Tag Archives: Richard

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).

________________________________

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.


Random Thoughts on SPX ’10

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Last Saturday, I visited the Small Press Expo in Bethesda, Maryland with three of my friends. We spent nearly all our time wandering around the main convention floor, buying stuff, and occasionally chatting with the exhibitors. Here are some quick thoughts on SPX, in no particular order:

I can’t move!

I hope next year’s Expo rents a second convention room or moves to a larger venue. I’m not sure if they underestimated the crowds or if money is just tight, but the convention floor was far more crowded than it needed to be.

But I’ll give them credit for putting Kate Beaton near a door: she was far and away the most popular cartoonists there (she even put Jaime Hernandez to shame), and the line for her signature formed outside the doorway rather than clogging up the convention room.

There are girls! Reading comics!

And women too. Out of all the (nerd) conventions that I’ve been to, SPX had the largest percentage of both female attendees and exhibitors. This is a very rough estimate, but I’d say close to 50% of the attendees on Saturday afternoon were women.

One of my friends at SPX had previously accompanied me to the Baltimore Comic-con. She found SPX to be much more female-friendly. At the Comic-con, she complained that some of the vendors had stared at her like she was some alien creature. When I asked about it, she told me that what made her feel comfortable at SPX was not the number of female attendees, but the female exhibitors and vendors. In other words, if you want to sell comics to women, you need women who sell comics.

It’s all in the presentation, or lack thereof.

Most of the exhibitors seemed content to put a few books on the table, maybe a print or two, and then wait for the crowds to form. This works fine if the exhibitor is already popular, like Kate Beaton or Jaime Hernandez, but it doesn’t work so well for unknown artists. One of my friends was completely unfamiliar with comics, so she had no idea which artists she might like or what kind of content she was interested in buying. In other words, she’s the ideal consumer for an unknown artist, but they have to make an effort to get her attention. To be fair, some of the exhibitors were more than willing to engage with attendees and explain what their books were about, but others seemed either shy or bored. And in that moment when a potential customer is walking by their table, they need to do more than just sit there and wait for the money to flow in.

She wanted more free samples or excerpts from comics, not just so she could look at the art, but so she’d have a better idea what the comic was about and how well it read. Again, to be fair, a few of the webcomic exhibitors were handing out samples.

Another friend sent me her take on the exhibitors in an email:

“I think the thing I liked most (as someone who isn’t exactly a diehard indie comics fan) was the booths that were selling comics and misc. merchandise based off of the artist’s characters.  It was kind of like a comicon meets esty vibe – really neat to see what people came up with.  Some of it I thought ‘wow, I could totally make that myself’ (monster scarves) but the wooden puzzle guy and many of the poster/print options were truly impressive.

I was also pretty amazed by the mix of levels of, for lack of a better word, professionalism from booth to booth.  You could tell some of the folks there are fully supporting themselves on small press comics; others seemed to be using it as a way to show off their artwork – but they didn’t seem all that concerned about heavily promoting the comics part.  Then there was a booth or two where it seemed like the artist was using SPX as a way to promote his/her hobby.
I don’t think you were with me at the time, but I saw one booth with really neat stuff – an alphabet of imagined animals, pseudo-victorian faux scientific language, etc. The guy at the booth did the standard 10-second ‘this is what I do’ that everyone was doing.  He mentioned the alphabet thing was on his blog – so I asked if he had a card.  Apparently he had forgotten to bring any.  He offered me one of the little pamphlets he was selling [more on that below], mentioned suggested donation was $1.  I figured fine, I’ll pay $1 to find out about his stuff, and handed him a $5.  He didn’t have change.  The guy next to him didn’t either, so he gave me the brochure for free.  Very nice and everything, but the highly professional government worker over-achiever in me was *completely* horrified by the idea that someone would show up to exhibit at a convention and be that unprepared.
Also overheard two chicks at a booth chatting about their friend (the artist) who helped them get it set up, stayed a few minutes, then said ‘I got into webcomics so I wouldn’t have to talk to people” and vanished.’

Overall I very much enjoyed it, mostly for the novelty and the ability to nerd out a bit without feeling like the only girl in the room! :P”

Giving money directly to the artist gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling.

On the other hand, I always feel vaguely guilty when I walk by a table and the artist is just sitting there while no one buys their stuff. It’s a sad scene … until I remember that most of their junk is ridiculously over-priced.

