Superman: Red Son

You could be forgiven for seeing Mark Millar’s name of the front of Superman: Red Son and assuming that it’s going to be yet another smash-‘em-up with little thought behind it. That is after all what Millar’s known for. And in his defence he’s very good at it. But Red Son is a little more than that.

In the fine tradition of DC’s Elseworld books Red Son attempts to provide a satisfying answer to a fairly basic question: what if Kal-El, the last son of Krypton, had crash-landed in Russia instead of the good ol’ US of A? The obvious answer is that Superman would grow up a red commie, and that’s exactly what happens.

Supes is raised to follow the creed of communism, but the character’s trait of caring for all the peoples of the world remains. Millar presents us with an interesting version of Superman: one who still cares about the world at large but shows it through the values and rhetoric of communism. It allows for some nice moments that play on the traditional interpretation of Superman. It’s a blend of the familiar and the peculiar, unexpected because it’s not generally the sort of thing Millar does.

The plot is a similar mix, giving us predictable and bizarre in equal measure. A Russian Batman crops up, determined to bring down the evil alien oppressor. He begins as a bad guy but inevitably comes good in the end when he realises his life has been manipulated by a power hungry comrade. It’s a fair enough use of the character, Red Son being a limited series set in an alternate universe is going to lead to things like this.

Lex Luthor, Wonder Woman and a handful of other characters make their obligatory appearances too. Here Luthor’s President of the United States. To be honest it feels like an excuse to add tension and a sense of unknowing to the Russia and America conflict. It doesn’t particularly work. Neither does Wonder Woman’s involvement. There’s no reason for her to appear beyond providing gratification to fans of continuity.

One of the more bizarre plot points sees the US army developing a squadron of Green Lanterns. It’s one of Millar’s better ideas and so it’s disappointing that it plays out over the course of a handful of pages. Considering how prominent the Lantern has become over the last several years (thanks to a seemingly never-ending stream of crossover events and the dedication of Geoff Johns) it feels strange to see the “character” occupying such a reduced role.

The strangest aspect of Red Son is its twist ending. If you want to avoid spoilers jump to the next paragraph now. Sticking around? Okay. The closing issue features scenes set on a future Earth that has been through a period as a utopia before falling to war and ruin. This future, predictably, is the result of Superman landing in Russia centuries or aeons (or however long it’s meant to be) before. A young baby named Kal-El is sent back in time… where he crash lands in Russia. Sort of like Terminator, but with more communism.

This twist is the sort of thing that could quite easily have been saved for a non-Russian obsessed limited series. It works well, and is written ell, but there’s no actual reason for it to occur here. Millar could quite easily have used the idea for another Superman series or for one of his many creator own projects. I’m not complaining though: the twist makes the book far more memorable than it would have been otherwise.

Dave Johnson and Kilian Plunket’s artwork helps to make Red Son memorable. their work is perfectly judged. We’re presented with a Moscow covered with imposing statues of Soviet Russia’s greatest hero (Superman, not Stalin), which helps to sell the idea of Russia using Superman as a propaganda tool. The hammer and sickle emblem that replaces the usual S logo on Superman’s chest is a nice touch too.

Even Batman gets a gimmick overhaul, wearing a thick winter hat with ridiculous ears in addition to his traditional black garb. It succeeds in making him look more like a freedom fighter than a superhero, which is surely the point. Johnson and Plunket’s style is dynamic and has a very nice sense of timing. Colourist Paul Mounts deserves praise too: he’s very good at selecting a “theme colour” when scenes require it, which makes them visually interesting.

If you’ve ever wondered what it would be like if Superman was Russian (and if you haven’t, why haven’t you?) then this is a natural thing to add to your reading list. For everyone else it will provide an interesting diversion. Mark Millar fans may feel cheated as the book lacks the flare he’s developed on his own titles. Everyone should enjoy the ending though. It’s clever stuff.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Black Dossier

Black Dossier was the first true sign that Alan Moore was going to do more with the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen than just make them a Victorian era Justice League. It’s set decades after the original two books in the series, with the League having become a thing of the past and its two remaining heroes, along with series newcomer Orlando, off having adventures of their own.

For a while Black Dossier was hard to come by in Britain. The concept of plucking fictional characters from their original works and dropping them into a shared universe was fine for Victorian creations because their rights are all public domain, available for anyone to use. Doing the same thing for creations of the thirties, forties and later is trickier because of copyright laws. In particular there were some issues regarding the appearance of James Bond.

