Review: First Wave #1

First Wave #1 (of 6)

Writer: Brian Azzarello
Artist: Rags Morales
Colorist: Nei Ruffino
DC
Released: March 3, 2010






The first question you may feel like asking yourself upon gazing at this comic is, "do you feel man enough to read this? Well, do ya, punk?" The bronze glow radiating off the broad chests and square-jaws of the mighty specimens of masculinity that grace the cover tell part of the story here, that inside be a man's world, so see here, you better come ready. This is First Wave and it's a world without superpowers, a DCU born not in an exploding planet far off in the universe, but born of bootstraps and guile, sweat and determination. Now, lest ye think that this translates into misogyny or brutishness, step back, fella. There's more to a man than muscle, and more to this comic than man.

This is the world of Doc Savage, The Spirit, and The Bat-Man; a post-war America that looks a lot like ours, except it's warped slightly, like a sheet of plastic-wrap that's been overstretched in spots. The fedoras and trench-coats, all scream big-city 1940's, but then a quick shot of a subway station shows us a punk in a red mohawk strutting past a poster of Joe Nameth in his New York Jets uniform, waving his finger in famous post-Super Bowl III victory pose (that's 1969 for you kids out there). The police cars and the checker-cabs are also of the 40's, but the limousine Doc pulls up in when visiting his father's grave appears to be a mid-1960's Lincoln Town Car. Doc's sparsely decorated and clean-lined modern Manhattan hi-rise apartment is either the epitome of mid-century futurism or mid-1980's New York minimalism. A delivery truck that The Spirit clings to after giving chase near issue's end proclaims "Rafi's Finest, Since 1945." Not that impressive a claim if this is truly just a few years after the end of WWII.

That's the true beauty of this comic; it takes the idea of a de-powered superhero universe and turns it on it's head. Instead of making the world gritty and dirty, setting the story in a mire of artificially extreme "reality", Brian Azzarello and Rags Morales have created a universe all on it's own, a place where time has seemingly been folded in on itself, meeting at the corners in an askew fashion. It's a New York that is all bright and shiny, where the skyscrapers gleam in golden hues of honey. This is a world that we somehow think existed at one time, a romantic vision of the big-city that never really existed, not in this way, at least. It's a big-shouldered, wide brim, firm hand-shake world, and for 40 pages, it's brought to beautiful life by two men who so obviously care deeply for it.

First Wave is a romantic throw-back comic told in a modern wide-screen way. With the exception of only two (TWO!) panels on page 6, every single panel stretches the entire length of the page. If this were a film it would have been shot in 75-millimeter Cinemascope and projected on the biggest screen in a movie-house where they still have the pit upfront for the organist. The colors by Nei Ruffino are bold and vivid, a harken to both the bright and gaudy 4-color days of early comic books and the technicolor marvels of the golden-age films of MGM and Warners. Those colors grace the magnificent artwork of Mr. Morales, who brings this meticulously detailed world to life with remarkable clarity, crispness, and style, but without sacrificing characterization and emotional weight. His characters each have their own unique look. In panels that feature Doc surrounded by his motley crew of assistants and friends, one sees how each man has been given his own distinct face, not just superficially, but right down to the bone structure, to the cheekbones and jawlines. In the run-up to the launch of this series, the DC blogs rang out with the usual hyperbole, stating this to be Morales's best work of his career. For once, that hyperbole may be accurate. His highest-profile project before this would, undoubtably, have to be the event mini-series Identity Crisis, written by Brad Meltzer. I found his work there to be decent but not distinguished, and in service of what was an overheated atrocity of a story. I now blame that horrid mess all on Mr. Meltzer. Mr. Morales is distinguishing himself here in First Wave and separating himself grandly.

Truly, though, this world belongs to writer Brian Azzerello, who is very much at home in this pulpy-noir universe he has created. Mr. Azzarello demonstrates he possesses a deep understanding for these classic characters, giving each scene its proper tone. The scenes with Doc Savage and his crew almost reek of sincerity and earnestness, as we feel the sense of brotherhood these men share with each other. Their dialogue would be hammy and syrupy if it wasn't for the fact we know they mean every word. These are honest and true men of great dignity and respect. There's no irony here, folks. Contrast this with the interactions of The Spirit and his old cop buddy Dolan, where their dialogue drips with sarcasm and a crackling energy, both men letting on slyly that they are not saying all they know. Add to this the classic image of The Spirit leaping across buildings in the moonlight and getting into yet another slapstick-worthy fistfight, and it would seem all the ingredients are here for a great ride.