Miriam Libicki seems to be doing well.

But she no longer follows the blog (sorry, Noah).

For those of you new to the Hooded Utilitarian, Miriam used to blog on the site back in its Blogspot days, but she’s far better known as a cartoonist and creator of Jobnik!, an autobiographical account of her time in the Israeli Army.

I bought one of her kitchen magnets and the latest issue of Jobnik!.

I love the cover. I haven’t had a chance to read the comic yet, so I can’t offer a review, but the prior issues were quite good. If you’re interested, it’s available for purchase on her website.

Consumerism, hurray!

What I bought:

Parker: The Hunter, written by Richard Stark and adapted into a comic by Darwyn Cooke. It’s not really all that “indie” (and IDW is hardly a small press) but I like detective stories, I like Cooke’s art, and it was being sold by the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund. Support free speech and all that.

Prison Pit, by Johnny Ryan. Violence and crude humor. ‘Nuff said.

Afrodisiac, by Jim Rugg and Brian Maruca. I love blaxsploitation as much as the next suburban white dude, and this book has gotten positive reviews from most of the critics I follow.

Masterpiece Comics, by R.Sikoryak. It’s an odd but potentially funny idea where classic writers are filtered through the tropes of classic comics.

Locas: The Maggie and Hopey Stories, by Jaime Hernandez. I haven’t read all of Love and Rockets yet, but the Locas storyline is what hooked me on the series (sorry, Gilbert).

Blazing Combat, by Archie Goodwin and assorted artists. Proof that I am susceptible to advertising. They kept running the banner ads for this book on tcj.com, and eventually I succumbed. Though I’ve also been looking for a war comic to review, and this fits the bill.

Pang: The Wandering Shaolin Monk, vol. 1, by Ben Costa. An engaging, cartoony style and a kung fu storyline. But what sold me was that the publisher is named Iron Crotch University Press. Well played, Ben.

What my friends bought:

Trickster, edited by Matt Dembicki with assorted artists. Its a collection of Native American folklore (about Trickster gods, naturally) with each tale illustrated by a different artist. Here’s a blog about the book for the curious.

A print by Emma Rochon, featuring mer-foxy things.

Two prints by Ulises Farinas, including bear-zilla,

and Lego Doctor Who, which efficiently combines two nerdy obsessions.

A large print (couldn’t find an image of it) by Sara L. Turner, author of the webcomic Ghosts of Pineville.

And a pamphlet by Nate Marsh, creator of The Obscure Animal Compendium.

 

Not a Superhero Comic, But It is Plenty Violent

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The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

Written by Stieg Larsson
Translated by Reg Keeland

Every mainstream reviewer seems to love this novel. It’s an international bestseller that’s spawned two sequels and has already been made into a movie. All this despite the fact that the author is dead and Swedish. My reaction, however, was “meh.” Other than the Swedish names that I can’t pronounce, there’s nothing in this book that sets it apart from any typical crime thriller.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a terrible novel. The mystery at the heart of the story is well-crafted, and I didn’t notice any glaring plot holes. The pacing is brisk, except for a few lengthy discussions of Swedish finance. The translation from the original Swedish produced a few awkward lines, but nothing memorably ridiculous.

 But much of the novel’s appeal depends on whether the reader identifies with the main character, Mikael Blomkvist. As shameless Mary Sues go, Blomkvist could give Superman a run for his money. Blomkvist is a middle-aged, left-leaning journalist and magazine editor, just like Stieg Larsson. He also happens to be one of those courageous and brilliant journalists who’s dedicated to THE TRUTH. And he’s irresistible to the ladies without even trying (I’m not joking about that last part, he gets as much play as James Bond per film). Perhaps if I were a middle-aged Swedish journalist, I might find Blomkvist appealing. As it is, he’s somebody else’s empowerment fantasy, and I just feel left out.

