Wonder Woman. Cheesecake fans, rejoice.

As my post about the JLA movie indicated, I would hope to see some serious actors cast as the Justice League, because I think superhero comics are worth taking seriously. (Thus the blog.) Between her pouty 7th Heaven days and Stealth, I haven't really seen a lot of evidence that Jessica Biel is a serious actress. I liked her best in The Rules of Attraction, but her ability to convincingly portray a coke-addled Bennington slut doesn't necessarily mean she'd make a good Wonder Woman. (And really, most of that movie's pretty disposable aside from an unbelievable performance by Russell Sams as Richard "Dick" Jared, which is seriously worth the price of admission.)

Time between first idealistic hopes and hints of them being crushed by reality: 20 days.

New Comic Book Day 09/26/07

2007-09-26T14:48:00.000-07:00

Beware: here there be spoilers.

Tensions at Camp Hammond come to a boil in this week's installment of Avengers: The Initiative. Somebody has given resident drill sergeant Gauntlet a beating worthy of the goddamn Batman, inscribing the insignia of the hated New Warriors on his chest in his own blood. But whodunnit? Slott pens a tightly-wound mystery tale in issue #6, complete with Rashomon-style speculation of how each suspect might've done the deed. But the real treat, as always, are the characterizations. Gyrich gets sleazier and sleazier, while the attack on Gauntlet gives Slott a chance to turn the character into something more than R. Lee Ermey with a big hand. And this ish lets us take a closer look at what I'd call the Initiative's "B-team", with prominent roles for Slapstick, Rage, and Ultragirl. Plus, romance blooms!

I was skeptical to see that Steve Uy had taken over art duties from Stefano Caselli, whose dazzling style had helped make the first five issues so outstanding. But Uy's starting to win me over already; it's tough not to enjoy touches like the spit flying out of Gauntlet's mouth, or Cloud 9 floating glumly in the weight room. I'm not completely sold yet, but I'm not crestfallen either—which is saying something, considering how gorgeous Caselli's art is.

To say that Frank Miller and Jim Lee's All Star Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder has been controversial amongst comic book fans is like saying that Hitler was kind of a dick. And as the above scan indicates, the latest issue will no doubt cause more than a few computer monitors to burst into flames after being overloaded with fanboy ire. The first half of this issue is like a giant, caped middle finger to all of Miller's critics, as Batman and Black Canary behave more like supercharged Dark Age caricatures than ever before: after having sex in costume (making explicit the ambiguously sexual thrill that Miller's characters get out of pummeling bad guys), BC even suggests that the goddamn Batman see a therapist. You can imagine his response.

But the series has its defenders, and I'm among them. The rage over ASBARTBW (what an acronym!) has taken its usual shape, with arguments that Miller has made a mockery of the character. What a lot of comic book fans still don't seem to understand is that superhero comics have always been driven by revision, since long before The Dark Knight Returns. Read the Depression-era Superman stories and see if they bear any resemblance to the Last Son of Krypton you know and love. Miller has actually said it best himself:

"There are certain characters that just talk to you. I regard Batman as unusual in that I really don’t believe in any single interpretation of him as being carved in stone. I see Batman as a piece of folklore – a huge jewel that you can throw against any wall, and it won’t break, but will show you another way of looking at him. There are at the very least, a dozen different ways to do Batman, and they all work."

I read "the goddamn Batman" as Miller's particular take on a particular character at a particular time in his life. Miller's work has become more and more self-aware over time (someday, I'll post an apologia for The Dark Knight Strikes Again) and ASBARTBW represents the epitome of this, as the goddamn Batman plunges deeper and deeper into some bizarre postmodern abyss. But I for one am excited to see where Miller's going with all this. And more to the point, the book absolutely crackles with energy in a way that few series do. Every issue feels breathless, and every panel nearly jumps off the page (even if it's only to brain you with the most mind-numbingly deranged dialogue ever). I've never been a huge fan of Jim Lee, but he draws a fantastic Batman and seems to get better at doing so with every issue.

I'm sad to say that the closing of Book Two of Astro City: The Dark Age has left me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, the story does a terrific riff on the superhero genre's Bronze Age, particularly the "urban avenger" archetype—echoes of classic Marvel characters like Luke Cage, Misty Knight, and Iron Fist abound in this book. In a lot of ways, the letters page is the most interesting part of the issue, as readers chime in on the way Astro City reflects the superhero genre's history (a key element of the comic since its beginning).

But that's part of the problem. I feel like in the current arc, and with Book Two in particular, Busiek is more interested in coming up with new characters than fleshing them out and telling a good story. Of course, a big part of Astro City has also been its in media res style, letting us get acquainted with characters by watching them in action rather than through exposition (a letter in the new issue even alludes to this). But Astro City has historically struck a perfect balance between an intellectualized examination of superhero tropes and first-rate storytelling, but this latest arc falls flat when it comes to hooking the reader. It's hard to care about the dramatic death of Black Velvet in this issue, since the character seems like little more than a two-dimensional Cloak & Dagger pastiche. And she's one of the most interesting characters in this arc! It's telling that the best moments in the story come from characters we've seen before, like the Silver Agent and the Deacon. And Charles and Royal's story is still a pretty good one: the revelation on the last page sets the stage for Book Three very nicely.

"The Dark Age" is only 2/3 finished, so maybe it'll all look different by the time Book Three wraps. But right now I'm skeptical, and it hurts because I love this comic. That said, the next issue will apparently be a one-shot character spotlight on Beautie, which sounds promising.

A lot more stuff came out this week, but as any fan knows, you can only buy so many comics! I might do a Part II of today's load later this week, once I pick up some of the other cool new releases. It's not a superhero book, but the Friday the 13th trade looks particularly alluring...

Alan Moore's Miracleman

2007-09-21T22:33:00.001-07:00

Let's not beat around the bush: Miracleman, with Alan Moore writing, was the greatest superhero series of all time.