In fact, after all of this, my only disappointment is that First Wave is a mini-series. Six issues? That's it? Whatta ya' goin' outta business here? The appetizer has made me hungry for a meal, see, and I got a man-sized hunger, see. Now scram, kid, you're botherin' me.
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Review: Justice League: Cry For Justice #7

Justice League: Cry For Justice #7 (of 7)

Writer: James Robinson
Artists: Mauro Cascioli, Scott Clark, & Ibraim Roberson
Inkers: Cascioli, Clark, David Beatty, & Roberson
DC
Released: March 3, 2010





Alright, let's just get it out of the way upfront; Lian dies, apparently from being crushed by debris, and Green Arrow kills Prometheus with an arrow through the head. There. Dirty business done, now on with the rest of the issue.

'Whoa, whoa, whoa!', I hear you say. 'That's it? You're just gonna gloss over the big shocking revelations, the 'unexpected ending that will fundamentally change the lives of the World's Greatest Heroes forever?' (this a line from the DC solicit for this issue.) My answer? Yes. Why shouldn't I just simply gloss over what were seemingly completely unearned moments in a mini-series filled with such moments? Shocking ending? I saw it coming from page one, when Oliver Queen shouts at a chained up Prometheus, "...I'LL KILL YOU!" Subtle foreshadowing, this is not.

That is the truly disturbing part of this whole series and this finale specifically, that the moments that should be powerful and heart-wrenching and shocking are made lifeless because the writer has simply decided to not earn those moments. Let's look at the death of Lian, Oliver's granddaughter. She is killed when Star City suffers it's slow-motion implosion, apparently the victim of falling debris, but more aptly, she is the victim of negligence, as we learn that Mia, her charge, has inexplicably left her home alone. Huh? She left a small child home alone during a massive catastrophe, to chase after a F-level villain?? And then it seems to take being clobbered by rubble herself to realize the child is left unprotected. So, the collected heroes race back home to find the lifeless, bloodied body amongst the rubble and exposed foundation. A moment that should be reeking of pain and anguish, the sad senseless death of a young child, is made mute and limp by a ridiculously shoe-horned contrivance to make it so. UNEARNED!

Another example, you ask? Certainly. While the various cities of the DCU begin to crumble at the hands of Prometheus and his doomsday devices, The Atom interrogates our antagonist, pleading with him to show some humanity and stop the carnage. As a last ditch effort, Ray Palmer decides to employ the telepathic powers of Miss Martian to invade Prometheus's mind to retrieve the codes that will diffuse the devices. As she begins to 'enter' his mind, she reels back in extreme agony! What has happened? Well, apparently, our super-genuis villain Prometheus anticipated this gambit and prepared a defense against the mind-reader. What defense exactly? How did he repel a telepath whilst being strapped to a chair in the JLA satellite? It's not explained, because in this world, those little details are not important. All that we need to know is that he figured out SOME WAY to stop a telepath, something no one has ever figured out before, including the writer of this comic. UNEARNED!

And what about that final scene, that 'unexpected ending'? In order to stop further destruction the JLA decide to free Prometheus. Let that sink in. They just let him go, and then apparently don't follow him or put a tracker on him, or anything. They just let him go in exchange for the codes. Then, back in his secret lair that exists "in a place between worlds, between dimensions" according to the captions, Prometheus proceeds to have a conversation with a man he has turned into a drooling imbecile, and then LO AND BEHOLD, enter Green Arrow, longbow drawn, who proceeds to fire an arrow through the front of Prometheus's skull. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the invincible Prometheus, who up to this point had figured out a defense and attack against every single power possessed by the collective heroes of the DCU is done in by an arrow to the head. Someone call William Tell! So, it would seem that with all his planning, Prometheus seemed to forget how to keep his inter-dimensional, other-worldly super-secret lair impenetrable from a hero with no super-powers dressed in bright green carrying a huge longbow. UNEARNED!

Oh, and how does the destruction of Star City, Opal City, Fawcett City, Keystone, and Central City all fit into the greater DCU proper, right now at a time when Coast City, Gotham City, Metropolis, and all of Earth in general, is dealing with zombies and a little thing called Blackest Night? That's easy, all of this happens "Later". Yes, according to the caption before the assassination of Prometheus, this scene happens "Later". And for good measure, Prometheus himself gives a shout-out to Blackest Night, just so we all understand how this event fits into DCU continuity. It all has happened "Later" and "between worlds".

So, what are we left with, when all the dust has settled? Simply, the rubble and debris of some interesting story elements brought down by a poor and carelessly lazy execution. Harsh criticism? Certainly, but unfortunately, well-earned. Later.
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Review: Superman: Secret Origin #4 (of 6)

Superman: Secret Origin #4 (of 6)

Writer: Geoff Johns
Penciller: Gary Frank
Inker: Jon Sibal
DC
Released: January 27, 2010





So, this is a Superman comic, right? Superman is on the cover. The title is Superman: Secret Origin. Open it up to almost any page and you will find Superman or be near a page graced by Superman. This is a Superman comic, and a very good one, too, let's get that out of the way now. After reading it, however, I find myself not wanting to write about Superman, but about the character this comic seems to really be about, the one and only, world-famous intrepid reporter Lois Lane. I want to write about Lois.