Although Blomkvist is the protagonist, the titular girl with the dragon tattoo is Lisbeth Salander, an anti-social hacker who helps Blomkvist solve the big mystery. The inspiration for Salander is rather odd. According to a longtime friend, Larsson admitted that as a teenager he failed to intervene when he witnessed a woman being gang-raped. So the character of Salander was supposed to be his attempt at redemption, and the writer’s redemption came from the character’s rape-revenge narrative. (Spoiler Alert!) Midway into the novel Salander is orally and anally raped by her legal guardian. Salander eventually gets a fitting revenge, but the novel never spends much time on her reactions or development. Despite his desire for redemption, Larsson is always more interested in the trials and tribulations of his thinly drawn author-avatar. The plot focuses on Blomkvist and the big mystery, Salander becomes his sidekick and eventually his lover, and the rape-revenge storyline ends up being much more exploitative than Larsson probably intended.

The entire novel, in fact, seems like an effort to have a sexy violence cake and eat it too. On the surface, the novel takes the uncontroversial stance that raping women is bad. But this is still a crime thriller, and the genre requires a certain amount of depravity. The numerous instances of sexualized violence are not simply elements of the story, they’re the driving force behind the plot and the novel’s most notable feature (besides the unpronounceable Swedish names). I’d go so far as to say that the sexualized violence is one of the novel’s main selling points. The forbidden thrill of sexual violence can be secretly and safely indulged so long as it’s coupled to the condemnation of the same sexual violence.

But I’d be lying if I said the sexualized violence actually offended me. Mostly, I was just bored. This novel is not some glorious, genre-busting breakthrough. It’s nothing more and nothing less than competent pulp, Scandinavian style.

Nostalgia-Fest, Week 2

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This is the third post in my never-ending series on the Flash. My first post was on Flash Rebirth, and I was not very kind. To understand where all this nostalgia for the Flash was coming from, I began reading the Silver Age Flash stories, starting with the debut of Barry Allen in Showcase #4 (1956). For this week, I’ll be reviewing the first three issues of The Flash.

Quick history lesson: Barry Allen was the star of Showcase for ten more issues before DC Comics gave him his own series. Flash #105 debuted in March 1959, retaining the numbering of the original Flash Comics from the 1940s. The earliest issues of the Flash were all written by John Broome and drawn by Carmine Infantino. Joe Giella provided most of the inking.

Flash #105

As with Showcase, the early Flash issues contain two stories apiece. The first story in #105 wasn’t very memorable, though it wasn’t terrible either. It’s one of those stories where an archaeologist digs up an ancient villain from a forgotten, hyper-advanced civilization. The ancient villain, Katmos, plans to conquer the world, and (spoiler alert!) the Flash stops him. Katmos is a boring villain, but there is one great scene where he tries to use a mind control ray on an unsuspecting civilian and ends up enhancing the guy’s intelligence by mistake.

As I mentioned last week, I appreciated how these early Flash stories embraced the inherently ridiculous nature of the superhero genre. There’s no grim n’ gritty posturing, no contempt for young readers, no oppressive reverence for the past (then again, Barry Allen was introduced with an extended call-back to the 1940s Flash. But there isn’t any real connection to the original Flash except the name, similar powers, and a cutesy nod to Flash Comics. Because there is no actual continuity, this comic hasn’t degenerated into a continuity quagmire … yet). It’s a book that’s comfortable being popcorn entertainment for kids, and that makes the limitations of the storytelling and art somewhat more forgivable.

And look, the hero is getting emasculated by his clueless girlfriend! that never gets old.

While Superman took pleasure in repeatedly humiliating Lois, the Flash just takes Iris’s abuse. I suspect she got off easy not because Broome and Infantino cared about Iris, but because they didn’t have that all-too-common intense loathing of the fairer sex. It’s not so much hate as mild contempt: Iris was an accessory, like the capsule ring or the Flash costume. She’s there so that Barry can bask in a woman’s praise of the Flash without her knowing that Barry is actually the superhero. Secret identities and male egos are preserved.

I preferred the second story, which introduced one of Flash’s better villains – Mirror Master. As his name suggests, Mirror Master uses mirrors to create false images that can interact with the physical world. It’s silly comic book pseudo-science, but the mirror images are limited by rules that are easy for young readers to grasp.  For example, a mirror image of a person will be an exact duplicate except that asymmetrical features like watches or the part in someone’s hair will be on the wrong side.

And since a mirror image can’t exist without the reflection of light, Flash defeats the Mirror Master by simply turning the lights off.

