JohnLees
Tuesday, November 17, 2009, 03:21 AM
Hello clubbers, and welcome to the 18th meeting of Comic Book Club! We’re almost at a mini-milestone with Meeting #20, where I have what I hope should be an interesting topic lined up. More details on that next time. For now, we’re going to bring our extended look at the state of the superhero genre to a close. The recurring trend of this block of meetings has been using comments from the interview “Alan Moore Reflects on Marvelman” on Mania.com as a starting point for the meeting’s discussion. That is also the case here, but this time the comment that jumped out at me came not from Moore himself, but from the interviewer, Kurt Amacker:
I think the issue of fans writing for fans and the continuity are what’s killing comic books these days. You can write a comic book about anything you want. But, people insist on dragging these corporate mascots out for 40, 50, or 60 years. It’s not about good storytelling, but about keeping characters around so that they can license them out. You want to just say, “Write a graphic novel or a miniseries and move on to the next story. Quit milking the ideas that a bunch of other people came up with.”
Now, over the past few meetings I have been exploring the feasibility of iconic, tenured superheroes (or lack thereof, according to Mr. Amacker) in various ways. In Meeting #14, we asked if these superheroes were equipped to address weightier social issues and be more than just empty-minded escapist fluff. In Meeting #15, we examined the difficulty in allowing superheroes that have been around for so many decades to change and progress, using Spider-Man as a case study. In Meeting #16, we looked at the continuity, and whether or not superheroes could remain accessible to new readers after accumulating a lot of it over an extended period of time. In Meeting #17, we focused on how these classic superheroes have lost their innocence, and how their transition into a darker, more adult environment has affected their original appeal. Over the course of these meetings, I certainly picked up on some inherent limitations of the genre, but overall I found my conclusions falling in the realm of defending the feasibility of the iconic comic book superhero. Far from being “corporate mascots” that are “killing comic books”, I believe that ultimately, I have shown these superheroes, even after “40, 50 or 60 years”, still have something to offer, and can still be relevant to today’s readers.
Unfortunately, though I hope those weeks of meetings have proved interesting for everyone and raised some valid points, I don’t think they are quite enough to refute Amacker’s pessimistic opinion on the state of the comic book medium and the superhero genre in particular. After all, we can find as many examples of quality stories with classic superheroes as we want, but Amacker says “it’s not about good storytelling”, and no number of good stories in themselves can challenge that. The point Amacker is making is that the superhero genre is now about nothing more than rolling out the same old characters decade after decade in order to make money off their name and image, and means nothing more than that. In order to challenge this assertion, we will have to look at some examples of new superheroes created in recent years, and see how successful a superhero story can be when stripped of an iconic name and image to brand and license out. And in the process, perhaps we can see how these new superheroes relate to the old ones, and whether or not the previously-discussed success of the iconic superheroes came in spite of their age, or because of it.
Given how often Alan Moore’s thoughts on the superhero genre have been brought up over the course of this block of meetings, it seems appropriate that we start things off by studying one of Moore’s forays into creating a brand new superhero (or rather, “science-hero”) with Tom Strong. Moore said plenty in the Mania interview about what he hates about the superhero genre, but here he highlights the qualities of the genre that he used to like:
Even in my early work, when I was at DC—when I handled Superman—it’s difficult to see anything but love for the Silver Age and the often silly comic book concepts that typified that era. I’d got everything in there—Krypto and Bizarro—all of those things that I had loved, because they seem to me to be just full of imagination and energy. They were wonderful, strange ideas. And, in subsequent work, like with ABC, we were trying to be very progressive, but at the same time we were harking back to a lot of the things about comics of the past that we thought were really good, and shouldn’t have been thrown out with the trash quite so readily.
This nostalgia for comics of the past can be clearly seen in Tom Strong, Book One. Last meeting, I quoted Moore’s comments on feeling responsible for the rise of grim-n-gritty, and Tom Strong and some of his other work for the America’s Best Comics line certainly feels like an attempt to atone for what he believes was the creation of a regrettable trend. This is a fun, light-hearted book, with an optimistic tone and a hero who is unwaveringly good and never fails to save the day. And it really is very enjoyable. When we’re so used to seeing him take himself very seriously in interviews and talk with a whole lot of jaded cynicism, it becomes easy to forget that Moore can be a warm, emotive writer who appreciates the simple joy of a breezy adventure tale well told.
