Jim Starlin Versus the Inevitable: Thoughts on Dreadstar vs. the Inevitable

[This is not a review. I will be discussing Dreadstar vs. the Inevitable in ways that will ‘spoil’ it so, if you haven’t gotten your copy yet and don’t want to learn anything too detailed about what happens, maybe bookmark this piece to return to at a later date. If you don’t particularly care, read on.]

What is a Dreadstar comic?

I’ve been pondering that since reading Dreadstar vs. the Inevitable, the newest Dreadstar graphic novel. It’s the second Dreadstar graphic novel of the 2020s, both published through Kickstarter campaigns, after Jim Starlin departed the book in 1989 with issue 40. He had stopped drawing it a year previously and, after it was continued by writer Peter David with, mostly, artist Angel Medina, Starlin’s only contributions were the odd cover and chapters of a serialised novel that ran in the back. Even when the title returned for a six-issue mini-series under Malibu’s Bravura imprint, Starlin just did covers, focused instead on his ‘Breed series. The last time he had done anything with the character was actually in the third ‘Breed series where Vanth Dreadstar and Oedi from the title joined alongside Starlin’s other creator-owned characters to team up with the protagonist of ‘Breed. While fans always hoped Starlin would return to the character, that appearance seemed likely to be the last time Starlin would draw the character after an injury to his hand seemed to end his drawing career. Instead, after many years of work and recuperation, Starlin managed to regain the use of his drawing hand and the first comic he drew was Dreadstar Returns, which was published in 2021, not only acting as the first Dreadstar comic since the early ‘90s, but also with the promise of several more graphic novels planned. Dreadstar vs. the Inevitable finally had its Kickstarter campaign in 2023 with the property jumping to yet another publisher (if you include the ‘Breed III appearance, Dreadstar has been published by nine different publishers over its 42-year span).

Dreadstar began as a serialised story called The Metamorphosis Odyssey in the pages of Epic Illustrated in 1982 with Starlin writing and painting it. Partly a chance to work on his own characters, partly a chance to try painting a comic, it told the story of a war between two ancient, god-like alien races. With one side realising that that they will eventually lose the war, a plan is put into action to destroy the Milky Way Galaxy – it’s an allegorical story rooted in the Vietnam War. The idea being that the other side is so terrible that, to save the galaxy from the terrible fate of being conquered by this race, it would be better to be destroyed altogether. Vanth Dreadstar is one of four beings gathered to fulfill that plan. Armed with a mystical power sword, Dreadstar is stronger and tougher than the average mortal – the galaxy’s most formidable warrior. He and Aknaton, the alien who destroys the Milky Way Galaxy, are the sole survivors of the explosion that destroys it – and, immediately after reaching safety in a neighbouring galaxy, Vanth kills Aknaton and settles into a quiet life.

The Epic Illustrated story was followed by two graphic novels, also painted, and a short story that led into the ongoing monthly from Epic Comics. The basic set-up was that, in this galaxy, there is also a war between two powerful groups, the Monarchy and the theocratic Instrumentality, and Vanth is drawn into the conflict when the planet he lives on is attacked, killing his wife and the nearby village of cat people. Joining the Monarchy’s army with the goal of getting revenge against the Instrumentality, he learns that neither side is interested in winning the war as both societies are now dependent on the war machine. Basically, it’s too profitable to end the war. Pulling together a group of like-minded individuals, Vanth sets about finding a way to end the war. The monthly title followed Dreadstar and Company in these efforts and, once the Instrumentality won the war, finding a way to overthrow their religious rule, settling into a conflict with the Lord High Papal, leader of the church and government, and his minions.

Starlin stopped drawing the title after the Instrumentality was defeated and the ensuing year where he only wrote the book was a meditation on what happens next with Vanth awaking from a two-year coma, trying to find a place in this new world. Vanth’s efforts to find a direction for his life mirrored Starlin’s efforts to find a direction for the comic. Due to various reasons, Starlin never did find that direction and departed the title, giving it over to Peter David and Angel Medina to continue. This resulted in another change of galaxies and various adventures until the series ended abruptly with plans indicated by First Comics that it would return in a new form. Instead, First Comics didn’t last much longer and it was resurrected as a six-issue mini-series by David with artist Ernie Colon that focused on Vanth’s daughter, the new wielder of the power sword. That story both wrapped up the previous series and told a new story, seemingly bringing the story of Dreadstar to an end.

