Ultimate Avengers: Crime and Punishment

The bad news with second series of Ultimate Avengers is that artist Carlos Pacheco was not involved. It’s a great shame as he’d proven a worthy successor to Bryan Hitch, his style proving a much better fit for the series than Joe Madureira’s murky work had back with Ultimates 3. The good news is that he was replaced by Leinil Yu. His scratchy pencil work is a far cry from Pacheco’s smooth efforts but proves a good fit for what writer Mark Millar tosses into this story.

This is the book that introduces the Ultimate universe versions of Punisher and Ghost Rider. Punisher is written as an even less forgiving man than his regular continuity counterpart. We’re told he has no trouble executing kids and harmless henchmen and are shown him doing so in decidedly gruesome (for Marvel) ways. His motivations remain the same: he’s a vigilante dedicated to wiping wrongdoers off the streets using his own brand of morals and ethics, all spurred by the death of his family at the hands of gangsters.

Ghost Rider’s origin is fairly similar too. He remains a young motorbike enthusiast who’s sold his soul in exchange for the resurrection and ensured happiness of a loved one. It’s rare in a Marvel origin story in that it doesn’t feature weird science, although the soul-selling clearly marks it as something of the comics realm, obvs. Yu handles the task of pencilling an eerie, soulless flaming skull well. As much as I liked his work I’m not sure Pacheco would have done as good a job.

In addition to Punisher, who’s kitted out with a supersuit emblazoned with his skull emblem, the Avengers also recruit Tyron Cash. He’s a Cambridge professor turned gangland boss who was once Bruce Banner’s mentor but is now a crime lord. Something about the character seems forced. It could be his often excruciating dialogue (a rare example of Millar’s standard approach steering him wrong) or it could be that he’s blackmailed into joining the team with the threat of his current life being revealed to a wife and son who think him dead and that the sequence never feels especially believable. With Punisher and Ghost Rider having similar, and superior, things going on Cash feels like overkill.

The villain of the piece doesn’t become clear until a few issues have gone by. The first pages of issue one could lead someone to believe it’s going to be Punisher. For a while after that it looks like Ghost Rider. In the end we discover it’s Satan… or possibly a cabal of devil worshippers led by the Vice President of the United States. It depends on your perspective.

Something that could be overlooked with Ultimate Avengers’ second series is that a lot of what happens is being set up for use in the third and fourth volumes. Punisher goes on the run at the end of this volume but returns later. Nerd Hulk and Black Widow interact with The Spider (the Spider-man in a tank from the first volume) and it’s revealed he’s psychic, and implied that he, like Captain America, has a fondness for daytime TV. Nicky Fury and Gregory Stark are kept in the background, the implication being that they’re scheming away on their own personal plans. Which would again play into later volumes.

While this story doesn’t quite hit the heights of New Generation and comes nowhere near The Ultimates first or second series it’s still a very good action comic. Mark Millar has never been better than when writing for Marvel’s Ultimate line.

Nextwave: Agents of HATE

Warren Ellis has a history of writing what are essentially creator-owned titles in established shared universes. He did it with Stormwatch, The Authority and Planetary in the Wildstorm universe. He did it with Excalibur and other associated X-titles in Marvel. And he did it with Nextwave.

Nextwave was written at a time when Ellis was working exclusively for Marvel. He's said that during this period he felt he was being paid to service Marvel's vast back catalogue of characters and concepts. Which is a fair argument to make. I wish Marvel would try their hand at creating a new batch of heroes and villains but this approach is a good alternative. Ellis selected a handful of barely used characters, stuck them together as a team and pitted them against a batch of equally barely used enemies (and new enemies with very clear links to established ones). It's a decent substitute for entirely new creations.

The characters in question were Elsa Bloodstone, a monster hunter who'd appeared in her own limited series before spiralling into obscurity; explosion-happy mutant Tabitha Smith; Monica 'Photon' Rambeu, who can transform herself into any form of energy on the magnetic spectrum (it’s about as interesting to see used in a comic about as it sounds); and android Aaron Stack (formerly Machine Man). They're joined by new creations The Captain, who has the standard flight and super strength combo, and recurring villain Dirk Anger. Through his usual snarky dialogue, a strong reliance on humour and a series of threats that are either inspired by the Lee and Kirby era or Saturday morning cartoons Ellis writes what is one of his best pieces of work.

The tone of the book is not dissimilar to The Authority: the aim is to have a fun comic that plays on the standard tropes of superhero titles on the shelves. But while Authority had serious moments and global level threats Nextwave retains its humour at all times, never trying to be anything more than amusing comic, and problems that are intended to be outlandish more than world-threatening. Ellis deliberately wrote Nextwave to be as shallow as possible, saying that emotional arcs and character development are foreign to comics. I think there is a place for these things but Ellis is right that they've become overused. More comics could get away with having a gang of supes smacking a giant robot about.

The premise is designed around this. We're told that the Nextwave group have gone rogue from former employers HATE (Highest Anti-Terrorism Effort) after finding out that they're backed financially by the Beyond Corporation, a former terrorist cell. Using a stolen business plan the team travel around the US hunting out Beyond's UWMDs (Unusual Weapons of Mass Destruction). These UWMDs take such forms as a genetically engineered, Transformers-inspired robot, an army of samurais, various floating cities, and sixties fave Fin Fang Foom.

