Miscellaneous (Superheroes) - Page 3

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Captain America
for reviews go to the Captain America section

Captain Britain
see my review of the TPB in the mini-series section here

Captain Marvel (the original)
for reviews go to the Shazam section

Captain Marvel (the other one)
see The Death of Captain Marvel and The Life of Captain Marvel

Cosmic Odyssey  1991 (SC TPB) 200 pgs.

Written by Jim Starlin. Pencils by Mike Mignola. Inks by Carlos Garzon.
Colours: Steve Oliff. Letters: John Workman. Editor: Mike Carlin.

Reprinting: Cosmic Odyssey #1-4 (1988 prestige format mini-series)

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

Number of readings: 2

Published by DC Comics

Evil Darkseid and the benevolent New Gods discover Darkseid's long-sought after anti-Life formula is, in reality, an other-dimensional entity on the verge of crossing into our reality. They recruit earth superheroes Superman, Batman, J'onn J'onzz, John (Green Lantern) Stewart, Starfire (of the New Teen Titans), with Etrigan the Demon, Dr. Fate, and Adam Strange cropping up. Divided into smaller groups (teamed with New Gods Orion, Lightray and Forager) they must stop the Anti-Life entity's agents from blowing up some planets, thereby collapsing the galaxy and allowing it entry into our dimension.

O.K., Cosmic Odyssey isn't great. In fact, it's not even that good. But there's a kind of breezy readability to the thing that makes it passably enjoyable on a non-think level. Or, at least, that's what I wrote after I first read it. But after a second reading...I was even less enthused by it.

The story's one of those grand concepts, with sumptuous painted colours by Steve Oliff adding a lot to the atmosphere. It starts out promising a complex, multi-faceted story (a promise that, admittedly, doesn't get fulfilled as the story becomes more straighforward and unsurprising and kind of thin for its 200 pages). Though it is kind of interesting considered in a publishing context. In a sense, it reads a lot like one of those crossover sagas DC churns out every year (beginning with Crisis) -- y'know, DC heroes unite to combat a cosmic threat. Except, of course, this isn't a "crossover" saga, but is entirely self-contained (other than expecting the reader to have familiarity with at least some of these characters). And it's the only one published in a "prestige" stiff-cover format. So, in that sense, it can be fun for readers who'd like to read a crossover epic...but hate trying to track down the various issues involved.

The concept is pretty familiar fair, as is the separate teams format. There's very little that's fresh or innovative. Some criticized Starlin's taking the anti-Life concept from Jack Kirby's New Gods and turning it on its head by having it be a living sentience. In a way, though, that goes to the heart of what's wrong with Cosmic Odyssey.

Starlin seems to be repeating himself.

Most of the characters never quite seem in character. I'm not an expert on all of them, but there's a sense Starlin wrote the characters to suit his style, rather than styling his writing to suit the characters, sometimes clumsily shifting between portentous formal dialogue and slangy patois...in the same character! A writer should bring his thumb print to a work, but there needs to be a balance. Likewise, Anti-Life as a kind of Death entity seems like Starlin was just dragging out the ideas he'd been working with over at Marvel Comics, with Thanos and Captain Marvel and Adam Warlock, and imposing them on the DC Universe (Starlin's Thanos seemed like a Darkseid rip-off anyway).

There are even a couple of scenes that echo Batman: The Cult, which Starlin was working on at the time.

Attempts at big emotions and moral ruminations tend to fizzle. The heroes don't save all the planets, and the staggering loss of life shakes one of the characters...but later the good guys blow up an entire dimension (that may or may not be inhabited) with only a momentary qualm. Starlin drags out questions of right and wrong, but seems hesitant to deal with them (or maybe I just refuse to acknowledge what he may be saying). Heck, the solution to the character grief stricken by the loss of life caused by his actions? He's basically told to just get over it, dude, these things happen!

This makes it sound like Cosmic Odyssey is a challenging, provocative saga. It's not. In fact, it fails to engender much emotional reaction, pro or con.

That's partly because Starlin rarely succeeds in puting us inside anyone's head. With these eclectic characters, you'd assume he chose them 'cause he really wanted to write them. Instead, other than maybe Batman (who Starlin was writing at the time) he doesn't seem to know what to do with them. He does contrast Orion's war spirit with Superman's more Liberal views, but in a way that seems a tad heavy handed.