Until Vanth and Oedi appeared in ‘Breed III alongside Starlin’s other creator-owned characters. It wasn’t completely apparent when these characters were from given that both were back in their most well-known clothes from the beginning of the Epic Comics Dreadstar monthly. Rather than an addition to the broader Dreadstar story, it seemed like a fun crossover of Starlin’s various characters as a bit of a treat for his longtime fans. Soon thereafter, Starlin was back at Marvel, writing and drawing new Thanos stories in a series of graphic novels – until his accident that seemed to end his drawing career. He continued working on Thanos stories with the art team of Alan Davis and Mark Farmer and seemed to bring his version of those characters to a conclusion. If I recall, there were some musings about doing more Dreadstar with another artist (and even one or two aborted efforts previously at a new Dreadstar comic by Starlin himself – one of which is included in the Dreadstar Guidebook that was published as part of the Kickstarter for Dreadstar Returns), but, instead, he discovered that he could, in fact, still draw.

Dreadstar Returns was both a return to familiar grounds with the characters looking like their most classic versions but it not only taking place after Starlin’s run but all of the Peter David-written material as well. Vanth and company are back in the galaxy that they had departed, which is run by the telepath Willow, whose consciousness has been merged with a giant computer. Vanth seems content working for this government to help free worlds from tyrants and bring them into Willow Consortium. The story opens with him slaughtering a tyrant king modeled after Donald Trump before being drawn into the real story: a dimensional void is slowly consuming the capital planet of the Consortium and, from within, can be heard a voice calling Willow’s name. Vanth, Oedi, a newly resurrected Willow, and Teuton go into the void to figure out what’s going on. After battling through constructs of old enemies, which gives Starlin an excuse to draw every old bad guy from the title, it’s revealed that the cause is Doctor Delphi, a thought-dead member of the group who was in love with Willow. His death actually resulted in him becoming the god of a pocket dimension and, with his newfound omnipotence (in that dimension), he has been watching over Willow and the rest of his old universe. He’s discovered a new threat, an incredibly power being he calls the Nameless that is dedicated to killing all other life in the universe and will kill Willow and the rest in the future. Delphi sacrifices himself (again) to warn them and give them the barest chance at survival.

Dreadstar vs. the Inevitable picks up there as plans are made to confront the Nameless and, hopefully, stop his path of destruction. This quest eventually involves teaming up with the Lord High Papal, once the primary antagonist of the title, and ends with a lengthy rumination on the necessity of COVID lockdowns. It’s an odd comic, one that never really delivers what you’d expect, but also fits into the larger body of Starlin’s work. I wouldn’t say that it’s good necessarily... definitely interesting. It’s left me, as I said at the beginning of this piece, pondering a question:

What is a Dreadstar comic?

I’ve long had the definition/running joke of DREADSTAR IS POWER! taken from the short story that ran in Epic Illustrated #15. From The Metamorphosis Odyssey on, the stories revolved around the idea of power in its various forms, from raw strength to the influence and control one may exert over an entire populace. Vanth Dreadstar has access to an energy he dubs The Power and always seeks to use it in the service of some idea of ‘good,’ usually against those that would use their power in ‘bad’ ways. The Nameless is presented as such a foe, using advanced technology and military skill to travel across the universe, destroying every inhabited planet that it encounters. In Dreadstar Returns, Delphi tells Willow the origin of the Nameless, the mightiest warrior on a planet that was born into a war that had lasted generations and, eventually, helped end it, but found himself the sole survivor. Having seen the destruction nature of people, his desire to live grew into an all-encompassing paranoia that meant that all other living beings must die to ensure his survival. It’s a bombastic overreaction that fits into a long line of Starlin threats, including the Lord High Papal. But, it also makes for a mirror version of Vanth.

Vanth grew up on an icy planet, constantly fighting, becoming a fantastic warrior until he discovered The Power in the form of a sword. Much like the Nameless, was the greatest warrior on his planet and desires an end to conflict. His experiences with massive genocide left him with a similar wish to be alone, away from everyone. Unlike the Nameless, that desire for solitude and survival only eventually gave way to love and, then, a desire to provide that state of peace to everyone. The Nameless’s path reflects the one taken by Aknaton where it’s better to destroy everything for the idea of peace, completely antithetical to everything Vanth stands for, a twisted mirror image of himself and the authority figure he hates the most. Surprisingly, Starlin doesn’t make these connections explicit, treating the Nameless merely as an incredibly powerful threat to be dealt with, leaving the Nameless almost as an abstract cosmic being rather than a fully fleshed out character like past enemies, like the Lord High Papal, who the Nameless recalls visually somewhat.