Stuart Immonen probably deserves a mention at this point. I'm sure most artists at Marvel would be able to draw the things Ellis thinks up for Nextwave, but I don't think anyone could have done quite as good a job. He gets the right blend of action and fun.

It's a simplistic approach but one that allows Nextwave to simply be enjoyable. There are no Big Ideas or underlying messages, it's designed just to be a fun read. It helps that Ellis amuses himself with a letters page and a Q&A segment at the start of each issue, the latter of which is there to get new readers up to speed but features minor alterations each issue for regular readers.

Nextwave was originally going to be written for twelve issues by Ellis and then get passed on to a new writer. For whatever reason that didn't happen and the series wrapped up as its initial creative duo left. I doubt anyone could have made the book work as Ellis did so it's probably a blessing in disguise that this happened. A return would be welcome, but only written by Ellis and ideally drawn by Immonen. For anyone who's enjoyed the initial stretch of The Authority and Planetary (and why wouldn't you, both are great) this series will go down a treat.

Deadpool: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

Into its third volume the Deadpool MAX! series continues to be one of the best things Marvel are putting onto the shelves of comic shops. But it’s for a different reason than in the first two volumes (read about those here and here). While those books succeeded by emphasising Deadpool’s comedy, something which hasn’t been done right enough during the character’s twenty-plus year history, the third succeeds by exploring Deadpool’s more tragic elements.

It was something that could have failed. The title had been set up as something funny and so that’s what people had come to expect from it. But writers Gerry Duggan and Brian Posehn do such good exploring Deadpool’s history with Weapon X, and the stolen memories and deformed cancer patient sufferings that come with that, that you find yourself swept along.

In hindsight they were making readers care about Deadpool during their first two volumes too. But because they were doing it with humour, something you’d expect from the character and his titles anyway, it wasn’t noticeable. Also, you don’t tend to read something funny and think to yourself “yes, I am beginning to care about this character.” They’re a talented pair of writers.

There are still laughs though. Even when Deadpool finds himself fighting through North Korean concentration camps alongside deformed X-Men clone experiments he’s given wises to crack. But it’s the first two issues of the volume that are home to most of the laughs. The first is once again told as a flashback. It takes place in the seventies and sees Deaders teaming up with Iron First and Power Man to take on The White Man. Every joke you could expect with a villain who’s chosen that name is used, usually by or within earshot of Power Man. It’s gloriously silly, and a great start to the collection. It also helps to balance out the more grim surroundings of the rest of the volume.

Much was made before the arc started coming out as singles of Wolverine and Captain America’s involvement. While they’re used well and there’s a logical reason for their team-up with Deadpool they do at times feel a little surplus to requirements, like they’ve been added to the title to encourage crossover readership. Both are well written though. Cap in particular. He’s a character I don’t usually care for (which can’t just be because I’m not American) and it was nice to see him believably presented as a compassionate, caring man instead of the military genius poster boy he tends to be in various Avengers titles.

The new art of Declam Shalvey takes some getting used but it’s fine once you do. Even if you’re not keen on it it can be overlooked because the writing is so strong. Posehn and Duggan continue to be the best writers to ever work on a Deadpool title. And this title continues to be one of the greatest successes of Marvel’s NOW! initiative.

Locke & Key: Alpha & Omega

I don’t usually put spoiler warnings here but I’m making an exception with this. Locke & Key is a series that is at its best when it has the ability to shock and surprise. As such I’d firmly suggest reading the first five volumes before checking out what I have to say below. I won’t mention anything specific that happens in this collection, but I can’t make the same promise about the first five. You’ve been warned.

Alpha and Omega had a lot to achieve. As Locke & Key’s final (regular) arc it had to provide fitting resolutions for the main cast, explain the origins of the otherworldly Lovecraftian soul-stealers, give the dastardly Dodge his comeuppance, and dish out a few more facts about the mythology of the series. It also had to live up to the high standard set by volumes one to five and be generally compelling.

It was a tall order but the series did at least have seven issues to tell its story in. That was one more than normal.

Happily Locke & Key here gets the ending it deserved. Joe Hill’s inventive streak is alive and well, firing out revelations and one or two final keys. His knack for writing empathetic characters is as apparent as ever, something easily overlooked with a series with such a wonderfully inventive central concept. Tyler and Bode-Dodge are particular highlights. The oldest Locke child has been taken from an impulsive, angry teenager grieving over his father’s death into a young man who thinks about and considers his actions across the course of the series. The way he’s written here shows how good a job Hill’s done at progressing him, and it was so natural that it wasn’t immediately noticeable.

Dodge, still wearing the body of Bode, is impressive for an entirely different reason. As the character in the know he’s the one who gets all the infodumps and monologues. It’s information most readers will have been waiting to get for a long time and so needed to be included. It could have been forced and unnatural but Hill manages to make it compelling and natural dialogue. It’s an impressive accomplishment.

