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.

JLA Earth 2

The idea of showing evil versions of established superheroes is not a new one to comic books. Both Marvel and DC have been stories about bad reflections of their good guys, and each other’s, going back decades. It’s a well-worn trope of the medium.

It is, of course, something DC have recently returned to with their Forever Evil crossover. In many ways it’s comparable to JLA Earth 2, a Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely collaboration from 2000. For his part Quitely produced predictably excellent work. Everything about his art style was perfectly judged. The deliberately inflated physiques of the superpowered characters doesn’t feel silly, they feel a natural fit for the story being told. The alternate outfits are a blend of older costumes and stereotypically villainous designs.

Quitely’s work is far better than Morrison’s. Whether he’s drawing a decidedly square-jawed and masculine Superwoman (the evil version of Wonder Woman) or giving us a splash page where Green Lantern grabs hold of the moon with titanic hands he’s always creative and clear.

Morrison starts off with a nice idea. A bad version of the JLA ruling over a universe where they always win and the only man who stands up to them, Lex Luthor, is doomed to repetitive failings is a good concept. The teases of backstory we get for the Crime Syndicate are intriguing. Pleasingly they’re not elaborated on, leaving an air of mystery.

Where Morrison falls down is with his convoluted plot. Not happy to jut have bad versions of the JLA clash with good versions of the Crime Syndicate Morrison has to have the entire plot hinge on a minor character introduced early on. It’s a disappointment that he falls back on tying things into continuity references and gibberish about matter and anti-matter coexisting. It’s not what people read comics for. It would have been enough to just have the two teams face off in a climactic fight scene, especially when the book’s so slight.

That said Morrison does include nice throwaway details for the universe. Thomas Wayne being the chief of Gotham City’s police force, standing up to Boss Gordon and the tyrannical Owlman unfolds at a nice pace throughout the slender volume. It’s an idea that could have supported a story in its own right. Perhaps it should have.

The first page shot of the Crime Syndicate’s moonbase is beautifully drawn and a nice introduction. The first time we see the heroic, anti-matter Luthor after he’s crash-landed in a scene that deliberately reflects the Superman origin is nice, as is one of his earliest line “You are human. I am Luthor.” Morrison even captures the spirit of mainstream JLA tales by having the gang work on small scale problems such as saving a plane or rebuilding a city together, despite being an international supergroup.

It’s a mixture of a book. Ultimately it’s worth a look because of Quitely’s art and the general concept of the thing. It falls apart as soon as Morrison has to start paying things off, but that’s nothing new with him. His good ideas in this outweigh his bad, and his poor judgement of the resolution.

DC Crossover: Forever Evil

Anyone who’s followed the output of Marvel and DC for any significant amount of time will know that crossover stories are common. They usually fall under the heading of “event”, stories that focus on a development that affects the entire fictional universe and is told through all of the companies’ regular monthly titles. Theoretically they’re meant to present a larger than usual threat and story but in reality the concept has become so overused that it’s now impossible to see them as anything other than cynical cash-grabbing ploys and half-hearted attempts to provide memorable stories that will be critically acclaimed now and fondly remembered for years to come.

Which brings us to Forever Evil.

This is DC’s big 2013 “event”. The heroes of the world disappear, supposedly defeated by evil versions of the Justice League from an alternate Universe. Just to be as confusing as possible these alternate versions form a group called the Secret Society (shorthand for one of DC’s old bad guy gangs) but are actually, according to various writer interviews promoting the crossover, the Crime Syndicate. Things like this shouldn’t really matter but they do, a by-product of the cynicism with which these things are dreamt up. The continuity is considered more important than writing good stories.

Crossovers usually fall into one of only a few groups: generic stories of new all-powerful megalomaniacs destroying stuff until they’re beaten; two factions of good guys fighting one another (a theme Marvel particularly enjoys; and convoluted continuity rewrites designed to tidy up and simplify things that have only become needlessly complicated because there are so many crossovers going on to begin with. With the heroes gone their various rogue galleries inherit ongoing titles for a month (imaginatively dubbed “villains’ month”). In theory this is a nice idea. It gives writers the chance to present fresh perspectives on the villains and tell stories they wouldn’t be able to with the regular catalogue of lead characters.