The Lord High Papal was the victim of prejudice as a child, the mixed-race son of a human and an unknown alien. An outsider, he grew up weak and abused by those around him, finding a path to power in the Instrumentality’s church. Eventually, he became the leader of the church, the most powerful being in the galaxy and tool of the Twelve Gods – their living weapon against the universe. His hatred of others led to a great power that he used to subjugate and oppress. His death at the hands of Vanth, eventual resurrection and, then, mentorship of Kalla, Vanth’s daughter, makes for a different version of the character in Dreadstar vs. the Inevitable. His inclusion in the comic is one of the early moments where I questioned Starlin’s approach. While Dreadstar has featured numerous characters changing alliances, the ease with which Vanth and Papal settle into a partnership feels off... and familiar.

Rather than the next step in these characters’ journeys, it reminded me of the relationship of Adam Warlock and Thanos. Papal’s characterisation was never far off from that of Thanos (nor his design) with the Twelve Gods of the Instrumentality replacing Mistress Death to an extent, but there were differences. The thirst for power as a means to rule rather than its own end was the largest one. Thanos’s goals were always smaller and more deeply personal, it seemed to me; Papal wanted safety and control. While both grew up as outsiders, set apart by physical appearances, Papal seemed more defined by those formative experiences than Thanos, particularly as Starlin kept writing the Titan. Post-Infinity Gauntlet, Thanos became a different sort of character and that existence continued when Starlin wrote him, up through the series of graphic novels from the past decade. He and Warlock entered into a unique relationship of respect, sometimes working together, sometimes against, but always with the sense that whatever personal animus may have existed was behind them. That’s the relationship of Vanth and Papal here, and it’s unsettling. There’s a little more bite to their interactions, a little more distrust, but it’s largely the same.

One moment, in particular, stood out that seemed to firmly place them into the pseudo-roles of Warlock and Thanos. As the two prepared to board the Nameless’s vessel, Papal addresses their past regarding Kalla and Dreadstar’s current relationship with Willow: “WE ARE BETTER SUITED TO A SOLITARY EXISTENCE. / OUR KIND WERE NEVER MEANT TO SIRE OFFSPRING... / ...NOR PARTAKE IN ANY OTHER KIND OF PERSONAL RELATIONSHIP. [...] AS POWERFUL AS SHE IS, THE WOMAN IS NOT OF THE SAME COSMIC STOCK AS YOU AND I.” That last phrase, in particular, is very reminiscent of the language used for Warlock and Thanos in the recent graphic novels where their status as unique cosmic beings was emphasised heavily. Starlin using the same language for Vanth and Papal is a hard to miss allusion. That isn’t necessarily a problem. I tend to appreciate the way that similar ideas turn up across the body of work by a writer. The original Dreadstar run contained many similarities to Starlin’s work before and after, both in the writing and the art. That was part of the fun when his various creator-owned characters all got together in ‘Breed III, seeing the similarities and differences. It’s always been the case. This feels different than that.

When the two eventually confront the Nameless, they find that he is a giant compared to them and is impervious to their most destructive, powerful attack. If their portrayal recalls Warlock and Thanos, the Nameless becomes something of a Galactus figure. It’s at this point that the story really feels less like a Dreadstar story and like an unwritten Thanos graphic novel repurposed. Everything that follows, from destroying the Nameless’s records of inhabited planets (depriving him of his Herald) to avoiding destruction by appearing uninhabited feels like a very Marvel/Galactus sort of story. Most Warlock/Thanos stories by Starlin are not resolved through direct conflict or physical violence – there’s reason and cleverness. Not that Dreadstar and Company were brainless dolts; Vanth Dreadstar tends to win through power. Dreadstar is power. It’s a running joke for me, yes – one rooted in an essential truth. Vanth Dreadstar is an anachronism, a warrior that thinks that enough violence will bring peace. The sad joke of the character is that he subscribes to the destroy the village to save it mindset of Aknaton while thinking that he doesn’t. That is part of this story, as well. When Papal prompts them to leave the Nameless’s ship after their failure to do even the minimum amount of harm, Vanth argues that they need to stay and fight. It’s the moment in the story that felt the most right, because that’s what he’s done so many times (and barely survived many times). It’s also a moment that renders Vanth Dreadstar unnecessary.