I want to write about Lois Lane, specifically, the Lois we find in this issue, written by Mr. Johns and drawn by Mr. Frank and Mr. Sibal. When first we come upon our diligent journo, she is ensconced in cubicle, hunched over keyboard, tapping (no doubt, pounding) out an article, showing only a modicum of tolerance for the horde of colleagues that have descended around her asking ridiculous questions about this flying man that has arrived in Metropolis. Her desk contains the remnants of old take-out lunches, crumpled up papers, and post-it notes scribbled with reminders for her to pick up fish food and call her cousin. She is consumed, passionate, focused on the task at hand, and she suffers fools only as much as she has to, and barely then. She is at work to work. Lois is not one for hanging by the water-cooler discussing last nights episode of 'Idol'. She doesn't care if so-and-so in the mail room is dating what's-her-name in accounting, and she doesn't care if you care. She doesn't care about your social life. She barely has one of her own. This is Lois Lane at work.

The other aspect of this issues' portrayal of Ms. Lane that intrigued was how she was drawn. This is a comic, after all, and half the story, if not a majority of it, is told through the visual cues we are given by the creators. The artist on this book, Gary Frank, possesses a strong grasp of characterization and human anatomy, and he uses these gifts to bring to fruition a complete person on the page. He draws Lois as a beautiful woman, but it is a beauty that is strong, solid, and forceful, not soft or overwhelmingly twee. There is no glow radiating off of his Lois Lane, no artificial sweeteners to gloss over the realness of this woman. She is bold of expression and powerful in her movements. She is stylish in that way that big-city women in professional careers can be stylish, if they don't over-think matters. She is in a simple long-sleeve shift dress, her only accessories a pair of plain stud earrings and a plain brown leather slouch handbag. No jangly bracelets or strings of complicated necklaces to get in the way. No "It" bag with oversized logo adornments or horse-bits or grosgrain trim. This outfit took her all of two minutes to throw on. Her hair? Well, it's there on her head, falling in slightly askew flat ribbons of raven around her face, puddling into odd curls at her shoulders, her ears poking out at the sides, cutting through the black like shark's fins. If she looks in the mirror at all at any point in the day would be surprising, and somewhat disappointing. This Lois Lane is most attractive because her effortless beauty is not born out of genetic luck, but born out of her own intelligence and complete lack of self-consciousness.

Oh, that's right. Superman. Yeah, he's in this issue, too. He flies. He punches. He looks great in blue and red. It's classic Superman and it feels right, especially since this is the only comic bearing his name on the shelves right now that actually features the man himself. Pity that DC doesn't seem to get that this is the kind of Superman comic we really need more of. This is the classic cast of characters, reunited, and it feels so good. The gang's all here; Perry White, Jimmy Olsen, Clark Kent, some guy in a cape with his underwear on the outside of his clothes, and this one woman, this one amazing, stunning, remarkable woman, named Lois Lane. To paraphrase Marlene Dietrich, I'm falling in love again, never wanted to, but I can't help it.
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Review: Adventure Comics #6

Adventure Comics #6

Writer: Geoff Johns
Artist: Francis Manapul
Colorist: Brian Buccellato
DC
Released: January 13, 2009





The dynamic between Superman and Lex Luthor is one of Good vs. Evil. For their relationship to be this black and white, both characters would have to fit these molds perfectly. Superman seems to be the epitome of truth and justice, always operating from a perspective of fairness. From his beginnings Superman was the avenger and protector of the working-class, the poor and down-trodden, pummeling away at the rich fat-cat white collars, corrupt bankers, and bought politicians. As the comics medium grew, and so too, his powers, Superman's enemies became intergalactic and universal threats, foes seemingly worthy of his almighty powers. Superman became a god walking on Earth and needed adversaries that could match or even exceed him. Enter Brainiac, Darkseid, Mongul, and the like. But the top of this list, the very peak of this villainous mountain-top remains one being; the man known as Lex Luthor.

So, if Superman is the Good of our equation, and he fits that half of the act seamlessly, then Lex must fit the Evil half as readily, as well. There must be no gray area with Luthor, no moment where we feel empathy for him, potentially even understand his motives. He must be evil, incarnate. Adventure Comics #6 goes a long way to proving this theory. We are treated to a Luthor who is the epitome of arrogance, who subscribes to his own sense of superiority so wholeheartedly, that it allows him to act with unimpeded cruelty. He can place a loaded gun against the head of his own niece as easily as take a sip of tea, and never will he feel unjustified in any and all of his actions. He is completely Superman's opposite. Superman is the God who walks with man, who seeks to understand humanity, who lives as a man with a nine-to-five job and a wife. He seeks not to subjugate, never to rule, never to lord, never to be seen as a God, only a light of hope. Lex Luthor is a man who sees himself as a God, with the power to heal, to save, to cure, and to also do none of those things if he feels slighted. He is a man playing the role of the malevolent and fickle God who plays with life out of sheer spectacle and force of his own power.