Gabriel Rodriguez is just as on form as his creative partner. The page which shows Dodge talking about bringing armies through the black gate, surrounded by at first dozens and then just a few possessed humans, is particularly good. It hints at the key powers we’ve never seen at the same time as creating an interesting visual for what would otherwise be a boring bit of prattle. Rodriguez is just as important when it comes to making those moments worthwhile as Hill.

It was the final additions to the mythology I was looking forward to most, being someone more interested in ideas than plot when reading comics. I wasn’t disappointed. Every plot gap you could want filled in is and the motives of the horrors from beyond are satisfyingly single-minded and depraved. Hill does his creation justice.

But with all of this said it was in many ways the story that mattered the most here. In addition to a fantastic concept Locke & key had given us a great story told in perfectly judged instalments across its previous five volumes. It all could have fallen apart in this volume had the story not delivered the proverbial goods. But it does. There’s a climactic battle with a logical reason for happening, Dodge meets an unpleasant end, and Ty gets one last farewell with his dad. What happens to Bode makes sense but it’s not something I’ll comment on here. The series needs to have some surprises for you to discover yourselves.

All in all Alpha & Omega is a great end to a great series. Thank you Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez for giving us one of the best written series comicdom has ever had. What could have been a wonderful idea milked endlessly was instead something to look forward to and savour. It’s something that can be returned to again and again. It’s a fantastic accomplishment.

Dial H (The Complete Series)

 

When I first started this blog I wrote about the first four issues of Dial H. You can read the full thing here but I summed up by saying that Dial H had been one of the surprise hits of the New 52 relaunch and was one of the most inventive and enjoyable comic books available.

A brief refresher for those who've forgotten or were unaware to begin with. Dial H begins as a story about Nelson Jent, an overweight fella who discovers a magic phonebox near his flat (apartment, whatves) that can turn people into superheroes for a limited time. It began as a reboot of old title Dial H For Hero, designed only to play a minor and peripheral part in DC's New 52 event-slash-crossover-slash-reboot.

The old title featured protagonist Robby Reed getting into scrapes that could only be solved via use of the phonebox (it was a simpler, less demanding time for comic writers). China Mieville, author of the New 52 edition, took a different approach. Instead of a weekly adventure approach he wrote a long-running plot that involved alternate universes, reality-eating monstrosities, and, fittingly but surprisingly, the history of telephones. It was often difficult to read but in hindsight that was only because Mieville was writing each issue as a chunk of a whole. When the first six issues were done they told their own satisfying story that made sense, though there were obviously some threads left dangling. With Mieville being a novelist this was to be expected.

And that was just the first six issues. After that Mieville began focusing on what really interested him: the origins of the phonebox. He took the relatively simple idea of a phonebox that gives superpowers to ordinary people (something I suspect original creators Jim Mooney and Dave Wood lifted from Superman) and created an entire mythology around them. It's staggering how much detail Mieville manages to pack in about the history of the dials. He works in an otherworldly war, phone lines as another plane of existence, and multiple new dials, as well as addressing the question of where the dialled superheroes actually come from. It's an incredible achievement not only to have thought of everything he has bit to have written it in a way that seems fluid and natural. It could easily have been a case of continuous and boring infodumping. Mieville writes a story that’s fascinating and enjoyable, something that can be appreciated for its invention, its humour and story.

The artists who worked on the series warrant a mention too. Mateus Santolouco drew the first six issues (numbered zero to five) and did just as much as Mieville to establish the tone of the book with his grubby, dingy backstreets and bright, colourful and charismatic superheroes. Fill in artist David Lapham did a fine job and was replaced permanently by Alberto Ponticelli. He was more in line with the regular DC artist, someone who draws action sequences and dynamic poses, but he also understood the quirky nature of Dial H. In particular he triumphed with Open Window Man and The Centipede, strange characters who could easily have lost a lot of their impact with the wrong artist. Brian Boland provided a cover for each of the series’ issues. They were predictably excellent.

Sadly DC is apparently not a company willing to fund satisfying creativity. Dial H didn't get good enough sales and so was cancelled after seventeen issues. As DC is a company that makes more than enough money from its big titles, merchandise and films I think they could have allowed for a title that lost them money but was a creative success. In the long run it probably would have paid off for them as trade paperback and digital sales could have recouped cash in the long term.

Apparently it wasn’t worth keeping around even for that. They did at least have the good grace to grant Mieville time to wrap things up and allocated him an extra-long final issue. The reduced time resulted in a truncated conclusion (I suspect far longer would have been spent exploring the concept of various other dials had the book continued) but it did at least get to end. So many inventive series don't even get that.

Although it didn't go on for as long as Mieville would probably have liked Dial H is still something worth treasuring. It's a clever, imaginative read that's uncompromising in its pacing but knows where it’s going. It is one of Mieville’s greatest accomplishments.

Ultimate Avengers: Next Generation

Both series of Mark Millar and Bryan Hitch’s Ultimates were well received by those who read them. They reworked the origins of Marvel’s premier superteam for a modern audience and told mature episodic stories. They are amongst the best comics written since the turn of the millennium. Not even the horrible misfire that was Jeph Loeb’s Ultimates 3 could ruin them.

