Short Takes

Work and real life are kind of kicking my butt at the moment, but while it's caused me to put the temporary kibosh on "Superman Sundays," it hasn't impacted (and won't impact for at least the foreseeable future) the "Walking with Superman" series. I'm right on track with that series, and every time I think I might be running out of ideas, I find some cool place in my research or think "what's a cool thing that I want to see Superman do?" and I'm all right again.

But that's not what this post is about. This post is about some of the comics I've actually managed to read recently, and other associated thoughts. And so...

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In the "news to absolutely no one" department, I finally managed to purchase the newest volume of Adam Warren's "Empowered," and it was quite awesome. The increasing continuity in the title has inspired me to go back and read the whole series all at once, probably before my next "Scott Pilgrim" read-through, to be honest.

I could gush for long periods of time about all the awesome stuff in the book, but one thing I think it does particularly well is exploring the idea of a superhero culture. The "Empowered" universe has a superhero 24-hour news network, superhero TV shows, superhero award ceremonies, and radio programs devoted to fantasy-football-style superhero fandom. It's the sort of thing that great books like "She-Hulk" and "Manhunter" and "Bulleteer" and so forth have examined in smaller degrees, and it's something I wish comic creators would put more thought into. In a world where being superhuman is not entirely uncommon, we should expect to see a culture rise up around those superhumans, whether it's the mutant subculture explored in books like "X-Statix" and Grant Morrison's "New X-Men" run, or the ramifications of superhero existence implied by "Damage Control" and so forth. I'd like to see more creators ask "if superheroes existed, what else would we expect to see," and I think Adam Warren is one of the best creators out there in that regard. And that's not even the main focus of the title! So kudos to Warren for one of the best superhero books on the stands, even if it is a little embarrassing to purchase, shrink-wrapped and all, from my local Borders.

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I also enjoyed the most recent Invincible trade, but I have less exciting things to say about that.

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My feelings about J. Michael Straczynski's "Superman" ought to be well-known about seventy-one times over at this point, but Paul Cornell is rocking the house on "Lex Luthor's Action Comics." It's been a solid title from issue one, showcasing some of Luthor's eccentricities and weaknesses in ways that don't make him any less threatening or intimidating as a villain.

It also featured Gorilla Grodd wielding a "combat spoon." And that's amazing. I don't know how a book about DC's greatest villain manages to be this crazy and fun, but it does, and I hope it continues that way.

Incidentally, next issue is the one with Death. SPOILER ALERT! I'm not entirely sure how Lex is going to get out of this apparent jam, but I'm interested to find out. That? That was a cliffhanger. END SPOILERS.

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Speaking of "Action Comics," despite the fact that I downloaded the Jimmy Olsen preview on my iPhone last week, I never quite got around to reading it until today. The way it treats the Silver Age wackiness of Jimmy Olsen's career with such matter-of-fact panache and uses morse code as a plot point in such a perfectly spot-on Silver Age way, is pitch-perfect awesome. I love the new characters, though it's going to probably take a few stories before we see whether or not Chloe Sullivan is anything like her spunky television counterpart.

A techno-genie. Man, "Action Comics" is amazing.

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Action Comics also got me thinking about the weird way that some supervillains manage to "graduate." Like, most villains start as villains for some specific hero or team, but some manage to move up to universe-wide villains, villains who would be believable as the focal characters of major crossovers or fighting nearly any other hero. I've made a quick list of villains who started as single-hero foes and made their way up to universal threats:

• Lex Luthor (Superman)
  
• Dr. Doom (Fantastic Four)
  
• The Joker (Batman)
  
• Deathstroke (Teen Titans)
  
• Ultra-Humanite (Superman)
  
• Gorilla Grodd (Flash)
  
• Norman Osborn (Spider-Man)
  
• Loki (Thor)
  
• Magneto (X-Men)
  
• Kingpin (Spider-Man)

And so forth. I don't know exactly what qualifies a villain to make that jump; it seems like some of them start by shuffling around to different heroes (the way that Dr. Doom fought Spider-Man in an early "Amazing") or going after teams that their main rival is on (Loki being the first enemy of the Avengers). But, like, why would Deathstroke take off as a major DCU villain over, say, Brother Blood?

I also think it'd be interesting to compare/contrast this list with the list of villains who became heroes/antiheroes, during the '90s in particular and during other times in general. Deathstroke's on both lists, and arguably the Joker is too, given his solo title in the '70s. The Punisher started as a Spider-Man villain, but then you also have Venom (the "lethal protector"), Morbius, and a host of other characters to choose from. Not to mention the Suicide Squad and Secret Six.

It's interesting fodder for future posts, I suppose.

