JLA - The Justice League of America

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Justice League of America: Another Nail 2004 (SC TPB) 150 pages

Written and pencilled by Alan Davis. Inks by Mark Farmer. Colours: John Kalisz. Letters: Pat Prentice.

Rating: * * * (out of 5)

Number of readings: 1

Six years previous, Alan Davis concocted Justice League of America: The Nail -- an Elseworlds mini-series involving the Silver Age incarnation of the JLA in an X-Men like allegory of bigotry and paranoia, as superheroes find themselves pariahs as a result of an unknown foe's secret machinations. Add to all that ("Elseworlds" being stories that exist outside established canon) Superman doesn't exist -- or rather, he was not raised by the Kents, and his fate remains part of the series' mystery. Davis wasn't breaking new ground...but crafted an exciting, colourful, superhero-y adventure that still managed to deal with its themes of persecution and paranoia sincerely and credibly. It even succeeded as, of all things, a mystery, with the final revelation as to the master criminal's identity a definite surprise (a problem with this sequel is that it makes passing references to the first, spoiling that surprise if you haven't read the original).

Now Davis revisits that reality with the three issue mini-series, Another Nail. Such return trips can be treacherous going -- Frank Miller's much ballyhooed sequel to his Dark Knight Returns, The Dark Knight Strikes Again, though having its defenders, was, in a word, dreadful, even an embarrassment.

Well, JLA: Another Nail is neither dreadful, nor an embarrassment. At the same time, it falls far short of the original.

Part of that is intentional. While The Nail wrapped its colourful heroics around serious socio-political themes, Another Nail is more just a larger-than-life romp. Whereas The Nail joined the long list of DC Comics projects where the gimmick was to work in as many DC characters as possible in bit parts and cameos, it nonetheless focused on Green Lantern, The Flash, Hawkwoman, Wonder Woman, J'onn J'onzz, The Atom, and the Batman. In Another Nail, though, the fanboy desire to just work in anyone who was anyone, even if only in one panel cameos (including Omac and the Inferior Five!) threatens to overwhelm the story. As such, although more characters get more scenes, it seems a little top heavy.

The story overlaps a little with the Nail, in that in the previous saga there was a minor cutaway to a conflict involving DC Comics' cosmic creations the New Gods and the Green Lantern Corps. This begins by seeing that conflict in greater detail, in an nice, epic, conflagration, before cutting back to the earth based heroes, a year after The Nail. The basic concept is not dissimilar (one character even remarks on a feeling of deja vu) as the characters suspect something ominous is brewing, though the can't quite be sure what or even if, and they separate into smaller groups to follow various investigations. But whereas the original involved a sinister social and political movement, here something's starting to affect the very fabric of time and space.

The Nail emphasized the mystery, the running about, and the social metaphor. Here, Davis tries exploring the personalities more. It's a nice idea...but he's just not that great at character shading, with dialogue that often seems generic. As well, he kind of undermines his own conjuring up of the old, Silver Age characters, by imposing the modern characterizations (The Flash and the Atom were, in the Silver Age, level-headed, adults, but here spout dialogue that makes them sound more like they're fourteen...which, I think, is reflective of DC's current editorial policy). Potentially the most intriguing character -- and the one that mainly identifies this as an "Elseworlds" story -- is the novice Superman who, in this reality, was raised by the Amish. But even this isn't really used to its fullest.

And despite the "anything goes" Elseworlds banner, you don't really find yourself thinking the heroes might actually lose.

But, as noted, I don't think Davis is really aiming for the same ambition as The Nail. It's just meant to be a fun, fanboy indulgence as a gazillion DC Comics properties get involved in a reasonably fast paced, reasonably grandiose, world saving adventure. And there are some nice touches, like who ultimately gets to save the universe, and the method he uses, which seems as a nice apology to a character that some might have felt was shabbily treated in The Nail.