But what Tom Strong definitely isn’t, in my reading of it at least, is Moore’s attempt to actually recreate a Silver Age superhero comic. For one thing, though the cartoony artwork and the little kid shouting “Holy socks!” in the first chapter might suggest otherwise, this is not a book that’s really meant for children to enjoy. The amount of sexual innuendo, the streams of racial epithets Nazi villains like Ingrid Weiss throw at Tom’s black wife and daughter, and some of the scientific high concepts floating around suggest this is very much intended for an adult reader. The story is set in the present, albeit in an alternate present where scientific achievement is much more advanced than in the real world, so this story is about more than period pastiche. Just like he was with Marvelman and Watchmen a decade earlier, Alan Moore was trying to, as he says above, be “progressive” and do something new with the superhero genre here.
But that’s not to say this is not a book entrenched in the past. Tom Strong reads like a love letter to not only the comic book superheroes of old, but also the pulp heroes that preceded them – Tom Strong seems to have more in common with Doc Savage than anyone else. Even the covers seem reminiscent of old pulp novels, as can be seen by the tagline on the front of Chapter Four:
He wanted her for war crimes, but she wanted him for LOVE! It’s hot as hell, buddy, but you’ll shiver at the touch of this Teutonic torture-goddess and her Luftwaffe of Lust! You’ll never forget the hot lead kiss of the… SWASTIKA GIRLS!
We also see tributes to the Golden and Silver Ages of comic books in the form of a comic within a comic: Tom Strong Magazine. In particular, the story featured within Chapter Six – guest-penciled by Dave Gibbons – is a loving recreation of the kind of superhero story you might have read in the 1940s or 1950s. Tom Strong is a hero very much built in the mould of these older heroes, but as he points out to his illegitimate Nazi son in the book’s 7th and final chapter, that doesn’t make him a relic:
The last century was a torrent of war and ignorance… and it’s your kind that belongs there, not mine!
When Tom denounces the 20th Century for its “war and ignorance”, it could just as easily be Moore commenting on the grim-n-gritty trend that was so prominent in comics when he wrote Tom Strong in the late 90s. One character supports Tom when he makes the above statement by adding, “He stands for being INVENTIVE, and having COURAGE, and doing the right THING. I don’t see THOSE values crumbling.” The tortured anti-hero may come and go, Moore seems to be suggesting, but the true hero will endure.
Tom Strong is Moore’s vision of what a superhero should be, and what he sees as the future of the genre. In the years since the book was made, it seems like he might have been proven right. I mentioned the success of All Star Superman and The New Frontier in the last meeting. Both Hal Jordan and Barry Allen have been resurrected in recent years in DC, and Marvel have gone to the trouble of killing Captain America and bringing him back just to show how important his classical brand of heroism is to the Marvel Universe. Nostalgia is very much in vogue. Perhaps in 10 years, Alan Moore will be complaining about creating another monster within the superhero genre.
Another new superhero title that has captured that old-school sense of fun and adventure is Invincible. Now, when critics bemoan the lack of appealing new superheroes, surely there are fewer better examples to point to than Robert Kirkman’s Image series, which has been running for close to 70 issues now and has only grown in popularity. Invincible really is a showcase for the advantages a new superhero can have over an established one. As discussed in Meeting #15, Marvel has long struggled with ways to get back in touch with the appeal Spider-Man had back when he was a high school student juggling the dramas of regular teenage life with being a superhero. But Kirkman trumped them by creating a brand new superhero that was a high school student juggling the dramas of teenage life with being a superhero, and in the process has done more to capture that original appeal of Amazing Spider-Man back in the 1960s than Brand New Day could dream of doing.
In the first graphic novel volume collecting the series, Family Matters, the dynamic-altering twist involving Mark Grayson’s father, world-famous superhero Omni-Man, has yet to occur. As such, the “back to basics” vibe is further heightened, with a simple, direct story that strips away potential distractions like brand recognition to hone in on the core elements that have made superhero stories so enduringly popular. Mark Grayson is a hero who is both relatable and aspirational. As he discovers his powers and makes new superhero friends, we share in his excitement. Family Matters is about reminding us that superheroes are awesome. In his introduction at the start of the graphic novel, “The Evil That is Robert Kirkman”, Kurt Busiek comes to a similar conclusion that brings up one of the book’s biggest strengths:
Invincible is fun, fresh, energetic. It’s not one of those superhero books that doesn’t want to admit to liking superheroes, so it tries to put a different spin on it and winds up being an uncomfortable mélange of nothing. No, Invincible embraces its genre. It’s a superhero book that loves being a superhero book, one that isn’t out to deconstruct or expose or undermine or scathingly satirize. It just wants to be a good superhero book.