I've really enjoyed Mignola's art on Hellboy (which I read long after) but I'm not sure he was as well suite to more conventional super heroes. His style borrows a bit from Kirby, a bit from Walt Simonson, and on one hand the work is neat and splashy, but it adds to the dispassionate feel. Mignola spends a lot of time drawing characters in long-shot, or from behind, or with tight-lipped expressions, or (with Garzon) their faces heavily shrouded in shadow. As art, it's stylish, but as storytelling, the characters are little more than props. When called upon to show shock or horror, Mignola can do those expressions, but it's in the subtler, more common place scenes that the expressions rarely convey nuances. Actually, it reminds me a bit of some European comic artists I've seen.

The story probably warrants a nominal "mature readers" warning -- no, Starfire, back then the most scantily-clad of mainstream superheroines, doesn't pop out of her costume; no one cusses; nor are the themes "mature"; but it's a bit grisly in spots. It's a stylized grisliness, though, so my caution may be reactionary.

Ultimately, with a first reading I sort of felt that Cosmic Odyssey was a bit bland but can help while away a few afternoons, just don't expect anything more. But recently re-reading it again after maybe 4 or 5 years...I dunno. I found it a bit of a slog. It just wasn't that interesting. This story also seemed to return Etrigan to the DC Universe and killed off one of the New Gods (and I think he stayed dead, too).

Original cover price: $ __ CDN/ $19.95 USA 

Crisis on Infinite Earths 2000 (SC TPB) 368 pgs.

Written by Marv Wolfman. Pencils by George Perez. Inks by Jerry Ordway, Dick Giordano, Mike DeCarlo.
Colors; Tony Tollin, Tom Ziuko, Carl Gafford. Letters: John Constanza.

Reprinting: Crisis on Infinite Earths #1-12 (maxi-series) 1985-1986

Rating: * * * (out of 5)

Number of readings: 2

Published by DC Comics

Most fans have at least heard of DC Comics' Crisis on Infinite Earths, the maxi-series that reinvented the "reality" of the oldest consistently publishing comic book company. At long last (well, at the tail end of 2000) DC released the epic in a trade paperback for those who missed it either in its original serialized format, or in its pricey hardcover version.

I had never read the series. In 1985 comics were getting pricey (I had no idea just how pricey they'd become, of course) and the great reads seemed few and farther between. When DC announced it was overhauling its line with Crisis, I decided it was time for me to go, too. Eventually I fell back into reading comics and inevitably my curiosity led me to reading Crisis on Infinite Earths. I mention all this just to put my opinion in perspective -- I read it 16 years after the fact.

The story has a mysterious villain destroying whole universes, whittling away at DC's multiverse -- wherein earths existed in parallel dimensions, each with its own superheroes. An enigmatic, omnipotent being, Monitor, is determined to preserve as many of the universes as possible and gathers together heroes from various universes to help. Eventually the heroes triumph, but the end result is that reality has been remade as a single universe where all the characters either co-exist...or no longer exist.

Crisis was, obviously, an awesome undertaking, a story that attempted to throw in almost every character in the DC catalogue. There probably isn't another artist who could have handled the task as well as George Perez -- certainly not who was working at the time. He crams each page with tiny panels and crams the panels with little details and finely drawn, impeccable figure work, all laid out with edgy panel composition. For pure quantity, you get your money's worth. Writer Marv Wolfman holds up his end by providing lots of dialogue. Sometimes the panels are so small and the dialogue so much that letterer John Constanza has to spill word balloons into neighbouring panels. It's a 12 issue series that, in other hands, probably would've been 24 issues.

Is Crisis a good read? Well, yes.

It's a big spectacle that can be fun just for the sheer number of characters, featuring (literally) an earth-shattering menace, and buoyed by Perez's art, aided by inkers Dick Giordano, Mike DeCarlo, and, mainly, Jerry Ordway (an overwhelming inker, admittedly -- sometimes you can find yourself forgetting it's Perez's pencils underneath Ordway's inks). For older readers, the story evokes all those old Justice League/Justice Society team ups that were an annual event in the Justice League of America comics throughout the '60s, '70s and early '80s.

Is Crisis a great read? Well, no.

