Squadron
Supreme 199_ (SC TPB) 320 pgs.
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Squadron
Supreme 199_ (SC TPB) 320 pgs.
Written by Mark Gruenwald. Pencils by Bob Hall, Paul Ryan,
with John Buscema, Paul Neary. Inks by John Beatty, Sam de la Rosa, others
Colours: Christie Scheele, Max Scheele, others. Letters: Janice Chiang,
others. Editor: Ralph Macchio.
Reprinting: Squadron Supreme #1-12, Captain America #314 (1985-1986)
Rating: * * * * 1/2 (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Published by Marvel Comics
The curious thing about Mark Gruenwald's epic mini-series
is that it's not better known than it is, since it's very easy to believe
this Marvel Comics maxi-series had an enormous influence, particularly
over at rival DC Comics.
More on that later.
The technical origins of Squadron Supreme date back to
the 1960s, when Marvel and DC agreed to do an unofficial cross-over. Nowadays
company crossovers are common. Not so then. So the idea was that each company
would create heroes that were based on a team owned by the other company,
and have it meet their own heroes. Got that? So Marvel created a clone
of DC's Justice League of America that existed on
a parallel earth, the Squadron Supreme, to meet Marvel's Avengers. DC's
version of Marvel characters quickly disappeared into obscurity, but Marvel
continued to play around with the Squadron Supreme from time to time, even
creating a villainous version of the team, the Squadron Sinister.
Actually, a friendly e-mailer advised me that Marvel
created The Squadron Sinister first, then created the Squadron Supreme.
The parallels are more than just superficial; the powers,
the personalities and the interpersonal relationships mirror the JLA characters
(Dr. Spectrum, the Green Lantern clone, is buddies with the Golden Archer,
the Green Arrow clone). It's important to realize this, else you might
read the book aghast at the similiarity and wonder why DC didn't call its
lawyers.
Jump ahead to 1985, and the Squadron Supreme gets their
very own mini-series.
The premise is that on their alternate earth, civilization
teeters on the brink of collapse after an aborted attempt to conquer it
by an alien villain. The Squadron, seeing the sorry state of world affairs,
decide to assume total control of the United States and remake the world
as a Utopian state. It's a laudable goal, but rife with moral minefields.
Nighthawk (the Squadron's version of Batman) quits the team in protest
and, later, works against them.
Needless to say, problems arise, conflicts occur, ethics
are tested, and eventually it gets down to a showdown between the Squadron
and a band recruited by Nighthawk to oppose them.
The Squadron Supreme is definitely flawed, but it emerges
as a staggeringly impressive saga nonetheless. Ironically, it is not in
the ambitious concept that the story impresses. In fact, in trying to grapple
with big questions of moral imperatives, benevolent dictatorships, free
will versus society, Gruenwald fumbles more often than he succeeds. The
world is not realistically portrayed, nor does Gruenwald even attempt to
answer how the Squadron is achieving many of its goals (such as eliminating
unemployment or hunger). Granted, if those things were so easy to fix,
someone would've done so already, but still... Instead, Gruenwald keeps
his eyes focused mainly on parochial law and order issues.
Where the series excels is in its portrait of a super
hero team in a context that allows for drastic changes and unexpected behaviour.
Because this is not an on-going series, there is no artificial need to
maintain the status quo. Characters die, or resign, or do questionable
things, relationships change. It is in the portrayal of the characters
that the series seems ground-breaking, more than in its tackling of big
issues. The characters can be noble and self-sacrificing, but also petty
and shallow, and the series occasionally touches on ideas that other comics
might have shied away from, such as having Nuke, a nuclear powered hero,
discover he may be the cause of his parents' cancer, or through Power Princess
(that is, Wonder Woman) exploring what would be the result of a romance
between an immortal and mortal person.
Gruenwald crams a lot into each issue, with each chapter
showing the various characters, and the progress of the Utopian plan, while
also working in plots that, for the most part, are self-contained. The
series attempts, and largely achieves, a successful blend of talky, thoughtful,
character-driven stories, and enough action, problem solving, and battles
with super villains, to make them fun adventures, too. It's been a while
since I've read single issue comics that are so richly...satisfying. Obviously,
it's a mini-series, and each issue leads into the next, but there aren't
too many that end on a blatant cliff-hanger, which adds to the epic feel.