Unfortunately that doesn’t happen. Few concessions are made for new readers and all but one gives us stories that are instantly forgettable and not at all enjoyable. There’s a ridiculous amount of philosophical pondering, done to illustrate that the villains aren’t just villainous for the sake of it but have internal conflicts and deeper motivations. These (poor) attempts are undercut by the fact that all of backstories we’re presented with (with the exception of the Joker) are flimsily presented. As readers we’re expected to take far too many leaps of logic to get these motivations to work. The writers seem to want to use famous quotes and Latin phrases as a substitute for logical, understandable writing.

The main story kicks off in the first issue of limited series Forever Evil. The opening pages ham-fistedly remind us that Lex Luthor is a thoroughly nasty individual by having him threatening to kill a man and ruin his family in order to get him to agree to sell his company. By the end of the issue, after Crime Syndicate leader Ultraman (a bad Superman who snorts Kryptonite like it’s coke, is harmed by sun rays, and has a U emblazoned on his chest) has made it clear that the Justice League is gone and supervillains rule the Earth, Lex has been recast as a good guy realising that Superman is needed to sort the situation out. We’ll see his quest to save Earth in the other six issues.

The various villain specific issues are even less noteworthy. The .1 that follows the various issue numbers is supposed to denote that a comic is both a good jumping on point for newcomers. While Forever Evil is fairly new reader friendly (ironic considering it’s not a .1 title) the same isn’t true for four of the other five titles I read. I’m fairly up to speed on a lot of Marvel and DC continuity and there were things here that baffled me. That shouldn’t be the case. If DC wants to continue existing it has to attract new readers, which means being as accessible as possible.

Grodd #1 (Flash 23.1) sees Gorilla Grodd return from being trapped in the speed force (whatever that means) to resume his place as king of Gorilla City. There’s no context in the entire story, which leaves it disinteresting for anyone who hasn’t been following the Flash title. I can’t imagine it was especially thrilling for people who knew what was going on.

Grodd quickly becomes a dictator, torturing and beheading his foes. That’s a pretty dark tone for a book starring a magical talking gorilla. Still, Chris Batista’s artwork is pleasant enough.

Two Face #1 (Batman and Robin 23.1) tells the convoluted tale of Two Face in a Gotham City with no Batman. He starts out trying to save the city by killing petty criminals. He’s also a member of the unseen Owlman’s Secret Society. Later on the Society turns on him so he shoots some grunts and, after a new coin toss, decides to let the city bleed. You gain no greater knowledge or insight into the crossover by reading the issue. It’s entirely pointless, a perfect example of why these things have a reputation as cynical cash-ins.

Completely detached from the regular DCU is Cyborg Superman #1 (Action Comics 23.1). Zor-El, a Kryptonian scientist, spends the days before his planet is destroyed trying to reverse engineer Brainiac technology. His intention is to create a capsule that will protect the city of Argo from imminent destruction. Naturally this doesn’t work out well for him.

The planet is destroyed and Argo is left hanging alone in space, its citizens dying or dead. Brainiac shows up, attracted by a beacon activated by Zor-El for unclear reasons. He turns the scientist into the “perfect” creation: a Cyborg Superman. We’re meant to empathise with Zor-El’s plight, driven to this low in his impossible quest for perfection as he simply tried to do right by his race and his family. But he’s written as such a bland, tedious character that I didn’t really care one way or the other about him. That it wasn’t made clear whether or not this story would impact on the DCU at large didn’t help matters there.

Relic (Green Lantern 23.1) is a confusing mess of continuity references. It exists more to set up the forthcoming Green Lantern crossover series (yep, another one) Lights Out rather than add to the concept of the cast of heroes being gone and the bad guys being in charge.

A scientist from the universe before ours (yeah, that old chestnut) realises that the emotional power source that seemingly every living creature relies on is finite. When his peers don’t believe him he sets off to get proof. He turns out to be right but it’s too late to save the universe and he ends up sucked into the next. The issue ends with him “awakening” looking decidedly evil. As a setup it may work but as part of Forever Evil, which is what it’s meant to be, it falls flat.

