Tag Archives: Old As Dirt

Time Capsule, Part 2

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To celebrate my impending thirtieth, I decided to take a look at the comics being published during the month of my birth, September 1980. Last week, I reviewed a handful of mostly disappointing DC titles. Will Marvel fare better?

Peter Park, The Spectacular Spider-Man #46
Writer: Roger Stern
Pencils: Mike Zeck
Inks: Bruce Patterson
Colors: P. Goldberg

I’m not a Spidey fan. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate him the way I hate Superman, but even as a kid, I never had any interest in the character. It’s not that his books are particularly bad. Nor are they any more or less formulaic than the average serialized adventure. I would like to say that the incessant self-pity grates, but that’s not true. I loved the X-Men, but all they did was whine about how the world didn’t appreciate their awesomeness.

My indifference to Spider-Man actually came from his place in Marvel’s shared universe. Now in theory, a shared universe is supposed to excite young readers with the promise of team-ups and crossovers and guest appearances. But there’s a flip side: all of Spider-Man’s adventures take place in a world that he shares with Thor, the Hulk, the Avengers, the X-Men, etc. In other words, he’s a small fry fighting two-bit villains.

The standard tag line I hear from Spidey fans is that Spider-Man is a middleweight hero who struggles to overcome more powerful foes, and that’s what makes him relatable. But young me didn’t care about relatable. I wanted his stories to be big and epic, I wanted them to “matter,” and how could Spider-Man foiling a bank robbery matter when the Avengers were saving the planet at the same time? As an adult, I can see that this attitude was silly. And yet … Spider-Man still seems like the sideshow to me.

In this issue, Spider-Man fought a jewel thief named Cobra. It’s as inconsequential as it sounds. Meanwhile, the X-Men were saving the universe…

Uncanny X-Men #137
Writer: Chris Claremont
Co-plotters: Chris Claremont and John Byrne
Pencils: John Byrne
Inks: Terry Austin
Colors: Glynis Wein

This is arguably the most famous issue in the history of the series. The star-spanning Shi’ar Empire comes to kill Jean Grey, a.k.a. the Phoenix, and the X-Men fight the Imperial Guard in a failed bid to save her. And since this was written by Chris Claremont, it begins with a crapload of exposition.

Jack Kirby created the Watcher way back when in the pages of Fantastic Four. From what I’ve read, the Watcher is a near-omnipotent entity who’s grand purpose is explaining the plot to lesser beings. He’s essentially a glorified recap page, and yet he narrates with such gusto. Look at the guy! He takes such pride in summarizing the preceding six issues, and he’s already convinced me that that this will be the greatest comic ever. Who knew that combining a giant bald head, a toga, and goofy boots would produce such a charismatic character? Jack Kirby knew, that’s who.

John Byrne drew a great double-paged opening splash. He fit all the characters onto the spread while still leaving just enough room for Claremont to give more lines of exposition to as many characters as possible. That’s teamwork.

Of course, the subtext of the storyline is still depressing. A woman gains absolute power, so naturally she goes insane and has to be destroyed. Rumor has it that Byrne and Claremont initially intended to de-power Phoenix as a punishment for her actions, but Editor-in-Chief Jim Shooter insisted that she die (because she’d committed genocide in an earlier issue). Regardless of their intentions, de-powering doesn’t change the subtextual problems.

Not that any of this mattered to my younger self. The sprawling melee on the moon remains one of my favorite action pieces from superhero comics. And the death of Jean Grey perfectly embodies why so many kids and teens were drawn to the X-Men: MELODRAMA.

The romantic (and platonic) relationships and the overwrought drama were the main appeal of the book and what set it apart from its more traditional competitors. Of course, as time passed, the relationships became increasingly byzantine, to the point that a new reader would need a flow chart to understand who’s related to who. But in 1980, it was still crying and yelling and angst and Wolverine getting clobbered every other issue. It was a good time.

