Books of Doom

For me one of the greatest characters ever to appear in comics is Doctor Doom. I can't imagine there's anyone reading this who's unaware of him but just in case... Doom is the arch enemy of the Marvel supergroup the Fantastic Four (specifically he is the nemesis of Reed Richards) who has a deliberately obscured and contradictory backstory. He's the monarch of his own nation, Latveria, wears an imposing metal mask (which used to express emotions before Marvel, sadly, grew up), is a master scientists, practices magick, and used to love referring to himself in the third person.

I could write hundreds of words elaborating on all of these points but I won't. The point is that Victor Von Doom is one of the most intriguing, entertaining, and well-rounded characters in the Marvel Universe. As with many of his contemporaries (in fact all well-written bad guys everywhere) Doom has understandable and justifiable motives for his actions. He doesn't see himself as a villain. He sees himself as a genius and a hero.

All of this meant it was completely natural for Marvel to give him a starring role in his own comic. He's actually had several at this point, and Books of Doom is not the first. But it is (probably) the most prominent.

Books of Doom is a four issue mini-series that tells the (perhaps it's more accurate to say "an") origin story for the character. It presents various aspects that have been involved in stories of his early years before, but does contradict takes that have appeared in the pages of Fantastic Four comics. Magick, gypsies, humble beginnings and Tibetan monks are among the things that have played a part in shaping Doom's personality.

The fashioning of these disparate themes and ideas into coherency is left to Ed Brubaker. He does a fine job, getting Doom's focus, motives and speech patterns (yes a comic book character can have speech patterns) exactly right. The plot is less of a triumph, mostly because he's retreading old ground. He's very loyal to what's already been established and manages to put his own spin on things but when so much is already known it's tough to have much of an impact or surprise the audience. He sticks to the Jack Kirby approach of not showing Doom's face after a certain point, which is incredibly pleasing.

On art duty is Pablo Raimondi (which is a great name). He too does a fine job, capturing the sense of imperialistic righteousness that characterises Doctor Doom at his best and ensuring that the supporting cast don't fade into the background, which would have been all too easy with a bombastic creation like Doom in the starring role. A minor complaint regarding the artwork is that a lot of the book is set at night, leading to a lot of purples, browns, greys and blacks. It can make the book a little drab to look at in places.

Books of Doom is an essential read for any fans of Doctor Doom. It's not the greatest comic ever written, it's not even the greatest comic to make use of Doom, but Brubaker and Raimondi do a great job capturing the spirit of the character and do an put an entertaining, fresh spin on his origin tale. For anyone more concerned with plot than Doctor Doom there's a wonderful twist in the closing pages which is a real delight. All-in-all it’s something worth a look at, but not something that’s likely to make anyone’s top reads list.

Batman: The Killing Joke

As its title indicates Batman: The Killing Joke is as much a Joker book as a Batman book. This may not seem particularly noteworthy now, when an entire month’s worth of DC comics can be dedicated to pushing villains to the fore and there are almost as many anti-heroes as there are straight villains. But in the late eighties the approach was still new enough to be a novelty. Even with a big name baddie like Joker. Which was almost certainly a factor when Alan Moore decided he wanted to write it.

The plot is fairly basic. Joker targets Commissioner Gordon with a series of vicious pranks and attacks, his goal bring to prove that anyone can be taken down to their lowest, insane ebb with one bad day. Batman saves the day (natch) by tussling with Joker and saving Gordon from his seemingly overwhelming despair. Along the way we get a look at The Joker before he became The Joker and Barbara ‘Batgirl’ Gordon gets shot.

I'm paraphrasing but that's the basic gist.

The shooting was a rare example of a comic book occurrence that had a long term impact. Barbara remained paralysed until DC’s line-wide reboot in 2011. It wasn’t something cynically dreamt up to create a readership spike, it was something Moore devised to have dramatic impact. It did and does.