The final contribution I picked up was Joker #1 (Batman 23.1). It was easily the best of the six. Rather than dash off a generic story reliant on fanboy-pleasing continuity Andy Kubert instead writes a story that gives the Joker some emotional depth and both works alone and as part of the larger narrative.

Andy Clarke’s artwork helps a great deal too. It’s a pleasure to look at and he cleverly uses two very different styles to differentiate between the modern scenes and the handful of flashback’s to the Joker’s childhood. It’s the only one of the titles that I felt could have worked as an ongoing series. Perhaps creating that feeling wasn’t a concern for DC, but it should have been. It would have made many of these one shots mean more.

I’ve only read a handful of the books from the first week of what is set to be a month-long initiative and the first issue of a seven part series. As such it would be unfair of me to state definitively that Forever Evil hasn’t worked. There’s every chance that the books I chose not to look at this week and the ones that will be released in the future are and will be very enjoyable and create a coherent narrative that provides an entertaining story with a satisfying conclusion. Based on what I’ve seen I doubt that’s the case but it could happen.

Grant Morrison's Animal Man

I’d like to start by saying that Animal Man is very good. It’s quite possibly the best thing I’ve read written by Grant Morrison. I’ve noted before that he has a habit of going overboard when writing and that spoils his otherwise very interesting concepts and ideas. It happens here. He goes overboard just as much as he does in Doom Patrol or The Invisibles but nothing is spoilt.

Animal Man, as written by Morrison, was originally meant to be a four issue mini-series revolving around a character who hadn’t been used by DC for years. Those first four issues aren’t actually terribly enjoyable. Nor are they noticeably bad. They exist simply as perfectly average issues that, had they not been written by Morrison would be completely unmemorable. They tell a fairly convoluted story featuring an African superhero with the power to meld animals together saving a monkey from a science lab.

For whatever reason those in charge of DC’s Vertigo imprint were suitably impressed by that tale and decided to offer Morrison money in exchange for sticking with the character. It was after that initial tale wrapped up that Morrison became more experimental with the Animal Man and the comic in general, finally hitting his stride with the title.

There are two big themes running throughout Morrison’s Animal Man. The first is animal rights. It’s a subject Morrison felt very strongly about (and presumably still does). Writing a character called Animal Man was always going to make animal cruelty and related issues an obvious subject to tackle. Morrison does addresses the issues better than most would do in a comic.

We see the horror of scientific experimentation, the thuggish brutality of some of the more militaristic animal rights movements, and the full, titanic scale of the problems clumped under the “animal abuse” umbrella. The point is made more than once that it’s not just animal abuse that’s the problem, it’s humanity’s treatment of the planet in general. It’s a subject very well handled considering the space limitations of the medium, not to mention the fact that not all his time and energy are dedicated to the topics.

The other theme is what Animal Man is probably most well-known for under Morrison. That is the metafictional nature of his writing on the book.

Famously the final issue depicts a meeting between Animal Man and his then-current writer. During this Morrison admits that he feels their conversation is anti-climactic. He has so much to say and not enough space to say it. Towards the end the writer conjures up some humorous bad guys for Animal Man to fight so he can spend a page thanking artists, colourers, letters, and editors. He then takes the memory of the meeting away and sends Buddy Baker back to his fictional world to reunite with his resurrected family.

That final issue is the famous and obvious example of Animal Man being metafictional under Morrison but there’s so much more to it than that. Hints at what Morrison’s building to are dropped into his run very early. It doesn’t just come out of nowhere. You can go through and trace Morrison’s plan from the first collected volume of the book. This is not something you can praise his work with these days. Back in the eighties he was still conscientious enough to construct plots that could be followed by someone who doesn’t have a PhD in comics’ lore.

Morrison seems keen to look at the nature of readers’ relationship with fiction, and comics specifically. He looks extensively at the concept and rules of continuity, with the then-recent Crisis on Infinite Earths being referenced multiple times. Characters see the reader numerous times throughout the book and Morrison introduces a number of characters, both major and minor, who are aware of their fictional status. Sometimes these things are played as serious and sometimes they’re gags. It’s a fascinating idea and one that Morrison has returned to throughout his career. He has arguably never been as good at saying what he has to on it as he is on Animal Man.

