Ed and Sarah Talk About Comics, Part Two!

Ed was waaaay more proactive about getting on top of his reading list this past week, so let's start off with his thoughts on Swamp Thing #1 (which chronicles Alec Holland's recovery from the nightmare of thinking he was ACTUALLY Swamp Thing), Animal Man #1 (in which Buddy Baker struggles with how to be a hero and a family man, while finding out his daughter can do something mega-creepy) and Action Comics #1 (during which Superman gets chased by cops, forces a confession out of a crook and generally kicks butt before being ingeniously handed his own butt by none other than Lex Luthor).

Ed's Thoughts:

Alright. So i stopped by my local comic store and picked up three of the new re-launches. I probably wouldn't have picked up so many, but Challengers (best comic store in chicago, yeah?) offered a B1G1 offer with Justice League, so... free comics.

Let's break it down:

Swamp Thing #1: I'm not super familiar with Swamp Thing. I've only just started working my way through Alan Moore's run, and really, my knowledge of the character is sorely lacking. That being said, I thought this was a hell of a fun ride. Scott Snyder's never been one to shy away from gore, but he's got a great grasp on how to use it effectively, and how to use violence to serve the story. The creepy stuff in here works great, but I think the best parts are the character building with Alec. He comes off as very smart, very educated, but also humbled by his experiences, and you get the sense that he's been changed by his past. I'm really excited to see where this goes, especially since they seem to be building to a semi-crossover with....

Animal Man #1: This was fantastic and creepy and great. Buddy has always been a favorite of mine, and it's lovely to see him get another chance at a starring role. It's also good to see that Jeff Lemire understands what makes the character interesting, and that's his family. Buddy's family is sketched out really well, and that allows the story the extra emotional oomph it needs to succeed. It's so nice to see an author realize that a character's supporting cast aren't an albatross.

The direction of these two books makes me wonder about the future of the Vertigo imprint, as both of them seem like they would fit in quite nicely there. The DC universe is getting more horror-driven, it seems. (Not "darker." Batman's been plenty fucking dark for awhile, and from what I've heard about Detective #1, it's only going to get worse. Ugh.)

Action Comics #1: This was just so much fun. This legitimately felt like a fresh, new take on Superman/Clark, and I really enjoyed it. His sense of youthful brashness, his landlady bugging him for rent, "Always one of you wants to test what The Daily Planet says about me, huh?", all just so joyous. Then the transition from fun and games to the fury at civilian damage, and the ending, oh the ending. I loved this comic.

Question: I'm unsure how Clark knew the train was in trouble? That link was not especially clear to me. Ah well.

Sarah's Response to Ed:

Swamp Thing 1: I don't know much about Swamp Thing, either, but I think Scott Synder wraps everything together in a nice package here. When the story opens up, we learn everything we need to know about the character through a lovely conversation with Superman, and we get to see how he's physically struggling with the plant life that's clawing at him to return to being Swamp Thing ... or so we think!

I think it's such an amazing set-up to have a man conflicted about what he can do -- and having that man literally be chased down by the forces of nature is just icing on the proverbial cake. Seriously, when I think about what makes comics have a grand scope, it's ideas like this, where one man can save the world, but he has no clue what his past is or what his abilities are, yet the world is LITERALLY calling out to him to do something, i.e., to let vegetation choke the planet. Talk about stakes! And just when he's about to give the world what he thinks it wants (his crazy plant-growing formula), boom, there's Swamp Thing to stop him. That's a hell of a story to start us off with!

I'm really excited to follow this, not just because the story is so well put-together, but because I care about Alec Holland as a person, and the artwork goes a long way towards grabbing my interest. The creation of the tornado that dismantles and reassembles a dead mastodon, plus the opening sequences where fish, birds and bats are dying around Aquaman, Superman and Batman -- that is amazing work by Yanick Paquette.

Animal Man 1: I have also never read Animal Man before (so I guess this drawing new readers thing might be working to some degree, eh?). But I liked his turn in 52, and I love the importance of Buddy's family to him. It reminds me a bit of what The Flash used to be, where the people grounding our lead character were just as loveable and had high stakes in all the adventures surrounding the hero. I've never read anything by Jeff Lemire before, so the extra weirdness of a dude walking around as a red vein monster really freaked me out. To the point where I might be a little bit too scared to see where this story is going. But dang it, I wanna know what's going on with Buddy's little girl! So Lemire's probably got me for the next issue.