Many might argue, pointing to the halcyon days of creators like Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, and Jack Kirby, or to another distinguished run like Frank Miller's on Daredevil, or even something like Grant Morrison's brain-bending tenure on Animal Man. (Which I will also do a writeup for eventually.) But in my opinion, Moore's Miracleman was as smart, inspired, and intense as superhero comics have ever been. An although it never received the notoriety Watchmen or The Dark Knight Returns did, it was Miracleman that truly ushered in the modern, revisionist age of superhero comics. And series like The Authority, The Ultimates, and Supreme Power have overtly echoed themes first pioneered by Moore in Miracleman.

[WARNING: Spoilers below. Seriously, go read Miracleman, I don't want to ruin it for you.]

"Behold, I teach you the Superman: he is this lightning...he is this madness!"
- Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Miracleman (originally called Marvelman and renamed Miracleman for American audiences) began as an update on an old golden age hero, who was himself a legal retooling of Captain Marvel. Along with sidekicks Young Miracleman and Kid Miracleman, Miracleman had what Wikipedia calls "fairly typical, unsophisticated superhero adventures" until 1963. Almost twenty years later, Alan Moore took up the character with the idea of bringing him into the modern world as a grown man, no longer a superhero.

At the beginning of Miracleman, Michael Moran has forgotten who he is: at night he dreams of flying through space, and during the day agonizing headaches plague him. Working as a reporter, he sets out to cover a group of environmentalists protesting a newly-built nuclear power plant—and in the process becomes caught in a terrorist attack. Moran passes out from his migraine, and in a daze suddenly remembers the word he'd long since forgotten, the key harmonic of the universe that transforms him from the mundane Michael Moran into the hero called Miracleman: "KIMOTA."

After foiling the terrorists, our hero rushes home to tell his wife Liz the news. Having remembered the past he had thought lost, he recounts his story—and Liz responds with astonishment, "I'm sorry Mike...but that's such a bloody stupid story! Can't you see it? An 'astro physicist' pops up and tells you the 'key harmonic of the universe'...Which just happens to turn you into a muscle man in a blue leotard? I'm sorry Mike, I really am, but that's just so stupid!"

And so Miracleman begins. Alan Moore took up the daunting task of reconciling a serious and intelligent take on the superhero story with its own hokey continuity, and what he came up with, although it doesn't seem quite as inventive now, was nothing short of revolutionary. The Miracleman that readers knew, the "fairly typical, unsophisticated" superhero with the two young sidekicks, was nothing more than a virtual reality simulation beamed directly into Moran's brain—a simulation inspired by comic books the researchers compiled. The real Miracleman was the product of a top-secret government initiative called Project Zarathustra, which sought to use technology recovered from a downed alien spacecraft to create the ultimate soldier—Miracleman, and his two sidekicks.

It's easy to see how this narrative turn marked the beginning of the superhero's modern age. With Miracleman, comics gained a postmodern self-awareness that cast everything that had come before in a new light: the idea of a government super soldier had cheered and inspired during WWII, but in a post-Watergate era it sounded decidedly more ominous. Miracleman forced us to look back on Jack Kirby's iconic rendering of Captain American punching Hitler in the jaw as a cynical illusion, blinding us to darker realities—like the shady postwar manuevering of government programs such as Operation Paper Clip and MKULTRA.

But Moore didn't stop there. Miracleman broke boundaries not just in terms of content, but style as well. I mentioned before that the series pulled no punches, an expression that I think fits perfectly: we're used to seeing superheroes clobber villains and save the day, leaving them tied up in a heap for the police to haul off to jail—but when Miracleman fights his enemies, they are left in bloody chunks, torn limb-from-limb by superhuman strength. Miracleman forces us to imagine what superpowered violence would actually be like: not a brightly-colored adolescent fantasy, but a savage display of raw force. The quote in the panel I scanned above says it best: "There are men, and the men mean nothing to him."

The brutal, merciless violence of the series reached its peak in issue #15, which I described in an earlier posting. (Issue #9 also featured an extremely graphic birth scene that generated a significant amount of controversy.) The issue chronicles Kid Miracleman's killing spree across London with a level of detail that's still shocking twenty years later: we see human beings flayed alive, their empty skins left hanging on clotheslines; we watch severed hands fall from the sky like hailstones. Few superhero comics have so steadfastly refused to shy away from the consequences of their own assumptions like Miracleman did in its climatic issue. If we allow that superheroes can exist, then we can't deny that scenes like this can happen. (John Totleben's artwork also paved the way for Bryan Hitch's awesome "widescreen" style; it's no coincidence that The Authority's Jack Hawksmoor, who spends most of his time literally punching people in the brain, looks eerily similar to Kid Miracleman. And again, an Authority writeup is forthcoming.)

With the existence of superheroes no longer a secret, Miracleman and his allies go public in issue #16, and promptly install themselves as the supreme rulers of earth, placing all global affairs under their auspices. There's a fantastic scene where a Margaret Thatcher-esque politician scoffs at their proposals: "This is all quite preposterous. We can never allow this kind of interference with the market." With a steely glare, Miracleman only says: "Allow?"

Miracleman was not the first comic to present the idea of superheroes as truly Other, with the power to rule over mortal humanity with an iron fist. But no other comic, even to this day, has presented these themes as severely and unflinchingly as the series did. Miracleman ends on a note of agonizingly ambiguous moral complexity: Miracleman and his fellow superbeings have essentially abolished all vestiges of freedom, with every last aspect of society placed under their control—and yet it is impossible to deny that society is in many ways better, with countless social ills stamped out permanently and earth as close to a utopia as we can imagine. It's as beautiful, haunting, and perfect a final issue as I've ever read.

And with that, Miracleman ends—for Alan Moore, at least.

And of course, that summary really only scratches the surface of what I genuinely believe is the greatest superhero story of them all. Don't get me wrong: Watchmen is an absolute comic book milestone, and it still stands as one of the medium's most towering and enduring achievements. But in many ways, I read Watchmen as a re-examination of themes Moore first explored in Miracleman—and one that's much more bloodless and intellectualized. Watchmen is brilliant and astonishing in its careful, methodical execution, in the way it takes the reader by the hand through a postmodern labyrinth where all aspects of the superhero myth are distorted and bent into impossible fractals. But if Watchmen is a philosophical guided tour of the superhero genre, Miracleman is a siege: a screaming, apocalyptic storm that leaves behind nothing but smoking ashes and bones. Where Watchmen is cold and calculating, Miracleman is white-hot and starry-eyed. It's bottled lightning.