I’m unaware of exactly how the issue was sorted out. I find it hard to believe that either party backed down. Clearly something happened though, because Black Dossier is now as readily available through the usual comic book channels as anything else.

As with the original two volumes of the series one of the best things about Black Dossier is the world building. Much of this takes place, rather cleverly, during lulls in the plot that see Mina and-or Allan settling down to read the titular Dossier. It’s essentially a collection of stories, propaganda pieces, documents, diaries, and even postcards that flesh out the world of the League into a thoroughly believable fictional setting.

This level of detail regarding the background and backdrop is far more impressive than the plot itself. The story is basically a lengthy series of captures and escapes, interspersed with the lulls and bouts of action. It holds together very well, but without the world being so interesting I have a feeling Black Dossier would be a frightfully dull affair.

The number of ideas on display is staggering. We discover that the literary golden age of sci-fi that we experienced resulted in rocket travel, hover cars, and robots being commonplace in the League world; there was a Orwellian dictatorship government that sprang up in 1948 (the year Nineteen Eighty Four was published); William Shakespeare was a favoured playwright of the first faerie queen of Britain; and there were other attempts at forming a League following the incarnation seen in the original series. These are my personal highlights. There are plenty more in what was a very inventive book. Of course there are the less obvious visual references too and probably plenty I’ve missed, but that’s part of the fun.

Black Dossier’s format difference is largely due to the fact that it wasn’t originally intended as a follow-up to the first two volumes. Moore originally intended to write out the information in a more conventional manner, strictly for his own use. He decided to turn it into a published work when he became overcome with guilt (or something to that effect) at putting Kevin O’Neill out of work. This is an actual statement made by Moore. He didn’t touch on O’Neill’s ability to work elsewhere. Perhaps it didn’t occur to him.

Black Dossier doesn’t quite hit the same heights as the first two entries in the series but that’s not the worst thing in the world. The standard was set incredibly high and a slip was going to happen sooner or later. While the plot isn’t quite as rich this book is a triumph when it comes to fleshing out the incredibly dense history and nature of the League of the Extraordinary Gentlemen universe. That’s Alan Moore’s greatest strength as a writer, and this is a shining example.

Spiderman Reign

Batman: The Dark Knight Returns was a gritty, dystopian tale of Batman’s return to the streets after a decade of retirement. Spiderman Reign is exactly the same thing. But with Spiderman. And not quite as good.

The trouble Spiderman Reign has is that it is so obviously designed to be Marvel’s answer to Dark Knight. Deliberately setting out to emulate such a successful book is always going to be a dangerous thing to do because anything you get wrong is going to be amplified by the original’s success.

I’m not a big fan of DKR but I can see where its appeal lies. I can also appreciate that it was an interesting idea borne of its time. It was in part a response to the world Frank Miller found himself in in the eighties. It’s grim and dark because Miller was in a world that was grim and dark and, crucially, its success came in part because that simply wasn’t what comics did at the time.

Spiderman Reign was produced in 2006. As far as comics are concerned that places it firmly into the era of retreads, cash-ins, and set-ups for movies. That’s a far cry from the world of originality Miller was writing in.

The story sees Peter Parker return to the streets of New York City as Spidey after a period of inactivity that’s seen him wind up as a florist. How and why he gave up the photography and journalism career he’d juggled with his night job as Spiderman is never adequately addressed and is the first sign that the entire premise hasn’t really been thought through.

In NYC masked criminals are a thing of the past, the town now being under the protection of the powerful, and inevitably corrupt, Reign enforcement team. They answer to an equally corrupt mayor. Parker bumps into a teen that’s found himself on the receiving end of the overzealous law enforcers and gets beaten up by the cops. It’s this trivial occurrence that ultimately prompts him to don the mask again.

From there it’s the standard sequences of Spidey returning to the rooftops and getting one over on the bad guys in a series of Feel Good Moments™. This leads to the mayor unleashing Mysterio, Electro, Kraven, Sandman, Hydro-Man and Scorpion, collectively billed as the Sinner Six, from jail so that they can target New York’s premiere masked vigilante. Cameos are also made by J Jonah Jameson (who should really be dead by this point considering his age) and, for no particular reason, obscure enemy Hypno Hustler.