And I think this is a very important function Invincible fulfils. In his book, The Rough Guide to Graphic Novels, writer Danny Fingeroth talks about what sets apart a graphic novel from a mere comic book, saying that “The superhero stories that do make the cut do so because they are ironic or otherwise knowing takes on superhero conventions that use them as a means to explore wider themes and concerns.” But why is this so often considered the case, that a superhero story can’t be credible unless it takes the stance that simply being a superhero story isn’t good enough? Even in Tom Strong, as classical a hero as Tom is and as far from “controversial” or “alternative” as the story may seem, it’s a book that crafts an argument against the contemporary superhero. But with Family Matters, Kirkman gives us a story that’s about more than shallow fight scenes, with big themes such as family, isolation and young romance touched on, that feels relevant and is written with nuance and style. And yet it’s all within the frame of a classic superhero tale, with no need to be “ironic” or “knowing” about it.
Tom Strong showcases how with a new superhero, you can create a different world with a different kind of hero, and write your own world history rather than adhering to that of past writers and editorial guidelines. Invincible demonstrates how sometimes it takes a new superhero to remind us of the charm and appeal of the classic superhero story, and how even after all these decades the beginning of a new one can still feel fresh and exciting. But another strength of a new superhero, one not explored yet, is how it allows you to take your characters and their world to shocking extremes that would be unthinkable for their established, iconic counterparts. For example, I cannot imagine (not outside of Elseworlds, at least) DC running a crossover event where Superman inexplicably snaps and wipes out Metropolis and everyone in it, murders half the Justice League of America, then sets out on a vengeful, bloody campaign of world conquest. Only Mark Waid is telling that story right now. It’s just that his Superman is called The Plutonian, and the book it’s happening in is called Irredeemable.
What is immediately striking about Irredeemable, Volume 1 is how the book opens. Even after learning about the concept behind Irredeemable, the graphic novel managed to surprise me. I was expecting much of the first chapter to be about setting up The Plutonian’s fall from grace, with the transformation from the world’s greatest superhero to the world’s greatest supervillain being the shock ending. I expected this to be a story told from The Plutonian’s perspective, with us therefore understanding the motive behind such a drastic change and perhaps even sympathizing with him as a kind of grim, morally compromised anti-hero. But that’s not the case at all. Right from the opening page, the true dynamic is established. In a series of three panels, each a close-up of The Plutonian’s eyes, artist Peter Krause strips away his humanity, transforming the eyes into glowing balls of fire, transforming him from (super)man to monster. From there the perspective quickly shifts to one unfortunate superhero and his family as The Plutonian picks them off one by one with ruthless efficiency. This reads less like a character study of a fallen hero than a horror movie, with The Plutonian as its monster.
After the opening, this dynamic largely remains, with The Plutonian’s surviving former teammates acting as the protagonists and primary focus of the story. We follow them as they struggle to find out more about The Plutonian and discover what drove him over the edge and made him destroy his hometown of Sky City. Smartly, this actual turning point, this act of mass destruction, is never actually seen. It’s already happened when the story begins, and so the exact motives behind it remain a mystery, one our heroes must try and solve. The Plutonian, meanwhile, acts like the shark in Jaws, popping up when we least expect it to terrorize them or to cause more death and destruction.
That’s not to say The Plutonian is devoid of characterization. Throughout the book, we get glimpses of who he is and what might have driven him down his dark path through the flashbacks of other characters. On page 13 of Chapter One, we see how even in his early days, through his superhuman hearing, he could hear the snide remarks and putdowns amongst the praise and adoration, and it had an affect on him. In Chapter Two, we see the disastrous result of The Plutonian revealing his secret identity to the woman he loves. Imagine if Lois Lane decided to run into the Daily Planet offices screaming Clark Kent’s secret to anyone who’d listen when she found it out. But these attempts to humanize The Plutonian do not make his actions any less horrifying, coming to a devastating climax in the 4th and final chapter. Earlier in this chapter, we see a flashback of super-genius Qubit’s first meeting with The Plutonian, where he asks him a question that at the time goes unanswered:
All that power, all that responsibility – what does that feel like?