Of course, the great tragedy of Miracleman is how difficult it is to find: the series has been out of print for years now thanks to legal troubles of truly superhuman proportions. The whole issue is really too complicated to go into, but suffice it to say that both Neil Gaiman (who took over the series after Moore left) and Todd McFarlane claim ownership of the character, and the dispute remains unsettled. Scuttlebutt has it that if Gaiman regained rights, the character's name would change back to Marvelman and all back issues would be reprinted by Marvel—undoubtedly the best outcome for all. Should McFarlane get the rights, it's tough to say exactly what would happen, but his apparent ambition to bring Miracleman into the Spawn universe does not appeal to this hardcore Miracleman fan; your results may vary.

And the comic's not that scarce: you can still find the issues from Moore's run on Ebay pretty regularly, and most actually don't actually go for all that much (except issue #15, which is appropriately the most highly sought-after). But it's truly a travesty that this landmark of superhero comics is so unavailable to today's readers, and I can only hope that the dispute is resolved someday soon. Of course, an even bigger travesty is that Miracleman's impact on new readers will probably be dulled by its own influence: those who've never read the series may find it overly familiar, after seeing so much of its character reiterated by comics like The Authority. But Miracleman remains a sovereign, thrilling achievement, and a must-read for anyone with even a slight interest in superheroes.

[End note: I've been promising writeups of various comics left and right, but the next one I had in my mind for my series spotlight, um, series was James Robinson's Starman, a title that I remember everyone talking about while it was still coming out but which I hardly ever hear anything about anymore. It'll probably be a while until that post goes up though, since I basically need to reread the entire 80-issue series. So I may do The Authority or Animal Man or something in the interim.]

England belongs to me

2007-09-21T11:56:00.000-07:00

My review of Union Jack: London Falling is up today on PopMatters. The trade's well worth checking out, especially if you're a fan of Ed Brubaker's recent run on Captain America (and really, who isn't?) or Brian K. Vaughan's excellent Doc Strange comeback tale, Doctor Strange: The Oath, both of which I think it's similar to in spirit. I'd punch Aunt May for a regular Union Jack series.

On that note, check out these killer custom Union Jack action figures that some fans made:

The same guy ("Jake") made the first and last ones, which are both just outstanding. That first one is one of the best customs I've ever seen.

And I'm not usually that into busts (ha, ha), but here's a gnarly one for the diehard Union Jack fan:

Dead Alive: In the Superhero Boneyard

2007-09-20T12:43:00.000-07:00

After the untimely demise of Captain America and Green Arrow, plus a recent Wizard article called "The 50 Greatest Deaths in Comic History", it seems like death is back in fashion, to borrow a phrase from Billy Bragg. So I thought it was high time to survey a few of those times when superhuman deaths have been done right.

Batman

Batman dies at the height of his powers, and in his element—i.e. handing Superman his ass. In The Dark Knight Returns—a miniseries where Bats spends most of his time obsessing over his own death—it all comes down to a showdown between the Batman and Supes, who has become a pawn of the US government (complete with a holographic, Reaganesque overlord). Best of all, Batman proves that, in the end, he's too smart to really die. Instead, he just fakes his death, fooling almost everybody in the process. What's next on the Dark Knight's agenda? Like The Jam song says, going underground—literally. It's back to the cave as Bruce Wayne trains the next generation. Repeat after me: "Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot..."

Of course, it's out of continuity. For another great apocryphal Batman death, see Mark Millar's Red Son, where an anarchist Batman blows himself up before Superman's eyes in the Soviet snow—only to again live on as a symbol, inspiring a new wave of Batmen.

"This would be a good death..."

Kid Miracleman

That cover hasn't lost an ounce of its eerie power in 20 years. Miracleman #15 is a lot of things. It's a high point in Alan Moore's career, it's a serious collector's item, and it's one of the most horrifying superhero stories ever published. It's the last chapter in the story of Johnny Bates, a young boy whose mind has been irreperably warped by a secretive government program from which this blog gets its name. Traumatized and living in a group home, Bates manages to suppress his murderous and psychotic alternate personality, Kid Miracleman—until a sexual assault by a gang of bullies wrenches him free. What follows is one of the most nightmarishly graphic superhuman killing sprees to ever grace the pages of a comic book, an orgy of bloodshed and terror that forces Miracleman and his allies to intervene, using any means necessary. Miracleman #15 poses the supreme question for superheroes: when is it okay to kill? The answer is never, but sometimes it's the only way out. For Miracleman, that's the beginning of a very slippery slope. And when Miracleman does put the Kid down like a rabid dog, the comic pulls no punches: he doesn't just kill a super-sociopath—he also kills a scared, broken little boy named Johnny Bates.

(NOTE: Wonder Woman snapping Maxwell Lord's neck in Infinite Crisis is essentially a scaled-down version of this story, not least because Max Lord is to Kid Miracleman as the Hamburgler is to Adolf Hitler. And a post spotlighting Moore's run on Miracleman is definitely forthcoming.)

Gertrude Yorkes

It's like the song says: only the good die young. It's one thing for a cape to get killed in the line of duty only to be reanimated a few years down the road in a bit of retcon hoodoo; it's something else entirely when a beloved, young character gets cut down in the prime of her comic career. Runaways' Gertrude Yorkes, aka Arsenic, was a teenage cynic with a heart of gold, a born leader able to hold together a ragtag band of hormonal castaways that never wanted to be superheroes. With friends ranging from a Skrull to a psychic dinosaur, Gert never failed to come through for her kin, or to deliver a stinging quip in the thick of battle. When she died, it felt like a little piece of the Marvel universe went with her.

But you know the problem with superheroes: they never stay dead...

Buffy Summers

When Buffy the Vampire Slayer came back for seasons six and seven, I was happy—but I still think that "The Gift", the finale of season five, ended the series perfectly. Throughout the show's lifespan, we saw Buffy as a fighter: someone who pulled together against all odds and did what's necessary, whether that meant killing her true love or campaigning for homecoming queen—and like her tombstone says, she saved the world a lot. That's what made the final episodes of the fifth season so intense: the usually indefatigable Buffy and her loyal Scoobies hit the road, fleeing in desperation from a battle they have no hope of winning. But once even running away is no longer an option, Buffy realizes what she has to do, and at long last she understands the mantra she'd spent the whole season puzzling over: "Death is your gift." Ms. Summers dies the ultimate hero's death, sacrificing herself for the greater good—and she does it in three dimensions, grappling with doubt every step of the way. What a way to go.