There are too many characters. Admittedly that's the point: to squeeze everyone in. Almost everyone gets a line, true, but very few get a lot of lines, or very good lines (even A-list heroes like Batman and Wonder Woman have just bit parts). The plot unfolds a little too linearly -- despite the fact that it leaps aroundd from the far future to the distant past, jumping from reality to reality. Wolfman basically comes up with his premise...then sticks with it for 350 pages. There are some questions that keep us turning pages (who is Pariah? what is the Monitor's plan? etc.) but considering the saga's size, unexpected plot turns are few. There's repetition, particularly in the first half, with too few moments that gel into memorable scenes in and of themselves. The "action" tends to be a lot of scenes of mass fisticuffs.

The use of the god-like Monitor, and some subsequent characters, helps push the story along, but it reduces the familiar heroes too often to being kind of unthinking props who just go where they're told. Considering this was the swan song for some of the characters, it's disappointing. Wolfman also introduces brand new characters, spotlighting them sometimes at the expense of the established heroes. The irony is that most of the original characters introduced have long since faded into obscurity!

The saga is better in the last half than the first, and a couple of double-sized issues (#7 and the concluding #12) stand out, the greater pages allowing Wolfman and Perez to shape more well-rounded chapters.

There are technical lapses, as is probably unavoidable when dealing with the warping of time and space and reality -- spots where you find yourself going, "hey, that don't make sense", or where Wolfman glosses over plot points. And at one point Captain Marvel Jr. refers to Mary Marvel as his "sister" and the Golden Age Superman is more poweful than I remembered. And since this was a "crossover" epic -- one of the first -- there are a few annoying spots where characters wander off and we're advised that their adventure continues, not in the next issue of Crisis, but some other comic entirely.

In the annals of mass slaughter depicted in comics, the hundreds of billions cavalierly wiped out in Crisis is unmatched. To make matters worse, it was not done out of any artistic desire, or to tell a great story, but simply because DC Comics wanted to clean house. I don't want to get too metaphysical, but when the heroes rage against the villain it's hard to get swept up in their indignation. After all, he didn't kill billions...Marv Wolfman did. Likewise, in the series most notorious twists -- the deaths of the original Supergirl and the Silver Age Flash (not to mention Dove, Lori Lemaris, Aquagirl, the earth 2 Huntress, and so on) -- there's some of the same ambivalence. It's hard to be entirely moved because it was an editorial more than an artistic decision. Supergirl and the Flash evince an atypical ruthlessness in their last moments, too, which is curious.

Admittedly, all that's from the perspective of reading it years later, when all of this is ancient history. At the time, it might have been more powerful.

There's a little too much of the "Iconanism" that seems to have become prevalent in comics. Where the Marvel Age was all about emphasizing a superhero's humanity, the modern Iconic Age (as I think of it) is more about Wagnerian chest beating, defining superheroes by their being superheroes. Even when Wolfman tries to squeeze in character bits, it's mainly characters reflecting on superheroism. If I read one more character musing what a "true hero" another character was, I was liable to throw the comic across the room. When Supergirl dies, we're treated to a half page eulogy delivered by Batgirl at her funeral -- it's heavy handed, it's expository, it's...Iconic! Far more affecting is a later, understated scene where Brainiac 5 is embittered because of Supergirl's death.

With that being said, #7 (with Supergirl's death) and #8 (Flash's death) are among the better stand alone issues -- not because of the deaths, but the stories are more focused. Wolfman also shows an unusual sensitivity for continuity by having the Golden Age Superman -- the hero that largely begat the DC Comics empire in 1938 -- take a pivotal role in the climax.

The series was intended to redefine and clarify the DC Universe -- it did neither. Even how the series ends (with the heroes remembering the pre-Crisis) was instantly contradicted by the regular comics (where even Supergirl went unremembered -- this despite Superman vowing to "miss her forever"). Once DC opened the door to "redefining" its universe, new editorial regimes have done so at least twice, so that even hardcore fans aren't really sure what is, or is not, continuity. There's also an uncomfortable tendency to brow beat. Knowing what they were doing was bound to be controversial, Wolfman has the only character who bemoans the changes be a raving lunatic in an asylum. A not-very-subtle way for Wolfman to get in a pre-emptive swipe at his critics.

Crisis is arguably more craftsmanship than it is art, though it may well be as good a version of the story as was possible given the parameters. Is it the classic it is heralded as? Not really. It's a bit draggy in spots and I can think of similiar stories, both after and before, that were as good or better. But it's still an enjoyable epic that reminds you when DC Comics' reality was an interesting, diverse place to be.

This is a review of the story as it was originally serialized in mini-series format.

DC: The New Frontier 2004 (various) 300 pages
This has been collected in various forms, including a two volume TPB edition, and a single hardcover "Absolute" edition.