As is always the case with Morrison his work is far from perfect. The plot falls apart briefly in the middle. Most of the second volume is a bit of a muddle at the start thanks to a multi-issue arc focusing on a trip to Africa. Part of the reason this doesn’t work is that Morrison spends most of the rest of his time on the book writing standalone entries with character led side plots providing most of the linking material between issues. It’s jarring when a story isn’t wrapped up in twenty-four pages.

This is the first major work of Morrison’s career. Considering his status it would probably be worth looking at even if it was a complete mess. But it’s not a mess. It’s an incredibly well-planned, thoughtful, and creative book that shows how good Morrison is when he’s on form. It’s a book that anyone with an interest in comics as a medium should definitely make time to read.

Superman: Red Son

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Batman and Robin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Warren Ellis's Stormwatch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Batman: The Dark Knight Returns

I’ve tried to like Batman: The Dark Knight Returns. But I can’t. There’s something about it that stops me from doing so. It could be that it’s grim near-future setting had become played out by the time I came to read it. Which is a little unfair because when DKR was written the theme wasn’t as overplayed as it is now. It’s one of the titles that helped to make it popular.

Another problem could be the artwork. Frank Miller (who wrote the script and drew the book) is a talented artist but the panels here are too cramped and tightly packed. At times it’s hard to decipher what’s supposed to be going on and in what order you’re supposed to track the panels across the page. While that does add (deliberately I would hope) to the book’s sense of claustrophobia it makes enjoyment difficult to come by.

It’s that sense of claustrophobia that the book is often praised for. This near-future setting is a dystopia in which superheroics have been outlawed, replaced on the streets by brutal regiments of riot gear-swaddled police. The last cape standing is, predictably, Superman. He now works for the government (or “the man”, if you prefer) while a bitter (and aged) Bruce ‘Batman’ Wayne has retired.

Bruce’s decision to return to fighting the good fight is the story of Dark Knight Returns. You probably could have guessed that from the title. As the tale begins The Batman hasn’t been seen in Gotham City for a decade, crime levels are rising and Wayne is finding inaction increasingly difficult. Deciding to ignore the injury that caused him to retire in the first place he returns to the streets as ‘The Caped Crusader’ and quickly finds himself in a conflict with Harvey ‘Two-Face’ Dent.

Surprisingly few DC regulars crop up during the lengthy story. Superman and Green Arrow are the only heroes besides Batman with a presence, the latter feeling an odd choice because, nowadays at least, he’s a pretty low profile player. Joker appears as a patient-slash-prisoner at Arkham Asylum, and Catwoman crops up as the owner of an escort business. It’s that sort of a book.

That minimalistic approach is actually one of the book’s best attributes. Were it written today it would likely be a summer crossover event designed to find a place for even the most minor of characters. That Miller was given the freedom to use as many or as few characters as he deemed necessary is pleasing. It also ensures the book has enough time to develop what characters it does use, allowing us insight into what they’re feeling and why they’re doing what they’re doing. There’s little of that in the crossover approach.

Miller is at his best when creating dystopic nightmares. That’s what he’s given us with The Dark Knight Returns. It’s a world without hope and at least one of the points of the story appears to be that the world will always need Batman, which I think readers are supposed to take as the standard “fight for what you believe in” jazz.

It’s no wonder it was cited as a big inspiration the Nolan Bat trilogy: all three films, though particularly the final entry, owe a large debt to the depressing world Miller gives us here.

And yet I still can’t enjoy it, because of that artwork and Miller’s refusal to enliven the pace. The book drags for much of its page count. When it does get going it’s an enjoyable read and one of the best interpretations of Batman there’s ever been. Sadly those points don’t come frequently enough and there isn’t enough else in the book to help carry things when the plot lags.

V for Vendetta

I like the V for Vendetta film. I like the fact that it encourages you to believe, just for a moment, that it's cast the chubbier half of Fry and Laurie as a crusader intent on bringing down the government. I like the fact it's cast Mr Blocker as the Prime Minister. Most of all I like the fact that its relatively slender running time means that things actually happen fairly early on.