What also has me is the art. Check out those crazy wide panels, with lots of empty space and tans and beiges dominating the landscape, with Buddy's blue uniform popping off the page when it appears. So strange and otherworldly.

I'm not sure I know what the heck is happening in this comic, or with this nightmare villain. But that doesn't bother me. I know what's in danger, and I'm hoping Buddy will figure out how to fight against it.

Action Comics 1: This was a fun, fun, economical comic. A lot of people accuse Morrison of being high-concept and confusing. Sometimes that caaaaan be true, depending on how much you enjoy the crazy things he does. But people also forget what a solid storyteller he is. In this short 22 pages, he introduces us to a new Superman, introduces the supporting cast, has Clark show up for a bit and then speeds into our villains' brains, one of whom (let's be real; we all knew it was gonna be Lex Luthor) has been working to undermine our hero the entire issue. But we don't realize how UNTIL THE ISSUE'S VERY LAST PAGE!

This Superman is a revamp of the Superman Siegel and Shuster created, with the irony of a god fighting for the common man stripped away. Which is good, because I believe the need to be ironic about Supes and what he can do and why he does it -- well, those are all the things that have hurt the character over the years. This guy is Clark in that he's a farmer's son; he wears a cape AND jeans. He's Superman because he's a badass,

That bit we get with Clark talking to his landlord proves how scary Superman is, going after seemingly every wrongdoer with the pleasure of an omnipotent being. What's a regular person supposed to do with a guy who peeks through walls to see if you're behaving? Sure, he's a champion of the people, but if you step outta line, angry Superman will hop into your apartment and kick the crap out of you.

This Golden Age version of Superman is one I've appreciated more on an intellectual level, though he makes an appearance in Mark Waid's Bithright every once in a while (three words: scary laser eyes). Superman's powers and what he does with them will clearly make this an action-packed book, and one that showcases what this rougher version of the character is capable of. I dig that.

P.S.: I really had a hard time forging a connection of Morrison's here revolving around the train crash. I think Superman was supposed to think that the train tracks were faulty because the guy he forced to confess at the top of issue had paid for cheap labor to build them shoddily. And then it turned out that Lex had planted a bomb to blow the bridge? So Superman was both right and wrong about sensing danger. I dunno. Morrison doesn't always make small time jumps between panels work. And while Rags Morales is an amazing artist, I wonder if maybe he could have telegraphed this connection somehow?

Ed and I also read Batgirl #1 and were so turned off by its violence and the erasing of Barbara Gordon's disability, we found we didn't have much to say about it. We also read Stormwatch #1, but felt kinda eh about it. Certainly, I wouldn't not recommend it. I would simply say, know your The Authority, because it's hard to track the characters.

Also, if they don't make Apollo and Midnighter a homosexual couple now that they're operating in a mainstream book, there will be angry letters written by myself to DC Comics.

The Death of the Marriage of Superman, Followed By the De-Humanization of Clark Kent

Everyone brace yourselves. Clark Kent and I come bearing front-page news.

It's official. Our hero and Lois Lane will no longer be an item come September.

The majority of comics readers I know had already taken DC's half-hearted plan to "examine" the Kent-Lane marriage to mean the two would be divorced by some catastrophic event or through the unfathomable rewinding of time. I'd joined this clan of naysayers pretty much immediately, but I have to admit I nurtured a tiny glow of hope in my heart. I hoped that there might be ONE book among the wandering timeline of books DC's releasing -- most documenting the five-year rise of heroes before starting them on their regular monthly adventures -- where the two might bask in wedded bliss.

But it's not to be. And for the following reasons, documented at Newsrama in quotes and such, but broken down more directly in the following points (http://www.newsarama.com/comics/dcnu-didio-lee-explain-superman-changes-110718.html):

1) Dissolving the marriage makes Superman more "accessible," according to artist and Co-Publisher Jim Lee. Actually, it is one of the many items within his life being vanished for the sake of simplifying his story (benefits: giving readers an uncomplicated starting point to jump onto, and allowing writers to center the drama of their stories on a man desperate for companionship). Clark's Earth parents, the "kindly couple" Jonathan and Martha Kent, are being killed off early in his life, doubling his tragedy as he begins to develop superpowers. The result? An alien completely isolated from the human experience must find his way in the world. (Why this is not a new story idea is something I'll return to.) However, in various series, Superman will either hone his powers, join the Justice League, develop his costume, or struggle with forming relationships while his chief rival at the Daily Planet, Lois Lane, deals with having a boyfriend. (Barf.)