Despite the uninspired and vaguely confusing plot that dominates proceedings there are some nice ideas dotted throughout Reign’s slender four issue run. Doctor Octopus is shown to be a corpse slumped in the centre of his still functioning metal arms, stalking the city on the dead of night. That provides some nice visuals. There’s a climactic battle with Venom that’s well drawn. In fact the artwork of Kaare Andrews (who also wrote the script) and Jose Villarrubia is far better than the story deserves. It’s very evocative in places. It’s just a pity it doesn’t have anything substantial to work with.

Spiderman Reign is far from a must read. Pick it up and flick through it if you see it. If you like the art you’ll probably enjoy it as a(n expensive) diversion. Equally if you’re nuts about Spiderman then you’ll probably find it enjoyable enough. For anyone who doesn’t fall into either camp it’s probably best to save your money and buy something else instead.

Batman and Robin

Even though I grew up in the 80s I still watched the Adam West Batman TV show when I was young. It was repeated regularly, on Channel 4 I think. I enjoyed it, but it wasn’t something I was desperate to watch. It was mainly on so that my mum could have some peace I think. Not that this matters, of course. I was only young but even then I knew it was a faintly ridiculous show. I didn’t know words like camp or kitsch (or faintly ridiculous) but there was an air to it that you didn’t get with other shows.

As an adult it’s easy to identify what’s peculiar about the show (beyond it being camp, kitsch and faintly ridiculous). It presents Batman differently to every other major (and minor for that matter) depiction the character’s ever had. He’s not the grizzled renegade stalking the streets of Gotham City by night, he’s a deliberately overly dramatic fop who only comes out during the day to battle the most ineffective bunch of hoodlums you’re ever likely to stumble across. You can’t imagine Adam West’s Batman stalking anywhere.

Despite being about as far removed from the modern and popular presentations of The Batman as you can get the show worked and still holds up pretty well today. It takes its inspiration from the comics but it’s not of that world. It plays by its own set of rules and has no interest in trying to make Batman look serious, something the comics have increasingly become obsessed with over the decades.

It’s this incarnation of Batman that Grant Morrison says he drew inspiration from for his 2009 ongoing title Batman and Robin. By the time the first issue came around Morrison had essentially been the head writer of the Bat-franchise for three years and had taken the character and his supporting cast in a variety of surprising directions. He’d reintroduced elements of canon most had assumed had been quietly dropped and revived the forgotten spirits of Batman through the ages, such as his brushes with science fiction and his detective roots.

Prior to the launch of Batman and Robin Morrison had produced an arc that saw original Batman Bruce Wayne die. Damien Wayne, Bruce’s estranged son whose mother was Talia al Ghul and grandfather was Ra’s, had been brought back to the various Bat titles after a fleeting appearance in the eighties, and Dick Grayson had been established as the obvious successor to Bruce should anything unfortunate happen.

The book focused on the new pairing of Dick and Damien as Batman and Robin. Despite having come about as the result of a death the emphasis for the new book was on fun. Which is where the citing of the Adam West TV show as a source of inspiration presumably stems from. Because no interpretation of Batman has ever been more fun than West’s.

Part of the appeal was in the role reversal that initially took place between the new Dynamic Duo. Dick proved a calmer, more thoughtful Batman than Bruce had, embodying his finer attributes with a warmer approach to dealing with people. Damien was written as a hothead keen to mete out justice to wrongdoers and was very vocal on the subject of wanting to be Batman, his feeling being that as Bruce’s son he was the natural heir. It’s an interesting subversion and one that Morrison writes well without careening into overkill.

Sadly the book never really amounts to much, despite having a lot going for it. The opening three issue arc sees Batman and Robin tangling with Professor Pyg, a man who enjoys nothing more than kidnapping people and mutilating their faces. It’s arguably the highlight of the title’s run. Later arcs would feature tie-ins to other Bat titles and the DC-wide Blackest Night crossover event, which put a serious dent in the direction the book could take.

It doesn’t hurt that those opening issues are pencilled by Morrison’s pal and frequent collaborator Frank Quitely. He’s given the chance to draw circus freaks and a villain called Mr Toad, who seems to be based strongly on the version of the character seen in Wind in the Willows animated series from Cosgrove Hall. It’s right up his alley and he produces striking visuals that help to set the book apart from most of the other comics DC (or anyone else) were putting out at the time.

Quitely was replaced by Philip Tan and a number of other artists. While nobody who worked on the series alongside Morrison could be considered bad nobody produced anything as captivating as Quitely did. It didn’t help that stories became more generic. In addition to tying into crossovers they seemed to be turning towards the standard dark stories that we’d been explicitly told would be avoided.