Like any god, Luthor wishes to be the people's only God, and so his hatred of Superman is simple; he hates him because he exists. All dictators and rulers throughout history have destroyed those they saw as threats to their power. Zeus killed all of the sons that were bore to him for fear they would grow to overthrow their father. Luthor claims to want to save humanity, to cure hunger and disease, and to bring peace to the world, but the price must be absolute worship. Humanity must accept him as their one and only true savior. There is no room on the mountaintop for anyone else. Only one cross can hang in everyone's living room.

What allows Lex Luthor to stand out as the absolute high-water mark of villainy in the Superman Universe is his humanity. Lex is a man, not some Fourth World god or intergalactic demon or brain interactive concept floating around space. He is a man and a villain we, unfortunately, recognize, because we see Lex Luthor everyday in our world, in our history books and in our newspapers. From the tyrannical leaders of the ancient worlds, such as the Ceasars of Rome or Khans of the East, to the modern empire builders of Hitler, Mussolini, and Stalin, and on up to Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, history is scattered with the men who saw themselves as ultimate rulers who held the key to peace and prosperity, if only they could be allowed to rule absolutely. If warfare and genocide were part of the package, so be it, for that was the cost of doing business if humanity was to see its way towards true order. There is nothing Luthor will not do to bring himself to absolute power. Murder is nothing. Pain, cruelty, the destruction of lives, the crushing of hopes. The cost of doing business.

This issue displays Luthor for the horrific man he truly is. When faced with the opportunity to use his intellectual gifts to cure his own sister from a severely debilitating ailment that has escaped proper diagnosis and therefore left medical science with only shots in the dark, he does so. He produces a cure from a long list of rare ingredients that he forces Superboy to procure for him. He cure his sister, allowing her to walk once more, to talk once more, to hold her daughter in her arms. Then, he takes it away. He destroys his own work, and leaves his sister once again crippled and ill. The demonstration of power, of superior intellect was all that mattered. It was never his intention to cure his sister, to end her suffering. She was merely the rabbit he pulled out of his top hat to show the audience that it could be done. Trick over, the rabbit is useless.

This is a surprisingly sad story to be wrapped in such a bright and colorful package, complete with whimsical cover of Superboy and Krypto the Super-Dog being chased by a Tyrannosaurus Rex, Superboy yelling out "Wait for me!" in retro-cover word balloon. This is Adventure Comics, after all, and yet the bulk of the story takes place in a broken-down kitchen in a small family home. Geoff Johns manages to bring the adventure in small moments, single panels of playfulness where we see Superboy in Atlantis or Paradise Island collecting ingredients for this secret cure. He balances this with the stronger moments of the book, the intimate moments back in the family kitchen where we are shown glimpses of Luthors compassion, glimpses that turn out to be false ghosts. Key to all of this is Francis Manapul who provides stunning art and layouts for this issue. There are no trapezoidal panels, no overlapping oblong shapes, only simple squares and rectangles laid out in a careful sequence, bordered by clean white. The action and emotion is allowed room to breathe, and we are allowed to be carried along with it, without the distractions of confusing panel flow. Manapul's choices are all spot-on as he shows us the pregnant stillness of the moment through leaves being crushed into hot water; the unbridled joy of a daughter's love for her newly cured mother in her bright, expressive eyes; and the smugness in the furrowed brow of a megalomanic who wields the power to save like it's a weapon.

It has long been alluded to in the comics that Lex Luthor could do just this very thing, that he could cure disease and truly save humanity, if only he would put aside his petty jealousy, his anger, his incredibly inflated ego, and stop wasting his talents on the goal of destroying Superman. In Adventure Comics #6, we are shown explicitly that this is, in fact, true, and it becomes all the more heartbreaking. All these years, all the suffering that could have been alleviated, all the death that could have been avoided, all the pain that could have been healed, is shown to us in one small intimate story. He has held the power to save and has chosen not to use it. To hold the cure for a disease and to not share that with a suffering world, is to participate in genocide as explicitly as any maniacal ruler in history. This is what makes Luthor the most horrifying villain of all, more so than Brainiac or Mongul. Those characters are aliens, figments of imagination, products of sci-fi hallucinations. Luthor is Pol Pot is Saddam Hussein is Genghis Khan. He is pure Evil, and only pure Good will defeat him.
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Review: Blackest Night Wonder Woman #2 (of 3)

Blackest Night Wonder Woman #2 (of 3)

Writer: Greg Rucka
Pencillers: Nicola Scott & Eduardo Pansica
Inkers: Jonathan Glapion & Eber Ferreira
DC
Released: January 6, 2009





Art is an amazing thing. One can dislike something but enjoy it, seemingly simultaneously. One can see that something is manipulative, and yet feel fortunate to be of a mind to be manipulated by something so worthy. One can be played with, used, cajoled by a piece of writing, have buttons pushed, and then feel an overwhelming need to thank the creators for the pleasure. If Greg Rucka were my drill sergeant, I would be a grateful soldier today. Sir, thank you, Sir! May I have another! Huah!