2) DC believes marriage means being "settled" and offers fewer story ideas to play with; better to be single, or so insinuates Lee. "If you have a life partner, you always have someone to rely on. So from a story conflict point of view, it makes for a less dramatic story. I think a lot of writers can agree that one of the most dynamic periods of Superman's history was that period where there was a love triangle between Clark Kent, Lois Lane and Superman." But in returning to the love triangle of yesteryear, Lee points out pioneering Superman writer Grant Morrison will be introducing new elements into the mythos that will make these warring identities and relationships more accessible to a modern reader. How? I have no idea. I assume Lois' boyfriend has something to do with it.

3) The writers at DC want to explore Superman as an alien, not as Clark Kent. If he's married, if he understands his place in the world, if he sees himself as just another person among many, then what is there left to explore in the character?

4) The ultimate desire in this reboot is to showcase Superman as he comes into his own, unmarried; this means many of the stories being told in Action Comics and Justice League will take place five years in the past, where Superman struggles to find others like him and to deal with those that aren't. In order to hit the ground running, we need to see a hero at his earliest point, at his most vulnerable, argue the Co-Publishers. Meanwhile, Superman the comic series, where he'll work at the Daily Planet, will take place in the present and deal with Lois.

Now in response to these justifications, I want to showcase where this reboot is missing the boat, or at least some of the more obvious and interesting ideas surrounding the character:

1) Superman can hear things happening halfway around the world. He can x-ray your body with his eyes. A rock can kill him. He's never been like us, and the real tension in his character lies not in his immediate acceptance of his human identity but in his adoption of it. He's only Clark Kent as much as the immigrants who came to this country in the 1800s and 1900s were Americans; they abandoned their traditions and even last names in order to fit into American society. They left their Old World behind, and there had to be guilt or at least missteps that are interesting to research. Doesn't Superman have anything like that? This would be a fresh angle to explore, if that's what you're worried about, DC -- as opposed to the same-old, same-old comics struggle of learning how to control your powers. I don't have powers, I don't care how you control yours. I do however care about how you navigate your social obligations, and Superman would have issues doing this in certain jams -- whether ordering coffee incorrectly or yearning to honor a dead society he knows little about.

You're right that Clark being Clark isn't interesting. Your implication that being Clark and Superman at the same time isn't possible or interesting is off the mark as well, though.

To me, the most interesting stories in Superman lore, or at least cinematically and television-wise, revolve around him acting as Superman while in the guise of Clark Kent. You can see the tension between his identities in such setups, because he never stopped being Superman. Still, he had to guard his secret, lest he be host to suspicions, mistrust and dissection as an alien; America's never been super-kind to the Other, after all. But he still took opportunities to melt locks with his heat vision, or x-ray hidden chambers, just by nudging his glasses down his nose, etc. The stakes were always high when things like this happened in "Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman" (yes, I'm referencing this show -- not as a amazing dramatic tour-de-force, but as a show that got the everyday issues with being a superhero pretty right, I think). Clark is both a cover and a consolation, but who says Superman has to be comfortable with the surface? Too many writers put him too much at ease with both adopted and intrinsic Kryptonian traditions; there's gotta be push and pull there for us to identify with the character. Sure, he's not human, but when is he fine with that? When is he not?

2) How can you think marriage is undramatic? Apparently, all the writers got together in a conference room and had a big chat about Superman his marriage, many agreeing that dissolving his marriage would allow them to explore the character "in a bigger way." Um, that's tantamount to saying his wife's holding him back. Way to go, guys. Everything I wrote about in my previous blog post about marriage turns out to be reflected in your misigivings about the relationship (or your misunderstanding about Lois Lane, who's a badass)! I can't imagine how your crew could have so little imagination. Because Superman's married, he can't fly into space and help out Green Lantern? I already wrote about what dangerous thinking that is in my last post, so I won't get into it again. But seriously; he can't be epic if he's tied down? Lame, guys.

