Heroes

In 2006 a TV show called Heroes debuted on NBC. It became a massive success for the channel incredibly quickly, gaining rave reviews for its first season. Why is this relevant to a blog about comic books? Because the show was about ordinary people finding they have superpowers. The clue’s in the name.

Superheroes are not exclusively found in comic books, but that is the medium in which the stereotypical image of the superhero first rose to prominence. They are strongly linked to comic books thanks to the success and history of both DC and Marvel. It’s where they have found their greatest success. In the last decade or so (starting several years before Heroes appeared on our screens) movie adaptions of the big two’s characters have become popular. A handful of original superhero flicks have even sprung up, such as The Incredibles and the Will Smith vehicle Hancock.

TV shows about superheroes were not a new thing in 2006. There had been numerous adaptions of the Marvel and DC gangs for decades. There was the Adam West Batman show for starters. Everyone from the Green Hornet to the Incredible Hulk got a TV show. 1993 saw Superman get Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman which was followed up eight years later by Smallville, the same year the whilly original creation Mutant X launched.

Kids TV had proven a particularly good place to establish original superhero creations. The Powerpuff Girls, Freakazoid, Captain Planet, and the Power Rangers are just a handful of examples of characters that fit under the broad title of superhero.

While Superheroes weren’t new to television in 2006 the approach Heroes took was. The majority of adaptions and original properties that had come before showed us a world where people with powers were commonplace and working on both sides of the good-evil spectrum. Characters had previously been happy to strut around in ridiculous outfits and displayed ease with regards to power control.

Heroes kept things simple, with the majority of the show’s characters discovering their powers for the first time and ignoring the existence of spandex at all costs. It was a drama show produced for adults, not a cheap, throwaway kids show made to fill air time on a Saturday morning. Cues were taken from the world of comics but Heroes was its own beast, the emphasis firmly on real characters with real problems. The powers were what helped set the show apart, not the focus.

Season one succeeded mostly because it was different and well written but also because of luck. The show came along at just the right time and featured just enough quirky touches to work. Giving a Wolverine-like healing factor to a teenage cheerleader was one such touch. It was familiar enough to be instantly understandable and yet completely alien because the person with the power wasn’t a grizzled, cigar-chomping mercenary from the nineteenth century.

Of course Claire, the cheerleader, spawned another of the show’s great hits: the line “Save the cheerleader, save the world!” Not  only was it esoteric enough to stick but it made sense within the show, a succinct summary of one of the central goals of the plot, to stop Claire’s healing factor falling into the hands of a psychotic killer.

The reappearing motifs of the DNA swirl and the eclipse proved far more popular than seemed reasonable too. People enjoyed tracking their appearances and conjecturing as to what they could mean. There were the mystery of The Man in the Horned Rimmed Glasses, the ongoing threat of Sylar, and the charming story of Hiro Nakamura to entertain too. The show built up a mythos but didn’t revel in it. Not during its first season anyway.

The cast of characters of that first season was tremendous. Thought was put into how a character’s traits would reflect in their power, if they had one. Everyone had a distinct voice and a reason for behaving the way they did. The show embraced its comic book heritage by dropping in little nods for fans, such as hiring artist Tim Sale to provide artwork. It even emulated famous stories: the X Men tale Days of Future Past famously provided the inspiration for Five Years Gone. Heroes also featured time travel as an important plot device. That may seem irrelevant (and it is in regard to comics) but Steven Moffat proved that audiences have an appetite for that sort of thing when he took over Doctor Who in 2010 (arguably earlier if you want to look at Blink, although the popularity of a one off episode isn’t really an indication of a trend).

Sadly the show’s success could not be sustained beyond the opening series. Season two featured a naff plot about a virus being unleashed. Then the writers’ strike hit. In a way that was a mercy. It forced Heroes to wrap things up and get ready for the third season.

Sadly things didn’t improve there, they only got worse. New characters that were introduced failed to be as engaging as their predecessors, and numerous bit part players from the show’s opening years had their parts beefed up, in most cases unnecessarily. In another, unplanned, nod to comics characters proved tough to kill for very long which quickly served to nullify what had been a dramatic and meaningful programme. That was one aspect of comicdom Heroes should have stayed away from.

By the end of the third series it was clear the concept was played out. Bryan Fuller, credited as one of the show’s driving forces during the opening season, had left to make his own show and had been replaced by Jeph Loeb. Yes, the same Jeph Loeb who loves to fetishize Marvel and DC characters and has an unhealthy love of continuity. His arrival coincided with the minor characters playing a more substantial role and a greater interest being taken in the mythos and canon of the programme.