Blackest Night Wonder Woman #2 is an absolute pleasure to read. It is a trashy piece of pulp titillation that is also a shockingly poetic piece of superhero romanticism. It's a Girl-Fight comic full of cleavage, buttocks, thighs, splattered with blood and draped with double-entendre, that also never loses focus on the true emotional plight of the combatants. It's a horror comic with heart-eating zombies ripping open chests with tacky one-liners, and it's a romance comic of two star-crossed heroes, and it's a fetish fantasy fit for a night out in Berlin. It's almost 70 years of 4-color pulpy goodness packed into 30 pages, and it's an event tie-in that actually TIES IN to the main book by adding depth to a plot point that is otherwise given only a few panels. All for only $2.99. That's the modern-day equivalent of 10¢, don't you know.

There will always be those readers who will find physical violence between women portrayed in the vivid-color fantasy world of comics to be inherently exploitative. The title-bout match here between Black Lantern Wonder Woman and Mera is explicit and brutal, and there is no denying that the costumes, especially the skin-tight green scaly unitard worn by Queen of the Sea Mera, are meant to accentuate the toned and heightened physical female form. These things, however, I do not deem to be inherently exploitative, not strictly on their own. Superhero comics have always been a medium that stressed the celebration of peak physical condition. Jerry Siegal and Joe Shuster created SUPERman, after all. They didn't create REALISTICman or BODY-ACCEPTANCEman. They were two skinny kids who created their vision of an absolute perfect physical male specimen, dressed him in a costume that would show off every rippling muscle, and we have been running copies off their blueprint ever since. Art celebrates, it exaggerates, it pushes an agenda, and here, it gives us two incredibly hot babes brawling off a pier, falling into the water like Alexis and Krystal Carrington falling into the family pool. I choose to see nothing wrong with this, and instead, to revel in it's absolute joyous perfection.

This issue also gives us complete insight into the transformation of Wonder Woman from Black Lantern into a Star Sapphire, a transformation shown briefly in Blackest Night #6. In that issue, we learn that the violet ring of the Star Sapphires must be accepted by the person chosen, for it, like love, cannot force itself onto someone. We see our Princess Diana struggling to make that choice and cast off her ring of death. We see here what exactly is happening inside her mind as this struggle takes place. She has taken refuge inside a hallucination created for her by the goddess of love Aphrodite, who has stepped in to insure that Diana is not overtaken by darkness. In this illusory world, Wonder Woman acts out her Black Lantern bloodlust by killing her sisters. Then, as she stands over her own mother, unable to stop herself as she readies to strike the deathblow, she is saved from herself, saved from being completely possessed by this evil that has caused her to kill those she loves. She is saved by a bat.

What could be more fitting, really, than to be saved by the one man who, too, was saved by his greatest fear, who too had his entire life brought into focus one sad bloody evening when a wayward bat flew into his window? Now, Bruce Wayne, in full classic Batman regalia flies in to save a woman he obviously loves. Funny thing, though, Bruce is dead. So what Diana is seeing here is only a figment of her imagination. She and Bruce grasp each other around the neck in some form of violent waltz, literally holding each other at arm's length. As the Star Sapphire ring of violet love flies closer and closer to our heroine, she succumbs to her true feelings and these two scarred and sad superheroes share a passionate kiss. It's a kiss so powerful that it returns the color to Diana's skin, brings the golden luster back to her tiara and chest plate, brings back the stars that emblazon her suit. It is a kiss that makes her Wonder Woman.

What is beautiful about this is that it is not an example of a damsel in distress being rescued by a knight in black armor. Bruce is dead, he's not really here, this kiss is not really physically happening. This is all in Wonder Woman's mind. What is rescuing her is the power of pure true love, and when that power manifests itself into a seemingly tangible form, that form looks an awful lot like Bruce Wayne.

It is undeniable, too, that this moment is hot. It is a fantasy fetishists wet-dream, starring two of the more fetish-y heroes of the DCU. Batman dressed in black cape and cowl gripping Diana's arms tightly with his strong hands encased in black leather gloves, Wonder Woman in her golden armor with lasso hung at her hip, her mass of raven curls flowing around her. It's brazenly sexual and unapologetically so, and rightfully so on both counts. These are two characters who seemingly represent two opposites of the hero spectrum, coming together in a intimately physical way. This is the duality of sex and love manifested in capes and masks. It's also a hot guy and a hot gal dressed in bondage gear gettin' it on. Therapists could have a field day.