In the devastating climax of this graphic novel, The Plutonian annihilates the entire country of Singapore. In one chilling moment that says a whole lot about what it’s like to be a superhero, he tells Qubit to choose 10 people to save before he must leave the rest of Singapore’s citizens to die. Qubit chooses his 10, then is forced to watch as The Plutonian murders scores of innocents in front of him, the ones he chose not to save. The Plutonian then lets Qubit and his chosen 10 escape, coldly stating, “That’s what it feels like.” Answering Qubit’s earlier question at last.
Irredeemable is a story that takes the superhero genre in a bold, unsettling new direction, making us question the very nature of these superpowered defenders. Mark Waid tells the kind of story he couldn’t tell with Superman, something new. Perhaps Kurt Amacker would see this and be relieved that his plea of, “Write a graphic novel or a miniseries and move on to the next story. Quit milking the ideas that a bunch of other people came up with” was finally being listened to. Only Irredeemable isn’t a single graphic novel or mini-series. Volume 1 is the beginning of an ongoing series. Not only that, is the foundation of a whole new superhero universe for Boom! Studios, with Mark Waid already widening the scope of his newly-created world with the impending release of a sister title, Incorruptible.
In the case of Irredeemable, and also with Invincible and even Tom Strong, the launch of a new superhero wasn’t a move made against the longform, ongoing storytelling of the established superheroes. It was a contribution to it, an attempt to add to their ranks with more ongoing adventures. Because this is something that comic books can do like no other medium: telling a story in serialized form over a long period of time. It even trumps TV on that front, as you don’t have a problem with a cast that ages or gets too famous to be kept on the payroll, and there are no budget limitations on what can be put on the page. And superhero stories are better suited to the format than just about any other genre, as it is arguably the only genre that was created in comic books – the identity of one is intrinsically tied to the other.
As for Amacker’s idea of long-running superhero sagas being replaced by new titles, let’s take a look at how the books discussed today relate to the classic superheroes. Tom Strong stands as an homage to the comics of old. Invincible revisits the joys of 1960s Spider-Man. Irredeemable serves to remind us of just how super Superman is, demonstrating that it’s more than the power that makes him the greatest hero of all. In their own ways, each book is defined by how it relates to the iconic superheroes and their history. They are not replacements for them. They work so well because they exist alongside them. Similarly, there is most definitely a place for graphic novels and mini-series’ in the comic industry, but I believe the comic book medium would lose something crucial if they replaced the ongoing adventures of the iconic superheroes completely.
In the November 11th edition of his weekly column, Permanent Damage, Steven Grant declared that the superhero genre was dead, coming to this grim conclusion:
It's been a long, strange 72 years from ACTION COMICS #1 to SMALLVILLE season 8, but, really, this is the end of the line. For all the comic book philosophy of the superhero as the next stage of human evolution (really just a mutant iteration of the old "Fans are Slans" riff) creatively they've hit a dead end, save for the occasional eruption. The superhero genre may not be the Titanic, no icebergs in sight, but everyone's still just rearranging deck chairs now. That's how the companies want it, because they're no longer marketing creations. They're peddling brands. Branding is everything now, and it's almost always more profitable to cash in on a long-established brand than to create, develop and market a new one. The superhero as brand name might be with us until the end of time, now, but the superhero as expression of genuine creativity is pretty much dead.
Yet while the column raises some interesting, perhaps even valid points, I think Mr. Grant’s conclusion here is wrong, just like Kurt Amacker and even Alan Moore are wrong. The superhero genre is about more than “peddling brands” to “license them out”. I’m sure I could go into great detail about how the long-running superhero titles contain plenty of examples of this supposedly-elusive “genuine creativity”. But even setting that aside, books like Tom Strong, Invincible and Irredeemable show that creators can still do new things with the genre.
The superhero genre is a growing, living mythology - characters we grew up with as children, who are still having adventures and doing new things now that as adults we can still find relevant, and when we're old they'll still be around for our children to discover and enjoy. Rather than making them stagnant, I think this makes the classic superheroes ideally suited to change with the times and remain relevant and exciting. The history of the 20th Century is chronicled in the evolution of characters like Batman. Maybe a new hero like Invincible can do the same for the 21st Century, or maybe the classic superheroes will continue to adapt as they always have. Far from being dead, the superhero is very much alive.
Meeting #19
I fear I’ve painted him as the de facto bad guy these past few weeks, so next meeting we’ll be focusing on the work of Alan Moore. We’ll be taking a look at various stages in his career, seeing how his work has evolved in some ways, while certain aspects have remained constant throughout.