Heroes was cancelled after its fourth season. Spiritually it died much earlier than that. Anything after season one is a disappoint to view. But if you’re interested in seeing a show that inspired and paved the way for programmes such as Misfits, No Ordinary Family and Alphas, or you’re a fan of comics that construct realistic characters, season one of Heroes, and only season one, is definitely worth watching.

2000 AD prog 1824

It’s become all the rage for comics to provide jumping on points for new readers. Every couple of years DC produces a summer crossover rejigging their fictional universe(s), pushing one character to the fore and shunting others out of the spotlight. Marvel has taken to printing issues with point one attached to their number to denote that it’s a particularly new reader friendly issue, not just the beginning of a new story but a story that explains the cast and their relations with one another to ease in the uninitiated.

Outside of the big two guys like Mark Millar and Mike Mignola tend to write in miniseries. They pipe out an above average number of issues with a number one printed on the front, ideal places for casual or new readers to start out.

This sort of approach is not unfamiliar to 2000 AD. Being an anthology book new tales have always started regularly, providing a good place for new or lapsed readers to get stuck in. They’re rarely marketed as such though. They’re just part of the way the book’s always worked.

Until recently that is. By accident or design (probably the latter) prog 1824 is an ideal buy for anyone who’s never picked up an issue or not read one in a while. It’s been touted as such by the company too. This, coupled with the title’s recent inaugural foray into inter-strip crossovers, could indicate that 2000 AD is changing tacks with regard to how it’s perceived alongside comic producers who put out numerous titles each week instead of just one.

Prog 1824 is comprised of four strips. It opens with a Judge Dredd tale. This is a logical choice as the character is easily 2000 AD’s most famous creation. I’ve never been a huge fan of Dredd so I was never going to be wildly into this story. It did what it needed to do and seemed to be a fine example of what Dredd’s known for.

The plot? Someone tries to assassinate a high ranking Judge but Dredd saves them in the nick of time. There’s a bike chase which ends with the would-be-assassin escaping and Dredd barking that he (or she or it) must be brought in at any cost.

That’s followed with the return of Dandridge, a character first introduced in 2009. We don’t see him until the final panel, but the build-up to his appearance makes it clear that he’s a playboy adventurer type in the vein of James Bond and various British TV spies from the 70s. That’s backed up by him clearly being patterned after Jason King. The tone of the title is very much in the spirit of King’s show, as well as The Avengers.

The world of Dandridge (another character I’m not overly familiar with but one I have more time for than Dredd) is interesting, based on these five pages. Ghosts seem to be a standard part of life while the secret service has access to cyborgs with golden cannons in place of stomachs. There’s a golem too. And some pub patrons that look like they’ve just stepped out of the 1970s.

There’s no real plot to speak of. It’s essentially one long setup for Dandridge’s intro. It was still enjoyable though, a testament to the writing ability of Alec Worley and Warren Pleece’s artwork. Pleece’s work in particular is excellent. His panels are detailed but never overly busy, and he does a fine job of nudging the story along without rushing things.

Tucked away before the final entry in the prog is Tharg’s 3rillers: Survival Geeks. This opening instalment is a pleasing read, despite its Americanised (by which I mean overly produced, I think) art style it’s a very British strip. References to the BBC, bus stops and Topshop are all well and good, but what really makes it clear that this is proud to be British is a reference to Paul McGann being in Doctor Who. Yeah it’s a bit Russell T Davies and Queer as Folk, but it’s a joke a creative team from outside the UK would be unlikely to make, even if they were fans.

A girl wakes from a one night stand to find that she’s spent the evening with one of three members of a household that jumps between realities. It’s a delightful (if somewhat unoriginal) premise that could easily run for years. It’s currently got three issues to prove itself and the mettle of its creators. Sadly the ending, which sees a Dark Lord turn up riding a cross between a xenomorph and a dragon, didn’t quite match the tone of the preceding pages.

The issue closes with the return of Stickleback. I’ve reviewed the first collected volume of this character’s exploits before (read that here). In short I enjoyed it. While D’Israeli’s artwork is as rich as ever the writing is not as welcoming and inclusive as the jumping on point hype would suggest. With no prior knowledge of the character I imagine the opening part of Number of the Beast is an alienating mystery. Even being familiar with the character didn’t help me to fathom what was going on.