As a Batman comic it works. It does something new with established characters without betraying their roots or emotions and captures the gritty feel of Gotham City. As an Alan Moore comic it also works. A bad guy dragging a morally courageous man down to his level just because he can is exactly the sort of thing Alan Moore is known for writing.  

The book is well-written and nicely paced over its dozens of pages. It's entertaining and benefits from some lovely art provided by Brian Bolland (with the deluxe edition currently on bookshelves getting a great recolour job also provided by Bolland). Perhaps most importantly it followed on from the themes that began with Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns and played into the darkening of the Batman character. That's something we take for granted now as it's been the standard approach for twenty-five years, but it wasn't the guaranteed recipe for success when written that it is now. The approach has been a factor in the character's longevity, and we have Alan Moore (as well as Miller) to thank for that.

Umbrella Academy: Apocalypse Suite

Umbrella Academy: Apocalypse Suite is the first professional comic book work of musician Gerard Way. For a debut it is incredibly good. Way has a clear voice as a writer and shows a good understanding of how to put a comic together. Everything from the story’s pacing to cutting between scenes is written as competently as any experienced professional.

Umbrella Academy: Apocalypse Suite is also the first major comic book work of artist Gabriel Bá. His work is just as impressive. Clearly heavily inspired by Mike Mignola (Bá went on to work on a B.P.R.D. series in 2009) he enjoys heavy shadows and excels at drawing outlandish grotesques. He handles everything from quiet character moments to action sequences with equal aplomb.

Umbrella Academy: Apocalypse Suite opens with a half issue explanation of the general premise and setup. Forty-three babies were spontaneously birthed at the exact same moment, each with special powers. Seven of them were adopted by noted Renaissance man Reginald Hargreeves, known in some circles as The Monocle. His reason for raising them is to train them to save the world.

… And now for a new paragraph that doesn’t begin with the comic’s name.

The plot of the other five and a half issues focuses on an impending End Of The World event triggered by a reunion of the group. It’s here where Way’s ideas become rather heavy, the general premise of an impending apocalypse almost, but not quite, being outweighed by a plague of floating robotic heads, a throwaway villain who’s more plot device than anything else, and a load of unexplained animosity between the adopted siblings. Fair enough not giving us all the answers to that last one helps to build some mystery but to give us nothing at all is ridiculous.

This is far from a perfect comic though. Way has an impressive number of ideas on display, but I can’t help thinking that the book would have been better had it featured one or two less. Nothing is dreadfully underdeveloped but it would have been nice for some things to be fleshed out just a little. This is probably down to the old problem of a first time author wanting to get all their ideas into something in case they never get anything published again. It’s understandable but does detract from some of the book’s better concepts.

It’s no surprise that Grant Morrison wrote a foreword to the collected volume and was quoted as saying it’s “an ultraviolent psychedelic sherbet bomb.” The excess on display is right out of his playbook. But at least Way has the excuse of this being his first piece of work. And for that reason I feel that I may be being a little unfair. It’s rare for someone to write something this good, with such an understanding of the medium, on their first try. Way clearly isn’t just a minor celebrity (he’s the lead singer of My Chemical Romance… which will probably mean something to those of you who take an interest in music) who lucked into getting published. He’s a fan who wants to contribute something to the comic book industry.

The Ultimates 3

The first and second series of The Ultimates were both important titles. They helped establish Mark Millar as a major name at ‘The House of Ideas’, effectively setting him up to become one of the biggest writers in comicdom a few years later. They affirmed that Marvel’s Ultimate line was to be considered synonymous with the very best the company had to offer. And they were amongst the finest books turned out in the first decade of the century. A great deal of good was done by Hitch and Millar’s Ultimates books.

Naturally Marvel was keen to keep the title going. Unfortunately, for them and us, Millar was less keen to remain involved. Feeling he’d told all the stories he wanted to with the Ultimates team and wanting to work with different characters, both Marvel properties and his own, Millar declined an invitation to write The Ultimates 3.