RECOMMENDED READING:
Promethea, Volume 1
Alan Moore and J.H. Williams III
Saga of the Swamp Thing
Alan Moore and Stephen Bissette
V For Vendetta
Alan Moore and David Lloyd
Meeting #20
A special edition of Open Forum….more info next meeting!
I think the issue of fans writing for fans and the continuity are what’s killing comic books these days. You can write a comic book about anything you want. But, people insist on dragging these corporate mascots out for 40, 50, or 60 years. It’s not about good storytelling, but about keeping characters around so that they can license them out. You want to just say, “Write a graphic novel or a miniseries and move on to the next story. Quit milking the ideas that a bunch of other people came up with.”
Now, over the past few meetings I have been exploring the feasibility of iconic, tenured superheroes (or lack thereof, according to Mr. Amacker) in various ways. In Meeting #14, we asked if these superheroes were equipped to address weightier social issues and be more than just empty-minded escapist fluff. In Meeting #15, we examined the difficulty in allowing superheroes that have been around for so many decades to change and progress, using Spider-Man as a case study. In Meeting #16, we looked at the continuity, and whether or not superheroes could remain accessible to new readers after accumulating a lot of it over an extended period of time. In Meeting #17, we focused on how these classic superheroes have lost their innocence, and how their transition into a darker, more adult environment has affected their original appeal. Over the course of these meetings, I certainly picked up on some inherent limitations of the genre, but overall I found my conclusions falling in the realm of defending the feasibility of the iconic comic book superhero. Far from being “corporate mascots” that are “killing comic books”, I believe that ultimately, I have shown these superheroes, even after “40, 50 or 60 years”, still have something to offer, and can still be relevant to today’s readers.
Unfortunately, though I hope those weeks of meetings have proved interesting for everyone and raised some valid points, I don’t think they are quite enough to refute Amacker’s pessimistic opinion on the state of the comic book medium and the superhero genre in particular. After all, we can find as many examples of quality stories with classic superheroes as we want, but Amacker says “it’s not about good storytelling”, and no number of good stories in themselves can challenge that. The point Amacker is making is that the superhero genre is now about nothing more than rolling out the same old characters decade after decade in order to make money off their name and image, and means nothing more than that. In order to challenge this assertion, we will have to look at some examples of new superheroes created in recent years, and see how successful a superhero story can be when stripped of an iconic name and image to brand and license out. And in the process, perhaps we can see how these new superheroes relate to the old ones, and whether or not the previously-discussed success of the iconic superheroes came in spite of their age, or because of it.
Given how often Alan Moore’s thoughts on the superhero genre have been brought up over the course of this block of meetings, it seems appropriate that we start things off by studying one of Moore’s forays into creating a brand new superhero (or rather, “science-hero”) with Tom Strong. Moore said plenty in the Mania interview about what he hates about the superhero genre, but here he highlights the qualities of the genre that he used to like:
Even in my early work, when I was at DC—when I handled Superman—it’s difficult to see anything but love for the Silver Age and the often silly comic book concepts that typified that era. I’d got everything in there—Krypto and Bizarro—all of those things that I had loved, because they seem to me to be just full of imagination and energy. They were wonderful, strange ideas. And, in subsequent work, like with ABC, we were trying to be very progressive, but at the same time we were harking back to a lot of the things about comics of the past that we thought were really good, and shouldn’t have been thrown out with the trash quite so readily.
This nostalgia for comics of the past can be clearly seen in Tom Strong, Book One. Last meeting, I quoted Moore’s comments on feeling responsible for the rise of grim-n-gritty, and Tom Strong and some of his other work for the America’s Best Comics line certainly feels like an attempt to atone for what he believes was the creation of a regrettable trend. This is a fun, light-hearted book, with an optimistic tone and a hero who is unwaveringly good and never fails to save the day. And it really is very enjoyable. When we’re so used to seeing him take himself very seriously in interviews and talk with a whole lot of jaded cynicism, it becomes easy to forget that Moore can be a warm, emotive writer who appreciates the simple joy of a breezy adventure tale well told.