The rest of the story has them seem to survive the Nameless in a somewhat anticlimactic manner where a plan is put into place to have all of the worlds of the Willow Consortium use as little power as possible and do everything that they can to make it seem like the worlds are uninhabited, hoping that the Nameless, no longer in possession of his information on inhabited planets, will pass them by. It becomes a thin allegory for COVID lockdowns and the sorts that wouldn’t abide them. Starlin mocks the likes of Mitch McConnell and has one guy arrested for trying to turn on a giant electric sign to announce the gender of his unborn baby. Dreadstar and Company merely enforce the lockdown and it appears that it works. It leaves the two graphic novels in a place where it’s hard to tell what the point was entirely. They were stories that exist with no real drive, no real triumph for its seeming protagonist. While Dreadstar has always been an ensemble piece, to an extent, Vanth Dreadstar was always central (aside from the graphic novel The Price that preceded the ongoing series). Here, he no longer fits.

Two books in with two Kickstarter campaigns and it seems like a good place to ask if this return to Dreadstar makes sense. From the beginning, the conceit seemed a little contrived. Part a return to the familiar, while not ignoring anything that happened before. It reminds me, again, of Starlin’s Thanos graphic novels where, for the first time, he seemed to make an effort to incorporate and acknowledge the work of others on the characters. In his previous return to the characters, a decade earlier, he made a very explicit point of dismissing other Thanos stories as featuring clones, not the real character. In the graphic novels, a central plot point was giving us two versions of both Thanos and Warlock, one his and one the in-continuity Marvel, and finding a way to reconcile the differences. There’s no such effort here. Instead, things are much like you remember but everything that happened did, in fact, happen. Just because. Which is Starlin’s right. What’s lacking is a strong purpose.

What is a Dreadstar comic?

As I said, it’s about power. More than that, it’s about large powers in conflict, ones beyond the control of regular people. Governments, advanced civilisations, authority. It’s about noticing the power structures of the world, saying that things that people take for granted are wrong, and doing something to fix them. The Peter David run was rooted in subverting that idea where Dreadstar and Company think that they’re overthrowing a corrupt leader in favour of a wrongfully deposed, genial king. Instead, they were wrong and reinstall a brutal tyrant. The story that takes up these two volumes – and it is a single story, seemingly – isn’t about anything like that. It’s a cosmic godlike being warning them of impending doom and, then, trying to confront that external doom. Yes, that cosmic doom is powerful, so powerful that the combined might of Vanth Dreadstar and the Lord High Papal can’t even hurt it, let along destroy it. The Nameless is something beyond typical power structures – something from outside the system.

And I want to say that is another form of subverting the Dreadstar model. The COVID analogy that practically leaps off the page it’s so blatant is what it’s about. Something so big and unavoidable that it overwhelms existing power structures. Vanth Dreadstar is useless, because he’s useless. We all were. All we could do is submit to power structures and hope that their plans worked. And it feels wrong somehow, because it’s doing something by doing nothing. I’m not sure how much I believe in this argument. Or, better yet, how much that redeems these two books, particularly the newest one. Does it make them more enjoyable? No. More interesting? Perhaps. Does it answer the question of why Dreadstar? No.

I said it when Dreadstar Returns came out, but I find a joy in these comics that goes beyond the plot or characters. I’m still bowled over by how one of my favourite artists thought that his ability to draw was gone forever and, then, it wasn’t. These comics shouldn’t exist. In a large way, they’re about that. About pushing through and finding a way, where maybe the process is more important than the results. I like to imagine the joy that Starlin feels drawing these comics. I hope there is joy. Where maybe he returned to Vanth Dreadstar because, for a time, he thought he would never be able to, even if he never really planned to. Throw these characters back into mostly familiar roles and looks and just run with things. Maybe he doesn’t have anything to say about these characters and is just hoping he will. I think there is something there even if this one didn’t quite seem it.

There will be more Dreadstar graphic novels. The next one is titled Dreadstar vs. Dreadstar and deals with his daughter. Will that one make these two suddenly fall into place and make more sense? Maybe. I’m there, though.