This isn't just one story, but many stories that, together, form the whole
tapestry that is Squadron Supreme.
By the time the series comes to a close after 300-some
pages, the team has left its mark on you.
There are shortcomings. Gruenwald's ear for dialogue is
rarely more than adequate. And though the characters grow on you, Gruenwald
seems most comfortable with the ones least reminiscent of the JLA, such
as Tom Thumb, a genius little person who emerges as one of the most vividly
realized characters in the series.
The chief weakness, though, remains the handling of the
"issues". There were times when Gruenwald seemed to be taking a stance
without considering the other point of view, such as in gun control. The
Squadron decides to impose gun control, and Nighthawk (and others) are
shocked and I remain inclined to think Gruenwald's sympathies were with
the gun nuts (uh, I mean, responsible citizens who like to own guns). But
there's a possiblity that Gruenwald was simply tossing out ideas without
passing judgement or taking sides, acknowledging the ambiguity of certain
issues -- after all, for all that some characters object, we are not shown
any negative repercussions to gun control.
Gruenwald has characters spout things about personal liberty,
without a sense he's really thought about what those concepts mean beyond
knee jerk semantics.
For all the "talk" about issues, for all that the Squadron
is confident that what they do is right, and for all that Nighthawk is
convinced they're wrong, we get very little demonstration of either side.
There's a sense that, though Gruenwald came up with the deliciously rich
concept of "what if super heroes decided to be law makers, not just law
enforcers", he didn't have anything to say on the topic.
The main policies we are shown being implemented are gun
control, and perhaps the series most fundamental plot element (running
through many of the chapters) -- and contentious issue -- is the team's
decision to use a behavioural modification device on criminals to make
them law abiding citizens.
There are also technical glitches. Initially the Squadron
promises to assume control of the world. Then, as if Gruenwald realized
the logistical problem, later issues just refer to the United States (leading
one to wonder how the rest of the world is fairing while the U.S. gets
the utopian face lift) or a character kills another character, but then
subsequently keeps refering to him as an artificial being...even though
there was no indication of that earlier!
With all that being said, the Squadrom Supreme works more
than it doesn't in its surprising plot twists, its panorama of characters,
and the genuine sense of an epic saga.
It's also fun in the familiariy of things, trying to spot
the parallel characters and origins. Not only are there the JLA clones,
but Gruenwald throws in other characters that are evocative of Marvel or
DC heroes and villains.
The art is reasonably good, without being anything exceptional,
which is too bad for such an ambitious series. Bob Hall draws the first
half, initially with a kind of workmanlike style, but gets better and better
as he goes along...only then he leaves (though pinch hitting one later
issue) and is replaced by Paul Ryan who is less impressive. Though, again,
Ryan is hardly a bad artist. Given its emphasis on story and character,
the series could've ended up with worse choices, because both Hall and
Ryan approach scenes in a matter-of-fact way, not getting caught up in
their own stylistic exaggerations or bizarre, incoherent panels. John Buscema
draws an issue, and I'm a Buscema fan, and Paul Neary draws the Captain
America tie-in.
At the beginning of this piece I wrote that the Squadron
Supreme may have had an enormous influence on rival DC Comics. Clearly
one can see similarities in The Watchmen and
Kingdom
Come--not just in the broad generalities of heroes vs. heroes in an
effort to improve the world, but in specifics. The Squadron's Nuke fears
his nuclear power gave his loved ones cancer...in
The Watchmen,
Dr. Manhattan is accused of the same thing. In the Squadron, Nighthawk
teams with villains to resist the Squadron...in Kingdom Come Batman
teams with villains to resist the JLA. And so on. As well, there are aspects
to the Squadron that anticipate DC's post-Crisis
revamps of its characters, such as the Squadron's Dr. Spectrum as a cocky,
womanizing flyboy...which is the direction DC took Hal Jordan (Green
Lantern) in the late '80s/early '90s. Since DC was planning its post-Crisis
reality at the time, is it possible DC staffers were carefully pouring
over each new issue of The Squadron Supreme, to see if there were any useable
ideas they could "borrow"? Who knows. For that matter, the idea of the
Squadron Supreme as an alternate version of the JLA might well have given
DC Comics the idea for its "Elseworld" line of alternate interpretations
of its characters.