It would be a cynic who could argue that this issue is all just exploitative catfights and make-out sessions, written solely for the arousal of a base, and debased, readership. If it were only this, I would still heartily defend it, for there is nothing wrong with the base pleasures in life, and there is nothing wrong with a work of art fashioned to fulfill these said pleasures. Truth be told, a strong case could be made that this issue is just that, with some ham-fisted overwrought dialogue tacked on to give the proceedings an emotional weight it does not deserve. This argument, ultimately, carries no water, though. These characters are feeling this pain and this heartbreak and we are feeling it along with them; it is real and on the page, not just in the reader's mind as some moral rationalization. If the emotional core of this story is told with a hard visceral edge it's because Rucka understands that sometimes you have to break the skin to get all the medicine in. All's fair in love and war, never more true than when love is war.
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Review: Blackest Night #6

Blackest Night #6 (of 8)

Writer: Geoff Johns
Penciller: Ivan Reis
Inkers: Oclair Albert & Joe Prado
DC
Released: December 30, 2009





I have a strong feeling that when all of this is dead and buried, finding a cheap apartment or home in Coast City is going to be quite the easy task. After suffering the brunt of the ravages of the Sinestro Corps War, and now being the absolute epicenter for the ultimate zombie takeover of Earth, I can't imagine that anyone would ever feel safe in Coast City again. Oh, and did everyone remember that the entire city at one time had been completely annihilated by a monstrous and indestructible cyborg? Gotham City is a paradise by comparison.

Perhaps I'm missing the point to focus on something such as housing futures in the midst of total Earth decimation, but I don't think so. The sky crackles with the war of multi-colored light, shafts and beams of red, green, purple, and blue shear through the darkness, cutting through the slimy muck of the flying undead, sending the ghastly entrails spilling out onto the streets of what was once a coastal paradise. How can all of this possibly end well, even if it ends in heroic success? Even if the assorted Lantern Corps band together towards ultimate victory over the villainy of complete darkness, how can anything ever be sunshine again? How can a city survive such as this?

From it's first issue on, Blackest Night has been absolute comic book excess; the opening panels showing The Black Hand lasciviously licking the exhumed skull of Bruce Wayne; the undead Aquaman using his telepathic powers to summon a bloody shark attack; an endless succession of sharply-clawed hands held aloft with a still-beating human heart, freshly ripped from out a poor innocent by-stander, clenched in their grasps; this is a book drenched in the wet stuff of eviscerated life. It's excessive in the way comics can be excessive, in bold vivid colors, in a safe, neat, saddle-stapled package. Nestled in its bag-and-board, laying across the desk, an issue of Blackest Night looks so harmless, so innocent, like a thin perfect rectangle of inky joy. Then, inside, each page reeks with gore, violence, tears, the cries of pain, the throes of death, and the mayhem of unbridled chaos, all above the streets of the "city without fear". It's epic in it's excess, a throwback to horror comics of the 1950's and 60's. The only thing missing, really, are the covers featuring headless women and bloody ax-blades.

There is hope left for our heroes, and this issue provides one of the best moments of the whole series, as the duplicated rings of the various lantern corps seek out and find new recruits to "deputize" for the cause. We are treated to a vision of Blue Lantern Flash and Star Sapphire Wonder Woman, along with a Red Lantern Mera and Orange Lantern Lex Luthor. These are surprisingly powerful and joyful re-imaginings of these characters; iconic figures played with like toys, but with the built-in fail-safe of having these changes last only 24-hours, like Superhero-Cinderellas at a macabre fancy-dress ball. It's excess in the opposite extreme of all the gore; this is fantasy played out to it's most awe-shucks conclusion. I found myself unable to take my eyes off of the final double-page reveal of the new recruits. It's an utterly ridiculous moment, completely ludicrous, and yet so gleefully perfect and made even more so because of its ridiculousness.

For now, the task in front of these costumed heroes seems to be in stopping death itself; all-powerful, all-consuming death; the one thing that will take us all, the one thing that comes for everyone. Except, it doesn't. Superman has cheated death, as has Green Lantern Hal Jordan, and Barry Allen, and Wonder Woman, and Oliver Queen, and a seemingly endless list of A and B-list characters scattered throughout DCU continuity. For them, death was merely a temporary plot point on the road to re-boot. Even Bruce Wayne lives on, lost somewhere in time, scratching bat-symbols into cave walls. Just like Coast City, these men and women are completely destroyed, run through by the sword of editorial experimentation, or simply thrown away onto the fiery heap of couldn't-care-less. Then, their 24-hour purgatory ends, the clock strikes midnight, the carriages and horses return to pumpkins and mice, and providence shines from high above, from an office in Manhattan; lo and behold, they rise again. Superman lives! Green Lantern and Flash are "rebirthed"! Coast City is open for business! Call our agent for details on this amazing property!
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Moments of the Year: Phonogram-The Singles Club #6 (of 7)

Hey there readers of Desperate Worlds. Boy, we sure do have fun here reviewing and writing about our favorite (and not-so-favorite) comics published by that venerable and historic publisher, DC Comics. But, you know, like most of you, I don't JUST read DCU books, I read from a plethora of publishers, and sometimes, I want to write about those, too.