Flash #106

Broome and Infantino continue to improve their comic with the next issue. The first story introduces Gorilla Grodd, a shining example of the narrative theory called “apes make everthing better.” The plot, if you can call it that, is a series of increasingly absurd moments that are nevertheless easy to follow. An actor who plays a gorilla is worried that he’s unconsciously causing trouble while dressed in his gorilla costume (stuff like this happens when apes are involved). He asks his friend Barry for help, and Barry investigates as the Flash. He runs into Grodd, a villain from a hidden race of hyper-intelligent gorillas from Gorilla City. The city is located in Africa, presumably near the Country of Africa just south of Africa City.

Grodd is pursuing another ape, Solivar, who was captured by poachers and sold to a circus where he’s been masquerading as a regular gorilla (hyper-intelligent maybe, but not very bright). Grodd steals Solivar’s intelligence with his telepathy so he can conquer the gorillas and then use them to conquer the world. Flash teams up with Solivar and beats Grodd by using his powers in the most obvious but effective way: he runs really fast so Grodd can’t see him coming.

The art remains a cut above competent, but Infantino never really goes crazy with depicting speed powers. For the most part, it remains speed-lines and largely empty panels that imply the rapid transition of time.

The second story isn’t as good, but it’s a half-way decent introduction of another Flash rogue, the Pied Piper. There are also these great Flash Facts pages with random speed-related info. This comic has everything a nerdy kid could want.

Flasth #107

Realizing that they have a hit on their hands, Broome and Infantino use Grodd again as the primary villain. Grodd escapes from Gorilla City and flees to the center of the Earth, which is hollow (Neal Adams was right!). Grodd plans to brainwash a race of bird men to help him conquer the world, but Solivar recruits Flash to stop him. Flash does that vibrational thing where he moves through solid matter, and he fights Grodd … at the center of the world!

Of course, Flash escapes and he beats up the ape. Broome rights a decent fantasy adventure, but Infantino really drops the ball when it comes to envisioning the hollow Earth. It just looks like a generic, barren landscape with a pink sky.

Later, he adds a couple of vaguely sci-fi houses to the background, but the art is never as exciting as it could be. Last week, I described Infantino’s art as “eye-catching,” and I stand by that. He can draw big, splashy panels when he needs to and he knows how to arrange an action sequence. But his imagination seems very limited. 

I’ll continue my review of Silver Age Flash in a couple weeks, focusing on the famous issues that, for better or worse, defined the series.

Nostalgia-Fest, 2010

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Last week, I bashed the nostalgia-ridden Flash Rebirth, by Geoff Johns and Ethan Van Sciver. My main complaint was that the comic was less a narrative than a creepy love letter to Barry Allen and Flash stories from the Silver Age (roughly 1956-1970). Most of the comments more or less agreed with my criticism, but Alex Buchet indirectly defended Johns and Van Sciver by mentioning that he too appreciated the old Flash comics. I had never actually read the comics myself, though I was vaguely familiar with the stories thanks to pop culture osmosis. In an effort to understand why these comics inspired so much affection, I decided to read the first few Barry Allen appearances. For this week, I go all the way back to the character’s debut in Showcase #4.


Showcase #4 (Oct. 1956)
Writer: Robert Kanigher
Penciler: Carmine Infantino
Inker: Joe Kubert

A quick history lesson: the first superhero named the Flash was Jay Garrick, who deputed in Flash Comics #1 (1940). The superhero genre suffered a decline of popularity in the late 1940s, and Flash Comics was canceled in 1949. Jay Garrick completely disappeared from DC Comics’ publications by the early 1950s. But in 1956, DC launched a new superhero, a re-imagining of the Flash created by Robert Kanigher, John Broome, and Carmine Infantino.

The story begins with police scientist Barry Allen sipping homogenized milk with a straw (???) while reading an old Flash comic starring Jay Garrick. As early as 1956, there was already superhero nostalgia…

Though it’s worth noting that Jay Garrick was a fictional character in the world of Barry Allen.

The comic quickly proceeds through Flash’s origin story: he was struck by lightning while messing with volatile chemicals (what are the odds!). Rather than dying a horrible, burning death, Barry gained superpowers. And he got the exact same powers as his childhood hero (what are the odds!).

The key panel is a great example of Infantino’s skill…

I particularly like the use of onomatopoeia. The extension of the lightning “craaaaaack,” the brilliant blue contrasted against a yellow background, and the use of jagged lettering all increase the intensity of the moment.