None of this is a knock on the original text. I like the comic book original version of V. It's just that, well, Alan Moore is pretty self-indulgent and takes forever to get moving with his plot or any sort of coherent revelations regarding his masked protagonist.

This is a fairly common problem with Moore. He’s going to do things at his own pace and nobody’s going to stop him. The issue is particularly prevalent with V for Vendetta. I suspect this is because Moore started writing the strip for British indy anthology comic Warrior towards the beginning of his career. Bigger publishers tend to have more of an idea of how many issues they want written and Moore has become less self-indulgent, or perhaps just better at getting his ideas across more quickly, as his career has gone on.

 

V for Vendetta is an alternate future dystopia story (set in 1997 it could now be considered an alternate history tale). British society has fallen apart in the wake of a devastating and unseen war, with totalitarian regime Norsefire having swept into Westminster to restore order. We follow the story of eponymous freedom fighter and culture vulture V as he trains young Evey Hammond to join him in his fight to restore freedom to Britain.

 

Given that it was written during the 80s it’s safe to say that it was at least partly inspired by Moore’s feelings on Thatcher’s government. Seems that Thatch inspired quite a few highly regarded comics of the decade. She wasn’t all bad.

 

Some plot elements don’t quite sit right. V’s origin for example. It’s revealed in flashbacks in the latter half of the collected volume but feels lacking in drama. It’s not something that needed revealing. That it is and there’s nothing of any particular interest behind it detracts from the momentum of the story.

 

Better is Moore’s world building. I’ve singled this out as a strength of his before and this book is a solid example. While the plot meanders and becomes bloated with extraneous information Moore drops in hints as to the country and world at large. He gives a solid idea of how the new British government is structured without going into endless details on the subject or revealing it all in reams of text. He tantalises with hints rather than trying to force you to care about his world, which is a good approach.

 

The book’s lasting legacy is probably the Guy Fawkes mask. It’s worn throughout by V as a symbol of his anarchist ways (and also to disguise his features). Along with the cloak and 17^th century style hat it creates quite the iconic image. His face being obscured throughout the story means the mask becomes his real face, instantly recognisable to anyone who’s read the book as a symbol of V’s morals and beliefs.

 

Never ones to miss a trick DC (the owners to the publishing rights of the title) released V masks when the film came out in 2006. They caught on in a big way. Naturally they’re a hit at fancy dress parties but they’ve also become a regular piece of kit for anti-establishment protestors. It’s a nice touch, but you have to wonder if the irony of paying DC, a pretty big corporation, to take a stand against big corporations has struck them. Probably not.

 

For the record Alan Moore approves of this development (of course he does). He's less approving of the film adaption. That's the case with any of his work that makes it to cinemas but in this instance he's not alone (in fact he rarely is).  Most people think V is a shoddy film that works better as a book. I think both have their merits, although the comic has more (and Moore) to offer.

 

V for Vendetta is a very good example of Moore's early work. Reading it you can certainly see that he was already beginning to develop into a leading voice for the comics industry, a man with his own ideas and a vision for how to use the medium to send a message. It was equally as clear that he was interested in heroes, just not necessarily the conventional caped kind. The disjointed, lackadaisical narrative stops it from being an easy read but not from being an enjoyable one.

 

Supreme Power

Supreme Power is an eighteen issue series that tells a confined story. That doesn’t necessarily set the book apart as anything special. There are plenty of series that have a self-contained story across a similar number of issues. The story that’s told is not a particularly memorable one. It has its moments and benefits from some thoroughly inoffensive art courtesy of Gary Frank but there’s nothing in the plot that makes this anything noteworthy.

Yet it is noteworthy. This is Marvel giving us an origin story for DC’s top characters, albeit disguised a bit to keep everyone’s legal departments happy. The original DC creations cropped up gradually over the course of several years, all from the minds of different creative teams. That’s always put them at odds with Marvel’s top names, a large portion of whom were created or reinvented by Stan Lee, Steve Ditko and Jack Kirby.