But what Tom Strong definitely isn’t, in my reading of it at least, is Moore’s attempt to actually recreate a Silver Age superhero comic. For one thing, though the cartoony artwork and the little kid shouting “Holy socks!” in the first chapter might suggest otherwise, this is not a book that’s really meant for children to enjoy. The amount of sexual innuendo, the streams of racial epithets Nazi villains like Ingrid Weiss throw at Tom’s black wife and daughter, and some of the scientific high concepts floating around suggest this is very much intended for an adult reader. The story is set in the present, albeit in an alternate present where scientific achievement is much more advanced than in the real world, so this story is about more than period pastiche. Just like he was with Marvelman and Watchmen a decade earlier, Alan Moore was trying to, as he says above, be “progressive” and do something new with the superhero genre here.
But that’s not to say this is not a book entrenched in the past. Tom Strong reads like a love letter to not only the comic book superheroes of old, but also the pulp heroes that preceded them – Tom Strong seems to have more in common with Doc Savage than anyone else. Even the covers seem reminiscent of old pulp novels, as can be seen by the tagline on the front of Chapter Four:
He wanted her for war crimes, but she wanted him for LOVE! It’s hot as hell, buddy, but you’ll shiver at the touch of this Teutonic torture-goddess and her Luftwaffe of Lust! You’ll never forget the hot lead kiss of the… SWASTIKA GIRLS!
We also see tributes to the Golden and Silver Ages of comic books in the form of a comic within a comic: Tom Strong Magazine. In particular, the story featured within Chapter Six – guest-penciled by Dave Gibbons – is a loving recreation of the kind of superhero story you might have read in the 1940s or 1950s. Tom Strong is a hero very much built in the mould of these older heroes, but as he points out to his illegitimate Nazi son in the book’s 7th and final chapter, that doesn’t make him a relic:
The last century was a torrent of war and ignorance… and it’s your kind that belongs there, not mine!
When Tom denounces the 20th Century for its “war and ignorance”, it could just as easily be Moore commenting on the grim-n-gritty trend that was so prominent in comics when he wrote Tom Strong in the late 90s. One character supports Tom when he makes the above statement by adding, “He stands for being INVENTIVE, and having COURAGE, and doing the right THING. I don’t see THOSE values crumbling.” The tortured anti-hero may come and go, Moore seems to be suggesting, but the true hero will endure.
Tom Strong is Moore’s vision of what a superhero should be, and what he sees as the future of the genre. In the years since the book was made, it seems like he might have been proven right. I mentioned the success of All Star Superman and The New Frontier in the last meeting. Both Hal Jordan and Barry Allen have been resurrected in recent years in DC, and Marvel have gone to the trouble of killing Captain America and bringing him back just to show how important his classical brand of heroism is to the Marvel Universe. Nostalgia is very much in vogue. Perhaps in 10 years, Alan Moore will be complaining about creating another monster within the superhero genre.
Another new superhero title that has captured that old-school sense of fun and adventure is Invincible. Now, when critics bemoan the lack of appealing new superheroes, surely there are fewer better examples to point to than Robert Kirkman’s Image series, which has been running for close to 70 issues now and has only grown in popularity. Invincible really is a showcase for the advantages a new superhero can have over an established one. As discussed in Meeting #15, Marvel has long struggled with ways to get back in touch with the appeal Spider-Man had back when he was a high school student juggling the dramas of regular teenage life with being a superhero. But Kirkman trumped them by creating a brand new superhero that was a high school student juggling the dramas of teenage life with being a superhero, and in the process has done more to capture that original appeal of Amazing Spider-Man back in the 1960s than Brand New Day could dream of doing.
In the first graphic novel volume collecting the series, Family Matters, the dynamic-altering twist involving Mark Grayson’s father, world-famous superhero Omni-Man, has yet to occur. As such, the “back to basics” vibe is further heightened, with a simple, direct story that strips away potential distractions like brand recognition to hone in on the core elements that have made superhero stories so enduringly popular. Mark Grayson is a hero who is both relatable and aspirational. As he discovers his powers and makes new superhero friends, we share in his excitement. Family Matters is about reminding us that superheroes are awesome. In his introduction at the start of the graphic novel, “The Evil That is Robert Kirkman”, Kurt Busiek comes to a similar conclusion that brings up one of the book’s biggest strengths:
Invincible is fun, fresh, energetic. It’s not one of those superhero books that doesn’t want to admit to liking superheroes, so it tries to put a different spin on it and winds up being an uncomfortable mélange of nothing. No, Invincible embraces its genre. It’s a superhero book that loves being a superhero book, one that isn’t out to deconstruct or expose or undermine or scathingly satirize. It just wants to be a good superhero book.