The comic then moves through several scenes where Barry shows off what he can do with his new-found speed. He outruns a taxi, stops a diner waitress from dropping her tray on the floor, and saves his girlfriend, Iris, from getting shot in the head.

Infantino does great work with the bullet scene. As the bullet moves closer to Iris, the panels transition to a close-up of Barry’s face. It’s a great way to highlight Barry’s emotional reaction while maintaining the focus on the physical threat to Iris.

It turns out that Iris, a reporter and Lois Lane knockoff, was targeted by the criminal Turtle Man – The Slowest Man on Earth! Barry Allen decides to follow in the footsteps of Jay Garrick and becomes the new Flash,  and being a superhero in the 50s means you get a sleek, Space Age costume. But even snazier than the costume is the capsule ring where he stores it…

Our hero runs around town and confronts the Turtle Man, who proceeds to humiliate the Flash “looney tunes” style. By that, I mean Turtle Man draws a silhouette of himself against a wall and Flash runs right into it. It may sound stupid, but the unabashed silliness of the comic is actually rather endearing. And then there’s the fact that Turtle Man’s costume is (are you ready for this?) – a turtleneck sweater.

It’s easy to understand why this book appealed to young boys. Action-adventure, sci-fi, cool toys, goofy humor, eye-catching art: this story has nearly everything a young reader could want.

Unfortunately, the second story in Showcase #4 is much less impressive. A generic villain from the future (who looks exactly like Lex Luthor) steals some stuff and the Flash stops him. The art remains decent, but none of the pages stand out.

I’m still on the fence regarding Silver Age Flash. I can see its potential. It’s light-hearted, unpretentious, briskly paced, and produced by competent (if not brilliant) professionals. But I can also see why the Flash never enjoyed the stratospheric success of characters like Spider-man. Barry Allen is a blank slate, lacking even a rudimentary personality. And I question whether super-speed can ever be visually compelling enough to sustain reader interest over the long run.

But I’ll give the Flash another try next week, when I read the first few issues of his solo comic.

Flash Fact: This Comic Sucks

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Flash Rebirth
Writer: Geoff Johns
Artist: Ethan Van Sciver
Colors: Brian Miller and Alex Sinclair
Publisher: DC Comics

Nostalgia is the sentimental yearning for an earlier, happier era. The majority of superhero books published by DC (or Marvel) are more or less nostalgic, in that they constantly look backward to a mythical period when superhero comics were better. But the word “nostalgia” is insufficient to describe Flash Rebirth. A better description would be nostromanic, because it’s love of the past could be classified as a psychological disorder.

Flash Rebirth loves everything about DC Comics. It love the Justice League, especially Hal Jordan, the bad-ass space-cop who doesn’t care about the rules. Even the titular star of this book, Barry Allen, becomes as giddy as a school girl when Hal uses manly words like “perp.”

Flash Rebirth loves the Titans. It loves them so much that that it devotes several pages to  two different Titan teams. The first is the Teen Titans, featuring a teenage Robin, Wonder Girl and Kid Flash. The second team is the Twenty-Somethings Who Never Moved Past Their Glory Years in High School Titans, featuring Nightwing (formerly Robin), Donna Troy (formerly Wonder Girl), and the second character in this book who calls himself the Flash, Wally West (formerly Kid Flash). Wally was quietly demoted, and is no longer the star of the Flash franchise. Yet he still gets to keep the Flash codename, which is nice.

Flash Rebirth loves the Justice Society of America. Some of the kids may not realize (and probably don’t care) that there was a superhero team all the way back in the 40’s. Today, the Justice Society is like the Justice League if you got rid of all the recognizable characters and replaced them with their grandparents. There’s old timey Flash, Jay Garrick, and old timey Green Lantern, and a few other remarkably buff retirees. And they let their grand-kids play too, because there’s also Liberty Belle, who’s related to members of the original Justice Society in ways that I don’t care to learn.

(For the sake of clarity, there are now three different men who call themselves the Flash, plus a Kid Flash. Apparently, brand dilution is no longer a matter of concern but a sign of success).