The company was tasked with finding a new writer for the series. What they needed was someone familiar with the first two series, and the characters used in them, who was keen to do something new and exciting that followed on from Millar’s work. Ideally they would have given the book to a young writer who’d proven themselves on an expendable title or two who could have used The Ultimates 3 to establish themselves in the same fashion Millar had.

Instead it went to Jeph Loeb.

New ideas are not Loeb’s strong suit. Where Millar gave us a fresh and interesting take on well-worn characters, making them feel new again, Loeb did everything in his power to rework them to be more in line with their traditional portrayals. Which spectacularly missed the point of the Ultimate line, of course. Cap goes from being a man out of time to a generic square-jawed hero, Black Widow becomes a sex kitten double agent, and Thor inexplicably starts chatting like a Shakespeare character, ignoring the eco warrior theme he’d had under Millar. There are other examples. These are simply the worst.

Along with his complete non-understanding of the title’s original appeal Loeb also failed to provide an interesting storyline. Where Millar had provided fittingly large scale plots involving alien invasion and Nazi criminals (it’s more inventive than it sounds, I promise) Loeb tells the tale of a sex tape and a sentient robot butler. These are not subjects that should be off limits to comics, but they are subjects and storylines that should have been off limits to an incredibly successful action title being produced by Marvel.

He also went overboard with cameos and continuity. This is a trademark of his. We were “treated” to appearances by the likes of Spider-Man, Magneto and Sabretooth, the pointless debut of Hank Pym’s Yellowjacket garb, and the addition of Valkyrie, Wolverine, Black Panther and others to the team so that Loeb can play at writing mysteries (which he seems to think he’s rather good at, which would make him wrong as well as a poor writer). None of it adds anything to the story beyond a cheap thrill. The continuity was worse, mostly because Loeb didn’t have sufficient knowledge of what had gone before. At times it’s as though he thinks he’s writing for Marvel’s regular continuity, which, again, completely misses the point of the Ultimate line.

Adding to the woe was the exit of artist Bryan Hitch alongside Mark Millar. To my knowledge he’s never stated why he left The Ultimates but it would seem safe to assume he wanted fresh work. As good as Millar’s Ultimates scripts were it’s easy to imagine Hitch wanting to draw something else.

Replacing him was Joe Madureira. He’s not a bad artist but his work was so different from Hitch’s that it failed to feel like the same book. And as it was presented as a continuation of what had gone before that was a bit of a problem. His artwork just didn’t gel with the tone people were expecting.

At the time it was clear that The Ultimates 3 was a terrible comic series. Loeb and Madureira were entirely the wrong people for the task of continuing the sterling work of Millar and Hitch and they produced something bad. With hindsight it’s worse than simply being a bad comic. With hindsight The Ultimates 3 is where the entire Ultimate line took a dive in quality that it never recovered from.

Flex Mentallo

Flex Mentallo first appeared during Grant Morrison’s time writing Doom Patrol. He was a throwaway addition designed to act as a parody of a Charles Atlas advertising character as well as golden age comic tropes in general. His power of flexing muscles, which sorted out seemingly any problem, seemed designed to draw attention to how simple, which is to say wholesome and free of worry as opposed to foolish or stupid, comic books of the past were.

The character was well-suited to a minor appearance in a book like Doom Patrol. It was a title that thrived on being quirky and strange and Mentallo’s oddball power and eccentric look (he wears a pair of leopard print strongman trunks and a gabardine mac) were a natural fit. That was never going to be enough for Grant Morrison. He had to pluck this one dimensional character from relative obscurity and award him his own four issue series.

In principle that’s a decision that could have worked. Had Morrison used the title as a tool to frame his feelings and thoughts on the golden age of comics it could have been an interesting read. Mentallo would have been the perfect creation for such a comic, being a modern creation designed to ape the standards of a previous era he would have had a different relationship to the source material than other characters. What’s more this is a comic I can imagine Morrison having an interest in writing. He’s penned an entire book on the history of superheroes and comic books in general. Imaging that he’d like to write something in the golden age style is an easy leap to make.