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I appear to be the only person in comics fandom who wasn't wowed and wooed by "Chew." I don't know exactly what the problem is, whether it was just too many "innaworld"-type high concepts stuck on top of one another or something else entirely. All I know is that everyone is singing the title's praises with superlative accolades, including lots of people whose opinions I trust, and who have caused me to run out and buy other titles in the past on recommendation alone. But man, it just did absolutely nothing for me. I feel like I need to re-read the book again, or like there's something wrong with me. Rest assured, I'll do the former, and I suspect the truth of the latter.

I expect they'll be by for my comics blogging license any day now.

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I like that the Green Lantern books are finally dealing with Sodam Yat. His sacrifice, up to and including the way it mimicked that of Hal Jordan in "Final Night"--was obviously going to be a non-death, and it's nice to see some movement on that plotline. That being said, I'm pretty sure that his story is being dealt with in "Emerald Warriors," and I really don't think I'm going to subscribe to a third Green Lantern title. I love Guy Gardner and all, but I think I'll be sticking with the two main titles for now. Maybe I'll change my mind soon, but not so far.

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The current tragedy of my comic collecting is that I didn't have the funds to pick up "Darkwing Duck" as it was coming out, and so I only have the first issue. The closest shop that has any additional issues is A) not close and B) missing #2. I might ask my new LCS guy if they can procure the additional issues. Maybe I'll do that tomorrow, then. But man, $3.99 an issue sure makes trade-waiting an attractive prospect.

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Looks like that's it for now. Feel free to tell me how or why I'm wrong in the comments. Especially if you're a "Chew" fan. I'd love to be sold on the series--I bought the first trade, after all, so I'm at least a little invested--but man, absolutely nothing.

Everything old is new again

So, they're killing the Invisible Woman.

Déjà vu.

I can't post this enough

In light of my last post, I wanted to give an example of the real Fantastic Four, someone who really gets the team's personality and dynamics. Nothing fits the bill quite like this:

"And the Thing just loves to fight!" Why, it's like they've leapt off the page and onto the screen!

I don't say this nearly enough

You know, for all the times I've ragged on them in the past, for all the energy and enthusiasm I focus on the competition, and for all the abuse I heap upon their current EIC, there's something that often gets left by the wayside:
I Love Marvel Comics
Maybe it's just the video games talking; maybe it's the fact that I have three unread issues of Marvel freaking Apes sitting on my desk, but I really do love Marvel Comics. Not everything about them, mind you--as you might guess, I go through periods where my love is on the down-swing, but there are a lot of things about the Marvel Universe that just hold a special little place in my heart. So, for the next few days, I'm going to wax a little poetic about the House of Ideas.

And where should I begin? Well, I've been playing Marvel: Ultimate Alliance again recently. The first time I played through, my main team consisted of Captain America, Spider-Man, Thor, and Luke Cage, who occasionally got swapped out for the Thing (though I can't quite remember why). This time around, I've been playing a bit more with some of the in-continuity teams. The X-Men are fun, since there are so many combinations, and it's been neat to watch everyone mourning the death of Nightcrawler...even when he's in my party. I do wish Cyclops weren't such a wuss, but what else is new? The Classic Avengers are fun, especially since I already keep Cap and Thor in their original costumes, and Iron Man's classic armor has better boosts than any other early-unlockable suit. I was chomping at the bit halfway through the game so I could unlock Ghost Rider and build the New Fantastic Four team, which is sadly about as effective as it looks. I still need to get the Joe Fixit outfit for Hulk so I can complete the look. As soon as I unlock Silver Surfer, I'm going to put together an erstwhile Defenders team (aren't they all?). But more than anything, I keep coming back to the Fantastic Four. In my first play-through, it seemed like Thing was the only one with anything useful to contribute, but after playing with them a bit, I see what an incredible group they really are. Johnny's fire powers are all so good that I have trouble picking which ones to keep active; Sue's force field ability and "Unstoppable Force" skill make her nigh-invulnerable; Thing has a great set of upgrades and abilities. If there's a weak link, it's Mr. Fantastic, who still has some pretty devastating attacks. Maybe it's just because I rock the game's socks, but playing as the FF has given me quite a bit of insight into why four folks with relatively tame powers can be one of the most formidable forces in the Marvel Universe.

I'll admit that as a kid, I never really got into the team. I bought the title for a short time around Infinity War (with all the doppelgangers running around) and again when Reed was "dead" and Thing was wearing a mask, but they never caught my interest. The next time I regularly bought the World's Greatest Comic Magazine was during the Waid/Wieringo years--specifically, the storyline where Dr. Doom turns his ex-girlfriend into a suit of skin-armor. Contrary to how that sounds, the book was incredibly fun, and is among the best things I've ever read by Mark Waid. The thing about the Fantastic Four that I think tends to get lost in the shuffle is that the best stories, whether they take place in the Negative Zone or the suburbs, are ones that center around the interactions and relationships between the FF family members.