In 2008 Marvel decided to shake up their Ultimate line with a big crossover apocalypse event dubbed Ultimatum. The line’s credibility had already taken a battering with the Ultimate Power story but Ultimatum was worse. It was designed as a reboot of the whole line. It achieved that goal, with all ongoing titles either being cancelled or rebranded with new numbering, but also delivered an incredibly boring story that insulted fans and made no sense to new readers.

One good thing did come out of the reboot though: Mark Millar returned to write more stories using some of the characters he’d used in The Ultimates. Confusingly this new book was dubbed Ultimate Comics: The Avengers. The Ultimates were an Ultimate universe version of the Avengers, whilst the Ultimate universe’s Avengers were a black-ops S.H.I.E.L.D. team. It’s a minor detail and what that doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things but, well, it’s always seemed like Marvel made a choice with the name.

Poor choice of title aside it was a promising start. Millar had proven skilled at spinning compelling modern day superhero yarns that fused politics, history and pseudo-science with traditional superheroic action. With access to all the characters he’d written so well and a promise that he would be using ideas he’d originally planned for further Ultimate series it looked like Marvel were on to a winner.

The first six issue series, subtitled Next Generation, saw Nick Fury rehired by S.H.I.E.L.D. (after some time spent in an alternate universe he’d been involved in trying to destroy) and tasked with bringing in a rogue Captain America. Aside from those two the only other established character in the series is Hawkeye. He still sports the strange redesign insisted on by Jeph Loeb (it makes him look more serious, allegedly) but is written well again. He’s no longer the strange suicide-obsessed killing machine he became in Ultimates 3.

The new characters are Codename: Nerd Hulk, a good natured guy with Hulk’s body and Bruce Banner’s mind; Fury’s ex-wife Monica Chang as a new Black Widow; Insect Queen from the villainous Liberators team the Ultimates battled in the Grand Theft America arc, here renamed Red Wasp; Colonel Rhodes, who has the most advanced Iron Man suit on the planet; and Gregory Stark, the tee total, amoral brother of Tony who regards his brother as a feeble-minded disappointment. Written here it just seems like a list of ideas, continuity references and inverted regulars. Millar writes them with humour and makes them as believable as any Marvel character needs to be.

Even though he’s on the run Cap is at the centre of the story. The opening issue shows him discovering that he has a son. And not just any son. A son who is just as physically, mentally and tactically gifted as him. It’s the Red Skull.

Ultimate Red Skull is not a superhuman created during the Third Reich. He’s an American born to Cap’s girlfriend Betty and taken to a US military base as a baby. His escape at the age of seventeen, during which he slaughtered hundreds of employees, is shown, establishing how formidable an opponent Skull is.

The success of the book lies in the way Millar melds his ideas with a compelling plot. His naturalistic dialogue doesn’t hurt either. By the end of issue six you know what everyone’s motivations are and what they hope to gain from their black-ops work. Well, mostly. Gregory Stark is left a distant and shifty enigma. And the Spider-man sitting inside a glass tank inside S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Triskelion HQ is a complete mystery.

Artist Carlos Pacheco is excellent. It’s disappointing he didn’t get to return to work on any of the other three volumes of Ultimate Avengers. His knack for drawing action sequences was a boon for the series. With Next Generation Ultimate Avengers gets off to a strong start and shows that Mark Millar is still the best thing to have happened to Marvel’s Ultimate line. Definitely recommended reading.

Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. is a programme with a lot of potential. Okay, the big name superheroes and villains may be inaccessible because the rights have either been sold to film studios or because Marvel’s holding them in reserve for future projects, but the seventy-year-old fictional universe is a big place. There are dozens of minor characters that could be plucked from obscurity and made into a relevant and enjoyable part of a modern day TV series. How about Wonderman or Mr Immortal or Photon or Tigra?

There are plenty of oddball plots and series that are never going to be converted for the silver screen. Delving into Marvel’s Essential collections would turn up plenty of material. A look at Jim Steranko’s S.H.I.E.L.D. work would be a good idea too. In fact I think the creative types working on the show have a great deal more freedom than those working on Marvel film projects for Fox, Sony or Marvel themselves.

The problem the show has is that this potential has come nowhere close to being lived up to. The show is too serious, too po-faced, too concerned with being seen as gritty and relatable. Everything from the drab stories to the cynically written and-or boring cast of characters demonstrates this. It’s a Joss Whedon show so I understand we’re going to have snarky nerds and Kung Fu lovin’ women but that doesn’t mean that’s all we have to have.

Agent Coulson is possibly the worst offense. Beyond the central mystery of how he was resurrected after death and the clumsy (and frequent) references to his time in Tahiti (mysteries I have no interest in hearing the resolution to by the way) there’s nothing to the character. As a recurring minor character in films he was fine. As a central figure on a TV show he falls apart. His motivations are supposed to be a combination of enigmatic and mysterious, his lines droll, but he’s just tedious and uninteresting. In fairness he’s the one character that had to be included as he provides the link between the films and the show but that’s no reason to make him a chore to watch.