And also, if you want to dream bigger, maybe don't even try and set up another love triangle (now complete with fourth wheel boyfriend), so the characters are rebooted and actually DIFFERENT! But in your new set-up things aren't different -- the love triangle is still around. Here's an idea: DO SOMETHING ELSE, if you're so tired of sexual tension within relationships. Don't even approach romance and see how the character develops as a career journalist or something, if this a true reboot. Have him adopt a kid, have him volunteer at a soup kitchen or take up needlepoint! (I'm not endorsing any of these ideas, just challenging creativity. Honestly, the heart of this character's journey has always been one of the most endearing romances in comics. I doubt a relationship will be delayed for long; we already waited long enough for them to get married once.)

3) If Clark Kent is an afterthought, as opposed to something that's both in conflict with Superman and helps him, then ... why should I care whether or not Superman is isolated? What is he looking for in these new series? This article gives me no clue, and it makes me nervous to read this reboot.

Struggling with your identity is a universal issue, Co-Publisher Dan Didio points out. And he's not wrong. But where is Superman headed, if the emphasis is staying on his Other-ness, if he's only going to stay an alien?

4) How is it a reboot if you're already telling past stories? That's only going to confuse new readers, guys; new readers don't know that they need to read three series at once to get the whole picture, and I thought the whole point was to simplify things for everyone. Oh, no, it wasn't. Because you basically tell Newsrama you're doing this because Superman sold great when he was re-debuted in the 1980s! So this is still all a cash-cow trick? Great! And what makes it better is that you're stretching the reboot out across several books, meaning customers are forced to spend even more money. Brilliant marketing and sneaky editorialship, a combo that's likely to lose me as a reader.

All this being ranted about ...

Socially, it's interesting that we're de-emphasizing Clark Kent in favor of his alter ego Superman in 2011. This is a radical shift, since his comics have been geared completely towards developing his humanity since the 1980s. And I do wonder what it says that we're returning to the majestical 1930s Ubermensch Superman was created to be ...

I think it says a lot about where we're at in America, standing as a powerful nation with no idea what it stands for in a contemporary context, since it has big shoulder and a heavy stick but is maybe a bit outmoded in its morality and execution of its values. Superman's direction across the ages says a lot about how we see the USA as a world power, whether we realize it or not. And for that reason alone, I find the character worth following and loving. Even if I think the direction he's headed in might be disastrous. Or boring. Or both.

POST-SCRIPT: I will refrain from using my next post to continue talking about DC and Superman. I'll be reading either a new series of comics or talking about how comics work in movies or television. My anger must be exhausting to read. Heck, even I need a break.

Sometimes you've gotta start clean/You've got to begin/Not begin again ...

The above are lyrics from a favorite Weepies song of mine, a tune that delves into how much of our happiness depends on forging ahead, not vowing to start over, but to start something completely new.

That idea has been much on my mind since DC Comics announced they'll be rebooting essentially their entire line of comics and characters in the fall. This is not new territory for the company; they restarted their characters' lives, exterior and interior, back in the mid-1980s, after the Crisis on Infinite Earths. At the time, storylines for their characters had become so convoluted -- in terms of who was who, what had occurred in reality versus what was dictated a fantasy, etc. -- that they had to start fresh from their heroes' origins, lest they lose all sense of narrative structure in their writers' work. That reboot came from a place of editorial control. As I've read about the changes coming concerning this reboot, I can't help but wonder if this choice has been made in the interest of the artists at work, or if it's done in the interest of the almighty dollar.

According to the free online dictionary, reboot means to "boot up a computer again." On Merriam-Webster's site, "re-" as a prefix cannily means the following things: 1) again; anew (retell), 2) back; backwards (recall). Taking both these definitions into account may explain my worries about DC's decision to reboot their characters. Beginning again is not the same thing as just plain beginning something, and it seems to be the death knell of originality if the "re-" becomes the operative syllable in this reboot.