As an artist, Davis is a popular talent, and I definitely lean towards his corner. He's got a style that I always think of owing a bit to the late Don Newton, with aspects of Neal Adams and others thrown in. I would quibble and suggest there are few scenes -- human drama or spectacular action -- where the scene itself, the presentation of the characters, really stands out. Still, a lot of people will be buying this for Davis' art, and I can't quite blame them. Davis also has a penchant for glamour art. His women are often, um, amply endowed. He particularly has fun with his version of Power Girl, a character that I think has become rather obscure these days but who, at least in her very earliest incarnation, was seen as epitomizing the busty heroine -- and has become an excuse for people like Davis, or Alex Ross in Kingdom Come, to trot her out in mass team ups in her pneumatic glory (without doing the character the service of actually giving her a decent part).

DC (moreso than Marvel) seems to have a special penchant for these sorts of plethoric accretions of heroes, where half the point is just the fun of identifying a cameo. As such, the novelty of Another Nail -- seeing all these characters in a single adventure -- isn't really a novelty, as DC seems to do one or two a year. This trend presumably owes its genesis to The Crisis on Infinite Earths -- a maxi-series that Another Nail evokes, with its story of a menace that threatens the fabric of time, space, and dimensions, allowing characters from different times and realities to share the same page. Interestingly, both Another Nail and Crisis may well owe something to an even earlier story.

In 1978, DC Comics' try-out comic, Showcase, celebrated its 100th issue with a story that incorporated many of the characters who had appeared in it over the years -- no small feat as the features had ranged from super heroes, to caveman adventures, to comedy pieces. So they concocted a "double-sized" (34 page) adventure where time starts to unravel, meaning people from the far future and the distant past all wind up together. Like with the Crisis on Infinite Earths and subsequent stories, many of the characters were reduced to cameos, but they also did a nice job of focusing on an eclectic group of characters -- from high profilers like Green Lantern, to Lois Lane, to more obscure properties like Angel (of Angel and the Ape) and Space Commander. Though it may have been imitated over the years, as a story, as an adventure, and even as character exploration, I'd argue that old Showcase issue remains one of the best handlings of the concept.

As for the mini-series JLA: Another Nail, if you're itching for just a fun, fast paced romp, with lots of DC characters, and a big threat, all nicely illustrated...it's an enjoyable read. But it is nothing more than an afterthought -- an enjoyable, but not especially memorable, sequel to a much superior original, despite an attempt at deeper characterization. Even the title has little meaning.

Now excuse me while a dig out my tattered old copy of Showcase #100 for another read.

Cover price: __

JLA/Cyberforce 2005 (SC GN) 48 pages

Written by Joe Kelly. Pencils by Doug Mahnke. Inks by Norm Rapmund.
Colours: David Baron. Letters: Jared K. Fletcher.

Rating: * * * * (out of 5)

Number of readings: 1

Mildly suggested for mature readers

Published by DC Comics/Top Cow

A company crossover involving DC's Justice League and Top Cow's Cyberforce, drawing mainly upon Cyberforce's mythos as it involves Ripclaw, a former member of that super team, who's gone evil and is attempting to uncover a supernatural power source beneath the streets of Budapest. Oh, yeah, and he's got an army of cybernetically enhanced zombies.

And the result...is better than you might expect. It's squarely an action story -- capital "A" -- as the fighting starts in the first few pages and doesn't let up for the next forty. Yet despite that, it manages to be an entertaining read. Despite the action, the story still manages to be wrapped around some emotional character stuff at its core, focusing in particular on Velocity (of Cyberforce) who still loves Ripclaw and holds out hope of saving him from his madness, and on J'onn J'onzz (of the JLA) with the other team members getting moments here and there. Although some may seem less "in" character than others (Wonder Woman seems oddly belligerent). And there's some light-hearted quips and banter as well. Instead of having the usual "heroes battle each other over a misunderstanding", the two teams work together right off the get go, allowing for some appealing bi-play and camaraderie rather than a snark fest.