As an exploration of an intriguing moral issue, Squadron
Supreme doesn't quite cut it. But as a super hero saga, given a mature,
adult spin (while still staying within Comics Code guidelines), full of
complex character arcs, unexpected twists, and an appealing peak at a parallel
superhero universe with its own history of heroes and villains, Squadron
Supreme is a richly satisfying epic.
Cover price:
Star Brand Classic 2007 (SC TPB) 178 pages
Written by Jim Shooter, with Roy Thomas. Drawn by John Romita Jr., with Alex Saviuk. Inks by Al Williamson, with Art Nichols, Vince Colletta, Rick Bryant, Al Milgrom.
Colours: various. Letters: Joe Rosen, with Rick Parker. Editor: Michael Higgins.
Reprinting: Star Brand #1-7 (1986-87)
Rating: * * * * (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Published by Marvel Comics
Supposedly part of the impetus for the so-called Marvel Age when Marvel -- under the auspices of Stan Lee -- introduced Spider-Man, the Fantastic Four, etc., was to kind of shake up the super hero genre by introducing more realistic characters in a more realistic world -- characters with human foibles. Following in that wake, in the mid-1980s, Marvel Comics attempted a grandiose project by launching a series of comics under the "New Universe" label. Under the auspices of then editor-in-chief, Jim Shooter, the "New Universe" was separate from regular Marvel continuity and attempted an even more "realistic" take on super heroes. So yes, it generally involved people with powers, but they didn't wear costumes, didn't battle colourful arch foes, and spent a lot of time just trying to figure out their place in the world. It also doesn't take much to see it as a trial run for the initial Valiant line of comics, which Shooter would help create a few years later.
Star Brand was supposedly intended as the flag ship title -- initially written by Shooter himself and with John Romita Jr. -- already becoming a fan favourite artist -- on pencils. As often happens with "new" heroes, they can seem a bit like a deliberate riff on existing characters. And though some have likened hero Ken Connell to the New Universe's Superman, clearly the concept that was flittering through Shooter's mind was Green Lantern. The premise has Connel encountering a mysterious Old Man who tells him he's a dying alien and bequeaths to Ken a tattoo that gives him extraordinary powers.
And what follows is an attempt to realistically explore the fall out from such a premise. Ken struggles to understand his powers, to figure out what to do with them, and grapples, sometimes amusingly, with their limitations (he discovers that flying high above the ground, it's very easy to become lost and he has to carry a map with him) -- all the while trying desperately not to reveal himself to the unsuspecting world. He also begins to question his own origins, and wonders how much of what the Old Man told him was actually true.
But all that's only part of the tale, because the series is also very much about Ken's life removed from his powers and where Ken is definitely a "feet of clay" hero, juggling two women in his life: Barb, the single mom he's thinking of settling down with, and the almost slavishly devoted Debbie, who doesn't seem to mind being the "other" woman. And there's a slight adult nature to the tales, as it's obvious the relationships are sexual in nature.
The New Universe series weren't that well regarded at the time, some seeing it as an act of hubris, and Shooter was already becoming an unpopular and controversial figure at Marvel (soon to be given the boot) and, yes, probably because a lot of the titles maybe weren't that good. But read years later, it's obvious the concepts were also ahead of their time, as the notion of trying a more "realistic" super hero reality would become increasingly en vogue and, as noted, the (temporarily) successful Valiant line very much followed the New Universe formula.
And though flawed, the first seven issues of Star Brand (the whole of the Shooter-Romita Jr, run) collected in this TPB is definitely an intriguing, and oddly compelling series.