Hopefully things will become clear as the story unfolds. Assuming that’s the case Number of the Beast part one seems to work well enough as the opening part of an ongoing tale. It certainly ends on a high note: a single page splash that sees three giant mechanoids towering over a backstreet with sees dinosaurs and lizardmen weaving between to Victorian gentlemen and a billboard advertisement for the London Overground. It’s the future mixed with the past, a fitting image for an introductory issue of 2000 AD to end on.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

 

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen famously came about after Alan Moore had asked himself, over a morning snake-spell, what a Victorian Era Justice League would have been like. Superman, Batman and the Green Lantern were emphatically not the characters he had in mind when asking this. Moore was more interested in how fictional creations of the time would have interacted had they all existed within one metafictional universe (or story) and come together to form a group.

Plucked from the 19^th century are Wilhelmina Murray (of Dracula fame), aged explorer Allan Quatermain, the Invisible Man Hawley Griffin, scientist Dr Jekyll (along with the other fella you get one using him), and isolationist submariner Captain Nemo. Murray fashions them into an ill-functioning team to combat two threats to Britain, and the world, across two six issue series. The first series details a plot by Fu Manchu to attack Britain from the skies. The second sees an invasion by the Martians from HG Wells’ War of the Worlds.

Going off of these first paragraphs League of Extraordinary Gentlemen could sound like a simple reworking of various plots and characters. It’s not. Moore remains true to the spirit of the original material he calls upon and blends the characters seamlessly into a story that is wholly his own. League (as it is routinely shortened to) is an original work inspired by literature.

One crucial thing to note about the series is that it’s not necessary to have read or even be familiar with any of the characters Moore uses. To this day I’ve not read Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde but it didn’t spoil my enjoyment of their comic book appearance here. I wasn’t even aware of the heroine’s name in Dracula. That didn’t spoil my enjoyment either.

Yet there’s enough substance in Moore’s writing to be able to tell that the characters are being portrayed in a true fashion. Occasionally a sentence will crop up that seems incongruous, such as a reference to Dr Jekyll’s transformations originally making him smaller (included because that’s what happened in Stevenson’s novel). There are plenty of references of this kind, and there’s always a deal of satisfaction in understanding on, a knack I have more with later volumes set in periods I’m more familiar with. But as I say, it doesn’t spoil things for the rest of us.

The books are famed for being populated with bit part characters plucked from works of the period. Not knowing their origins doesn’t detract from the read. You’ll feel proud at spotting something but if you don’t notice a particular reference the book still stands up and makes sense in its own right.

Artist Kevin O’Neill is just as responsible for the series’ success as Moore. His artistic style is not something that lends itself to lengthy action sequences or broad shouldered heroes but is a perfect fit for a series that demands dozens of hidden details crammed onto each page. The almost sketch-like quality of O’Neill’s work (harsh, jagged lines are the order of the day) coupled with the subject matter gives the book a feel that no other comic has ever had.

It should also be noted that it’s Sullivan who includes most of the fictional figures who appear in crowd scenes. This is something that grows more prevalent in later volumes as the creators find their feet with the series. This is understandable. Moore is known for many things but an intimate knowledge of pop culture isn’t among them.

The first and second volumes are also notable for the extra material included in them. The first book includes a newly spun tale of Quatermain and paintings based on The Picture of Dorian Gray. The second volume features my favourite extra of the series: detailed accounts of Moore’s metafictional world, continent by continent. The amount of research, planning and thought that must have gone into these pages alone is staggering. It’s written in the style of a guide and is one of the series’ greatest triumphs.

The world of the League is such a simple idea it’s surprising nobody else had really done it before. It’s good that they didn’t though: Moore packs so much into his books, undertaking hefty amounts of research in order to make his work as accurate and authentic as possible, that it’s likely nobody else could have done the series justice in quite the same way. The level of detail speaks to the author’s love and enjoyment of literature. He is astonishingly well read, and it’s allowed him to construct what I believe is his greatest work.

The Ultimates 2

Ultimates (a review of which can be found here) boasted a pretty impressive creative combo. Mark Millar on scripts and Bryan Hitch on pencils. There was never any question that one or both parties would be switched out for Ultimates 2. It was always theirs to work on if they wanted. Considering the first series had upped both men’s profiles considerably they naturally wanted to write more.

Ultimates 2 is not a radical departure from what made the first book a success. It is essentially more of the same but with new threats and a handful of new characters given a global scale. Part of what had made the first series work was the emphasis placed on character, something that has since become unusual in a Millar work (he prefers to write what could be described as fleshed out caricatures these days). He didn’t drop the habit before Ultimates 2 though.

The regulars of series one return, retaining the healthy modern twists they were given there and staying true to the larger history of their regular Marvel counterparts (Ultimates is set in a separate continuity from regular Marvel tales remember). Character developments are what drives the story forward. Whether it’s Bruce Banner being outed as the Hulk and then being sentenced to death, the rocky marriage of Hank and Janet Pym, or the continued mystery of Thor’s true nature (is he really a god or just a nutter?) the plot spins off of the characters, rather than the other way around.