A sense of grittiness and overly-tense characters are things that concern too many drama shows. Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. would make a greater impact if it embraced a sense of fun and tried to impress viewers with a sense of wonder. Grittiness can be seen any drama show. Fun and wonder cannot. S.H.I.E.L.D. is an organisation tasked with protecting the world from aliens, magic, tyrants, and errant superheroes. There’s a lot that could be done with the premise, but those in charge seem reticent to embrace that.

Episode four, Eye Spy, started in the right way. It depicted dozens of grey suit-wearing men marching in unison through public places clutching briefcases, their faces covered in red masks. The reason for it happening, when it was revealed, was boring, but the visual was both something different and compelling. If the show could dream up similarly intriguing images and marry them to plots that deserve them then it would be on the right track.

All These Channels and Nothing Worth Watching

To some people “adaption” is a dirty word. The idea of a story told in one medium being transferred to another is seen as a slight on the original. To an extent I can understand this view. Ironically it’s adaptions that slavishly adhere to their source material that tend to fare worse. This tends to be because the people working on the adaption are trying to recreate something using a different set of tools. They want to do the original justice but don’t have the means to do so. A good adaption will take the core concept and story points from their source and rework them in their new medium. Finding new ways to show what makes the original so enjoyable is the sort of approach I think suits adaptions best.

 

While I can understand this feeling it’s not one I tend to agree with. I think if something is adapted well then there’s a point to doing it. It can find new things to say or new ways of saying things the original already said. It can lead to a better understanding of the original. Most importantly no adaption takes anything away from its source material. If it fails the original is still around to be enjoyed.

 

The reason I mention all of this is that I thought it would be a nice change to write about something other than a good or bad comic book. There are loads of comics out there that I think would work well as television shows. Twenty-odd pages a month is rarely enough space for a writer and artist to fit in plot, character development, interesting ideas, and a bit of mystery (all those things that are so important to something being enjoyable). Television adaptions would create opportunities for exploration that comics deny, and would also make more people aware of some very good series.

 

I’ve picked out ten comics, as much because I like round numbers as for anything else, that I think would be interesting TV shows. They are listed below.

 

Fables

Read a review here.

I’m not keen on the comic book but the general idea of it, characters from fables, myths and nursery rhymes are all real, is incredibly strong. Certainly strong enough to support a TV series for a few series. The original plot is a meandering mess though. That would be best left behind. A show showing how Humpty Dumpty gets by living on a farm in North Carolina is what I want, not an attempt at a modern epic.

 

Sandman

Read a review here.

A straight adaption of Sandman could work but it would need a pretty beefy budget. A vaguer adaption would work better, taking the general concept and more interesting characters of the book and doing a show more about dreams and reality than the machinations of Morpheus. The Sandman is often only a bystander in the comic. There’s no reason he couldn’t be someone who appears in a minor role in every episode of a TV series, having his own plot (based on Gaiman’s original) revealed over time.

 

Powers

Superheroes have been popular with moviegoers for over a decade now. There have been successes, like Smallville, and failures, like Heroes from series two onwards, on TV screens during this time. Right now there are no superhero themed shows that mean much to anybody and Powers could change that. It blends superpeople thrills and spills with the police procedural genre and does it well. It works very nicely as a noir flavoured comic but a different tone would probably be needed for television. The basic idea of a police department that focuses on superpeople, and the main characters of Walker and Pilgrim, seem ideal.

 

American Vampire

A new strain of vampire (an American vampire, obvs) is created in nineteenth century America. The comic follows that strain, in the form of first-of-the-new-breed Skinner Sweet, through the following decades. It might sound a little True Blood but it needn’t be. The focus being on a new kind of vampire, rather than the love lives of vamps that must adhere to the rules we’ve all become familiar with from fiction, would set it apart, as would the historical setting.

 

Ignition City

Read a review here.

I noted when I wrote about this that it felt as though Warren Ellis had treated it like a TV show. At only five issues long there are loads of things about this world that aren’t explored in enough detail. The book is set on a steampunk island that used to be a rocket base, an interesting location for a TV show (it strikes me as very BBC Three). In just five issues Ellis created a cast of characters that you could easily imagine interacting for a dozen episodes before newbies were required. Plus there are aliens. It’s a very broad canvas for a TV adaption.

 

DMZ

This is a comic series set in New York City during a civil war between the United States of America and the secessionist Free States of America. The central figure is a reporter named Matty Roth, who’d make an ideal lead character in an adaption with an ensemble cast. Or an entirely new cast could be created, because what makes Roth ideal as a lead character is that he is suitably bland and uninteresting. It’s the general idea of America going through a civil war that would make this an interesting adaption, not any particular character. An ideal adaption would just use the broad premise and focus on the mayor’s office, the police, the army, and the secessionists struggling for control of the city, with only hints as to the wider picture.

 

Y: The Last Man

Read a review here.

Two things would make Y worth turning into a TV show. The first is the relationships between the characters. Brian K Vaughan did a good job of writing friendships that grew over time and natural dialogue. The other would be the central mystery of how Yorick survived the plague that should have killed every male on the planet. A TV adaption would be the ideal opportunity to create a new ending that does the series as a whole justice. The one we have is too confusing and at odds with what’s gone before to be completely satisfying.

