Nemesis

What would happen if Batman went bad? A wag might answer that question by mentioning the 1997 cinematic abortion that is Batman & Robin. Mark Millar, on the other hand, famously has his own answer to the rather trite question. It’s a series called Nemesis.

On the surface this is another entry into Millarworld that very clearly has Hollywood in mind. The five issues contain a multitude of set pieces, all designed to look cooler than the last. They advance the plot only in as much as they continually up the stakes for the story’s hero Blake Morrow, giving him bigger obstacles to overcome.

But then that’s basically all the plot consists of. It’s a continual escalation from one ludicrous to the next, each designed to show how dangerous Nemesis is. Pages after Nemesis has captured the President of the United States he’s stealing a kidney from a hospital (for no clear reason beyond it’ll cause a child to die) and making his getaway in an lavish chase sequence involving a sports car, a motorbike, a helicopter, hundreds of cops, a missile launcher and what appears to be a lightsaber.

It’s not a subtle comic. But then it doesn’t pretend to be. Mark Millar is known for writing fairly action-heavy stories. To complain that this is more of the same misses that entirely. Millar doesn’t claim or try to write anything that explains or explores the human psyche or provides a wry sideways glance at the failings of the world’s governments. He writes things about super powered people fighting.

This makes Nemesis sound a shallow book. It’s not. Its two central characters, Blake Morrow and the titular Nemesis, are both very nicely fleshed out. They are stock characters illustrated with broad strokes familiar to anyone who’s ever read a comic or watched a film put out by Marvel or DC, yes, but those strokes are made very well. Within the first few pages we know the basics of Morrow’s character, allowing Millar to flesh out his backstory, and the backstory of his family, across the remaining four issues.

Nemesis is a different kettle of fish. His true identity is hinted at throughout the book, and there are several points where it appears that the author has confirmed who he really is. But even when the final page is turned we discover that actually we don’t know who’s under that perfect white mask at all. In this regard he’s more like the Joker than Batman: a nameless, faceless psychopath with a blank space where there should be a history.

In all other regards Millar has remained faithful to his original goal of exploring what a bad Batman would be like. Nemesis has access to what appears to be a bottomless pit of money, granting him all the fancy toys of ‘The Caped Crusader’. He’s just missing the morals. The two characters are both at unrealistically high levels of physical conditioning. Nemesis can perform a back flip off a motorbike as it hangs in mid-air, aiming a missile launcher at a nearby helicopter before he hits the ground. He can best 97 guards swaddled in riot gear single-handed and without a weapon. He can run around atop a plane without a care in the world.

“Macho” barely covers it.

As you’d expect from one of Millar’s creator owned affairs this is a comic that doesn’t shy away from being adult. Four letter words fly around the first issue like they’re going out of style. Thankfully this settles down as Millar finds his feet and the story gets underway. What doesn’t settle down is the visceral approach taken to the title’s fight sequences. The treatment of the human head alone is astonishing: throughout the book we see heads knocked off, blown to pieces, and get metal bars shoved through them. The prison scene in the third issue is particularly gruesome.

Steve McNiven’s art is well suited to the blood and gore approach. While he delivers that well his real strength is doing justice to the writer’s elaborate set pieces. That’s important considering they’re what keeps the comic moving. He proves competent at the title’s quieter moments too, giving you reason to care about the otherwise meaningless supporting cast, particularly Morrow’s (amazingly dysfunctional) family.

This is not a comic that will change your outlook on anything, not even Batman, the character that provided the inspiration. What it will do is allow you to while away half an hour and feel like you’ve not wasted time afterwards. That’s what we should be able to expect from a good comic. Bring on Nemesis Returns.

The Dandy Annual 2013

I didn't read much of the Dandy as a child. I had access to maybe half a dozen annuals and a handful of random issues but I didn't much like them. There was something about the characters, something lacking, which meant they didn't really click with me. Looking back now I suspect it's simply that they weren't as relatable as their counterparts in the Beano. A man with a dangerous addiction to pies and a humanoid cat with no discernible personality were no match for the simple premise of a boy and his dog causing mayhem.
 
I wasn't completely disinterested though. I enjoyed Winker Watson, from the decidedly simplistic, perhaps even crude, art style to the concept of the character it was a strip that offered something different to the likes of Desperate Dan. Beryl the Peril was mostly enjoyable too. Yes, she was essentially a female version of Dennis the Menace but as I pointed out above he was a character that appealed to me.
 
With the 2013 annual alleged to be the final printed annual of the Dandy's 75 year history I thought I'd get a copy. I was interested to see what approach the editorial team would take. Would they take the opportunity to revive all of their retired characters, dusting them off for one last outing? Would they go out all guns blazing, presenting us with a wealth of newly created personalities to hint at a world that could have been? Would they take the mildly metafictional and decidedly mature approach of presenting a title-wide apocalypse detailing the downfall of Dandy Town?
 
Sadly they did none of the above.

The Dandy Annual 2013 features, broadly speaking, exactly what you’d expect. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it doesn’t come across as a celebration of the comic’s history. It feels more like things are being played safe. Considering what the future has in store for The Dandy that’s a real shame. There was no need to play it safe. The editorial team and writers could have gone out practically any way they wanted. Playing it safe is what brought them to this juncture in the first place.

Desperate Dan appears in several strips, all of which revolve around his love of pies. Winker Watson appears several times too, proving to be just as enjoyable as he was in the late-80s. His strips, drawn by the enigmatic Wilbur, are all two pagers featuring the young schoolboy getting one over on a fully grown man. It’s charming that such a concept is still deemed capable of entertaining kids.