Back in the 1980s, the company seemed to be serving readers it already had by restarting their franchises. They used the clay these characters were made out of to integrate them into a more modern context, so readers who grew up in the 1970s would see something new in the characters, and still understand where they were coming from. Many thought Clark Kent turned into a yuppie during this reboot, but I'd argue the nerdish reporter became the focus of his own comic, a daring move for a series entitled "Superman." Readers grew to understand the character in a new context, as his secret identity became a personality unto itself, and actually the driving force of the hero's actions. Seeing the humanity in a flagship superhero must have been a risk at the time, and maybe it even forecast the darker tones of the flawed heroes that became popular in the 1990s. (My boyfriend made an excellent point to me the other day; if The Flash hadn't died during the events of the Crisis, would the rise in violence depicted in comic books have ever occurred? Killing a major character was not an option prior to DC cleaning house, and as meaningless as death is these days, I think it's a telling influence -- something that allowed endings as well as beginnings to have their place in the narrative canon of comic books.)

I don't want to spend more time speculating about the lasting influence of reboots, because I think Nick Philpott already explored how those can be helpful and harmful in his earlier guest post. Plus, most of the people reading this could probably care less about comics' narrative history. Frankly, I hate event comics and the narrative hoops I need to jump through in order to understand why characters make later decision motivated by an event from twenty years ago. Drama for me lies in the present, not the past -- so I won't spend more time dissecting the Crisis and its resulting billion other events within DC's larger continuity. I'll only say I include its mention as a way of letting the general blog browser know that the first reboot was done in the interest of the reader and editorial control.

So far, this announced reboot feels like it's being done to court new readers, who will check in for the first few issues of a particular character's new story, then decide whether or not they like comics, and then continue reading or give up on the whole proposition. This is smart marketing in one way -- if you can build a new universe without alienating longtime fans. Marvel Comics accomplished just that when they launched the Ultimates line of comics back in 2000. They created a separate universe where writers could explore their heroes' origins and adventures from scratch, all set inside the 2000s. In my opinion, some comics in this pocket dimension were more successful than others; The Ultimates (aka, The Avengers) is the ultimate in stupidity, gore and ill-defined concepts (turning Captain America into a quippy abuser for no thematic purpose, etc.), and a single panel displays this. Sorry in advance for all the following gross:

Ultimate Spiderman, on the other hand, rewinds Peter Parker to his teenage age, and uses the boy's upbringing in the 2000s to breathe new life into his everyday challenges, his computer geekery, his rough love life, even giving him a set of former hippies to raise him; the ensuing tragedy involving his Uncle Ben actually creates a touchstone with readers that feels fresh, even as it follows the template laid out by Stan Lee years and years ago when the character first debuted. By making his tragedy immediate, and tying it to a modern family and a modern boy, Brian Michael Bendis and company were able to re-imagine every character's motivation. This allows them to change core things about each hero or villain present in the book's pages, while still honoring what's come before. This is the kind of reboot I'd wish DC in the following months -- something that rewinds the clock without completely abolishing the mainstream universe.

But that's not what they're doing. No, they're restarting things within their mainstream books. They're destroying Superman and Lois Lane's marriage. They're making Dick Grayson go back to being Nightwing, instead of Batman. They may be completely cutting Wally West out of continuity, who rated the highest of The Flashes on IGN's recent Top 100 Heroes list. Maybe the worst thing they're doing is giving Barbara Gordon her legs back.

That's right; after years of sensitively crafting a character based not on her limitations, but based on the opportunities such limitations gave her, DC is erasing their only disability-centered storyline/character. There are multiple reason I find this to be a tragedy, not least because it invoked this passionate op/ed from a concerned reader: http://www.newsarama.com/comics/oracle-is-stronger-than-batgirl-110606.html. But what irks me most about this decision is that it shows a complete lack of compassion for readers. I grew up with a Babs who worked from a wheelchair. And I watched her grow into her role as the most important information gatherer in the heroes' world. Now that'll be erased from the record books. Or will I watch her lose the use of her legs all over again? Either way, that seems a cruel choice by a company that wants to introduce characters to fly-by-night readers who may not even stick with their efforts. Watching tragedies repeat over time is not meaningful -- it's crass, and at worst, boring and meaningless.