Fantastic Four #222
Writer: Doug Moench
Artists: Bill Sienkiewicz and Joe Sinnott
Colors: G. Roussos

In a few years, Bill Sienkiewicz would do incredible work at Marvel, becoming one of the few mainstream artists to reject the realist paradigm. But in 1980 he was another genre hack, cashing a check on the Fantastic Four. This splash page is just sad (and somewhat creepy).

The plot downplayed the usual sci-fi nonsense in favor of seances and demon-possessions. It’s not a bad issue, truth be told, even with the disappointing art.

But Fantastic Four is one of those books that I can only enjoy intermittently. The family dynamic is supposed to be it’s main appeal, but I generally find the relationship of Reed Richards and Sue Storm to be tiresome. And adding the kid didn’t win me over. Maybe I’m one of those singles who doesn’t care about the trials and tribulations of married couples.

On the other hand, I liked The Incredibles, which is more or less a knockoff of the FF family. And if I had to pick the most significant difference between The Incredibles and the Fantastic Four, it would be in how they treated the super-kids. In the former, the children are revealed to be a heroes just like their parents. Without their help, Mr. Incredible could never have saved the day. But in Fantastic Four, Franklin is more a burden than a person. He’s always getting possessed or losing control of his powers or something equally terrible and his parents have to constantly worry about his well-being. Family life seems like a cross to bear, rather than a blessing. Why would I want to read a superhero comic about that?

Avengers #199
Writer: David Michelinie
Pencils: George Perez
Inks: Dan Green
Colors: Jim Salicrup

This a great example of how hindsight can ruin my appreciation for a perfectly decent comic. There’s nothing wrong with this issue, in itself. Michelinie may be a hack, yet he knows how to pace a story and he at least gives the characters distinct “voices.” But the real star of the show is George Perez. He takes a generic heroes vs. robot storyline and crafts several exciting action sequences. Plus, I love the anime-inspired design for the robot, Red Ronin.

What ruins the issue for me is the sub-plot leading to the next issue, Avengers #200. A quick summary: the heroine Ms. Marvel is pregnant without a father and the fetus is growing rapidly. In the next issue, the storyline will go from vaguely unpleasant to outright disgusting when the baby is born and rapidly ages into the very man who impregnated her (I’ll let old-school fangirl Carol Strickland explain the gory details). It’s one of the most offensive and ill-conceived storylines I’ve ever seen in a mainstream comic (and I was reading comics in the awful ’90s).

Quality craftsmanship is all well and good, but it can’t hide the fact that many of the people creating these comics were creeps.

Daredevil #166
Writer: Roger McKenzie
Co-plotters: Rober McKenzie and Frank Miller
Pencils: Frank Miller
Inks: Klaus Janson
Colors: Glynis Wein

I’m no good with dates. I didn’t realize Frank Miller was working on Daredevil all the way back in 1980. He had to share writing credits with McKenzie, but the issue is full of unmistakable Millerisms, especially the tough-guy dialogue and the hard-boiled narration inspired by Raymond Chandler.

Miller was also drawing these early issues, and it’s an interesting sample of his early work.

As the image above makes clear, Miller loved to display Daredevil’s physical prowess. Much of the comic is hardly distinguishable from any other mainstream title, but the action sequences easily stand out as some of the best from the era.

I’m not going to claim that Miller is a brilliant artist (he isn’t), but he understands and appreciates violence in a way that few superhero artists do. That may sound like a criticism, but we’re talking about a genre characterized by violent confrontation, and it’s always amazed me that so few artists really understand or care about the anatomy of a fight sequence. For Miller, a cursory exchange of punches would never suffice. There’s a give and take between equally matched opponents, weaknesses are sought, and ineffective strategies are replaced.

There’s also a realism to Miller’s violence, though it’s not necessarily graphic in nature (this was still the era of the Comics Code). Miller’s characters “sell” the blows, every hit looks painful, and the characters strike each other in ways clearly intended to cause serious harm.

It’s easy to see why Miller’s work became a success. Compared to Daredevil, the other comics I reviewed seem hesitant and even cowardly in their use of violence. The superhero publishers relied on violence to gain the attention of young boys, but it was always within strict limits. The superhero books were supposed to be morally uplifting. But Miller didn’t see violence as a mere tool to sell a book about selfless heroism. Instead, heroic violence was the whole point. Morality is all well and good, but most superhero readers aren’t looking for role models. They’re looking for cheap thrills, and there are few things as thrilling as seeing one man savagely pummel another.