Well...the two teams do eventually go at each other, but it's a little more justified, and even then, Kelly laces it with some humour, particularly as they are reluctant combatants.

The art by Doug Mahnke is generally quite good, though oddly erratic and uneven. Not having looked too hard at the credits at first, while reading it I assumed there was more than one penciller involved -- or at least more than one inker.

The visuals are also somewhat gorier than you might expect -- or find appropriate -- for a JLA story, presumably reflecting Cyberforce/Top Cow's more "indie" comic sensibilities.

But that aside, and the fact the story, after all is said and done, is nothing more than a minor adventure (Ripclaw escapes), it's a "non stop" action story...that shows non stop action doesn't have to be a watchword for numbingly stupid and tedious.

Original cover price: $__ CDN./$5.99 USA

JLA: Earth 2 1999 (HC & SC GN) 96 pages

Written by Grant Morrison. Art by Frank Quitely.
Colour: Laura DePuy (and Wildstorm FX). Letters: Ken Lopez.

Rating: * * * 1/2 (out of 5)

Number of readings: 2

Slight Mature Readers caution

The Justice League of America is recruited by Alexander Luthor -- a counterpart of the Lex Luthor they know and despise, but from another dimensional earth, where good is bad and bad is good. The planet is held under the tyrannical sway of the Crime Syndicate of Amerika, which is comprised of evil counterparts of the JLA. Alex Luthor, who is a good guy on his world, wants the JLA to help him clean up his world, first by confining the CSA, and then by helping to clean up other, social problems.

Earth 2 is inspired by (though not necessarily a direct remake) of a now out-of-continuity 1960s Justice League of America story (issues #29-30) in which the JLA encountered their evil counterparts of Utraman, Owlman, Super Woman, etc. It also may be the first story to use the new rules at DC Comics that came about with The Kingdom, which re-instated the idea of "alternate" earths that DC used to do all the time, but which had been eliminated with The Crisis on Infinite Earths.

Earth 2 is enjoyable, but leaves one feeling a tad...unsatisfied.

It starts out well, and moody, as we get glimpses of what's to come with weirdly dressed characters who aren't quite the characters we know, and as the Justice League investigate a plane crash where all the victims have hearts on the right sides of their bodies (though how Wonder Woman, who has no x-ray vision, can know this is not explained). Writer Grant Morrison allows the story to progress at its own, unhurried pace, and avoids the obvious plot idea of simply having a fight between the heroes and their evil counterparts (conversely, someone might argue the lack of a Superman-Ultraman showdown might be a disappointment). The piece benefits from its big, prestige, graphic novel format of 96 pages, presented on heavy expensive paper that shows off the colours and art, allowing artist Frank Quitely to indulge in big, atmospheric panels, sometimes spread across two pages.

Morrison scripts decently enough, and Quitely's art, though maybe a little too prone to pronounced jaw lines, is lavish and detailed and grandiose.

But there are some central weaknesses with the book.

One is that Morrison writes in the cinematic style that's so much en vogue these days, telling the story entirely in dialogue and pictures, without thought balloons or text captions. I realize it's much easier to write that way than in the old, multi-tiered approach. And when the technique works, it can make for an easy, fluid read. But the down side is that it can render a story superficial. There's barely a deeper "character" moment in the entire book, largely because Morrison and Quitely never really put us inside anyone's head. There are exceptions, like a scene where Batman encounters a still living version of his father on this alternate earth, or a later scene where Owlman (Batman's evil counterpart) confronts his own personal demons. But generally characters just kind of wander through the story, without any real emotion or passion.

Of course, maybe I'm wrong to blame that solely on the "cinematic" style, and instead should suggest it's a fault simply of Morrison's story.