The first portion of the series is very hard on the regulars, putting them through the grind so that they can make a triumphant comeback in the second half. The Ultimate version of Loki is introduced, and he naturally targets Thor for the first several issues. Once the thunder god’s out of the way Loki introduces his own team of superheroes, who lead a super-powered war against the United States using troops from a variety of anti-US nations.

This group, dubbed the Liberators, are analogues of the regular Ultimates. They’re led by The Colonel, a young boy from the Middle East who has been subjected to a strain of the Super Soldier serum that created Captain America. For some never explained reason he’s equipped with a lightsaber. I imagine it’s simply that Millar thinks Jedi toys are cool.

To my mind the war on the US storyline is the best thing Millar wrote under the Ultimates banner. It’s perfectly plotted and runs on an impressively large scale. The focus was on telling a realistic story using familiar characters, nothing else. Since this series wrapped up in 2007 the Ultimate imprint as a whole has taken a nosedive in quality as other writers have forgotten or overlooked what made the Ultimate line popular in the first place.

I don’t think this is a coincidence. Millar and Hitch were painfully slow when working on the two series they did together but they provided the line with creative leadership. While Millar would do more work in the Ultimate Universe it wasn’t with Hitch, and he had his own creator-owned projects on the go at the same time, which meant he had less time to dedicate to the larger world building that he’d done throughout the first six years of the Ultimate line’s life.

The twenty-six regular issues that make up Ultimates and Ultimates 2 are essentially one long story. They’re broken up with a number partly because of the delays that plagued issue releases. Ultimates 2 cannot be appreciated or made full sense of without having read the first series. I recommend doing so. It’s one of the best superhero comics ever written and is (amazingly) self-contained. More Ultimates comics would come later, but you can easily put down the final issue of Ultimates 2, never pick up any of the follow-ons and remain content.

Supergod

Supergod is the story of the end of the world.

The story is told in flashbacks by a scientist as he sits and watches London burning around him. If you’re thinking that that’s a very Warren Ellis image you’re right. Ellis wrote Supergod (not to be confused with Grant Morrison’s exploration of the superhuman condition that bears an incredibly similar name) to try and explore one of his pet notions: science turning humans into gods. Of course Ellis makes the notion far more literal in Supergod than it is in reality.

Through the flashbacks of the unnamed professor we are told the story of a superhuman arms race. Three Britons went out into space (Britain in space, another one of Ellis’s favoured ideas) and came back having been fused into one being by a space fungus. It sounds far more wacky and out-there than it actually is. On the illustrated page it has its own quiet logic that prevents it from becoming ridiculous. This fungus being is dubbed Morrigan Lugus and becomes the first of the “real life” deities to spring up in the story.

As the story continues we are introduced to further gods. Russia, Iran, the United States, China, and India are among the countries who undertake research into superhuman augmentation, unaware that their experiments will eventually lead to the end of the world. We are told and shown how each of these gods came about, how they interacted with one another and how they reacted to their own existences. Ellis handles the careful balancing act remarkably well.

You get the feeling when reading Supergod that Ellis wanted his writing to make people think about the nature of religion and perhaps the relationship comic book fans have with their treasured characters. If that is what he wanted he let himself down. The book’s enjoyable but it’s nowhere near weighty enough to tackle such large concepts with any degree of merit. It’s interesting which country and religion Ellis has survive his god-holocaust (I shan’t spoil it for you here) and hints at the his feelings on the spiritual future of the planet, but it does nothing more.

Where Supergod succeeds is in the fight scenes. Or perhaps that’s just me being shallow. Whatever the case the book comes to life when two of Ellis’s meet up for a rumble, not when the theological musing kicks in. It’s inevitable with a title like this. If you say you’re going to write a comic about what would happen if science created beings with god-like powers then obviously the fights are going to be the most enjoyable bits.

On art duty is Garrie Gastonny. I’ve not come across his work before or since but he handles the visuals with skill. Shots of ruined cities can often be a bit iffy, but thankfully the important things (the supergods) are very well designed and consistently drawn. Among the highlights are a mechanoid cosmonaut, Morrigan Lugus, and a Cthulhu-like giant made of flesh.

The story of the world’s end is well constructed. The plot is never overwhelming but it’s inventive enough to hold your attention in between fight scenes. Perhaps the greatest complement I can pay the book is that I care about the world and wish more had been shown of it. It’s a pity Ellis limited himself to a five issue run. Had this had double that, or perhaps more, then it could really have been something special.