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And that brings my exercise in nostalgia to an end. Marvel’s September 1980 line-up was fairly impressive in terms of craft, even though it lacked the genre variety of DC Comics. However, when I read all these comics together, it’s obvious why Marvel could never attract female readers.

 

Time Capsule, Part 1

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I turn thirty this month, which means I’m officially an old fart. And like all old farts, I enjoy reminiscing about the past when everything, especially comics, were better. It’s time for some good, ole’ fashioned nostalgia. And since nostalgia tends to be infantile, why not look back at the comics being published during my first days as an infant? For the next two weeks, I’ll be reviewing the mainstream comics of September 1980, starting with the output of DC Comics.

Batman #327
Writer: Len Wein
Pencils: Irv Novick
Inks: Frank McLaughlin

I don’t care for Irv Novick’s artwork. It’s genre hackery at its most tiresome: generally competent, but lacking any sense of location, character, or emotional intensity. Backgrounds are practically nonexistent, and not for any creative reasons that I can detect, but probably because Novick is lazy. To avoid drawing backgrounds, he brings the action close to the characters or fills the panels with talking heads. On the plus side, I’m amused that his depiction of Dr. Milo resembles an anorexic Moe Howard.

The shitty artwork is all the worse because it drags down a half-way decent story. Wein appreciates that Batman straddles the line between superheroes and pulp crime, and he liberally steals ideas from the latter genre. Rather than a straightforward hero vs. villain slugfest, the narrative is mostly a detective story with disguises, drugging, and identity confusion.

Unfortunately, the main story is only 18 pages long (to make room for a tedious Batman and Robin back-up), so Wein has to rush through the plot, spending just a few panels on each of the pulp crime tropes. The result is a story that practically begs to be a two-parter. On the other hand, that would require reading another issue drawn by Novick.

Action Comics #511
Writer: Cary Bates
Pencils: Curt Swan
Inks: Frank Chiaramonte

I’ll lay out my prejudices at the start: Superman is boring. He’s a boring character who stars in boring stories. Action Comics is probably not the worst comic being published in any given month, but I can’t remember when it was ever any good. And judging this comic solely as a superhero adventure, it largely confirms my bias. Lex Luthor goes good (I’m guessing it doesn’t last) and helps Superman in an unremarkable fight against two unremarkable villains. There’s also a section devoted to Clark Kent’s job as a TV anchorman, which is sadly no where near as entertaining as it could be. At the very least Curt Swan’s art  is attractive, but he can’t elevate tedious plot or characters.

But for all it’s faults, I was actually entertained while reading this comic, thanks to to the fact that it’s incredibly gay (more so than Superman usually is). The opening splash page features Lex Luthor relaxing in a room decorated entirely with pictures of Superman doing heroic things, like flying, punching, um … standing, and … I’m not quite sure what he’s doing on the right. Rolling up a newspaper? Maybe it’s supposed to be an iron rod (insert your own joke here).

Plus, it ends with manly hand-holding…

Bros 4 Life

And in-between, Superman and Lex fight a gay, space cowboy. I suppose unintentionally entertaining is better than nothing.

Wonder Woman #271
Writer: Gerry Conway
Pencils: Jose Delbo
Inks: Dave Hunt

Poor Steve Trevor. DC would kill him off, only to bring him back, and then kill him off again in a desperate bid to wring some drama from Wonder Woman. Apparently, issue 271 was a big deal, because Steve Trevor is brought back to life (again). Except it wasn’t the “real” Steve Trevor, but another Steve from a parallel Earth who crashed through a dimensional barrier.

I don’t give give a shit about the DC multiverse, but I approve of this plot point. If there’s any real benefit to having parallel Earths, it’s that they provide a quick and easy way to throw out the previous writer’s terrible ideas. And then the current writer is free to introduce his own terrible ideas, which comprise the rest of this issue.