Let it be known, I'm not arguing for stasis here. But comic books are cyclical by nature. I accept this as a reader. Nothing can ever change too much. Batman can't give up his quest for vengeance and go to cooking school. Characters can't stop being superheroes. If they did, why would they be in superhero comic books? But how they operate can change, and over the years, watching second tier characters grow into fully realized human beings, as well as great heroes, has been really satisfying for me as a reader. Watching Dick Grayson become a warmer, more acrobatic Batman than Bruce Wayne ever was -- that was satisfying to me, having grown up with his youthful exuberance. Likewise, reading Wally West's adventures as The Flash meant I got to catalogue his journey from egotistical loner to self-sacrificing leader and family man on a personal level. Could I have seen this change in Barry? I'm not so sure. Wally started out a flawed character whose powers extended past those of his predecessor (of course, Geoff Johns changed this by stating in a recent issue of The Flash that Barry granted every other Flash his speed powers; thanks, Geoff, for ignoring every post-Silver Age hero, ever). Seeing Wally change made me think about how I've changed over time, how I've grown, what sacrifices I'm willing to make for the love of family.

Are comics meant to make us draw those parallels to our real lives? Deep down, I think so. I think they're not just fantasies -- because fantasies are rooted in real concerns. Change is a part of narrative structure; it's innately WHY we tell stories, to impact one another as fellow human beings.

Now, my grad school advisor often reminds me that characters don't actually change. They simply make choices that change our perception of them. In the best comics, you can register that change. Right now, DC isn't just erasing confusing continuity or bad story directions. They're erasing years of valuable storylines that DID show us how to perceive their characters differently. Event comics didn't make these changes apparent. Good storytelling did.

And what can save DC from losing readers -- as they often do once events like Blackest Night or The Death of Fill-In-The-Blank end -- is GOOD STORYTELLING. Here's some advice, boys in the boardroom and creative officers in negotiations over web series, downloadable comics and movie tie-ins: Let editors off the hook when thinking about promos for your Warner Brother's projects. Allow writers to write stories that don't have to match with eight other books. Let artists take characters outside their comfort zones. Let authors try crazy concepts out on readers, as Grant Morrison's been doing in Batman (one of the few books getting rebooted with its recent history intact). Don't recycle things in a reboot. Take readers' preconceived notions, then break them -- don't feed into those notions, and don't tell me Superman's origin story AGAIN. (Seriously, you've released four versions of it in the last ten years; updating that story isn't helping his in-continuity writers tell interesting stories; "Grounded" is one of the most miserable arcs I've read in years. It's not challenging our hero; it's making him repeat half-remembered Boy Scout mantras from the 1960s.)

Don't repeat story beats I know. Give me new beats, not re-imagined ones. I'd like to believe this is what DC plans to do. But Dan Dido's talk of "re-examining" things doesn't give me much confidence (http://www.escapistmagazine.com/news/view/111141-DC-Sends-Clark-Kent-And-Lois-Lane-To-Divorce-Court). Nor does the fact that in Justice League: Generation Lost, one of the better books on the market in DC's latest event scheme, I had to watch a teenaged Blue Beetle get shot in the face, just as the previous Blue Beetle did. Repeating grisly occurrences does not create new meaning, DC higher-ups. It just makes me think you don't respect your audience or your characters, creating false drama like that to sell books. Everything I've seen in recent days makes me feel this reboot is injected drama, rather than solid storytelling built on a steady editorial foundation.

In the end, I suppose this reboot ties into a constant social issue for me. In the fight between art and commerce, what wins -- the thing that sells, or the thing makes an impact on the reader? I'd like to think talented, smart writers (like Greg Rucka, Gail Simone and Peter Tomasi) can show us rewound characters from a new perspective. But I have my doubts, given the mishmash way in which DC is announcing changes -- without a greater context with which to view their entire universe. Ultimately, I have no hopes for this reboot, because I don't think it stands for anything, I don't think it has a voice or a concern to attract the reader. The Crisis on Infinite Earths meant to restore the core essence of characters while scaling back their ridiculous concepts to the manageable main few. And that birthed some truly benchmark stories, involving Wonder Woman, Superman and Batman -- while giving their sidekicks room to grow into even greater, more human characters.

What is the point of this reboot? I've read nothing that tells me its purpose. And so I worry that the purpose is business -- just when I most want the human need to tell a story to shine through, to generate renewed loyalty to a franchise of books that have had troubled sales in the last few years. I want to be given new reasons telling me what is so important about these icons, in regards to American character and universal human challenge and achievement. Will I get that? I don't know. I hope I do. But then, I'm not a new reader, I'm not a target. What I hope for isn't DC's concern.