Beryl the Peril remains quite enjoyable here. The strip featuring Beryl and her dad visiting a shoe shop is particularly funny. It begins with a picture of her father brandishing a slipper and a panel that reads “Cripes! Dad’s forgotten it’s the 21^st century!” Never has a joke about parental abuse of children been so amusing.

The Bananaman stories are among the most solid. That’s predictable when you consider the character’s status as one of The Dandy’s most recognisable figures. The amount of backstory sketched into his enemies is impressive considering the meagre amount of space provided. It’s a very clever use of panels and naming.

Elsewhere there are characters like Peter’s Pocket Grandpa, the Badd Lads, the Banana Bunch, and Brassneck inoffensively propping up the page count. There’s also Keyhole Kate, a bizarre creation that I hadn’t ever come across before. Kate is a young girl obsessed with looking through keyholes. It’s clear that so flimsy a premise could (and probably did) become tiresome very quickly but it doesn’t here thanks to the way she’s written. It’s very subtly hinted that she’s a junkie who suffers from withdrawals should she go without looking through a keyhole for too long. It’s a ridiculous gimmick and so the natural thing to do is to drive it to an extreme. It works beautifully.

Not everything about the annual is positive. The Cuddles and Dimples strips made me hate the titular characters, which I can’t imagine was the intention. One of the strips (a Smasher story) is printed twice. This is presumably a mistake, but it’s a clumsy one that should have been avoided. I was also annoyed at the lack of contributions from Jamie Smart too. He was one of the highlights of the issue I bought last August and I was expecting something from him here. That he wasn’t featured at all is a great shame.

If this is the final ever Dandy Annual it should provide a decent insight into what the comic was about. But it was a missed opportunity. What could have been a celebration of the past 75 years was instead a perfunctory entry into a yearly tradition with little thought given over to the future or the past. As I said last August, it’s no wonder the title’s going under.

Doom Patrol

Grant Morrison’s run on Doom Patrol is probably the title’s most famous period, mostly because the author has gone on to become a massively influential force on the industry. His name on the cover is not the only reason the period is viewed fondly though. Morrison’s Doom Patrol is inventive and bizarre and has a wealth of odd characters populating its pages. Morrison successfully took existing team members and made them his own, something which has developed into a trend as his career has progressed. These are the definitive interpretations of the Doom Patrol regulars.

Unfortunately none of this means it’s a completely flawless read. Various aspects of the book fail to hold up two decades later. While Brian Bolland’s covers are wonderful displays capturing the anarchic plots of the issues they’re for the interior artwork from Richard Case is decidedly of its time. It feels scrappy and rough around the edges, failing to create a feeling that you’re reading something special. He does fare better when creating reasons to empathise with the characters, serving Robotman particularly well.

Another problem is the central villain, revealed in the sixth collected volume. The revelation that the professor has turned bad reads like a shock for the sake of a shock, another trope that has become associated with Grant (see in particular his various Infinite crossovers for DC). It does make sense by the end of the final issue if you’re willing to give the title the benefit of the doubt. The Candlemaker is a poor attempt at a major villain. He has an underwhelming, unmemorable look and motives that are impossible to decipher.

The title loses steam over time. It feels like Morrison becomes disinterested. It’s great until that happens though. Morrison tosses in some truly bizarre ideas. The Brotherhood of Dada is a highlight, a group of rogues who are more interested in causing trouble than world domination (or any other generally recognised trait of comic book villains). Members included a woman who had practically unstoppable powers but could only use them when she was asleep, the concept of distraction, a living whirlwind, and a woman who had every superpower you hadn’t thought of before facing her.

Another intriguing creation is Red Jack. A being that lives off pain and thinks he is both God and Jack the Ripper? The character could have overstayed his welcome but Morrison thankfully uses him judiciously and leaves us wanting more. It’s the kind of creation he is known for these days.

Issue 45 introduces us to the Beard Hunter, a man who hates facial hair so much that he is driven to kill anyone who sports it (a not-at-all-hidden play on the Punisher). Unsurprisingly he targets the only member of the Doom Patrol who has a beard. It’s a weird, silly idea that you couldn’t get away with in most comics. There’s a living street called Danny, an infinite city, scissor men who cut people out of reality, and a bit part golden age homage named Flex Mentallo who proved so popular he got his own miniseries. Morrison tosses out ideas like they’re going out of style.

As mentioned above Morrison serves the regulars well. Cliff remains the relatable everyman similar to the Fantastic Four’s Thing while Negative Woman is revamped into a deliberately unrelatble omnipotent hermaphrodite. The Chief (again, as mentioned) is revealed to have gone a bit wrong, which gives him some substance and a reason for existing beyond being a wafer thin Professor X analogy. It’s a twist for the sake of a twist but it at least makes use of the tools Morrison has at his disposal.

Crazy Jane and Danny the Street are the creative team’s own contributions to the group’s roster, and they also fleshed out a background character that first appeared before they took over into Dorothy Spinner. Danny is the aforementioned sentient street that acts as base of operations for the team. Jane is a young woman with multiple personality disorder, each persona possessing its own power. Dorothy is a young girl with a monkey face who is responsible for the Candlemaker’s existence. The Doom Patrol should’ve offed her when they first met her to save themselves (and us) some bother.

Despite its faults Morrison and Case’s Doom Patrol is a fun and inventive title that never fails to surprise. While its ideas and artwork aren’t the most consistent it’s worth reading for when things go right. Anyone interested in the career progression of Grant Morrison, and his regular themes of sexuality, political commentary, and society’s present and future, will not be disappointed.