The girls don’t get to call themselves “Flash” anything

As the title suggests, most of the love is reserved for the Flash franchise. Flash Rebirth loves every bit of minutiae from the last 50+ years of Flash comics. Every sidekick, every rogue, every supporting character gets a cameo at some point. And every (pseudo) famous story gets a shout-out. Remember that time Superman and Flash raced for charity? Or how ’bout that time Flash was tried for murder? Or that big story where he died and the universe got rebooted? In case you forgot any of these tales, there’s a scene set in the Flash Museum, which has dozens of exhibits dedicated to the crime-fighter’s history. It’s rather fitting then that the comic often reads like the placard on a museum exhibit, overflowing with trivial details.

But Flash Rebirth doles out the love in unequal doses, and the biggest amount goes to the Flash stories from the late 1950’s and early 60’s. Fans know this was the beginning of the Silver Age of superheroes, and the first Silver Age hero was none other than Barry Allen, arguably the most famous character to call himself the Flash. As I made clear above, the comic doesn’t hate anything that came earlier or later. Jay Garrick and Wally West are still alive and well, and they play significant roles in the story. But they are forced to kowtow before the greatness of Barry, thereby acknowledging that the Silver Age, rather than the Golden Age or the modern era, was when the superhero genre reached perfection.

To their credit, Johns and Van Sciver are not content to simply wallow in past glories. Like any obsessive, they need to convince others that their obsession is superior. Barry Allen must be more than just another B-list hero. He needs to be the embodiment of the Silver Age, and the character manages to to be just that, despite the fact that he has the personality of soap. Through a repetitive narrative and heavy-handed use of motifs, Johns and Van Sciver make their case, and then they make it again, and one more time for good measure, like they’re freshmen writing their first essay. Thesis Statement – Barry Allen is the paradigm of superheroes and the spirit of the Silver Age for two reasons: (1) he created the Speed Force and (2) he wears bow ties.

In a convoluted plot that I’m sure retroactively alters a half-dozen stories, Flash Rebirth reveals that Barry generates the Speed Force, a mystical energy field from which all other speedsters draw power. It’s like that other Force, but limited to … well, speed. In addition to being a better hero, Barry is also the Alpha and Omega for all other super-fast characters, even those who have no connection to the Flash. Thus, Barry’s greatness is not merely a matter of opinion, it’s a universal law.

The bow ties may sound inconsequential in comparison to cosmic speed, but they’re every bit as important in explaining why Geoff Johns and Van Sciver love the Flash. Setting aside tuxedos, nobody but conservative pundits and ironic hipsters wear bow ties anymore. But Barry Allen, neither pundit nor hipster, has to wear bow ties because he wore bow ties in the 60’s, and the unassailable assumption is that superheroes in the 60’s were better than superheroes today. The bow tie shows up repeatedly, and it becomes a symbol for Barry’s old-fashioned integrity, his difficulty interacting with the normals, and his eternal love for his wife. The bow tie represents the essential elements of the Silver Age Superhero: virtue, alienation, and iconic love interests. Barry doesn’t merely wear the bow tie. He is the bow tie, and the bow tie is everything great about superheroes.

I can’t offer a conventional review of Flash Rebirth. About halfway into the book, it was no longer possible to criticize its aesthetic merits, or lack thereof. Decades of history, intricate character genealogies, hundreds of lines of exposition … I was completely overwhelmed. And the aesthetic qualities aren’t important anyway. Are Van Sciver’s action scenes lackluster? Sure, but the violence (usually quite graphic in a Geoff Johns comic) feels rather besides the point. Does the plot make sense? Nope, but the narrative is also besides the point. All that matters is that Barry Allen is back and he’s bigger than Jesus.

People who deeply, passionately love Barry Allen got exactly the comic they wanted. Any “civilians” curious about the Flash would be better served reading the Wikipedia entry. Same effect, saves time.

World Government is Sure to Follow

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Last week, Vom Marlowe complained about Wonder Woman’s new costume. But the outfit, with its black leggings and cheesy leather jacket, was not just a sartorial disaster. DC Comics excised most of the patriotic symbolism from Wonder Woman’s look, a decision that drove Vom to desperate measures. And by desperate measures, I mean she actually agreed with something on Fox News: Wonder Woman had become un-American.