 

Also in Y’s favour is that it’s a story that has affected the whole world. It can be as big or as small as people writing it want it to be. A big budget could see parts filmed in Israel and Europe (like the book) while a smaller adaption could simply focus on the trek across America. The entire plot of the original could be scrapped and the idea could be reworked to focus on a small town harbouring the last surviving man.

 

Preacher

Read a review here. 

Preacher is a very rounded comic book, making it one of the better suggestions on this list. It’s known for being humorous, violent and having a cast full of grotesques. What it’s less noted for is being a love story, which it is, and for being pretty heavy on action in places, which it is. Jesse Custer is a genuinely likeable protagonist (or at least he is when written, careful casting would be needed to retain that), something that I find pretty rare in TV shows. Cassidy, Assface, the Saint of Killers and Herr Starr are a supporting cast who feel like they were created to be seen on TV.

 

The central plot is something that would probably need to stay. Without it Preacher doesn’t work. But the journey that’s taken and the interactions between the central characters could be altered to make something new and interesting. Preacher is one of the best comics out there for TV adapters.

 

There’s been talk of putting Preacher on TV for years. The latest news on that is that it’s happening and Seth Rogen is involved. Personally I’d cast WWE star The Undertaker as the Saint of Killers. But that’s me.

 

100 Bullets

Read a review here.

Crime dramas and ongoing mysteries have become big parts of TV schedules over the last several years. So have mobsters. 100 Bullets has all of this (obviously, I wouldn’t mention it otherwise). None of the shows mentioned here could run indefinitely but 100 Bullets would come the closest. The basic idea of a shadowy cabal having secretly controlled the United States for centuries is easy enough to understand but complex enough to spend time gradually revealing. And of course the Minutemen are the sort of thing modern television viewers seem to love.

 

There are so many stories from the series that would be great on screen and there are lots of original things that could be done with the idea of people being made the offer of the untraceable gun. In fact all new offers and how they play out would make nice to or three minute pre-title sequences.

 

Locke & Key

Read a review of the first volume here.

A feature length pilot was made years ago but nothing came of it. Apparently Fox didn’t think it would work as a series. They’re wrong. Locke & Key is perfect for a TV show, so much so that I’m amazed a series doesn’t already exist. There’s a worthwhile plot that runs across the book’s six volumes that would be ideal as a programme’s central focus, with each volume having its own arc that could be used for either an entire series or multiple episodes. There’s a great template waiting to be used.

 

But what would really make a TV version of Locke & Key worth it would be the ability to do something new with such a great concept. It was always very clear in the comic that there were other keys that hadn’t been used or even seen. Filler episodes or new arcs could be created to make the most of that fact. There’s so much that could be done with the idea of the keys.

Scarlet Traces

There’s something about nineteenth century literature that seems to inspire unofficial sequels and adaptions. It could simply be that everything from the period is in the public domain and free for people to do with as they please but I think it’s more than that. Works of literature from earlier periods are similarly available but don’t receive anywhere near as much attention.

Glancing at shelves in book shops reveal the likes of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, Adam Roberts’ Swiftly, and Stephen Baxter’s The Time Ships, while TV gives us the BBC’s immensely popular Sherlock and a seemingly endless supply of Dickens, Bronte, and Stoker adaptions. If you’re into Doctor ho you’ll be aware that director Philip Hinchcliff took a lot of the period’s most famous novels as starting points for some of the show’s most famous stories.

Comic books are not immune to plundering this era for inspiration. Alan Moore’s Extraordinary League started off as a Justice League of Victorian literary creations and Warren Ellis has dipped in and out of the period for various things too. It’s also the period that provided the inspiration for Scarlet Traces.

One of the most obvious things to note about Scarlet Traces (subtitle: The Great Game) is that it is billed as a sequel to Wells’ The War of the Worlds. It’s one of the most heavily adapted and sequelised products of century nineteen, with everyone from Moore to Orson Welles getting involved. Clearly there’s something about Martians invading Earth in giant tripods that writerly types find irresistible.

The writerly type in this case is Ian Edginton. As already noted this is not an adaption of a work simply inspired by the novel, this is a sequel. Earth not only repelled the invasion but went on the offensive, using salvaged Martian technology to travel into outer space and improve living conditions on the planet. Specifically Britain. As it was Britain that as invaded by the Martians it’s Britain that had exclusive access to the alien gizmos, which has led to a world in which the Empire is still the leading, probably only superpower.

The plot focuses on an attack mounted on Mars. It’s fairly predictable and a little bloated around the edges at times, but it doesn’t drag and is written nicely enough to hold interest. Where the book really shines is in the world building. Gaps are filed in about the history of the world since the Martian’s made first contact. Edginton has a clear and strong vision for how he thinks this world works and it shows. It’s this, more than plot or characterisation (both overrated), that make me recommend this book.

Providing the art is Edginton’s frequent collaborator D’Israeli. He is, as always, a good choice for the sort of script Edginton produces. Rounded, expressive faces; towering rocket bases; square jawed, Dan Dare-alike space captains; and gleaming cityscapes are all handled with equal brilliance, showing the man’s versatility in the medium.