And I think this is a very important function Invincible fulfils. In his book, The Rough Guide to Graphic Novels, writer Danny Fingeroth talks about what sets apart a graphic novel from a mere comic book, saying that “The superhero stories that do make the cut do so because they are ironic or otherwise knowing takes on superhero conventions that use them as a means to explore wider themes and concerns.” But why is this so often considered the case, that a superhero story can’t be credible unless it takes the stance that simply being a superhero story isn’t good enough? Even in Tom Strong, as classical a hero as Tom is and as far from “controversial” or “alternative” as the story may seem, it’s a book that crafts an argument against the contemporary superhero. But with Family Matters, Kirkman gives us a story that’s about more than shallow fight scenes, with big themes such as family, isolation and young romance touched on, that feels relevant and is written with nuance and style. And yet it’s all within the frame of a classic superhero tale, with no need to be “ironic” or “knowing” about it.
Tom Strong showcases how with a new superhero, you can create a different world with a different kind of hero, and write your own world history rather than adhering to that of past writers and editorial guidelines. Invincible demonstrates how sometimes it takes a new superhero to remind us of the charm and appeal of the classic superhero story, and how even after all these decades the beginning of a new one can still feel fresh and exciting. But another strength of a new superhero, one not explored yet, is how it allows you to take your characters and their world to shocking extremes that would be unthinkable for their established, iconic counterparts. For example, I cannot imagine (not outside of Elseworlds, at least) DC running a crossover event where Superman inexplicably snaps and wipes out Metropolis and everyone in it, murders half the Justice League of America, then sets out on a vengeful, bloody campaign of world conquest. Only Mark Waid is telling that story right now. It’s just that his Superman is called The Plutonian, and the book it’s happening in is called Irredeemable.
What is immediately striking about Irredeemable, Volume 1 is how the book opens. Even after learning about the concept behind Irredeemable, the graphic novel managed to surprise me. I was expecting much of the first chapter to be about setting up The Plutonian’s fall from grace, with the transformation from the world’s greatest superhero to the world’s greatest supervillain being the shock ending. I expected this to be a story told from The Plutonian’s perspective, with us therefore understanding the motive behind such a drastic change and perhaps even sympathizing with him as a kind of grim, morally compromised anti-hero. But that’s not the case at all. Right from the opening page, the true dynamic is established. In a series of three panels, each a close-up of The Plutonian’s eyes, artist Peter Krause strips away his humanity, transforming the eyes into glowing balls of fire, transforming him from (super)man to monster. From there the perspective quickly shifts to one unfortunate superhero and his family as The Plutonian picks them off one by one with ruthless efficiency. This reads less like a character study of a fallen hero than a horror movie, with The Plutonian as its monster.
After the opening, this dynamic largely remains, with The Plutonian’s surviving former teammates acting as the protagonists and primary focus of the story. We follow them as they struggle to find out more about The Plutonian and discover what drove him over the edge and made him destroy his hometown of Sky City. Smartly, this actual turning point, this act of mass destruction, is never actually seen. It’s already happened when the story begins, and so the exact motives behind it remain a mystery, one our heroes must try and solve. The Plutonian, meanwhile, acts like the shark in Jaws, popping up when we least expect it to terrorize them or to cause more death and destruction.
That’s not to say The Plutonian is devoid of characterization. Throughout the book, we get glimpses of who he is and what might have driven him down his dark path through the flashbacks of other characters. On page 13 of Chapter One, we see how even in his early days, through his superhuman hearing, he could hear the snide remarks and putdowns amongst the praise and adoration, and it had an affect on him. In Chapter Two, we see the disastrous result of The Plutonian revealing his secret identity to the woman he loves. Imagine if Lois Lane decided to run into the Daily Planet offices screaming Clark Kent’s secret to anyone who’d listen when she found it out. But these attempts to humanize The Plutonian do not make his actions any less horrifying, coming to a devastating climax in the 4th and final chapter. Earlier in this chapter, we see a flashback of super-genius Qubit’s first meeting with The Plutonian, where he asks him a question that at the time goes unanswered:
All that power, all that responsibility – what does that feel like?
In the devastating climax of this graphic novel, The Plutonian annihilates the entire country of Singapore. In one chilling moment that says a whole lot about what it’s like to be a superhero, he tells Qubit to choose 10 people to save before he must leave the rest of Singapore’s citizens to die. Qubit chooses his 10, then is forced to watch as The Plutonian murders scores of innocents in front of him, the ones he chose not to save. The Plutonian then lets Qubit and his chosen 10 escape, coldly stating, “That’s what it feels like.” Answering Qubit’s earlier question at last.