Written and illustrated by Darwyne Cooke.
Colours: Dave Stewart. Letters: Jared K. Fletcher. Editor: Mark Chiarello.

Reprinting: the six issue, prestige format mini-series (2004) - with covers

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

Number of readings: 1

Published by DC Comics

Thoughout the 1990s, DC published occasional one-off stories under the "Elseworlds" label -- "what if...?" tales envisioning new origins, new ends, or new settings for Superman, Batman, etc. Eventually, DC retired the "Elseworlds" label...but continues to put out Elseworld projects; they just don't call 'em that.

Which brings us to Darwyn Cooke's DC: The New Frontier.

After recent "event" projects that make a splash for a month or two, then fizzle out, it may be the first mini-series in years critics have lumped in with The Watchmen, Kingdom Come and the Dark Knight Returns.

Cooke goes back to basics, re-imagining the dawning of the Silver Age of DC Comics, both by setting the characters against the realities of the 1950s time period in a way the original comics couldn't (or wouldn't) -- McCarthyism, bigotry -- and by integrating the DC Universe, with plain clothes heroes like Slam Bradley and the Challengers of the Unknown brushing shoulders with the super heroes. And wrapping it all into a 300 page graphic novel.

A lot of this has been done before. DC inparticular has produced a staggering number of "epics" involving the entirety of their characters (even dating back to Showcase #100 in 1978!) You can't help but feel deja vu here and there. Even the 1950s-era setting has been tackled in JSA: The Golden Age and Martian Manhunter: American Dreams. And that's ignoring the scenes that are meant to be familiar (origins of J'onn J'onzz, Green Lantern, etc.)

And what exactly is Cooke's intent? To imagine if super heroes really existed in 1950s America? -- or just to be a super hero comic but acknowledging the period? Is it a human drama...or a super hero adventure? I read one review that said Cooke was introducing the characters in the chronological order they had appeared in the original comics -- but that doesn't explain a cameo by Zatanna in this 1950s set tale. And though Cooke works in racism and the Ku Klux Klan in a cutaway tale involving a black, hammer-wielding vigilante, it is just that -- a cutaway.

Yet despite my feelings that Cooke doesn't fully establish a consistent "flavour"...New Frontier succeeds more than it doesn't.

It starts out seeming a collection of disparate story lines, having little to do with each other, albeit where Cooke overlaps previously separate lifelines -- such as by having "Ace" Morgan of the Challengers of the Unknown be a friend and mentor to Hal Jordan (soon to be Green Lantern). It's a sprawling tale, cutting between various characters, often in sequences that seem less like an "action" story with a clear narrative thrust, and more like a drama. Yet as the saga unfurls, storylines creep closer together, the lives of the characters become more intertwined, until an apocalyptic menace rears its head and everyone comes together in the final act.

This isn't meant to be part of regular continuity, not the least because of its being set 50 years ago. And whereas nowadays, Superman and Batman are supposed to be part of the second wave of DC's heroes -- here, Cooke has them truer to their publishing history and be well established before this story begins.

Even at 300 pages, selections have to be made: certain characters are "leads", and certain "supporting"...and some appear in glorified cameos. And Cooke's choices are interesting. Superman, Wonder Woman and especially Batman are more supporting players, while front and centre is Hal Jordan, with Cooke beginning Hal's story long before he acquires his power ring. And it's a testament to Cooke's storytelling that he makes Hal a compelling person even without powers. J'onn J'onzz also gets a fair amount of focus. Origin stories, naturally, begin with the character's, well, origin...but knowing what lies ahead, Cooke can indulge in fleshing out the men before the mask.

That's Cooke's greatest strength...the simple, raw, storytelling. He makes the characters come alive and seem real, with quirks and foibles and nuanced perspectives, without becoming mired in self-conscious pretension. There's an easy, natural flow to the scenes, the dialogue, the character exchanges (and amusing banter). Similar projects (James Robinson's The Golden Age) can sometimes try too hard, explaining characters rather than simply letting them be characters. Here there's a nice understatedness to some things, like how seeming steel hearted Colonel Flagg insists a project be named Flying Cloud -- and Cooke leaves it for the reader to connect it back to the saga's opening sequence. Or the way characters and their relationships can evolve.