R.I.P. Oliver Queen

2007-09-19T23:27:00.001-07:00

Spoiler alert, by the way.

As a reviewer over at IGN has already pointed out, it seems fitting that Judd Winnick—the same writer who ruthlessly squandered the momentum built by Kevin Smith and Brad Meltzer's excellent revival of Green Arrow a few years back—would be the one to literally kill off the character. Check out the Green Arrow/Black Canary Wedding Special if you want to see one of the greatest characters in the DC universe receive one of the most pointless deaths ever afforded to a mask. Maybe next month we'll get to see Wonder Woman shot to death on the toilet.

For what it's worth, the issue's actually pretty good up until the big twist, with excellent art by Amanda Conner and a few extremely fun character moments. My favorites were Zatanna at the strip club ("Ekat ti ffo, ybab!!") and Batman's entrance to the wedding melee—Ollie: "I thought you said you weren't coming?" Bruce: "Not for the wedding. I came for the fight."

And of course, it won't last—superheroes never really die. (And more to the point, the Green Arrow/Black Canary series starts next month, as the final page cravenly reminds us.) But even after Ollie rises from the dead again, the stupidity will remain, like fallout littering the countryside after a meltdown. Seriously, who's next on the superhero chopping block? Mary Jane? Superman? (Oh, wait...)

[But really, read The Archer's Quest if you haven't already. Smith's arc is more of an acquired taste: it's great, but also chock full of his particular brand of snappy, bearded banter—which I know for some readers is like chewing tinfoil. But Meltzer's arc is pure, unfiltered excellence, and reminded everybody how cool and interesting the character could be.]

So here's to you, Ollie. In the words of Wonder Showzen, "Be a man and rise from your grave..."

My Five Favorite Superhero Movies

2007-09-17T00:51:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, Wizard published an article by Joss Whedon entitled "My Five Favorite Batman Movies", in which the Buffy/Astonishing X-Men mastermind explains why Last of the Mohicans and The Thomas Crown Affair are better Batman flicks than Tim Burton's adaptations (let alone the later efforts). He makes a convincing case for each pick, no matter how outlandish (Spider-Man?!), and the piece got me thinking: if I had to pick my favorite superhero movies, chances are that some, maybe even most of them wouldn't feature dudes in tights, familiar catch phrases, or the word "man" in the title. They're movies that have little to nothing to do with comic books, or even ostensibly with superheroes. But if you take a closer look, they're great superhero movies.

(Also, for my money, Whedon himself captured one dimension of the Batman better than any of the movies: in Firefly's Captain Mal Reynolds, Nathan Fillion personified Bats' insensitive dedication to getting the job done, regardless of how his teammates' feelings might get shredded in the process. JLA filmmakers, take note.)

So here you go: My Five Favorite Superhero Movies.

[WARNING: SERIOUS spoilers ahead!]

5. Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins

Based on the long-running men's adventure series The Destroyer (whose authors have since disowned the film), Remo Williams is the story of a hard-bitten cop (Fred Ward at his salty best) press-ganged into federal service as an off-the-books assassin. He receives training from the mystical, bullet-dodging guru Chiun, played by none other than Oscar-winner Joel Grey! Remo is a classic, pre-deconstructionist superhero yarn, with the hard edge of comics before the Comics Code (and before Vietnam)—when a ruthless government killer could be a charming, sympathetic protagonist without any winking self-awareness or forced "edginess." But Remo's also a little bit Nick Fury, a little bit Iron Fist, and a whole mess of great one-liners, mostly courtesy of Joel Grey. (Remo: "Jesus!" Chiun: "Concentrate! This is no time for prayer!")

4. The Professional

Luc Besson's The Professional (aka Léon) is more Frank Miller than Frank Miller: an unsentimental hitman adopts an orphaned teenage girl, teaching her the tricks of the trade and helping her exact vengeance on the ruthless villain (a characteristically excellent Gary Oldman) that slaughtered her family. But the relationship is ambiguous: while Natalie Portman gets the father she never had (everyone in her family was a prick except her angelic little brother), and Jean Reno gets to take care of the daughter he never knew he wanted, there's also an ambiguously sexual dimension here, with Portman dressing up as Madonna and crooning "Like a Virgin" to hammer the point home. It's like Taxi Driver in Sin City, or a more earnest take on Garth Ennis' Hitman. But Léon is also an unlikely superhero: despite being a contract killer, he has a firm moral code ("no women, no kids, that's the rules") and the haunted loneliness and vocational dedication characteristic of any masked avenger. And he even proves willing to sacrifice himself for justice (his own version of it, at least). The story plays almost like a funhouse version of the Batman and Robin story—and the rapport between Léon and Mathilda is more than a little reminiscent of the relationship between Bruce and Carrie in The Dark Knight Returns and The Dark Knight Strikes Again. Anybody making a film featuring a hero and sidekick should pay very close attention.

3. Unbreakable

The only explicit superhero movie on this list. This one was actually on Whedon's list too, and it's heartening to know that somebody else (and such a distinguished personality) likes this underrated gem. He said, "only the talk specifically about comics—and the art used—feels fake." He's right, because this is a movie less about the reality of superhero comics than the idea of superhero comics (if Shyamalan had been more of a comic fan in practice he might've commissioned Alex Ross to do a couple paintings for the bad guy's gallery). David Dunn isn't just a superhero, he's every superhero: he's got Matt Murdock's Catholic guilt, Martian Manhunter's isolation, and Bruce Wayne's desperate sense of calling. Most superhero pics spend the majority of their running time on the origin, but Unbreakable is one of the only ones to really nail it, playing less like a five-panel flashback than the superhero's primal scene. It also shows how the superhero performs another kind of therapy on us, painting a very clear picture (a fantasy, really) of what it's like to know your place in the world. After he's performed his first feat as a superhero, Dunn says to his wife, "I had a bad dream", referring to pretty much his entire life up to that point. She replies, "it's over now": he knows, at long last, who he really is (a realization given a cruel twist by the film's final revelation). Realistic and poignant, Unbreakable feels like nothing so much as an issue of Astro City on film, albeit maybe a bit darker than usual. (I remember when I saw it in the theater, I kept thinking of Steeljack.)