But that’s not we’ve got. Part of the book’s trouble is that it’s very difficult to say what we have instead.

It starts out well enough. We’re introduced to Mentallo at an airport, where he stumbles across a case that needs to be solved and, well, sets about solving it. His investigations quickly reveal that the man he’s looking for is an old accomplice of his, The Fact, who Mentallo believes to be a fictional creation. It’s at this point that we learn Mentallo is aware that he used to be fictional too, but was drawn out of pages he was scribbled on by his creator, Wally Sage.

It’s an intriguing premise that Morrison mostly ignores, instead deciding that what his four issue miniseries needs is more ideas. He revisits the idea of comic book characters being real at the end of the book and we again get a glimpse of how good a concept it is. It’s revealed that the world the book’s set in used to have thousands of superheroes in it, loving and protecting the peoples of the world, but they ran into some bother and only managed to save themselves by turning themselves into pure ideas that survived in reality as comic book characters.

These revelations come out over just a few pages in the fourth issue, rendering an idea stuffed with potential for greatness wasted. It’s the standard problem with Morrison’s work: he tends to have pretty good ideas but crams too many into a title, leaving them all frustratingly underdeveloped.

Even by his kaleidoscope standards Morrison seems unfocused with Flex Mentallo. He makes a big deal about how much raw creativity goes into the comics kids draw for themselves but never really pays the thread off or fully explains what his point is. He mentions parallel universes and timelines continuously but they never feature in any meaningful sense. He creates an incredible number of superheroes and –villains, with many of them ironically seemingly inspired by the silver age of comics, that feel wasted.

Reading the series it feels as though Morrison is desperate for it to be about something. But he’s so desperate to achieve this that he tosses in too much and the half-formed and unfocused results end up nothing but a disappointment. It’s possible that someone could drag some sense out of Flex Mentallo with some rereading but that person’s not me.

It’s ironic that a book with a central character based on the most simplistic age of comic books is such a tangled, convoluted mess. It’s also a shame. Frank Quitely does his usual job of transforming Morrison’s script into something that is visually engaging, inventive and fun and the book always feels as though it’s on the cusp of becoming really good. But it never does. As nice as it looks, and perhaps sounds, this is not something I can recommend.

B.P.R.D.

The Bureau for Paranormal Research and a Development began life as the employer of and base of operations for Hellboy in the startlingly named Hellboy comic. After a few miniseries it became clear to writer-artist Mild Mignola that it was a strong enough concept to support a title of its own. Just as importantly Hellboy was deemed interesting enough to separate him from his supporting cast and move him off on his own, away from a supporting cast.

So Hellboy tendered his resignation and went off adventuring alone while the BPRD were siphoned off into their own new title. That the name of the comic was chosen as BPRD was a surprise to no one.

What's strange is that after the split both the original Hellboy book and the new BPRD feel slightly like spin offs while also feeling like the original thing. Hellboy obviously feels like the original because the title had existed for a while by the time the central character headed out on his own. But doing away with the BPRD staff changes the feel of the book. It's no longer about a team, it's about Hellboy and Hellboy alone.

BPRD begins life feeling familiar because readers are already aware of most of the cast. Where it begins to feel new is in its weird war on frogs storyline. Presumably in favour of keeping the folklore and fairy tales approach for Hellboy's title BPRD fights this war against frogs that live under the Earth for its first several volumes. They’d shown up in Hellboy before, but not to the extent they were used in early BPRD.