Justice League of America #182
Writer: Dave Cockrum
Pencils: Dick Dillin
Inks: Frank McLaughlin

I really liked this, even though Dick Dillin’s artwork is uneven, and even though the the main plot was a rote conflict with Felix Faust that I already forgot. What stands out is the B-plot, starring DC’s premier asshole, Green Arrow. In the real world, nobody likes an asshole, but assholes are an essential ingredient for any great superhero team. Assholes get the best lines, assholes create drama, and, unlike the other good guys, the assholes possess something resembling a personality. And it’s always fun to see an asshole get his comeuppance.

The best part of this comic comes at the end. In an earlier issue, Green Arrow threw a temper tantrum and quit the Justice League. He spent most of this issue whining because he got stuck helping the other heroes save the world. After they defeat Faust, Superman offers Arrow a place on the League again, but, being an asshole, Arrow throws the offer back in his face. Then he reacts with outrage when he learns that Black Canary, his girlfriend/enabler, wants to have a life of her own in the League.

What an insufferable prick. I am entertained!

Jonah Hex #40
Writer: Michael Fleisher
Pencils and Inks: Dan Spiegle
Colors: Bob Le Rose

Even though superheroes dominated its line-up, DC never entirely abandoned the other genres. Jonah Hex was DC’s (ultimately unsuccessful) attempt to keep a Western in continuous publication. Why and how the Western genre declined across all media is a topic for another blog post. For the purposes of this post, I’ll note that Jonah Hex is a pretty good Western. Fleisher and Speigle don’t do anything groundbreaking, and they don’t have to. The tropes of the Western are simple, and they either appeal to the reader or they don’t: Indians, revolvers, saloons, and rugged individualists imposing order on a lawless environment. All Fleisher needed to do was take the tropes and construct a morality play where Hex acted tough and the villain was punished in a suitably ironic manner. Fleisher did just that, but he also added a comedic touch by treating Hex as a reckless idiot who managed survive mostly due to dumb luck.

I’m not familiar with Dan Spiegle, but his work on Jonah Hex is impressive, particularly the rich backgrounds and expressive faces. But much of the credit should also go the colorist, Bob Le Rose. Rather than the vibrant palette of the superhero genre, Le Rose used muted colors and earth tones that evoked an earthier, more “real” appearance for the Old West. And the colors add a darkness to the story, even during the daylight scenes, that echoes the darker, more brutal themes of the genre.

House of Mystery #284
Writers: J.M. DeMatteis (story 1), Carl Wessler (story 4)
Pencils and inks: Noly Zamora (story 1), Jess Jodloman (story 4)

That is a great cover.

House of Mystery was DC’s long-running horror/thriller/dark fantasy anthology. I’ve already talked at length about horror comics here, so I won’t belabor my earlier points. Suffice to say, comics are not an ideal medium for scary stories. Perhaps the best a cartoonist can hope for is to create a story that’s unnerving.

The lead story, “Ruby,” had some potential. DeMatteis crafted a decent plot about an evil little girl (20 years before the Japanese cornered the market on stories about evil little girls). Noly Zamora provided dark, atmospheric artwork. But at only seven pages, the story has no room to develop. Racing from one plot point to the next, what should be creepy descends into camp. And DeMatteis’ corny narration doesn’t help matters:

It’s worth mentioning that Alan Moore’s narration in Swamp Thing was equally overripe, and yet he somehow avoided diminishing his own story.  But perhaps that’s an unfair comparison.

The rest of the issue consisted of similarly disappointing short stories. The last one, “Deadly Peril at 20,000,” is memorably solely due to its unabashed sexism (women are prone to violent hysteria, and the best way to deal with hysterical women is to kill them).

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Overall, September 1980 seemed like a lean month for a struggling DC. Marquee titles like Action Comics were stuck in perpetual auto-pilot, and the company’s non-superhero efforts were a mixed bag.  But in November DC would launch New Teen Titans, which grew into an X-Men-sized hit.

And speaking of X-Men, next week I’ll take a look at what Marvel was doing 30 years ago.