2. Donnie Darko

Opinions on Donnie Darko usually resolve into two camps: fans who laud its depth and stylish complexity, and naysayers who mock those same fans for thinking this slick '80s nostalgia trip has either depth or complexity. I'm not really a die-hard, but I've always liked the movie—and once I started thinking of it as a superhero flick I loved it even more. Donnie Darko is like the great, lost X-Men story: a teenage boy finds himself burdened with weird powers, becomes a hero to some and a pariah to others, and in the end makes the ultimate superhero choice by sacrificing himself to save the world (or, in this case, a tree-lined patch of suburbia). It's another great origin story, and Donnie's struggles with his strange new reality pack more angst than a Peter Parker therapy session—he even burns down a pedophile's house along the way! Donnie Darko's also a bit reminiscent of the first arc of The Invisibles, wherein we meet Jack Frost—who also battles with his teachers and has a penchant for property damage. It's even got a slight Runaways edge: who's really more evil, that team's supervillain parents or the hypocritical, child-prostituting adults in Donnie Darko? He's even got a costume, if you count the Misfits/Cobra Kai-esque skeleton suit at the end of the movie. (The human/monster dynamic and mental illness themes also recall the 1990s heyday of Image Comics; The Pitt and especially The Maxx both come to mind here.)

1. Memento

Few films have done a better job of putting us into a superhero's shoes than Christopher Nolan's Memento. Every day, Leonard Shelby's journey to find his wife's killer begins anew, and he evaluates every action according to a moral code that may be naive and arbitrary, but which he nonetheless follows without question. Leonard's search for his wife's killer holds a dark mirror up to the mission of a hero like Batman: every criminal Batman fights serves as a stand-in for his parents' killer, just as every John G. that Leonard kills may be merely a surrogate, rather than the real culprit. Both characters are probably aware that, in different ways, they "create" their adversaries—but neither one of them cares, since their mission is as much a personal imperative as an impartial crusade, and each one believes that they are doling out justice anyway. The notion of true justice becomes almost irrelevant at times, as both characters realize that it will never truly be attained—it's the quest that sustains them. Memento falls squarely into the Modern Age of comics, blurring all the dimensions of the superhero that came under deconstructive assault in the 1980s: the black-and-white morality, the line between hero and villain, etc. It's a superhero tale for a postmodern world, where causality and meaning are up for grabs, and reality is, quite literally, what you make of it. And once again, Leonard even has a costume, with his signature tattoos and off-white suit. It's no surprise that Nolan was tapped for Batman Begins.

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You might have noticed that most of my choices resemble the superhero of the Modern Age rather than, say, the superhero of the '60s and '70s. But I think that says more about the film industry than it does about superheroes, since film has been comfortable with morally ambiguous antiheroes a lot longer than comic books have. (Look to any number of vintage westerns for a film take on the Golden Age superhero.) But my choices are also indicative of my own tastes, since I tend towards stories that push at the boundaries of how we see superheroes. I think each one of these movies presents a view of superheroes much more compelling and substantial than many comic-to-screen adaptations. (Okay, maybe not quite so substantial in the case of Remo Williams.) They're worth checking out, and worth watching again with capes in mind.

She-Hulk: Single Green Female

2007-09-11T16:30:00.000-07:00

I picked up this trade because (1) Dan Slott has converted me into a sweaty-palmed, mouth-breathing fanboy with his work on Avengers: The Initiative, and (2) I heard things, mostly on the order of "hey, this book's good" and "sex0r with teh Juggernaut lol."

Well, I'm officially kicking myself for not reading this book sooner. It's pure fizzy delight, and about a million times more fun than most of the grim fare Marvel's been cranking out lately. The House of Ideas launched She-Hulk in 2004 as part of a wave of new titles, but it suffered from underwhelming sales figures (maybe it should have been titled Avengers: She-Hulk). Volume 1 did 12 issues before folding, while Vol. 2 has fared better: it's currently up to issue 21, although sadly Slott has just jumped ship and turned the series over to the unpredictable Peter David, author of the ice-cool X-Factor but also the totally deranged, almost Clone Saga-esque Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.

But this volume, which collects the first six issues of Vol. 1, is a grand slam, #1-4 especially—the final two-part story arc is alright (The Mad Thinker plots a jailbreak from Hank Pym's tiny prison for tiny mans), but it's the first bit that'll really grab you. Plus, the first arc has truly sumptuous art by Juan Bobilla, whose wonderful style fits this book like a goddamn glove. He and Slott go together like Morrison and Quitely, or peanut butter and chocolate, or pepperoni and bullets.

She-Hulk is simultaneously a green-skinned powerhouse to the Avengers and a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom, skillfully wearing two hats even as she masks her own insecurities about her non-superpowered alter ego, Jennifer Walters. But Jen's hard-partying ways catch up with her: she gets evicted from Avengers Mansion by a clearly uncomfortable Captain America after having too many "overnight guests" (Stark mentions that they sometimes actually damage the Mansion's structural integrity), and fired from her law firm for using the copier to take pictures of her butt. ("How do you know it was me? It could've been anyone." "It was a color copier, Jen.")

The lawyerly elements of She-Hulk are handled as expertly as anything this side of Daredevil—even more so, in fact. But while Matt Murdock's court dates play like scenes from The Practice or L.A. Law, She-Hulk's legal lifestyle is closer to Ally McBeal—a lot closer. This is, after all, a story about a young, spunky female lawyer looking for love in all the wrong places, juggling her personal and professional lives while she attempts to Find Herself.™ But Slott writes a much deeper lead character, with the kind of nuances that might have saved poor Ally from getting caught in so many feminist crosshairs: She-Hulk can seem flighty and airheaded at times, but she also proves to be intelligent and perceptive, and always with charm to spare.