It can seem silly to refer to a super hero comic as a "personal" work, but one wonders if we're seeing Shooter at his most personal, trying to tell a story about an average guy as much as a super hero -- Ken is even supposed to be tall (Shooter is a notoriously tall guy) -- and where the kitchen sink reality of Ken's life at work (where he works at an auto body shop) and his relationships and commitment issues take up a huge section of the comic, and where the depictions of his powers seems a bit like a reflection of a writer who had accumulated pet peeves over the years of ideas he'd like to work into super hero stories but never found the right venue (such as that map/flying thing). In a way, part of the idea is to explore the idea that having super powers doesn't necessarily mean you can solve every crisis that comes along -- and Ken can seem almost a bit of a Hamlet figure, given to brooding and dithering so much, but not always accomplishing a lot. In one sequence he decides to intercede in a rescue -- but can't quite figure out how! He contemplates burrowing anonymously to a location -- then realizes that he'd very quickly lose his sense of direction. Eventually the rescue is accomplished...with Ken still on the sidelines!
If all that sounds boring -- strangely, it's not. As mentioned, in some respects it seems a bit ahead of its time (some aspects reminded me of Paul Chadwick's critically acclaimed Concrete). And at other times, the series does stray into more conventional super hero areas, as Ken does get into a few big battles, as his Star Brand seems to have embroiled him in some sort of intergalactic conflict, and a few aliens show up, trying to take it back. There's a slow building aspect of a paranoia to the series, too, both as, part way through these issues, Ken reflects on how strange and dreamlike his encounter with the Old Man was, and wonders if he can even trust his memories of the incident -- and as it becomes obvious the Old Man wasn't telling him the whole story. And Ken is basically vulnerable, despite his powers, as he's just a guy out of his depths, with no one to turn to for help, unwilling even to go to the government for fear he'd be locked up as a public security threat.
There are flaws to the series. For one thing, like with the later Valiant line, Star Brand can seem a little too cerebral at times -- more than emotional. For all that it's all about Ken, and much of the series is told introspectively through Ken's thought balloons, it can lack a certain raw emotionalism. It's as if Shooter has over-intellectualized his concepts. We don't necessarily care about Ken the way, decades before, we cared about Peter Parker. Part of that may be because Ken is, in a sense, an unlikeable guy at times -- cheating on the women in his lives, and Shooter has him leering at women he meets. At first you wonder if this is Shooter living out a vicarious macho fantasy (and probably was a bit), except you realize that it's supposed to be -- at least sort of -- negative behaviour, that even Ken is aware that he's acting inappropriately and wants to change his behaviour. And for all that Shooter is trying to go for an arch-realism, there are times when the dialogue is just awkward, as he's having the characters speak to get across ideas, more than talk the way people would.
And there's a sense that, for a series, Shooter's not entirely sure what to do with it. Many of the issues themselves don't really form stand alone, well plotted adventures, as we spend many pages and scenes with Ken's on-going domestic life, or flying about, ruminating on his powers, punctuated by an occasional fight with an alien or terrorists, but each issue just kind of blends into the next, as part of an on going saga. Yet, as an on going saga, it doesn't fully seem to be going anywhere, as Ken basically just struggles with the same ideas and dilemmas issue after issue, every now and then acting as if he's come to some sort of self-realization...then seem to be right back to his brooding the next issue. There are also a few cryptic scenes -- at one point, Ken encounters some people with a super suit, which isn't fully explained (they were stars of their own New Universe series, Spitfire -- but it seems a bit early to start doing guest appearances!) and even stranger he later has a battle with some super powered misfits that are totally unexplained -- I don't know if they were from another comic too, or whether they were supposed to represent a mystery to be explained later.
Still, these seven issues do build to a climax of sorts, as the Old Man returns, more sinister than before, and a climactic fight ensues -- but the bigger questions remain unanswered, like why did the Old Man give him the Star Bramd only to want it back later? And the fact that Shooter stepped back from the series after this makes you wonder if even he had a fully realized vision of where it was headed. The final issue also, interestingly, seems to build to a domestic climax as well, as Ken seems almost to finally make a decision involving the two women in his life -- though even then, it's not sure how much that was intended (having read the next issue -- not included here -- it seems to be right back to the status quo).