And that, I think, is why the FF is the only group in the Marvel Universe who can make a transition from New York street crime to global supervillainy, to space invasions and otherdimensional entities, and do it seamlessly. They are, quite literally, the close-knit family that can handle anything. When written poorly, the Fantastic Four are just another superteam; when written well, the Fantastic Four is totally unique among comic book superheroes.

And that's pretty fantastic.

Hairless Heroes

Jon asked me an interesting question after we saw "Iron Man." He noticed various similarities between Obadiah Stane and Lex Luthor, and asked me if, besides Professor X, there were any bald superheroes. After all, it's easy to rattle off bald villains: besides those two, you have Kingpin, the Vulture, Ultra-Humanite (sometimes), Puppet Master, Brainiac, Dr. Sivana, and so on. It gets exponentially bigger if you accept a fringe (Mr. Mxyzptlk, Red Ghost, etc.).

I thought for a few minutes, but I didn't come up with much. There are quite a few black heroes who are or have been bald--Steel, Black Lightning, Luke Cage, Ultimate Nick Fury, John Stewart, Patriot. There are some aliens--Martian Manhunter, Silver Surfer, Chameleon Boy--and some not-quite-humans--the Thing, Red Tornado, Vision. There are even a bunch of bald servants and sidekicks to heroes: Alfred Pennyworth, Edwin Jarvis, Wong. Even the JSA, where it would really be expected, the only bald hero is one of the youngest members, Jakeem Thunder.

Can anyone expand the list? Why is there such a color gap among bald heroes? Why isn't it acceptable to have bald Caucasian heroes, or Asian heroes, or Hispanic heroes? Why does the combo of "bald" and "white" seem almost universally to mean "old" or "evil"?

The Miller's Tale

So, we watched "300" on the way out to Colorado. I fell asleep at one point, and it was tough to see the laptop from the back of the bus, so I still feel like I haven't really watched the movie, but it got me wondering about several things:

1. Why was I the only one laughing? Do other people just not find humor in stilted, artificial dialogue? Not that it was all stilted, mind you, but there were some lines at least as hilarious as "you're breaking my heart" (see: "Star Wars Episode III" or "why George Lucas shouldn't be allowed to write dialogue anymore").
   
2. Why is there such a humongous overlap between manly macho films and blatantly homoerotic films? I'm looking at you, "Top Gun."
   
3. What is it about Frank Miller that inspires directors to fanatically preserve the integrity of his work? Out of the three recent films based in part or in whole on Miller's work ("Batman Begins," "300," and "Sin City"), two have been panel-by-panel transliterations from comic to screen. Meanwhile, you've got the Wachowski brothers replacing Alan Moore's subtlety with a sledgehammer and changing every major theme (ordinary people may be driven to do terrible things--prostitution, fascism, terrorism; anarchy vs. fascism), and you've got Fantastic Four movies that replace Lee/Kirby creations with space clouds. Why can't other (better) comic creators instill some modicum of the respect (if not the fanatical devotion) that Frank Miller receives?

Mike Wieringo: 1963-2007

Well, that was some unpleasant news to come home to. Mike Wieringo passed away on Sunday, due apparently to a heart attack.

I really don't know what to say. There's no way I could eulogize Mr. Wieringo as beautifully as his friends have. I've never had the pleasure of meeting the man, never got to get his autograph or commission a sketch. I've just enjoyed his work for years.

And that's it: I've never not enjoyed Mike Wieringo's art. His run on Adventures of Superman was clean and polished, even if the scripts weren't. His work on Fantastic Four was nothing short of amazing. And his work with Spider-Man?

In the history of Spider-Man comics, there are three artists who, in my opinion, have been truly perfect for the character. There's John Romita Sr., the first artist to succeed Steve Ditko on Amazing, whose pencils defined Spider-Man for more than a generation. He gave us the iconic "Face it, Tiger" panel, designed MJ and Gwen Stacy, and it was his work which graced the majority of merchandise well into my childhood. There's Mark Bagley, who has all but supplanted Romita on the licensed goods, and who has managed to give two lengthy and beautiful runs on the character, defining Spider-Man for the '90s and for the '00s.

And then there's Mike Wieringo, whose clean, whimsical style was tailor-made for the wall-crawler. He made drawing Spider-Man look easy. He gave Spidey a sense of grace and fun that I have yet to see duplicated.

I consider myself so very, very lucky that the last of his work published before his death combines two of his greatest strengths--Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four--into a thoroughly enjoyable and beautifully-rendered story. I just wish we'd been luckier, and that this miniseries would have been just one link in a long chain of amazing artwork. The fact that I'll never see another cover signed "'Ringo" makes me very, very sad.

Goodbye, Mr. Wieringo, and thanks for everything.