The first arc is also expertly plotted, fleshing out the character of Jennifer Walters through the upheaval that surges through She-Hulk's life and riffing joyously on superhero comics along the way. She-Hulk's got a bit of a postmodern streak, but it keeps the playfulness while dispensing with the chin-stroking pretension. In the story's best self-conscious flourish, She-Hulk's law firm uses comic books as legal documents since they bear approval from a federal agency: the Comics Code. And Slott shows how he can turn on a dime with the amazing cross-examination of Spider-Man, which goes from a left-field J. Jonah Jameson gag to genuine pathos as the defense invokes the spectre of Gwen Stacy. (And you've got to admire Bobilla's ability to convey both sentiments through a mask.)

Long story short, Single Green Female is a dynamite trade, with a fresh, sympathetic lead character and some of the most enthusiastic storytelling Marvel's seen in a long time. Check it out if, like me, you hadn't already.

Na-na-na-na-na, and I'm going, hey-hey-hey-hey

2007-09-09T12:13:00.001-07:00

Marvel's website has a cool feature up right now: an interview with Billy from Twin Cities punk kingpins Dillinger Four, who's apparently a big comic fan. This surprised and delighted me, since punk rock and comic books are two of my favorite things in the world.

I've often wondered which punks read comics. As the article mentions, rock and roll and comic books have a shared cultural lineage: both helped put young people at the center of American pop culture, and both have been blamed for turning those same kids into delinquents—by stuffed-shirt moral guardians like Tennessee senator Estes Kefauver. (Video games, with their own staunch and slightly deranged nemesis in Jack Thompson, can probably also be added to this list.)

And Billy's a man of taste: even though he plugs the usual Marvel suspects (the Ultimate line, Bendis' output, and the rock-solid but slightly overhyped Immortal Iron Fist—but that's another post), he also recommends J. Michael Stracynzski's excellent redux of Squadron Supreme, which I've always thought deserved more buzz.* Excelsior!

* Footnote: Supreme Power did get plenty of hype while it was coming out: a 2004 "Marvel vs. DC" poll in Wizard saw readers deciding that, of the two companies, Marvel had the better adult-imprint title—over Y: The Last Man. And as much as I love Supreme Power, that's just crazy talk.

Tpircs tsop!

2007-09-08T04:10:00.000-07:00

Zatanna must appear in the JLA movie somewhere, even if not as part of the core team. She will be played by none other than the lovely and talented Ms. Winona Ryder. Dig it:

Oh yeah.

The Brave and the Bold: JLA at the Multiplex

2007-09-06T21:41:00.000-07:00

The big news currently making the rounds online is that the next superhero mega-project at Warner Bros. is none other than Justice League of America. It's the kind of idea that seems improbable at first, but the more you mull it over the cooler it sounds—especially since the X-Men series proved that you can make a great superhero movie with a big ensemble cast. (Unlike apparently every other X-Fan on the planet, I even loved the third film, which had enough mutants to crash Cerebro to the desktop).

IGN recently did a decent casting call for the movie, but I thought I'd take a crack at it myself. (Their comics section also has a solid feature on how the flick should proceed thematically.) So:

Supes

Even though Superman Returns completely failed to deliver any of the things that make Superman great, I have to admit that Brandon Routh was perfectly cast. (And of course, Christopher Reeve is still the definitive screen Kryptonian.) Superman needs to be titanically charismatic, commanding, idealistic, and a bit of a goody two-shoes, with maybe a bit of distanced loneliness mixed in if there's time. I agree with IGN that an unknown might be best, since whoever plays the character must be Superman first and foremost (somebody like, say, Matt Damon is out, although I think he'd make a perfect Captain America). An off-the-top-of-my-head idea: he's way too young, but somebody like Jake Epstein, who you might remember as Craig Manning from Degrassi: The Next Generation.

Bats

The Justice League movie doesn't need the Batman-as-fearsome-backstreets-avenger bequeathed to us by Frank Miller and captured so well by Batman Begins. For the JL movie, we need Batman the detective, the thinking man's superhero as well as the lone human member of the team that keeps them grounded. I propose Clive Owen: he's been nearly typecast as the dark, intense type, but has also proven he can be more, and I think he'd bring the perfect amount of steely self-confidence needed for a Batman who's just one hero in a group of many. (Strangely, at least to me, IGN tapped Owen to play Hal Jordan.)

Wonder Woman

Wonder Woman is similar to Superman in that she needs to drip charisma—both characters essentially have to be like the biggest superstars in the world, multiplied by a thousand. Plus, she's obviously gotta be a statuesque Amazon. Tough call. A few months at the gym is a prerequisite for all the characters, but I pick Gretchen Mol. Basically, imagine a more severe version of her irresistably pure-of-heart turn in The Notorious Betty Page (the costume won't be a problem), armed with a magic lasso and totally capable of beating your ass.

Green Lantern

This character needs to be a fearless soldier with a heart of gold, who a bunch of aliens saw fit to turn into an intergalactic lawman. Assuming we're going with Hal Jordan, we're looking for Chuck Yeager crossed with Audie Murphy, equal parts Capra-esque decentness and pure, iron will. Bear with me here, but I think this could be a great role for Barry Pepper, who you may remember as the scene-stealing, ultra-devout Christian sniper from Saving Private Ryan. He's got the military angle down, and seems capable of the square-jawed righteousness that's such a prerequisite for GL.

Aquaman

IGN is exactly right about the Fisher King: he's such a generally ignored (albeit recognizable) character that he demands to be taken seriously in the film. What's key here is the different perspective; Aquaman cares about life under the sea as much as up topside, and is torn between the two worlds. (Although they need to be careful not to end up turning him into the much more interesting Namor.) I'd tap Guy Pearce, who's got the acting chops to take Aquaman seriously and who brought an effectively skewed perspective in Memento.

The Flash

Another tough call. A universally-known character who's never had a definitive screen incarnation, the Flash is pure Silver Age: light-hearted and a bit of a wiseacre, but ultimately as noble as anybody in the League. I think this could be the perfect role for Jason Segel to break out of Judd Apatow's comedy workshop: he's got that goofy, good-natured charm, and he seems to have a real touch of superhero potential in him, usually camouflaged by copious dick jokes. (Let the record show that I love all Apatow and company projects.)