Here, a link to the full article on my other blog, peopleareobjects. There you will find my next MOMENT OF THE YEAR!, Phonogram: The Singles Club #6 (of 7).

And while you're there, why not stay for awhile and read some of my other work. You don't read just one type of comic. Why read just one type of blog?

Thank you from your friends at peopleareobjects and Desperate Worlds.

Sincerely,
Ramon Gamboa
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Phonogram: The Singles Club #6 (of 7) written by Kieron Gillen, with art by Jamie McKelvie and Julie Scheele, was released on December 9, 2009 by Image Comics.

Moments of the Year: Green Lantern #43

There are times when the imagination will suffice. When the renderings in one's mind of that which is only alluded to will be stronger than anything that could be shown. This happens when the romantic leads passionately embrace and fall into each others arms, and the camera pans slowly away from them towards the curtains billowing in the breeze of an open window. This happens when the gunman raises his pistol at his victim's head, and the editor cuts us back to the establishing shot, leaving us only with the sound of the gunshot to paint us the picture of the gruesomeness inside. Or, this happens when a writer and artist decide to tell the terrifying account of a family held hostage, and do it from the blindfolded point-of-view of a child (see yesterdays MOTY: Detective Comics #858) Then there are times when the picture must be put before us, when we must be confronted with the unvarnished reality. This is Green Lantern #43.

In actuality, this is William Hand #1, or Blackest Night #-1, since the titular hero makes only a brief cameo appearance in a few flashbacks. This issue belongs to the boy who shall become the embodiment of walking death, the Black Hand. Filled with an "absolute darkness" that is believed to be possessing him, the young Hand begins to hear voices that speak to him about his greater destiny, to be the one who shall extinguish the light of all life. He starts simply enough, like many serial killers, with small animals that he then stuffs and mounts around his room and the family home. Considering the family business is a mortuary, and the animals seem to be confined to small woodland birds and game, it is viewed as a harmless and transitory fascination, one to be observed but not overly worried about. Then the family dog falls victim, and a therapist is brought in. Soon, the cosmic war between good and evil, light and dark, is brought crashing into his lap, and his odd quirks and obsessions focus sharply into a lifestyle.

Then William comes face to face with the worst of all nightmares: he falls prey to 70 years of DCU continuity. All at once, they flood him, overwhelm him, the deaths and resurrections, invasions and possessions, the editorial experiments and reboot revisionism. It is too much for anyone to bear, and under the strain, William finally understands what must be done. He must wipe the slate clean so that there may be true peace. He must become the ultimate editor-in-chief.

He starts at home, with the killing of his family, and then the taking of his own life. The moment of his suicide is displayed over two gratuitous pages, the first showing the actual instant of his brains exiting his skull. He faces us, with eyes bulging, lips parted and teeth gnashed in reflexive shock and pain. The left side of his head has blown open like a breached airplane fuselage, and out spews the viscous matter of brain and blood, cast over in the green light of the cosmic weapon he has used for the task. This is the very instant of death, the split-second fine-line separating life and the unknown. The following page shows his fall to the floor and his lifeless body lay there in a widening pool of blood, glistening like the high-polish sheen of a candied apple. For all the gore and bluster of the moment, for all the meticulous artistic detail, it is presented with no real exploitative devices; no sound effects, no exaggerative gesticulations. It is composed matter-of-factly. He shoots himself. He falls to the floor. He bleeds. It's a suicide. It needs no artificial dressing.

The banner atop this issue proclaims it as the "Prologue" to Blackest Night, and there really can be no better foreshadowing of the horror, brutality, and terrorizing mayhem that is to befall the DCU than this moment here. In an odd way, too, it is a throwback to an earlier time in comics, an ironically more innocent age before comics codes, when the medium was rife with scenes of shocking exploitation, gore, and sex. In the 1940's and '50's, it was all done out of unchecked freedom, often with a wink and tongue planted firmly in cheek. It was all a dark joke, sold in a disposable package for a dime. Today, the horror is back and the dead have risen, and they are dripping blood and eating hearts, and doing so in spectacular fashion, in bold full-spread pages, and in colors never before dreamed by the originators of the craft. It's not a joke anymore. It's modern comics storytelling, and sometimes, you just have to show the goods.
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Green Lantern #43 written by Geoff Johns, with art by Doug Mahnke and Christian Alamy was released on July 8, 2009 by DC Comics. 
Originally reviewed on July 13, 2009. 

Moments of the Year: Detective Comics #858

J.H. Williams III, in possession of an endless arsenal of artistic styles and imagination, is one of the most visually inventive artists working in comics today. Yet his most striking single page this entire year is one composed entirely in black.