The stories of who should be credited for creating what are well known, but no matter where the truth lies it’s generally acknowledged that those three men all contributed to sixties Marvel’s popularity surge to a greater or lesser extent. The small team at ‘The House of Ideas’ meant there was a familiar feel to all of the books. The titles didn’t all immediately begin referencing one another but the fact that the same artists were used helped to create a feeling of a single coherent fictional universe, as did the general approach taken: normal people with super powers. That so many new creations debuted around the same time helped too.

Marvel has always felt like it’s designed to be a shared universe. DC often comes across as a collection of characters with nothing in common beyond their names being owned by the same company. The DC Universe often feels like it’s been retrofitted to function as the setting for shared stories. It all stems from those different creative teams.

Obviously the benefit of hindsight plays an important role in Supreme Power. Marvel can jettison what they know won’t work and introduce new elements to the characters. Most of the changes make the familiar cast darker and edgier. It’s the old Marvel trick of making superheroes real people with relatable, or at least understandable, problems. Superman and the gang traditionally have very little to worry about beyond the latest supervillain threat while Marvel has usually gone out of its way to give its heroes things to worry about in their day-to-day lives.

Supreme Power sees Superman become Hyperion, a man raised by government agents posing as a loving married couple. Batman is recast as a night-prowling psychopath who has no problems with killing. Wonder Woman is Zarda the Power Princess, a far less benevolent figure that Double W. Doctor Spectrum replaces Green Lantern and is immediately set up as someone who can rival Hyperion’s power, and as someone who proves far more loyal to the United States to boot.

The only character who isn’t obviously burdened by an overabundance of problems is Blur, the Flash analogue. He’s a rarity in the book, someone who’s mostly happy to have the powers he does.

The idea of Marvel creating their own DC universe is not an original one. Supreme Power has its roots in 70s adversaries to the Avengers, the Squadron Supreme. They were a group of villains based on DC’s Justice League. Marvel had originally wanted to produce a crossover but legal complications meant they had to resort to blatant analogues instead. Later on a second gang using the same name crossed over from an alternate universe, battling the Avengers before they realised they were all good guys and made friends. So Marvel aren’t just borrowing from DC with this book, they’re borrowing from themselves too.

Various mentions of these former teams crop up throughout the Supreme Power series. The various names of the characters, for example. SP also features several touches that had proven popular on Marvel’s Ultimate line. George Bush appears as the President of the United States, and the world we’re shown is presented as contemporary and adult. Childish fripperies are a no-no in Supreme Power.

As I say, the story that unfolds is not the best. It’s engaging enough but it’s not the most interesting thing the series has to offer. That is very much Marvel’s take on DC’s characters, a bizarre updating of analogues they first introduced three decades earlier. Anyone interested in comic book alternate universes or seeing a more coherent and contemporary origin for DC’s prime players will find plenty to enjoy here.

Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?

Deciding what’s real in DC’s fictional Universe is a tricky proposition at the best of times. No matter how many crises are created or line-wide reboots are initiated the past is always there with its numerous iterations of the company’s main characters co-existing, starring in stories that blissfully contradict each other yet at the same time have to be made to work in a seamless stream of continuity.

This problem is never more glaring than when discussing Batman. Is he a detective, a vigilante, a superhero, a psychopath or all of the above? Each writer focuses on these aspects of the character, and his supporting cast of cops and villains, differently. He’s all of these things, but sometimes he’s one more than the others.

This is the idea that Neil Gaiman explored with Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader? With Grant Morrison having killed off ‘The Dark Knight’ in what constituted his “real” monthly adventures Gaiman was drafted in to produce the quintessential final tale of Batman. Every interpretation, version, and variation of Batman. Death of the Batmen, if you like.

Gaiman was given free rein to construct whatever story he felt appropriate. Unsurprisingly he delved into the character’s weighty history. While this means that there’s plenty in the two issues that sails over the heads of all but the most knowledgeable fan it’s not a move that isolates. Anyone with even a passing knowledge of Batman will be able to follow the plot in its broadest terms. As this is supposed to be a celebration of the character it makes sense to revel in everything that’s gone before.