The book essentially became a standard, and skippable, Batman book when Morrison left. He was replaced for three issues by Paul Cornell before Peter Tomasi as the regular scripter. Tomasi has his strengths as a writer but taking Batman in bold new directions while invoking a TV show that goes against the way the modern character is presented, and telling fun, frothy stories to boot, is not among them.

I’d highly recommend buying the first collected edition of Batman and Robin. Disappointingly anything after issue seven (the comic ran for over twenty issues before getting renumbered during DC’s New 52 event which is remarkably still trundling on) is instantly forgettable but that opening stretch is definitely worth a look thanks to the great art and Morrison bothering to deliver hat he originally promised.

Warren Ellis's Stormwatch

Stormwatch is the first entry in what can be considered a loose trilogy of Wildstorm titles for Warren Ellis. The second part would be The Authority and the concluding part would be Planetary. I didn’t realise this when I read them because I read them out of sequence. Not that you have to have read them in publication order of course, but certain references and recurring characters will make more sense if you do. My reading habits are a product of living in the age of collected editions.

Everyone who writes about Stormwatch mentions that its themes bled into The Authority and on into Planetary. It’s because the latter two titles are so incredibly highly regarded that it’s worth noting that the author figured out his voice for both here first. It’s interesting for its place in history and Ellis’s career as much as anything else.

It also helps to disguise the fact that, at times, Stormwatch can be a little rough around the edges. Part of the reason for that could be because this book was something Ellis inherited rather than created himself, the opposite of which would be the case with the later titles. This results in the author writing out numerous members of the existing cast and introducing his own new creations.

Authority stalwarts Jack Hawksmoor, Jenny Sparks, Swift, Apollo and Midnighter are all introduced here. So are the ideas of the Doctor and the Engineer. It’s clear at a glance that Ellis wants to be writing something wholly original rather than tinkering with the legacy of other people’s work.

The plots bear a striking similarity to The Authority. They’re on a smaller scale and tend to involve existing members of the team more, likely because Ellis didn’t have the sway at this point to use the approach he would later on, but they’re similar enough to the stuff turned out on The Authority to be an obvious precursor. It’s very much in the vein of shadowy cabals, secret societies and corrupt governments. Basically exactly the sort of thing Ellis has been doing for much of his career.

And yet it’s not solely just The Authority before The Authority. Ellis employs techniques that the “wide screen” approach wouldn’t lend itself to. Most obvious is issue forty-four. It’s a flashback story recounting the life of Jenny Sparks and employs artistic techniques that invoke various eras and titles, from pulp detective stories to Watchmen. It’s a less refined approach than what we would eventually see with Planetary but that it’s injected into just one issue, instead of across an entire series, makes it a little more focused.

This book is also of interest because it demonstrates the level of direction Ellis would garner within the Wildstorm Universe. As noted this was a book he inherited from other people. It was designed to sit alongside a wider range of titles and feature a level of crossover. By the time Planetary rolled around Ellis was essentially writing a creator-owned series in a shared universe. Stormwatch is the beginning of what would become Ellis’s impressive influence on an entire company’s output.

Content-wise the run is probably best known for a twist regarding one of the central characters. I shan’t spoil the nature of that here but I will say that it works well and adds a great deal to the plot. It’s also a rarity in comics in that it doesn’t happen for the sake of shocking or being a part of a company-wide crossover. It’s clearly something planned from the start. Yes, this is a vague paragraph. It’s tough to address a large part of the book whilst at the same time trying not to spoil it for anyone who’s not read the book (this is intended to be a recommendation after all).

If there’s one thing that I don’t especially care for about Ellis’s Stormwatch it’s the art of Tom Raney. It’s very of its time. You can tell from glancing at almost any page that it’s a nineties team book that was put out opposite the phenomenally popular X-Men. It would be overstating things to say it’s style over substance, but not by much. Something about Raney’s efforts just doesn’t quite gel. Whether its limbs being posed at peculiar angles, collapsing buildings looking like they’re doing things that defy physics (and not by design), or his sloppy approach to fight scenes (of which there are many) there’s always something just a bit off.

The below average artwork isn’t enough to stop Stormwatch being a very enjoyable read. Ellis produces some great work in its own right which becomes even more fascinating now that we have the benefit of hindsight to see where his career headed, both with specific follow-ups and with the general themes and tropes he’d adopt in general.