Martian Manhunter

A key character, and another tough one to cast. Like Superman, MM is the last of his species, a lonely alien who's adopted Earth as his home planet and works tirelessly to keep its people safe. You need somebody big and intimidating but also compassionate, with more than a bit of tortured isolation. Although this might be a bit too outlandish a role for such a gifted actor, I nominate Christopher Meloni of Law & Order: SVU and Oz fame. He can play big and tough, but also with that haunted edge that's key for the Manhunter. (Sorry IGN, but even though Vin Diesel fits physically, I can't really see him doing this particular character justice.)

Green Arrow

For me, Green Arrow has to be in the movie. Not just because he's one of my favorite DC characters, but because along with Batman he provides another important counter-balance for the other members: Oliver Queen is a very human, very flawed, bleeding-heart, contrarian son of a bitch who drives everybody crazy. He's the rogue and the scoundrel of the group, the devil's advocate that keeps the League in touch with the man on the street. I think this could be a great turn for Ewan McGregor, who's got more range than he gets credit for and who's also stirred up some shit of his own by bad-mouthing his fellow celebrities. He's a natural Green Arrow.

I could go on, but that's the key team in my mind, and I think it could be a great one. I'm definitely anxious to see how this one plays out.

The Best and Brightest: Kurt Busiek's Astro City

2007-08-30T12:46:00.000-07:00

I'll come right out and say it: Astro City is the best superhero comic of the last decade.

What makes Kurt Busiek's creation tick is how he tempers a fondness for comics' Silver and Golden Ages with the hard-won knowledge of the last 20 years, when comic readers learned to prize things like realism, grittiness, and complex moral ambiguities instead of the clear-cut white hat/black hat dichotomy of old. Astro City assimilates all of what's best about superhero comics, distilling the genre down to its pure, quicksilver essence.

Busiek recognizes superheroes as archetypal characters, and appropriately most of the characters in Astro City are pastiches. Samaritan is essentially Superhuman with a time-traveller's twist; Confessor is a mix of Batman and Ghost Rider; Crackerjack combines Spider-Man with Booster Gold (and actually, I've always thought of Crackerjack as kind of like how it would be if Flash Thompson had become Spider-Man—wasn't that a What If?). But these characters are also unique, with quirks and complexities that distinguish them from their inspirations: it's all a part of how Astro City seamlessly blends what's familiar and classic with what's new and unusual.

For those who are unacquainted with the series, I thought I'd prepare an Astro City Buyer's Guide of sorts, to direct you towards what I consider the five most essential Astro City stories (both single-issue and multi-part arcs), the ones that show the best the series has to offer and also present a good starting point for further delving. So, without further ado:

5. Astro City, Volume 2, #10: "Show 'Em All"

This issue introduces the Junkman, a crotchety old thief whose resentment of Astro City's smug heroes inspires him to prove he's better than any of the superjerks. Following a $7 million dollar heist, Junkman finally retires, satisfied with outsmarting the superhero community—until he discovers that no matter what exotic clime he visits, people look up to the capes rather than to the villains that bedevil and occasionally outwit them. And so Junkman returns to Astro City, intent on proving his superiority once and for all. This story shines in how it depicts superheroes from an unusual perspective (that of a villain, and an intellectual one rather than a standard-issue megalomaniac), and also for how it paints an endearing picture of Junkman himself, the kind of dastardly rogue that the reader can root for. "Show 'Em All" won the 1998 Eisner Award for Best Single Issue or Story.

4. Astro City: Local Heroes, #1-5

Local Heroes spotlights some previously unknown Astro City characters from the perspective of average citizens whose lives they change. "Newcomers" depicts a family just moving to Astro City and faced with the reality of living in the superhero—and supercriminal—capital of the world. "Shining Armor" tells the tale of a young woman who falls in love with a superhero named Atomicus during the Atomic Age, putting a delightful twist on the old Kent/Lane office romance. In "Pastoral", a cosmopolitan Astro City teen is exiled to the countryside for a summer with her aunt and uncle, and quickly becomes miserable being so far from her beloved superheroes...until she finds that the country holds a few surprises of its own. (Also, she wears Hanged Man earrings!) And the two-part final story of Local Heroes is the best of them all: "Knock Wood" and "Justice Systems" chronicle the fall and rise of Vince Oleck, an attorney for the mob who finds his faith in law and order on the verge of collapse...until he meets the Blue Knight. It's essentially the greatest Punisher story never written, one that cuts to the core of who that character is and what role he plays in society. I think Local Heroes may be the best all-around introduction to Astro City: a series of diverse, self-contained stories that get you acquainted with the book's aesthetic.

3. Astro City Special #1: "The Eagle and the Mountain"

I mentioned this one in my last post. One of the best single-issue Astro City stories, "The Eagle and the Mountain" at long last introduces the fearsome Infidel, a character Busiek and Ross had been kicking around for years. He turns out to be one of the greatest villains the series has yet shown us, and actually quite original: despite the obvious connections to Ra's Al Ghul and Doctor Doom, the Infidel seems genuinely his own, and instantly memorable—it's a great example of the series' ability to tap into archetypal ideas, delivering them pure and uncut. And the process also enrichens the character of Samaritan by giving him an arch-nemesis who is truly his equal, and who he shares a very interesting relationship with. Few single issues better illustrate why this series is so excellent, and why it's the kind of comic that gets you excited about superheroes again.

2. Astro City, Vol. 2, #1/2: "The Nearness of You"

Astro City has won three Eisners for Best Single Issue or Story, but in my opinion it's a capital crime that this issue didn't snag one of them. "The Nearness of You" centers on a tortured and very normal man haunted by memories of events that never happened, and how the Hanged Man (my all-time favorite Astro City character) reveals to him why he is so unhappy—and gives him the chance to forget. To me, this is the best single story Astro City has ever done, and furthermore, it's one of the most moving comics I've ever read. I cannot read this issue without getting chills. It shows how what makes this series isn't flashy costumes or superhuman slugfests, but the fragile, embattled humanity of its characters, who Busiek portrays with consummate skill. Superhero comics have never been more beautiful or heartbreaking.