That said the first issue would be odd for anyone, even the character’s biggest fan, on a first reading. Stories are told of Batman’s death that contradict each other as well as the story told over in Morrison’s canonical run. Selina Kyle talks of how she fell in love with ‘The Caped Crusader’ before retiring to run a pet shop. Years passed before Batman approached her out of the blue, bleeding from a gunshot wound. She tied the unconscious hero to a couch and let him die.

Alfred Pennyworth relates the tale of Bruce Wayne coming out of his shell following the death of his parents only when he was fighting crime. The young Batman sought bigger and bigger highs, prompting Alfred, a former actor, to hire acquaintances to play the part of villains. His pal Eddie starts by becoming the Riddler, with Catwoman, Penguin and, presumably, others following suit.

Alfred eventually became the Joker, revealing that he would face off with Batman once or twice a month. The story culminates, once again, with Batman’s death. This time it comes at the hands of Eddie, who has gone mad and insists he is the Riddler.

Over all of this a conversation occurs between Batman and an originally unidentified character. Batman notes that the stories aren’t true and contradict each other, also pointing out that Alfred couldn’t have been Joker because the Joker is sat listening to the story. The idea of the first issue is that every story is true, no matter whether it makes sense or not. It all happens somewhere.

This is a nice enough way of addressing DC’s frenetic and schizophrenic approach to their own continuity issues but it doesn’t exactly feel like the send-off Batman deserves. The subdued pace and lack of action is not what the character has become known for. While focusing on the history of the character is the right thing to do in context it’s taken way too far by the author. It feels more like an exploration of continuity more than the celebration we were told it would be.

The second half switches tack slightly, with tales of death appearing across panels rather than pages. It allows Gaiman to continue establishing the idea of each Batman being real while the ghost Batman listens and works out what’s going on.

I’ve already given away a fair chunk of what happens in the story so I shan’t announce the final revelation. Not because it’s particularly creative (it’s not) but because it’s something that deserves to be read without foreknowledge. I liked it and thought it was a clever way of addressing the reality issues I mentioned above. It’s not just about the mantle of Batman being passed on to a successor, or the man behind the mask dying. How could it be? We all know that Bruce Wayne is Batman and he always will be.

In terms of artwork Andy Kubert does a lovely job of subtly depicting the different eras of Batman. I shan’t pretend I know enough about the character’s history to have noticed every detail he included, but I did enjoy the visual nods to Arkham Asylum, the better 90s films, and the Adam West TV show. As Gaiman’s writing made very clear, all are just as much the real Batman as the rest.

The Authority

The make-believe worlds of Marvel and DC all too often take the concept of superheroes for granted. There is little sense of wonder or scale. It's the same group of goodies battling the same group of baddies over and over again, with only mild variations on a theme tossed in to keep long-time fans coming back for more. It's a state that has arisen because the two companies have become so big that they have to worry about things like marketing, meaning they can never kill off a character that’s even remotely popular because there's money to be made.

A criticism can be levied against the inhabitants of these fictional worlds too. If they are all-powerful then why have they never escalated their war against the legions of bad beyond the petty skirmish level? Working together these characters could create a utopia yet they choose not to.

The answer that they don't want to interfere doesn't cut it. Firstly they interfere on a daily basis, they just stop short of doing anything beyond maintaining a precarious status quo. Secondly the world they live in is real to them. It's their home. These people are scientists and heroes and gods, exactly the sort of people who should want change for the better.

The reason this never happens is simply that Marvel and DC are too scared of affecting major changes. They like presenting a world comparable to our own, for marketing reasons and ease of writing. To their credit Marvel have over the last year experimented with creating a more advanced planet in their Ultimate line of titles but you get the feeling that's more because sales had dipped and something needed to be tried to turn the ailing line's fortunes rather than because they thought it would be an interesting way of presenting an alternate Marvel universe.

Someone over at Marvel HQ should have read the original run of The Authority before they started this Ultimate endeavour. Launched in 1999 by writer Warren Ellis and artist Bryan Hitch it is the story of a group of super-powered beings forming a team with no allegiance to any Earth government and a self-imposed mission to save the world by altering it for the better.