Superhero comics used to be comfortable with unabashed displays of patriotism. In the 40s, Wonder Woman, Captain America, and about a thousand imitators fought the Nazis while wearing some combination of, stars, stripes, and eagles. In the 60s, Nazi-bashing was replaced by commie-smashing, and many of the new teams were directly tied to the U.S. government. Even the X-Men, representatives of a despised minority, worked with the FBI. And, of course, Superman stood for “Truth, Justice, and the American Way.”

But nowadays, unqualified patriotism is a rare thing in the superhero genre. Heroes with names like the Star-Spangled Soaring-Eagle Flag-man are long gone. Most modern superheroes are either indifferent or openly hostile toward the U.S. government. Marvel spent all of 2009 telling stories about outlaw superheroes fighting a tyrannical government agency run by Norman Osborn, better known as the Green Goblin. Even Superman has abandoned his American roots: according to the film Superman Returns, he now stands for “Truth, Justice … and all that stuff.”

Why has flag-waving gone out of style among superheroes? Ask a right-wing blogger, and their answer will probably be that the majority of comic book creators are effete, East Coast, artsy-fartsy liberals who hate America. As an effete, East Coast, artsy-fartsy liberal (who doesn’t hate America), it’s hard to deny the fact that displays of patriotism are less popular with the Left. Why this is the case could be a whole blog post in itself, but suffice to say that comic creators today offer far less unqualified love to their country than comic creators in the past, and much of that is due to left-wing political values.

The corporate publishers have also played an important role in the decline of superhero patriots. Marvel (owned by Disney) and DC Comics (owned by Time Warner) are multinational corporations that sell their superheroes (and related merchandise) all over the world. Unfortunately for heroes who wear star-spangled underwear, America is not as popular as it once was, and displays of American patriotism don’t play well in overseas markets. Entertainment conglomerates, for whom national affiliation is little more than an issue of tax liability, have no qualms about downplaying the American roots of certain intellectual properties. Thus, Wonder Woman now wears a leather jacket and Superman stands for “all that other stuff.”

But is the lack of patriotism, specifically nu-Wonder Woman’s lack of patriotism, actually a bad thing? Vom Marlowe certainly thinks so, and she argues quite persuasively that American girls aren’t going to be inspired by leather jackets and black leggings. Historically, patriotism was a male-dominated phenomenon (the term is derived from Greek word for fatherland). Wonder Woman, along with Rosie the Riveter and a few other cultural icons, encouraged women to be patriots and to take pride in being American. This is no small development, and it’s easy to see how Wonder Woman could inspire young women to serve their country. And if patriotism was all about public service and fighting Nazis, it would be hard to disagree with Vom.

But reducing the patriotic symbolism in Wonder Woman’s costume is not necessarily a terrible thing. I don’t believe that patriotism is any more virtuous than racial, ethnic, or class affiliation. It’s just one way for people to prioritize their loyalties and define their in-group. Before anyone jumps down my throat, I’m not suggesting that patriotism is inherently evil, but like any means of dividing up humanity it can potentially lead to evil behavior, especially when it’s exploited by the state. From the perspective of this bleeding-heart liberal, the character could actually improve by defining herself in global, rather than national, terms.

If there’s a problem with the current incarnation of Wonder Woman, it’s that she doesn’t define herself as anything (or at least not as anything that’s relevant to real people). Fox News is wrong (shocking, I know) when they accuse her of being ‘globalized,’ as that would require that Wonder Woman show any interest in the broader issues of Earth. Instead, the current story seems to be shaping into yet another parochial conflict involving wayward Amazons and evil gods. It’s worth noting that Wonder Woman wasn’t always so vacuous. William Marston’s Wonder Woman was a unique concept that combined American triumphalism with social revitalization through the new woman and loving submission. Subsequent writers watered down Marston’s crackpot ideology but replaced it with nothing.  Wonder Woman’s patriotic symbolism devolved into nostalgia, an acknowledgment of her connection to World War II, but lacking any deeper meaning.* And even the World War II origins were thrown out after the 1987 reboot. The new ‘globalized’ costume is not so much a break with the past as the culmination of a decades-long trend towards irrelevancy.

(On a related note, if anyone has a pool going for how long this “bold, new direction” will last before the inevitable reset, put me down for 1 year 2 months. Though I’m probably giving DC more credit than it deserves.)

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*Vom is correct in pointing out that the star-spangled underroos represent freedom, and almost everyone would agree that freedom is good. On the other hand, even something as universally praised as freedom means very different things to different groups.