1. Astro City, Vol. 2, #4-9: "Confession"

"Confession" won the 1998 Eisner for Best Serialized Story, and you don't have to be Lex Luthor to figure out why. "Confession" is about as exciting, unpredictable, charming and flat-out cool as superhero comics get. The arc tells the story of Brian Kinney, a young emigrant to Astro City determined to become a superhero, and how an enigmatic and frightening masked avenger called the Confessor adopts him as an apprentice. On the surface, this story looks a lot like the familiar narrative of how Dick Grayson became Robin—but as always with Astro City, it's more than that. Flourishes small and large—like Brian's relationship with his father, the backstory of the Confessor, and the dramatic plot twists—add up fast and force you to rethink your ideas about superheroes, all while the story rapidly unloads memorable characters and set pieces. The result is that, although it seems familiar at times, you'll come to realize that you've never read a superhero story like "Confession" before. At times it recalls everything from "Days of the Future Past" to Watchmen to The Long Halloween, but in the end "Confession" stands alone. Absolutely essential reading. [If you just buy one Astro City story, get the "Confession" trade paperback, which also features "The Nearness of You" at the end.]

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Astro City is currently embroiled in a seriously epic 16-part saga called "The Dark Age", which I have a few thoughts about—but I'll save them for another time.

(One last note: I think Alex Ross' covers for Astro City are by far his best work. In my opinion, his style is a natural fit for Astro City, much more so than his renditions of iconic Marvel and DC characters. He won the Eisner for Best Cover Artist three years in a row, from 1996 to 1998, and then again in 1999 and 2000. Not to be trifled with. His work on the Steeljack story arc is especially impressive—dig that reflective metal skin!)

New Comic Book Day: 08/29/07

2007-08-29T22:42:00.000-07:00

I was surprised and delighted to find a Batman Annual sitting on the shelves at my local shop, but I'm sad to say that my delight quickly turned rancid once I started reading. This year's installment takes an interesting premise—the origin of Ra's Al Ghul, one of Bats' most formidable villains—and makes it almost shockingly pedestrian.

Despite a few quirks (an arranged marriage here, a Zoroastrian funeral there), Ra's backstory is recounted in typical fashion here, and his transition from an ambitious, brilliant young man into the murderous Demon's Head is still glossed over jarringly. (Pass on this and re-read Birth of the Demon instead.) Even worse is a misguided side story with Batman traipsing through the outback searcing for a pair of MIA moth collectors. (Seriously, what?) The ish has its moments—we discover that it was actually Ra's who bested Napoleon at Waterloo, and that the bulk of H.G. Wells works are actually Ra's memoirs—but it's not enough. (And wee Damian is unbearable in this one.) The real point of this book is to set in motion the events leading up to Ra's resurrection, but importance to continuity doesn't make a comic worth reading. Ra's is a great character, and he deserves better.

(Also, for a brilliant depiction of a character very much inspired by Ra's, try last year's absolutely fantastic Astro City Special, with the story "The Eagle and the Mountain." I honestly liked Infidel nearly as much as Ra's Al Ghul after reading it, and by now I should know to expect no less from Astro City.)

The new issue of Invincible fares a tad better, but still stalls occasionally. Some have complained about the glacial pace of Kirkman's The Walking Dead, but from where I'm sitting Invincible is ten times as frosty. In The Walking Dead, events simmer and boil, and nary an issue goes by without at least one shock or gruesome slaying as Kirkman drags the reader agonizingly towards the next heart-rending tragedy. In Invincible, on the other hand, he drops a few large revelations (the truth about Mark's father being the only truly seismic one) and strings them out over eons. And to a large extent that's okay, because there's still plenty of vibrant and enjoyable heroics along the way—don't get me wrong, this is still one of the best superhero comics around. But this latest arc drags, with the reveal of a female Viltrumite only serving to tell us that (1) Female Viltrumites exist, and (2) Viltrumites are still the bad guys. Oh well, at least we get a cameo by Allen the Alien, who pulls a fast one on the mustachioed astro-fascists.

The real gem this week is—surprise!—Avengers: The Initiative #5. I linked to my review of the first three issues in my last post, and I do not hesitate to say this is my favorite Marvel book right now. Slott just keeps on upping the ante and introducing new mysteries: this week he fleshes out Trauma and introduces the enigmatic deus X-Man Mutant Zero, while helping us to get acquainted with the Initiative's black ops team. And he pulls off a truly admirable feat by subordinating the lame "World War Hulk" crossover to his own book rather than vice versa. And Caselli's art still sizzles. Bravo, and keep up the good work.

Until next time, true believers.

Kimota!

2007-08-28T18:48:00.000-07:00

Here goes! The first entry in my new blog, Project Zarathustra.

I decided recently that I wanted to start a more focused blog on the subject of comics, and specifically on superhero comics. A bit of explanation: the title comes from the name of the superhero-creating government project in Alan Moore's Miracleman, which for my money might just be the greatest superhero series of all time (that's Miracleman himself up above, scanned from my own copy of issue #1). Oh, and the title of this entry is the magic word that Michael Moran says to transform into Miracleman ("atomic" backwards with a phonetic K); it seemed a fitting exclamation for the first entry.

The name "Project Zarathustra" is drawn, of course, from Friedrich Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra, a handbook of sorts for how man can overcome himself. Thus the quote to the right (while many academics prefer to translate Übermensch more precisely as "Overman", I prefer the Hollingsdale translation for obvious reasons).

That said, I probably won't end up talking about superheroes exclusively, since some of my favorite books (Fables, The Walking Dead) don't concern capes, masks or metahumans. But I've loved superheroes since I was a little kid, and since superhero bashing/deconstruction/revision is more popular than ever nowadays, I figured a superhero-focused blog would have plenty of fodder. (I'm also, however, a big fan of superhero "deconstruction"; more on that in the future.) And any non-superhero topic I cover, I will approach from a superhero-informed perspective (e.g. what makes Fables different from and similar to traditional superhero comics).

In the meantime, you can check out a couple of my recent comic reviews for PopMatters: here's one for Spider-Man: Reign and another for Avengers: The Initiative, two excellent recent entries in the superhero revisionism sweepstakes. (And both of them, like pretty much every superhero comic written since Miracleman, show its influence.)

So please, stay tuned.