The result is that, as a collection, these seven issues do build to a suitable climax, a feeling that they do form a story arc...even as it's a vaguely unsatisfying arc.
I'm not necessarily a huge Romita Jr. fan, but I kind of like his art from this period, simple and straightforward, but with a certain dynamicness, and nice composition. It suits the tone of the series. Actually, maybe too well. As mentioned, there's a certain lack of emotion to a series that is all about character, and that may be partly because Romita (as inked by Williamsom) tends to draw people in a slightly vague way, with faces lacking detail.
Interestingly, the final issue, though still plotted by Shooter, is actually scripted by old hand Roy Thomas, and though Thomas' dialogue veers a little away from the subdued realism as Ken becomes a little more flippant and hip -- like Thomas tends to write super heroes -- it's also true that it seems a little more emotional, Ken seeming a little more human. Likewise, Romita Jr. is inked by Art Nichols who brings a stronger definition and detail to the characters and their facial expressions.
Ultimately, StarBrand emerges as more intriguing and compelling than not. An atmospheric series that lingers with you. It's more talk than action but, sometimes, in the right context, talk can be more interesting than action. The notion of trying to envision what would really happen if someone acquired great powers is interestingly and, generally, convincingly handled, moreso than a lot of comics that have gone that route in recent years (though if you go back and read the earliest Spider-Man comics by Lee and Ditko, you realize that really was what they were going for, too).
One can't say it's an unqualified success, for the flaws I've mentioned, but read now, years later one can say Shooter deserves a partial vindication.
This is a review based on the original comics.
Cover price: $__ CDN./ $19.99 USA.
Marvel Masterworks: The Sub-Mariner 2002 (HC) 272 pages
Written by Stan Lee, with Bill Everett, Roy Thomas. Pencils by Gene Colan, with Wally Wood, Bill Everett, and Jerry Grandenetti. Inks by Vince Colletta, Dick Ayers, Bill Everett, Wally Wood.
Colours: various. Letters: Art Simek, Sam Rosen, Bill Everett.
Reprinting: Daredevil #7 (1965) and the Sub-Mariner stories from Marvel Comics #1 (1939) and Tales to Astonish #70-87 (1965-1967)
Rating: * * * * (out of 5)
Number of readings: 1
Published by Marvel Comics
Prince Namor, the Sub-Mariner, was one of the first super characters published by the company that would become Marvel Comics -- wa-ay back in 1939. He continued into the 1950s when, like most other super heroes, dwindling sales led to cancellation. When Marvel's super hero revival came about in the 1960s, Prince Namor got dusted off for a few guest appearances before landing his own series -- as one of two features in Tales to Astonish comics (the other series was the Hulk -- the Hulk stories are not included here, though the cover might make you think they were!). And just for you sticklers for accuracy, there was a later, late-'70s revival of the Tales to Astonish title, featuring Namor reprints.
Collected in one of Marvel's ridiculously over-priced Marvel Masterworks hardcover books (which, frugal one that I am, I got on sale), this collection reprints the first 18 twelve page episodes from the 1960s Tales to Astonish, as well as an issue of Daredevil (drawn by Wally Wood) in which Subby guest-starred and which led into the Tales to Astonish series...and, just for completists, a reprint of the very first Sub-Mariner story from back in 1939 (neat from a historical point of view -- frustrating from a story point of view as it's "to be continued" -- Marvel later released Marvel Masterworks: The Golden-Age Sub-Mariner which collected the earlier run).
The Sub-Mariner was always a kind of curious hero -- anti-hero even. The half-human, half-mer-person, prince of undersea Atlantis, he was arrogant, imperious, hot headed, and didn't much like surface dwellers (humans) and was as often as not a villain in his guest appearances (though even when he was a villain, one could usually empathize with his motivations). He's a little more restrained here, but still a passionate, easy to rile character -- which is part of what makes him fun, and carries the series over some prosaic spots of simplistic action.
Namor is full of the passion and impulsiveness Lee could write better than most, and given to high-faluting soliloquies that drag you along and even involves you emotionally...even when you know you really shouldn't be 'cause it's so corny and sillily plotted at times.