It's a bold and understandable change. The war on frogs idea is the sort of thing that could easily have been elaborated on in Hellboy. The trouble is that it goes on too long in BPRD. It's the central focus of too many early arcs and provides the series with a far less flexible style than it had enjoyed when a part of the original book. It becomes boring very quickly, largely because not enough effort is made to do new things with the idea. Basically each volume sees the man-sized frogs appear and the BPRD dispatched to best them. It's like a kids' TV show, the same bad guys turning up with a wacky new plan every week and being beaten handily by the end of the episode.

But to read all of this makes BPRD sound bad. And it's not. Nothing bad would have had the success and double figure volume count that BPRD had enjoyed. It’s an engaging book that keeps that, once it’s found its feet, presents new ideas without comprising the spirit of the title it originated from.

I think the reason the title’s enjoyed the success it had is its cast. A lot of time has clearly gone into fleshing out the characters we were familiar with and making the new ones layered and interesting. Amongst the BPRD’s numbers are a werecat, a ghost, a pyromancer, a mummy and a psychic. They all fit with the feel of the world they feature in but aren’t simple caricatures. They’re given distinct personalities, which makes reading all the more enjoyable.

Mignola stayed on writing duties for the first volume or two but has always left the art of the spin-off book to a trusted cabal of artists, originally led by Guy Davis. He seemed content to provide nothing more than a general overview of proposed storylines. Aside from bringing us the war on frogs the arrangement's worked well. BPRD is a consistently written book with engaging characters and a steady stream of nice ideas. You can’t go far wrong with it.

Hellboy

The first thing I'd like to say about the Hellboy comics is that I like the way they're published. Rather than keeping the title going as a monthly series with no end in sight, an approach that would inevitably bring about dips in quality, creator and lead writer Mike Mignola has instead taken the decision to publish each Hellboy arc as a series in its own right. While that can mean waiting a long time for a new issue to come out it generally ensures a pretty high level of quality.

Another chief reason for the approach is that Mignola started out to writing and drawing each issue himself. This is not a preference that lends itself to fast production, as Mignola would have to write five or six scripts before embarking on the artwork. Over time other artists and writers have contributed to the series, but Mignola has remained heavily involved.

Which is fine, because he's a very good artist with a very clear idea for how he wants to present his characters and world. By his own admission he has limitations (modern technology and cars for example) but what he does produce always has personality. Mignola is one of the best in the world when it comes to bringing a shadowy cavern or a mysterious forest or a dilapidated castle to life.

In the world that Hellboy inhabits these things are important. Hellboy (real name Anung un Rama, it’s decided early within the series that Hellboy is a more convenient name) is a demon summoned by Nazi occultists in 1944 is a part of a ritual designed to help turn the tide of the war. Everything goes a bit wrong (as such things tend to) and the Germans end up defeated.

Hellboy is taken in by the US military and Professor Bruttenholm. Quickly maturing to an adult size he's trained to be an agent for the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Development. The first few series focus on Hellboy's work for the BPRD with Mignola hunting out obscure old folk tales to rework into plots. There’s also a pretty Lovecraftian theme to much of his work with the character, not least his origin.

It's Mignola's talent at crafting a modern tale from something old that makes Hellboy books as enjoyable as they are. His love of the supernatural, occult and strange is clear in all of his scripts and artwork. He loves his source material and wants to do it proud in his adaptions. It helps that fairy tales, myths, legends, and fables are particularly well-suited to the visual short form of comics.

Eventually Hellboy leaves the BPRD and sets out on his own adventures. The title keeps the same themes and inspirations (in fact it becomes decidedly odder for a while) but loses its supporting cast. This is because the BPRD was deemed an interesting enough idea to support its own series (an idea that appears to have been correct considering the fact that the BPRD books are still on shelves). The in-universe reason is that Hellboy no longer wishes to work for the bureau. It’s basic but it suffices.

The Hellboy character is a likeable one. He's written to be kind and caring with a playfully gruff exterior. It's a cliche now but it probably wasn't so bad when the character first appeared in the mid-90s. He's basically very similar to Wolverine only more immediately likeable. And with a giant fist.