The other major weakness relates to the very foundations upon which Morrison has based his story. The heroes discover cleaning up this alternate earth isn't so easy because it's the opposite of their earth. Whereas on their earth, good always triumphs, on this, evil always wins, so how can good guys triumph? Yeah, you read right. The entire book is predicated on the idea -- stated uncategorically -- that good always triumphs on the JLA's world (which, after all, is supposed to be basically our world).

How silly is that?

Having the heroes acknowledge what, after all, is simply a conceit of storytelling, is distracting -- as if Superman were to refer to being a comicbook cartoon. But, more to the point, surely the comicbook world is a metaphor for the real world. Ask a person who is living on the streets, or suffering under a brutal dictatorship, if they believe "good" always triumphs. Did "good" triumph because the Nazis were defeated, or did evil triumph because they managed to murder millions before they were defeated? Maybe Morrison intends it as an in joke, a wink at the conventions of the genre. After all, Morrison wrote the critically acclaimed Animal Man series in the 1980s in which, apparently, the hero became aware that he was a comicbook character.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Although (among comic fans) writers like Morrison, Mark Waid, Alan Moore and others are considered literary Titans who have elevated the medium with their prose, too often there's a feeling these are guys who've spent wa-ay too much time reading comics and have lost sight of the fact superheroes don't exist. Superheroes are best treated as symbols and surrogates for the real world and real issues, rather than crafting whole "important" stories around non-existent issues, and endless dissections of what it means to be a super hero.

The story has some nice plot twists and there's a cute play in the very title in that, to the reader, "earth 2" is the evil world, but the only time the phrase is used is when Alex Luthor is referring to the JLA's world. Of course, in the Silver Age, Earth 2 was something else entirely. The characterization overall is kind of thin, but I liked Morrison's quirky version of Power Ring (the evil Green Lantern). And Morrison's Alexander Luthor, a similar personality to Lex -- arrogant and aristocratic -- but now a good guy, is a cute concept (and is a contrast to the pre-Crisis version of Alexander Luthor). And taken on its own, sci-fi level, it's a cute premise, of the characters grappling with a situation where fate itself seems to be against them. And it causes me to rethink an earlier scene where Green Lantern rescues a dog and, moments later, the dog gets run over by a bus. I initially thought it was just Morrison and Quitely's idea of a "gag", but maybe it was intended to be foreshadowing. The whole book put me in mind, however vaguely, of Tales of the Bizarro World with its vision of a topsy turvy reality. Though the how and why of things isn't always clear...like why Alex Luthor has super powers!

Earth 2 was an enjoyable, grandiose read. But given some of the hype, given that it was published first in hardcover, and even the soft cover version is pricey, and given that alternate world stories can often be great, and that Morrison was already working with ideas previous writers had come up with for him, it seems a bit...light weight. Ironically, Morrison's first JLA story arc, originally published just as issues of the regular comic, and collected in a TPB (New World Order and considerably cheaper than Earth 2), struck me as a more successful read. And YET...the strange thing is, I've read this book twice, and each time I feel this review is fair and correct. But when I think back on it, I remember it even more fondly. Maybe it's the epic concept, or the grandiose art and colour, I dunno. Maybe a third reading will settle my feelings.

The book is written with a slight mature readers sensibility, usually relating to a few kinky scenes and subtext.

Soft cover price: $24.95 CDN./ $14.95 USA. 

JLA: Liberty and Justice 2003 (SC GN) 96 pages

Written by Paul Dini. Painted art by Alex Ross. (story Dini & Ross).
Letters: Toss Klein. Editor: Charles Kochman, Joey Cavalieri.

Number of readings: 2

Rating: * * 1/2 (out of five)

Additional notes: published in over-sized, treasury format.