Bits and Pieces: The Ron Marz/Jim Starlin Thor Run (Thor #460-471 and annual #18, Silver Surfer #86-88, Warlock Chronicles #6-8, and Warlock & the Infinity Watch #23-25)

I’ve read this run in different forms over the years. As just the “Blood & Thunder” crossover. Or just the Infinity Crusade tie-ins. Or maybe just a random issue from earlier in the run. Up until this reread, I’m not certain that I’ve ever read it from beginning to end as a single piece. It’s a bit of a forgotten run – or a maligned one when remembered. Neither of those assessments seem fitting to me despite my sharing of them in the past. While this isn’t an all-time great Thor run, it offers enough intrigue and oddities, in both writing and art, to be a worthwhile read. What stands out most of all is how simple a story it is. Despite the various subplots and added characters and crossovers, Thor’s journey from issue 460 to 471 is linear and focused. It’s a run about a specific idea for the character and doesn’t deviate from that idea despite the extra elements built up around it.

Basically, Thor succumbs to Warrior’s Madness, or so it seems. In the wake of his imprisonment within Eric Masterson’s subconscious, he finds it difficult to return to his old life. He spurns Sif’s affections and begins getting in brawls in bars and taverns across Asgard. At Odin’s suggestion, Thor sets sail across the cosmos, seemingly to regain his sense of self and calm in peaceful solitude. Except, a raven-haired Valkyrie is aboard the craft and Thor begins a torrid love affair with her. She encourages and cultivates his sense of discontent, provoking him to begin a war march towards Asgard, to destroy his home and all of his loved ones for perceived slights and betrayals. Before Thor’s sanity is regained, he fights against Beta Ray Bill, gravely wounds Ares, joins the Goddess’s crusade, battles the Silver Surfer, Warlock and the Infinity Watch, gains the Power Gem, and even fights Thanos. Taken as a whole, it’s a singular, focused story not quite like any other for Thor.

This is an odd run in that it’s only a year of Thor comics yet, if you expand it out, it’s 12 issues of Thor plus an annual and, then, another nine issues, one of which is a larger one. Hell, if you decide to go even further and begin bringing in The Infinity Crusade (which Thor #463-467 are listed as tying into), you can easily add six more larger issues of the event series plus another five issues each of Warlock Chronicles and Warlock & the Infinity Watch. And, then, while we’re at it, the tie-in issues of Silver Surfer since Marz writes them as well. It can easily balloon from a single year of Thor to over 40 comics total depending on how thorough you wish to be. I wouldn’t suggest going past the issues I’m discussing here if your interest is in Thor only.

It’s also an unusual run in the way that it’s co-written to a certain extent. Ron Marz is the writer of every issue of Thor (including the annual in its entirety) and Silver Surfer, while Jim Starlin writes the two Warlock series... but also co-writes Thor #460-462 with Marz. It’s very much the product of the two men with what came from which unclear. Within the work of Starlin, it’s a rare co-writing situation. While he had others script some of his early comics as writer/artist, he rarely co-wrote after that easily period, aside from novels with his then-wife, Daina Graziunas. Starlin’s involvement mostly slides under the radar within his body of work, overshadowed by the Infinity events of the period, with even the two Warlock series he wrote being viewed as mere crossover issues servicing Marz’s Thor story rather than Starlin kicking the entire thing off with Marz in the first three issues of the run.

Starlin’s influence is possibly visible in the way that Thor is transformed, in a sense, into the Hulk, Starlin’s favourite Marvel character (aside from his pet stable of cosmic characters, of course). The story of Thor succumbing to a madness that turns him into a violent brute, bent on destroying everything and, eventually, made even more unstoppable thanks to the Power Gem, echoes the Hulk. A rampaging monster, not one confined to Earth, creating a path of destruction across the universe. Given the longstanding question of who would win in a fight, Thor or Hulk, there’s something kind of fun about Starlin and Marz turning Thor into a cosmic Hulk for a year. He’s not quite as mindless as the Hulk often is and the added influence of Valkyrie gives the whole a bit of a different feel. While any sense of the Hulk’s lack of agency is due to a lack of self-control, of another aspect of himself overwhelming him, Thor’s lack of agency is presented as a seduction from outside (despite the final revelations about Valkyrie’s true nature). Thor’s descent into madness and rage is him as a victim of Valkyrie’s manipulations, seemingly beginning before she appears at all. While she’s eventually revealed to be a portion of his psyche, she remains an ‘other,’ an enemy to defeat, one that seeks to dominate and control Thor’s mind rather than a part to come to some sort of stable state with. It’s a bit of a clumsy form of mental illness that veers wildly between schizophrenia and Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) without actually reflecting either entirely with a solution that may suit a superhero comic but has less basis in reality.