This collection also takes on an aspect of an epic drama that, when published in instalments probably seemed a little like Lee was just stretching out a story arc because he couldn't come up with anything better. But when collected together, it takes on aspects -- dare I say it? -- of a graphic novel. The first seven chapters form its own story (and, indeed, was collected and reprinted decades ago as two issues of Sub-Mariner Annual) as Subby returns to Atlantis only to find his throne has been usurped by his chief warlord, Krang (which he first learned in the Daredevil story included in this volume). And he spends a few chapters on an obligatory quest to reclaim his throne, while we cut back to Atlantis and Krang, and the Lady Dorma who becomes Namor's love interest. The appeal of aquatic heroes like Sub-Mariner and Aquaman, for me, is the otherworldly environment, and this story plays that up, taking place entirely in the ocean depths.
Unfortunately, much of the rest of these stories tend to involve Namor on the surface...and with a few judicious guest appearances, such as Henry Pym and Janet Van Dyne (Ant-Man and the Wasp -- but only appearing in their civilian guises), Iron Man, and a bit appearance by the Hulk.
Anyway, once his throne is reclaimed, the Sub-Mariner journeys to the surface for some misunderstanding/conflicts with surface people (and the villainous Puppet Master). Pretty soon though, warlord Krang is back for more mischief. And he remains, in one way or another, a thorn for the rest of this collection, which is why I said that taken as a whole, it does almost seem like an epic story arc (rather than Lee just overusing the same foe!) Plus there's the added emotional/angst twist that the Sub-Mariner thinks Lady Dorma has betrayed him -- which really gets Subby riled!
Best of all, it does build to a conclusion! (I half expected it to end in mid-story).
The lion's share of the art is by Gene Colan -- which proves decidedly problematic. I've become a big, BIG, Gene Colan fan over the years, with his unconventional, but oddly realistic, style, full of artful shadow and dynamic angles. Colan was years ahead of many of his contemporaries in his art (and still ahead of many). Yet this may not be his best work (being earlier than most other art I've seen by him). Worse -- the choice of inkers was decidedly unfortunate. Vince Colletta inks the first half of these stories...and with his thin and rigid line work, isn't the best choice to embellish Colan's soft, organic, flowing figures. Dick Ayers, though a little better, still doesn't bring out the best in Colan. Everett inks Colan twice -- once to good effect, once to shabby effect. As I said though, whether this is entirely the inkers' fault, or whether Colan's pencils weren't as good as they'd become, I don't know.
With that being said -- the art is still a selling point. Because even Colan not quite at his peak, paired with inkers not quite hip to his game, still delivers some interesting and dynamic panels that add a depth and, yes, even maturity to Lee's at times goofy writing. Lee supplies the emotional passion, Colan the dynamic intensity, and together, the stories are greater than the sum of their parts.
Colan's value is made more obvious towards the end of the collection, when other artists pinch hit and the narrative itself seems to falter a bit as a result. There's the conclusion of an Iron Man cross-over -- though without the first part (though it's a fairly inconsequential interlude) -- drawn seeming hurriedly by Jack Kirby. Kirby does the next chapter, and the saga starts to get back on its feet, but Colan's return is certainly welcome. Then the final two chapters are handled by Jerry Grandenetti and Sub-Mariner creator Bill Everett, both men cartoonier than Colan, lacking his power
But, overall, I got a kick out of this collection, the tight, twelve page chapters making for nice, bite-sized reads, even if it has its ups and downs in story and art. But then, I've always had a soft spot for Namor and Aquaman both (two characters almost identical to each other and who have ripped each other off so much over the years it's hard to say which was the original and which the imitation -- certainly Aquaman's hot headedness he began cultivating in the 1970s was clearly borrowed from Namor, and the multi-part story arc reprinted here where Subby goes on a quest to reclaim his throne seems likely to have influenced Aquaman writers to try something similar with the "Quest for Mera" story arc done in the late 1960s.)
Cover price: $79.95 CDN./ $49.95 US.
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