Published by DC Comics

Superstar comics artist Alex Ross -- whose fully painted, almost photo-realistic artwork depicting familiar superheroes first started gaining raves with such mini-series as Marvels and Kingdom Come, has teamed with writer Paul Dini (involved in the critically acclaimed, adult-friendly cartoon, "Batman: The Animated Series") for a series of annual, treasury-sized graphic novels for DC showcasing their key characters (including Superman: Peace on Earth, Shazam!: Power of Hope, etc.) in stories meant to seem more profound than just a fight-the-baddie story. Their collaboration culminates with the final, and longest, in the series, the 96 page JLA: Liberty and Justice.

This focuses on the Justice League of America (more popularly known to Saturday morning cartoon fans as The Super Friends) and features the key Silver Age membership of Wonder Woman, Batman, Green (Hal Jordan) Lantern, the Flash (Barry Allen), Superman, Aquaman and J'onn J'onzz, with the Atom cropping up and other heroes making appearances. Apparently, this line-up is a bit out of continuity: technically these characters weren't all League members at the same time, at least in DC's current version of its characters' history (DC having a tendency to re-invent its "reality" every few years).

The other Dini/Ross books often were presented more like picture books, eschewing word balloons in favour of introspective captions, perhaps better to showcase Ross' art. Here, though there is a heavy reliance on narration by J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, the scenes are also told in conventional comic book format of dialogue and word balloons.

The story has the JLA called in because of a viral outbreak that seems to have wiped out an area of Central Africa. While the team struggles to deal with this unconventional threat, fear and paranoia of the unknown disease -- and distrust of the superheroes' handling of the situation -- unleashes chaos and rioting around the globe.

On one hand, Liberty and Justice is an interesting idea. By eschewing the usual super-villain formula, Dini and Ross create an unusual story, with the characters struggling to combat a threat that needs more than just a good right hook to vanquish. It's "Outbreak"...with super-heroes as the heroes.

Where the book threatens to break down is in its very desire to be important instead of just telling a taut, atypical suspenser. This is very much a part of the Iconism that has been sweeping comics for the last decade or so. Perhaps as a reaction to the dark n' gritty phase comics went through in the late 1980s and early 1990s, a lot of modern comics emphasize the grandeur of the heroes...sometimes at the expense of the characters' humanity. For the most part, the heroes don't panic, don't argue, don't get flustered or lose their tempers (except Aquaman in one scene...and even he seems fairly controlled) -- things that real people might do in a pressure situation. I'm not saying the Leaguers should snipe and bitch at each other, but a sense that these are real people struggling with a very real threat is kind of muted. J'onn J'onzz narrates...but it's hard to remember that, because the "voice" Dini employs is so depersonal, it's easy to mistake it for a third person narration (a flaw also in the other Dini/Ross book I read). There are some amusing exchanges (like one having fun with the scientific implausibility of super heroic feats, and some cute quips about Batman) but overall, the evocation of bland, clean cut Silver Age heroes is a little too faithful.

The book starts out a bit dry, emphasizing Ross' visuals and J'onn's narration, then improves in the middle as the story becomes a story, emphasizing the characters seeking to understand, and find a cure for, the mysterious virus. But then it starts to peter out again in the final third.

That's because the emphasis shifts from the disease to the "important" topic Dini and Ross want to explore. Throughout the world, people begin panicking -- with too little understanding of the virus, they fear the world is coming to an end, and their paranoia leads them to turn on the super heroes who are trying to save them.

It sounds like a rich topic. But firstly, there's absolutlely nothing new here. Using superheroes as a metaphor for those victimized by unthinking prejudice has become so done to death, it's starting to seem like rote rather than artistic inspiration. And here, it just isn't that convincing (a better story is Justice League of America: The Nail). Perhaps Dini and Ross would argue they wanted to deal with mass hysteria...and the "why" is just an excuse. But the notion of global panic, of the great unwashed masses running hysterically through the streets seems a bit of a stretch...and even offensive. In the last few years we've seen the terrorist attack on New York, SARS outbreaks in major cities, and a massive blackout that crippled much of Ontario and the eastern United States...and people kept their heads quite nicely, thank you. Where we do see the population losing control -- such as in the race riots America suffered a few years ago -- it tends to swell up from long bubbling frustrations and perceived grieviances. Or, in other cases, because politicians are deliberately manipulating public perception through misinformation. Or in post-Katrina New Orleans...but in that case, society and its infrastructure really had broken down.