The cause of Thor’s instability and the genesis of Valkyrie is a soft retcon, of sorts. While many writers have emphasised Odin’s paranoia about Ragnarok and Thor’s role as defender of Asgard, causing him to ‘bank’ Thor backups, this behaviour is treated as a source of trauma for Thor. Additionally, the ‘humility lesson’ of Donald Blake is also a contributory event, related to the idea that, as Odin continually messed with Thor’s sense of self, he lost more of it. He was, as he repeats throughout the run, “reduced to bits and pieces.” That the events that caused this ‘madness’ and allowed Valkyrie to grow within his mind happened so recently and were external events (rather than infancy/childhood trauma or genetic/chemical) also makes the whole thing stand out as a fictional mental illness. You might as well chalk it up to ‘Warrior’s Madness’ for all its root in reality.

That Odin is, in part of whole, responsible for Thor’s mental state is an interesting idea. The climax of the story, where Odin realises that it’s his fault and he must journey into Thor’s mind to help free his son of Valkyrie doesn’t quite land as strong as you’d like. It’s thematically sound as Thor is still positioned as a victim, someone to be rescued, even if he shows some agency in casting off his mental chains and fighting by his father’s side. Yet, it points to one of the biggest flaws of the run: Thor lacks control throughout the entire thing. He’s not the protagonist or the antagonist. He’s a sort of character-like object pushed and pulled in various directions. Fretted over and discussed and treated as something for others to act upon. For the Valkyrie, he’s a weapon of rage – and, eventually, a servant when the possibility of her being a corporeal being occurs. For the Goddess, a follower. For Warlock, a means to gain another favour for future use. Even for more caring actors like Sif and Beta Ray Bill, there’s a sense of controlling and shielding Thor, treating him like someone with no ability to determine his own course of actions. Before learning of the root of his issues, they automatically assume that something must be wrong with him, that something like Warrior’s Madness must be afflicting him, as there is no way that he could come to the conclusion that he doesn’t love Sif or views Beta Ray Bill as a mocking thief of his identity or that Odin has continually used him as a pawn for his own schemes. I admit that maybe the Beta Ray Bill fight seems out of character (although repeated at other times, before and after, so...) but the others have a solid foundation in the character.

Perhaps that’s why the victim role for Thor seems so grating. It makes sense that, after his imprisonment in Masterson’s subconscious, Thor would be off. That’s a traumatic experience and living through another taking on his identity would call into question his sense of self and identity. Thinking through his life, it’s pretty easy to see why he might come to the conclusion that Odin has treated him poorly, while Asgard as a whole has gone along with every one of those schemes, seeing Thor as a hammer-wielding warrior protector with little care about who is actually wielding the hammer. From a certain point of view, growing bitter and angry at these conclusions is logical. While Odin’s manipulations is the stated cause, it’s also hand-waved away at the end, all of the actual harm blamed on Valkyrie. It seems to be a pattern in Thor comics to come to the conclusion that Odin is just about the worst father in the universe and, then, not be able to actually do anything about that given the nature of superhero comics. The best stories to grapple with this idea usually come to a final place where it’s recognised that he was terrible, but he was also Thor’s father and separating those two things is impossible and messy and complicated. No such complexity exists here.

It’s hard not to wonder if part of that simplicity, particularly in the wrap up of the story, comes from a change in plans regarding the longterm direction of the title. Was Marz always meant to depart Thor at the end of “Blood & Thunder” or was the switch to Roy Thomas as writer made well into the run? One clue towards a change in plans is that Thor annual #18 introduces a new Thor antagonist, the Flame, and seems to set him up as an ally of Loki for a future story. There was no room for the Flame (or Loki) in the Thor/Valkyrie/“Blood & Thunder” year-long story, but issue 471 ends with a hint towards a future threat from Loki and it seems like the Flame and Loki taking on Thor in a short story culminating with issue 475 could have been in the cards. As it stands, the Flame would, instead, return in Thor annual 19, written by Thomas. However, this was around the time that Marz began working for DC, particularly on Green Lantern. He stayed on Silver Surfer for nearly two more years, but this was a time of transition in his career away from Marvel and toward DC. Marz has stated that he walked away from the title due to disagreements with editorial and also hinted at dissatisfaction with the art. He quickly touched on the run in a career-spanning interview in 20202 withNewsarama where he revealed that he was originally instructed to find an artist for the run and had Cully Hamner lined up before editorial hired Bruce Zick (who gave way to MC Wyman at the end of the run). It seemed like, aside from working closely with Starlin, the run was a bit of a regret for Marz – like a missed opportunity that didn’t work out like he had hoped.