Page 18 of Detective Comics #858 is pure blackness, segmented into a 12 panel grid. There are no images on the page, only the sound of hostages straining at their bonds, blindly calling out for each other from underneath their burlap hoods. There are the sounds of random movement, slow, from various directions. Panel 2 opens up to the top page bleed, it's complete emptiness stretching out into an infinite abyss. Then comes the final cries of a mother, calling the names of her two daughters, and then the sound of one single gunshot, then the dull thump of a slumping lifeless body. Panel 9 opens out to the left page bleed, it's silent emptiness slowly being intruded by the faint mirage of distant light. Suddenly, the last three panels shake and rattle with the thunder of stomping boots and the crack of gunfire, the urgent military jargon of operational rescue.

For being completely without drawn images, this is a page that so beautifully demonstrates the visual power of the comics medium, as well as its power to control and segment the readers sense of place and time. What exactly is happening in each panel? What does each sound effect correspond to, a jostled chair, a punch, the firing pin of a gun being cocked? How long does this entire scene last? How much time is represented by the blank and open panels? By segmenting the page into equal panels does that mean each represents an equal amount of time, and therefore, do the open panels represent longer, more amorphous beats?

This is a writer's page, as well, and it is to Greg Rucka's immense credit that he gives us a scene such as this, without exploitation or unnecessary dramatic affectations. He knows the confusion in our minds as we attempt to fit these pieces of noise and lettering, of wobbly and jagged word balloons, together into a coherent structure is what adds to the horror of the scene. He gives the story over to us to fill in the images in our minds, and what we come up with is all the more heartbreaking and terrifying for being kept in imagination.

I have read this page repeatedly, at differing speeds, allowing for longer or shorter pauses, allowing the lettering choices to color the inflections of my readings, and it is always a powerful and telling experience, and one that still remains sadly just out of reach. The answers to all of the questions this page poses, about time and structure, about the specifics of what is happening to the characters in the scene, are still elusive. It is a perfect interpretation of how terrifying moments in life can never be fully pieced together or understood. It is the shock, and the emotional rush that is remembered. Rucka and Williams have given us perhaps the most perfect single page example of what the comics medium can accomplish that no other medium can. They have given us a seemingly blank page and shown it to be the most difficult thing to read.
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Detective Comics #858 written by Greg Rucka, with art by J.H. Williams III and color by Dave Stewart, was released on October 28, 2009 by DC comics.

Moments of the Year: Madame Xanadu #7

She is of the order of the ancient folk, and bears a name she uses not anymore, a name known by no one outside of but a few other immortals and Death, herself. To whatever world she finds herself in, she is but a "spiritualist", a tarot card reader, a parlor amusement. She is a seer, and a true mage, and virtually immortal. Above all, she is a woman with a deep compassion for life, a surprising characteristic for someone who seemingly fears not the end of her own. The woman is Madame Xanadu, and she is the hero of this story.

Madame Xanadu #7 sees our heroine in the middle of a hysterical London, besieged by the terror of a serial killer, one who will come to be known as Jack the Ripper. As she searches the streets at night for clues to stop these killings, Madame comes upon a small beggar child, a young girl in tattered apron and top hat, one with whom she is apparently acquainted with. The exchange between them is one that demonstrates the depths of compassion at the center of this magical woman, as she uses her millennia of learned experience for the simple trick of conjuring up a simple piece of fruit for the child. The beauty of this scene comes in the powerful expressions that grace this woman and child as they hunch over the torn upturned top hat; the unbridled joy and anxious anticipation on the face of the little girl is heartbreaking when one understands the poverty with which she is besotted; the serious scrunch of concentration with which Madame contorts her face an indication of the playful spirit that bubbles inside her.

This is a touchingly rending scene, and also one that is important for more than just the purpose of characterization. For, truth be told, there are other moments throughout the first six issues of Madame Xanadu that serve to show our protagonist as the sensitive and empathetic hero, notably her attempts to save a sickened and imprisoned Marie Antionette, and her rescue of a court consort from rapists during her time with the Kublai Khan. However, those moments are propelled by other factors, other variables, perhaps even slight self-consciousness and ego. This moment, in this dirty soot-covered alley in Whitechapel, with this innocent street urchin asking for help with smeared cheeks and eyes as big as dinner plates, we see a woman who has lived thousands of years without a family of her own, show us what might have been for her in some other form, in some other life. It is pure maternal tenderness.

It is one page out of hundreds, one scene out of hundreds. It is one page ensconced in an issue covered in blood and horror. It is one moment of absolute childish splendour, a showcase for the positive power adults may hold over little children; a power to dazzle, to thrill, to bring peace and happiness, and to do so with little more than a flourish of a hand, a sincere word of kindness, and a true heart filled with playfulness and love.
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Madame Xanadu #7 written by Matt Wagner, with art by Amy Reeder Hadley and Richard Friend was released on January 2, 2009 by DC Comics' Vertigo imprint. Madame Xanadu: Disenchanted, collecting the first ten issues of the monthly series, was released on July 15, 2009, also by DC/Vertigo.