Edginton and D’Israeli are a formidable creative team. I’ve yet to read anything they’ve turned out together that’s less than enjoyable. This is one of the best examples of what the partnership can do. A clear vision for a fictional world, suitable artwork that’s pleasing on the eye, and a steady stream of revelations. I rarely ask for more form a comic.

Lucifer

If you’ve read The Sandman you’ll be familiar with Neil Gaiman’s fictional depiction of Lucifer Morningstar. Apparently somebody over at DC’s Vertigo offices read the series and was so impressed by this fairly minor character that they decided they wanted him to star in his own eponymous series.

And that’s how we got Lucifer.

Getting someone other than Gaiman to write the sequel series was a smart move. Gaiman clearly had little to see about or with the character of Lucifer otherwise he’d have featured far more prominently in Sandman. Giving the book to someone whom Gaiman approved of ensured that a similar authorial tone would be used but by somebody who actually had something of worth to say.

And this is the point at which I mention Mike Carey’s name.

It’s not that Carey’s a bad writer. I bought the first dozen or so issues of his Uwritten series before deciding that it was the sort of thing I’d rather own as trades (I’m shallow) and enjoyed the single Felix Castor novel I read well enough. No matter how friendly he is with Gaiman he wouldn’t be brought in to pen the follow up to such a massively successful series as Sandman if he was a bad writer. In fact his work here is of a higher standard than the Neverwhere adaption he did, because he’s allowed to use his own and build on Gaiman’s work rather than simply turn something that already exists into a comic script.

It’s just that… well, he’s not exactly a big name is he? And I think that’s part of the problem. Carey is viewed as a safe pair of hands brought in to do a competent job. He’s someone who’ll produce something that won’t get critics fired up into apoplectic rages, someone who’ll keep the money rolling in.

I’m sure that image is part of the reason more people haven’t read Lucifer and part of the reason it isn’t more regularly cited as a must-read. It’s not because of poor quality because actually Carey turned out a pretty good series.

Lucifer gets off to a shaky start, much like Sandman did before it, but once it’s underway it becomes something far more than just a hastily churned out cash-in. With Sandman Gaiman explored the nature of storytelling, dreams and reality. Carey picks his own themes, destiny and free will, and explores them in a similar fashion. With a central character who was created to be the antithesis of God, by God, this was a clever (or perhaps overly ambitious) decision. Surprisingly Carey pulls it off.

Lucifer also looks at religion more than Sandman did. Gaiman seemed to use iconography more than the actual religions themselves (look at the gods he chooses to use from the Egyptian pantheon and what he does with them) but Carey actually delves into the religions as systems of belief more. Carey makes great use of the Jewish and Christian religions and adopts Ragnarok as a running theme. He also dips into various other religions and mythologies in minor arcs too. It’s a far better researched approach than Gaiman used, and you get the feeling things aren’t just being used because they’ll be cool or impactful.

One thing that Lucifer lacks is a single standout artist. Sandman was lucky enough to cycle through a number of very impressive artists during its seven years on the shelves. Lucifer never gets an artist that provides any iconic images or does some career best work. Perhaps that’s another reason it’s not often cited as a must read.

Lucifer was never going to have the impact its parent comic did. Sandman, the book about dreams and reality, had a far cooler concept. It also had Neil Gaiman, a man who proved very talented at marketing himself. That wasn’t and isn’t a skill Mike Carey has. But with Unwritten shaping up to be the best Vertigo series in quite some time it’s possible people may be encouraged to delve into Carey’s proverbial back catalogues to see what else he’s produced over the years. If that happens then Lucifer may finally be viewed as the hit it deserves to be.

Just don’t expect it to get out of Sandman’s shadow anytime soon.

Why Are You Doing This?

It would be pretentious to say that Why Are You Doing This? by writer-artist Jason is about the meaning of life. It would be inaccurate too. It’s not about the meaning of life but it does look at deeper themes and the nature of humanity in the western world more than the average Mark Millar or Grant Morrison book ever would.

The story’s central character, Alex, finds himself framed for murder and on the run from the law after spending a week watering his pal’s plants. Having recently split from his girlfriend of four years he’s in a reflective mood throughout the story, which Jason uses to explore themes such as loneliness, love, and social justice. Some of these themes, such as love, are laid on a little too thick in places while others, such as social justice, could be considered underdeveloped. More could certainly have been made of the failings of the legal system that ultimately lead the book to happen.

A recurring idea of the book is the worth of anecdotes that can be told during an evening with friends. At several points Alex notes that he has very few to tell and reflects on their importance. Jason asks, through secondary character and murder victim Claude, if the idea is that the person with the most anecdotes when they die “wins”. He also notes that Ernest Hemingway led a life that took him all over the world but that his life ended in suicide. Anecdotes, interesting sequences from life, are clearly of great importance to the writer and he uses this book to get us thinking about them, but holds off from attempting to provide a definitive answer to the question. It’s a book that wants to make you think rather than impose beliefs and views on you.

It should be pointed out that Alex, and every other character in the book (including, presumably, the deceased Hemingway), is a dog. Or possibly a cat, it’s not overly clear. But that’s not as important to the story as it could be. It’s more because Jason likes drawing animals than for anything else. Or perhaps because he feels he’s better at drawing them. It’s certainly not designed to introduce a feeling of whimsy because this is a distinctly unwhimsical title in every other regard. If anything I’d say it’s to lighten the sense of despair and depression that the story induces.