For the longest time, I could relate to that feeling, particularly when it came to the art on this run. Bruce Zick drew the first nine issues, 460-468, and his style is so peculiar for a Marvel superhero book. He looks like he should be writing and drawing a self-published fantasy comic that appeals to stoner college kids, if that makes any sense. Incredibly detailed with stiff figure work, it really had that late ‘70s/early ‘80s Dungeons & Dragons sort of feel. With every reread, it grows on me a little more. It’s twisted and strange and reflects the altered mental state of Thor. It’s like we’ve stepped into the version of Asgard and the universe as he sees it. You’re probably not too familiar with Zick’s name or work as he didn’t do many mainstream comics, this nine-issue run on Thor being his longest and most high profile assignment in the ‘90s. Without seeing the scripts, it’s hard to tell how much of the pacing and layouts came from Zick, but he seems to really work within the mould of Starlin as an artist. Lots of repeated panel layouts with gradual changes as Starlin is fond of using. Some figure choices that seem more symbolic than literal. His cover for Thor #462 is complete gonzo metal fantasy: a corner box featuring an energetic/crazy Thor wielding Mjolnir with the main image being Pluto and Ares caught up in strands of Thor’s hair as his giant, raging face floats above them. His eyes red and pupils split by lightning, he looks completely unhinged. The caption (accurately) reads “WITNESS THE TERROR OF A THUNDER GOD GONE MAD!” It’s one of the greatest covers this series has ever had. Yet, I understand if it takes some time for Zick’s work to grow on you; it certainly did for me.

Beyond Zick, the run, on the whole, has solid to great art. Early Tom Raney on Warlock Chronicles is a bit hit and miss, while Andy Smith’s Silver Surfer is over the top fun. The less said about MC Wyman’s art the better (and will come soon enough when I get to the Roy Thomas-penned run that followed in a couple of weeks...), particularly when compared to Zick’s. Angel Medina popping in for the anniversary Warlock & the Infinity Watch #25 is a real treat as he’s so good at big action. Starlin actually gets out of the way quite a bit in that issue, letting pages go by with no words, allowing Medina’s stunning fight scenes to carry things... which is unusual. He doesn’t usually refrain from captions and dialogue with his own art let alone others, a testament to Medina’s skill. But, the real standout (aside from Zick) is Tom Grindberg, who draws the main story and a backup in the Thor annual along with issues 23 and 24 of Warlock & the Infinity Watch. Issue 24 is probably the best single issue of “Blood & Thunder,” a fun side adventure with Trolls as Adam Warlock battles Ulik’s brother. Grindberg worked in a very similar style to Mike Mignola with heavy blacks and rigid, blocky art. Along with Zick, he’s an artist that I didn’t appreciate when I was younger, but I love more each time I come across it. In fact, as much as I’m critical of the larger use of Thor in this run and the way that he’s pushed to the side as a character, the art of the comics in this larger run is one of the reasons why I enjoyed the reread so much.

This may sound a little suspect coming from me: the association with Starlin’s work hurts it in places, particularly the tie-in issues to the Infinity Crusade, at least as presented without at least one additional Starlin-written issue. Conceptually, until Valkyrie’s true nature is revealed, the idea that Thor would fall under the influence of another is ripe for exploration. That doesn’t happen in those issues. Instead, Marz winds up writing around the first five issues of the event, telling a disjointed story that tries to engage with the idea that Thor is not in complete control of his mind and prone to explosive violence. Thor in this state never feels like a true fit for the Goddess’s crusade. You can see why they would take a mythological character and have him sympathetic to the influence of a being preying on people’s inner faiths. Dig a little deeper and I’m convinced that the opposite would be true. Thor is an object of worship – a creature on the other side of the concept of faith. People believe in him, not the other way around. His entire familiarity with these ideas come at it from the opposite side of things and him becoming a follower of the Goddess only makes sense given his weakened mental resolve and Marvel’s need to shore up her side of the conflict. Except, as I said, those two motivations are somewhat at odds. The true through line of those issues is Pluto’s scheme to have Zeus attack Thor, while Sif seeks to expose it. The final two tie-in issues are even more divorced from the event with Thor #466 being a different version of the Thor/Drax fight from Warlock & the Infinity Watch #21 (that began at the tail end of The Infinity Crusade #4). Written by Starlin with art by Grindberg, it’s probably the issue not collected as part of this run that I would add to it. Given his close working with Marz on the larger story, he manages to really hone in on Thor’s character at the time, including defying orders from the Goddess to stop fighting Drax, refusing to be anyone’s thrall anymore. It’s a crucial moment that actually brings the issues tying into this event into focus. Up until this point, we had thought that Thor was under the control of Valkyrie, but see that he also chaffs under the direction of anyone.