Irredeemable is a story that takes the superhero genre in a bold, unsettling new direction, making us question the very nature of these superpowered defenders. Mark Waid tells the kind of story he couldn’t tell with Superman, something new. Perhaps Kurt Amacker would see this and be relieved that his plea of, “Write a graphic novel or a miniseries and move on to the next story. Quit milking the ideas that a bunch of other people came up with” was finally being listened to. Only Irredeemable isn’t a single graphic novel or mini-series. Volume 1 is the beginning of an ongoing series. Not only that, is the foundation of a whole new superhero universe for Boom! Studios, with Mark Waid already widening the scope of his newly-created world with the impending release of a sister title, Incorruptible.
In the case of Irredeemable, and also with Invincible and even Tom Strong, the launch of a new superhero wasn’t a move made against the longform, ongoing storytelling of the established superheroes. It was a contribution to it, an attempt to add to their ranks with more ongoing adventures. Because this is something that comic books can do like no other medium: telling a story in serialized form over a long period of time. It even trumps TV on that front, as you don’t have a problem with a cast that ages or gets too famous to be kept on the payroll, and there are no budget limitations on what can be put on the page. And superhero stories are better suited to the format than just about any other genre, as it is arguably the only genre that was created in comic books – the identity of one is intrinsically tied to the other.
As for Amacker’s idea of long-running superhero sagas being replaced by new titles, let’s take a look at how the books discussed today relate to the classic superheroes. Tom Strong stands as an homage to the comics of old. Invincible revisits the joys of 1960s Spider-Man. Irredeemable serves to remind us of just how super Superman is, demonstrating that it’s more than the power that makes him the greatest hero of all. In their own ways, each book is defined by how it relates to the iconic superheroes and their history. They are not replacements for them. They work so well because they exist alongside them. Similarly, there is most definitely a place for graphic novels and mini-series’ in the comic industry, but I believe the comic book medium would lose something crucial if they replaced the ongoing adventures of the iconic superheroes completely.
In the November 11th edition of his weekly column, Permanent Damage, Steven Grant declared that the superhero genre was dead, coming to this grim conclusion:
It's been a long, strange 72 years from ACTION COMICS #1 to SMALLVILLE season 8, but, really, this is the end of the line. For all the comic book philosophy of the superhero as the next stage of human evolution (really just a mutant iteration of the old "Fans are Slans" riff) creatively they've hit a dead end, save for the occasional eruption. The superhero genre may not be the Titanic, no icebergs in sight, but everyone's still just rearranging deck chairs now. That's how the companies want it, because they're no longer marketing creations. They're peddling brands. Branding is everything now, and it's almost always more profitable to cash in on a long-established brand than to create, develop and market a new one. The superhero as brand name might be with us until the end of time, now, but the superhero as expression of genuine creativity is pretty much dead.
Yet while the column raises some interesting, perhaps even valid points, I think Mr. Grant’s conclusion here is wrong, just like Kurt Amacker and even Alan Moore are wrong. The superhero genre is about more than “peddling brands” to “license them out”. I’m sure I could go into great detail about how the long-running superhero titles contain plenty of examples of this supposedly-elusive “genuine creativity”. But even setting that aside, books like Tom Strong, Invincible and Irredeemable show that creators can still do new things with the genre.
The superhero genre is a growing, living mythology - characters we grew up with as children, who are still having adventures and doing new things now that as adults we can still find relevant, and when we're old they'll still be around for our children to discover and enjoy. Rather than making them stagnant, I think this makes the classic superheroes ideally suited to change with the times and remain relevant and exciting. The history of the 20th Century is chronicled in the evolution of characters like Batman. Maybe a new hero like Invincible can do the same for the 21st Century, or maybe the classic superheroes will continue to adapt as they always have. Far from being dead, the superhero is very much alive.
Meeting #19
I fear I’ve painted him as the de facto bad guy these past few weeks, so next meeting we’ll be focusing on the work of Alan Moore. We’ll be taking a look at various stages in his career, seeing how his work has evolved in some ways, while certain aspects have remained constant throughout.
RECOMMENDED READING:
Promethea, Volume 1
Alan Moore and J.H. Williams III
Saga of the Swamp Thing
Alan Moore and Stephen Bissette
V For Vendetta
Alan Moore and David Lloyd
Meeting #20
A special edition of Open Forum….more info next meeting!