There's a lot of this that's aimed at the hardcore fanboy who knows the characters. If you don't know them, it still doesn't really affect your understanding of some scenes. (Colonel Flagg heads a Suicide Squad group...but I had no idea whether this was part of existing DC mythology, since the only Suicide Squad I knew of was a super hero comic created in the 1990s, and Colonel Flagg was the name of a recurring character in the sitcom M*A*S*H -- but it's not important to following the story).

But...there's an entire scene set in Las Vegas that will be kind of bewildering if you aren't aware that the characters are super heroes in their alter egos.

But New Frontier genuinely comes across as an epic's epic. A big, sprawly, grandiose achievement that drags you in and immerses you, not just in this story, and the clever way plot threads weave about each other, but in its affection for the stories of old.

Still, the narrative can be a bit erratic. Significant scenes (relevant to the overall plot) can appear...and then not be referenced again for dozens of pages. References are made to a sense of unrest throughout the world...but that's all they are: references, rather than depictions of such.

Cooke makes the human drama/suspense aspect of the story so effective, that when it turns into a big super hero battle for the final act...it's actually a bit of a disappointment. In some such stories the climax can seem short changed. Not so here. But you lose some of the sense of the carefully teased along character development and plot threads. Though Cooke does cleverly evoke 1950s creature features, or even the real life Manhattan Project, as the characters gather in a compound to strategize and work out a plan.

And it does work as an epic confrontation against an awesome menace.

Though curiously, after introducing Hal as an airforce pilot who refused to kill, as if heartedly endorsing the old "heroes don't kill" idea -- Cooke then gives us a climax where he contradicts that with a menace that is of a kill or be killed variety.

I've gone through this whole review without commenting on the art. Yet the art is one of the things that other reviewers single out up front.

Cooke's style is of a simple, cartoony style -- a style that I wouldn't normally be the first to embrace (in fact, in Cooke's Catwoman: Selina's Big Score, I mention a certain ambivalence). But I'll admit, it did work for me here -- quite a bit. Perhaps it's because of the time period. In trying to evoke a 1950s sensibility, Cooke's art -- which at times seems like the love child of Chester Gould and Jack Kirby -- is suitably appropriate. Perhaps it's because, despite the simplicity, Cooke has a deceptively strong eye for composition, in creating scenes that are both dramatic...and dramatically understated. This is a talky saga at times, with a lot of scenes of people in civvy clothes, sitting around, chatting. Scenes that could get dry if visualized wrong. His decision to tell a lot of the saga with each page broken up into three horizontal panels is precisely the sort of miserly thing I often rage against -- but, again, he pulls it off. Despite the simple art style, there's enough detail and background that the images don't feel short changed. And maybe the limited panels aid the story, keeping the pace up.

Cooke is aided quite nicely by colourist Dave Stewart who doesn't get too fancy with the central figures, realizing that a simple colour palette suits the simple art -- yet then provides some richly textured and shaded backgrounds for the actions to play out against.

Just a minor aside: this seems to be on the way to becoming a modern super hero comics touchstone (even adapted into an animated movie!), rich in themes and ambition. And writer/artist Darwyn Cooke is Canadian (there's even a Canadian "in" joke in that a newspaper clipping photograph is credited to Boris Supremo -- a real, award winning Canadian photographer). New Frontier tackles DC's universe, drags it back to its roots, re-imagines and salutes the old school spirit of wholesome heroism while exploring the ills of racism and gun-boat imperialism. It's The Watchmen...minus the nihilistic deconstructionism. The Watchmen was heralded as being the product of British sensibilities brought to an American art form. Yet, curiously, no one seems to regard Cooke's Canadianness as being worth acknowledging -- or as what helped fuel the vision behind New Frontier.

Anyway...

Closing the final pages on New Frontier, I'm conscious of things that didn't quite sit well with me. The climactic act is maybe too long, there are plot threads hinted at that, invariably in such an epic undertaking, get forgotten.

Yet New Frontier works -- as an epic, as a drama, as a grand celebration of all that was wonderful in comics while tempering it with modern worldliness and sophistication (and mild profanity!). The interlocking of plot threads is clever, the characters empathetically realized and shaded -- and some of the fan boy "in" references effective (even as others were lost on me). And the cartoony art absorbing and expressive.

Cooke has crafted an "Elseworlds" story (even if not labelled as such) that manages to take advantage of the freedom inherent in that...without diverging overmuch from the established characters and history. So that it can act as both an "alternate reality"...yet also as an introduction to the characters fans know and love.

And, above all, he's given us a true graphic novel, rich in plot and character.

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