Taken together, Thor #466 and Warlock & the Infinity Watch #21 make for a really strong character piece. While the Infinity Watch issue details the Thor/Drax fight with all of the dialogue and motives, the Thor issue presents splash images of that fight throughout, contrasted with a story about Thor’s younger days told by Odin at a feast. It’s a story about Thor encountering a belligerent Troll that does everything to provoke him to violence, and Thor’s continual refusal to do so. While we think of Thor as a warrior, he is the best sort: one that knows that violence is awful and something to be used when every other attempt at a solution has failed. Page after page of this Troll insulting Thor and provoking him, while Thor tries to reason with him. It’s only when the insults grow too much that Odin affirms that violence occurred – he’s clear to explicitly state that Thor didn’t kill the Troll or hurt him beyond what was necessary. Set against pages of him fighting Drax and knowing that, in the Infinity Watch issue, he was told to stop the pointless fight but chose to continue on, we’re shown how far he’s fallen from his true self. The following issue of Thor sets up “Blood & Thunder,” putting Thor back under Valkyrie’s influence. Instead of the demanding obedience of the Goddess, she follows a path more like the one Thor took with the Troll: reason. She walks him through all of the ways he’s been manipulated and betrayed by Odin and everyone else. She presents the evidence in a such a way that he will come to the conclusion that she wants, but it is his conclusion. It’s his choice to join her on a path of destruction, presented as him following her down a spiral staircase into the dark.

“Blood & Thunder” is the weakest stretch of the run if you’re focused on Thor. It’s less a Thor story than one that’s about Warlock, the Infinity Watch, the Silver Surfer, Dr. Strange, Thanos, and Asgard all trying to manage the Thor problem. It’s him in full Hulk mode, running through opponents like they’re nothing and, at one point, taking the Power Gem from Drax, augmenting his strength. It’s only the power of Thanos and his technology that can even contain him, for a time. After the eight issues of set up, there isn’t much more to add to Thor in this state. Marz and Starlin let him go with things like the Power Gem or the Valkyrie gaining corporeal form being the only real additions to what came before.

The concluding issue of the run and “Blood & Thunder,” #471, is actually the first issue of my collecting Thor comics. I received it for my 11th birthday amongst other gifts (including my first short box) along with my dad telling me that he wasn’t interested in buying Thor for himself anymore. He would, however, keep buying it for me if I wanted, something that was kept up through the end of “The Lost Gods” in Journey into Mystery. (He returned to buying it for himself with Jurgens/Romita and I read his copies...) As a conclusion, it leaves me fairly unimpressed. As I said, too much hinges on Odin’s presence and not enough on Thor’s agency and ability to break Valkyrie’s control. It’s only when Odin breaks Thor’s chains that he finally stands up for himself. Valkyrie also never gets a thorough enough explanation. Her role throughout the run is too ambiguous and shifting when convenient. The idea that she was always there and it was only the experience with Eric Masterson that gave her enough strength to assert herself is a bit cheesy. As with much of this run, there’s a germ of a great idea that never reaches its full potential.

One of the more telling aspects of this run is that Thor’s mental instability is not revisited in later stories. While not the complete measure of a run’s quality (I say as I note how much the Tom DeFalco/Ron Frenz run has been ignored...), there have been several instances where the idea could have logically returned and did not. The idea that Thor once suffered from ‘Warrior’s Madness’ (or schizophrenia or DID or... whatever this is) is largely confined to that corner of continuity that no one visits. I maintain that, even for its faults, this run is far too interesting, both in writing and art, to be left forgotten. It scratches one of my weak spots of interest: the ambitious failure. It genuinely seems like Marz and Starlin were trying to do something different with the character and editorial’s one bit addition was giving them a wild artist like Zick. It’s truly unlike any other Thor run. Ironically, I would be tempted to cut it down a bit and trim the fat a bit. Refocus it and really home in on the best, more interesting parts. Reduce it to bits and pieces, as it were.