Not that it’s a bad book. Reading a tale of despair and depression can make you more appreciative of what you’ve got. And as such stories go this one is well written. A lot happens during the slender page count, with every panel contributing something to the advancement of the plot or the fleshing out of a character. It’s a good story told confidently.

X-Men: Days of Future Past

I'd open this with a joke about time travel never going out of fashion but I don't know how to structure it. Just imagine I've done it and chuckle to yourself about how clever an observation it was.

Days of Future Past is not only one of the greatest, if grammatically puzzling, titles for a comic story ever it's also a highlight of X-Men canon. Considering the number of stories that are regarded as classics within said canon that's not something I say lightly. It was written by Chris Claremont during his immense decade-plus run on the X-books. During that time he wrote more stories now considered classics than anyone else no named Stan Lee or Jack Kirby has for any other group or character. Days of Future Past is amongst his best.

The basic premise is that the adult consciousness of Kitty Pryde gets sent back in time, from 2013 eerily enough, to inhabit her teenage body in order to avert impending doom at the hands of an army of Sentinels. After the standard exchanges where she convinces the younger earlier incarnations that she is who she says she is, naturally enough featuring Wolverine’s heightened senses, the gang set about stopping an assassination attempt by Mystique's Brotherhood that proved a pivotal moment in history. It may sound basic now but that's because time travel has become so commonplace in TV, movies, fiction and pop culture in general. This story was ahead of its time and, more importantly is better than the average "timey-wimey" fluff that gets churned out today.

The time shifting shenanigans allow for more impactful moments than the average Marvel book, then or now. Claremont is free to kill off as many future incarnations of characters as he pleases, something he embraces. The death toll ratchets up, demonstrating that the future is indeed incredibly bleak and something the X-Men are right to try and avoid. Claremont also employs one of his favourite tricks, featuring reformed Magneto.

It’s a great piece of world building, a demonstration of Claremont’s skill as a writer of comic books. Using established continuity he creates a bleak world with a compelling history that’s both fleshed out and intriguing enough to make you want to explore it more. Unfortunately some people did just that: in the years since Days of Future Past first appeared Marvel have milked the DOFP continuity dry, coming as close as they can to robbing the original of its appeal. Fox are getting in on the act too, with a film adaption due out next year. Thankfully no matter how much inferior nonsense they pump out the original’s standing can’t be diminished.

Squeezed into just two issues Days of Future Past was and is a triumph, one that changed what an X-Men comic could do. It is one of the highest peaks of Claremont's lengthy X-Men career.

Deadpool: Soul Hunter

The second trade paperback of the current Deadpool series brings a few new things with it. Chief among them is a new artist. The distinctive, emotive work of Tony Moore is out, replaced by the work of Mike Hawthorne and, for one issue only, Scott Koblish. The deliberately oddball plot of ghostly presidents invading America is also gone, replaced by something that allows for similar japes without feeling at all repetitive. There’s also a little exploration of the lead character’s origins, something Deadpool’s mostly avoided in his twenty years of Marvel appearances.

If you’re worried that giving ‘The Merc With a Mouth’ a definitive origin story will ruin him you don’t need to worry. Writers Gerry Duggan and Brian Posehn are as aware that humour is what makes the character work as they were in their first six issue arc. They don’t overload on revelations. It’s more just a few hints and teases as to Deadpool having a past beyond the Weapon X here. And that’s a good thing, because over the last few years Deadpool has become one of the publisher’s more popular characters. Giving him a more substantial past helps to make him less of a Wolverine knock-off.

Fun is still the order of the day with this book though. That’s clear from the first issue of the collection, which sees Koblish come on board to provide the art for an eighties-inspired flashback story which sets up the rest of the issue. This includes amusing cameos from Peter Parker and J Jonah Jameson and Deadpool invading the fabled Genie in a Bottle Iron Man story. It’s the sort of story that’s perfect for Deadpool.

The central plot sees Deadpool having to track down members of the public who have gained superpowers by making deals with a demon. One is invulnerable to harm. The second is a clear (but well-meaning) riff on DC’s Aquaman and how ultimately useless his basic power is. Another is a businessman who can see into the future and who is modelled on a certain New York billionaire.

Along the way the current day Spiderman appears (that’s Doctor Octopus’s psyche in Peter Parker’s body, fact fans), along with a bunch of C-list villains. Seeing Deadpool battle the likes of Lady Stilt Man, The Trapster and his long-time pal-slash-enemy The Taskmaster in a climactic fight scene is a highlight of the book.

What’s most noteworthy about this collection in comparison to the first is that it could be considered a team book. Deadpool is still joined by the ghost of Benjamin Franklin and throughout the book as the soul of SHIELD Agent Preston in his mind. When he hooks back up with Michael the SHIELD psychic from Dead Presidents the team is complete.

As with the first collection Soul Hunter is a fun and enjoyable read written by people who know how to make Deadpool funny as well as interesting. That’s a rare combo, as history has proven. If you’ve ever wanted to read a Deadpool comic this is the series to begin with.

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.