In other words, it doesn't happen for nothing.

Analysed too closely, there is a distressingly fascistic streak to Liberty and Justice. The heroes of the piece are the clean-cut super heroes and, behind them, the military pentagon of the United States. The villains? The paranoid public, foreigners, and the liberal media that is feeding their fears. In other words, people, and the media, can't be trusted to do the right thing. Feulling the public's confusion is that the JLA doesn't bother explaining why they are doing what they are doing when they quarantine the viral hot zone. But...why don't they tell anyone? I mean, other than to provide a plot catalyst? Nor is it clear why the League is acting alone anyway -- why Batman, a criminologist, is called iin to analyze a micro-biological agent is unclear when there are scientists who specialize in the field.

The message seems to be that the public should not question the League or their actions...ever. The League will do what needs to be done and disseminate whatever information they feel the public needs to know.

At its most extreme, the book could be seen as a parable endorsing the recent U.S. led war on Iraq. The JLA (ie: America) unilaterally intercedes in an African nation; world opinion turns against them; but, in the end, the JLA is vindicated and the global community sheepishly realize they were wrong. Except for the part about the world realizing they were wrong, you can see the potential symbolism (if they had throw in a last act revelation that Superman had actually exaggerated and falsified reports about the existence of the virus the parallel would be complete).

Is the above really Dini and Ross' intent? Another reviewer also noted the potential metaphor, but deemed it unintentional. And Ross certainly irked the political right a few years ago with his left leaning Uncle Sam comic, so he might not seem the likeliest candidate to endorse a Republican-led war. But after just re-reading the story...I'll admit, the symbolism seems pretty explicit. But even if that metaphor is completely unintentional, the underlining philosophy remains: don't question authority figures.

Ross' painted art is, of course, quite impressive, but it seems somehow less impressive than when I first came upon it in Kingdom Come. Maybe there is an aspect of novelty to its appeal that becomes muted after you get used to his work. And presented in oversized pages, and in big panels on those pages, the photo-realism is muted a bit. The paintings looking more like paintings. As well, the cute extras Ross used to put in his panels (joke celebrity cameoes in crowd scenes) that made the pictures fun to scrutinize, seems absent. It's still darn nice work, don't misunderstand (and his Wonder Woman remains one of the prettiest versions of the character), but maybe without stronger characterization in the writing, it loses its impact. What's the point of painting the characters to look like real people...if they aren't written with as much care?

One would also have liked more than a few panels given to characters like Hawkman and the Elongated Man. Superman, Batman, etc. have already received the Ross treatment before; second string heroes not so much. And because Ross' work uses photo references, he's not as strong depicting wholly imaginary situations, such as brief scenes in Aquaman's Atlantis, or the Atom flying through the Flash's bloodstream.

For old time League fans (or Super Friends fans), particularly those who've never seen Ross' work, the book is probably worth getting, if only for the novelty of seeing these comic book heroes come to painted life on over-sized pages. The very simplicity of the story -- with its de-emphasis on violence (even the disease leaves no fatalities) and villain fighting -- makes for an appealing read, particularly as something to show to younger readers. My quibbles about any fascist sub-text, given that they are sub-text -- and interpretive, to boot -- don't entirely sour the book. But the story is thin, really starting to drag toward the end, presumably as it's partly intended as just a showcase for Ross' art. For those hoping that 96 pages of Alex Ross' painted art, married with a story intended to seem deep and profound, might have produced a classic tome...Liberty and Justice is more a minor novelty, rather than a must have read.

Cover price: $9.95 USA / $15.25 CDN.

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