The first three arcs see a realistic depiction of the response such a group would receive, with the media, governments, and the general populace all receiving a voice. The plot concepts are, for the most part, impressively large scale. After a relatively low key opening story in which tyrannical dictator Kaizen Gamorra (a character previously seen during Ellis's run on The Authority's spiritual predecessor Stormwatch) launches assaults on major Earth cities we see the gang tackle meatier opponents in the form of a full scale invasion from an alien-controlled parallel Earth and a gigantic alien that is essentially God.

These tales strike a careful balance between character moments and big fight scenes, the latter of which got the title pegged as the world's first "wide-screen comic." Keeping a sense of danger present is particularly impressive when you consider how powerful Ellis made his characters. Apollo and Midnighter are not only pastiches of Superman and Batman but also the world's strongest super-being and a genetically and technologically altered super assassin respectively. They can defeat any opponent in an instant yet Ellis manages to make them relatable and vulnerable.

Jack Hawksmoor is the ‘God of Cities’, needing to stay in metropolitan areas to survive. It's a moniker that has plenty of scope when it comes to powers and Ellis has plenty of fun tinkering with the concept. Swift is a human-bird hybrid who often felt out of place amongst such a powerful unit but is subtly used as a social conscience. The Engineer and the Doctor are a walking super computer with a mouldable body and Earth's great mage respectively, and team leader Jenny Sparks is a woman who looks twenty but was born in 1900 and can control electricity (and is a Century Baby, something that would become very important in one of Ellis's other Wildstorm titles). Each character is well formed and interesting enough to be able to carry a book in their own right. That Ellis has not only tossed them all into one book but manages to write them all equally well is a tremendous accomplishment.

The original creative team only produced twelve issues before moving on to other projects. They were replaced by Frank Quitely and a pre-Millarworld Mark Millar. They too produced storylines unlike those seen elsewhere in superhero comics, opening with a race between The Authority and a an outfit sponsored by a rogue megalomaniac scientist to find a baby born to be 'The Spirit of the 21^st Century' with a story in which the Authority are dispatched by the world's various governments, replaced by more agreeable members. Millar keeps the plotting as tight as Ellis did and services his cast just as well, while Quitely proves a one of the few men capable of not being overshadowed by Hitch. Unfortunately Quitely didn’t stick around for Millar’s entire run (although it should be noted he doesn't stick around until the end of the run like Millar does).

Disappointing sales and concern at DC’s head offices over the title’s direction caused The Authority to be cancelled at the conclusion of Millar's third arc. Subsequent resurrections of the book have not reached the heady heights of those first 29 issues. The Ellis, Hitch, Millar, and Quitely run is well worth tracking down because of its inventiveness and dedication to shaking up superhero comics. It is a fine example of creative comic book ideas done right.

Critical information:
Writers: Warren Ellis and Mark Millar
Artists: Bryan Hitch and Frank Quitely
ISBNS: 9781840231946, 9781840232796, 9781840233711, 9781840234909

Batman: The Long Halloween

I'll begin by saying that I'm not a fan of Jeph Loeb. He relies too heavily on continuity references and crowbarring in as many characters as possible. Perhaps his most infuriating trait is the constant attempts to introduce mysteries into his writing. More often than not you'll be left without a definitive answer, unable to decipher one for yourself because Loeb's plotting is so haphazard.
 
Unfortunately Batman: The Long Halloween epitomises all of the above points.
 
The story unfolds over the period of a year in Gotham City. It concerns the corrupt Falcone family's stranglehold on the city and a pact formed by police captain Jim Gordon, Gotham district attorney Harvey Dent, and Batman to bring them to justice. It’s gangster intrigue DC Universe style.
 
The first hint that this title is full of nonsense comes from just flicking through its pages. Loeb has gone out of his way to cram in as many members of Batman's rogues gallery as possible. You'll see the usual suspects such as Joker, Penguin, Poison Ivy, Catwoman, and Two Face, who actually receives a revamped origin story. It all feels too busy. There's no need for the majority of these villains to be included, leaving you with the feeling that they're present because Loeb gets a thrill from it and falsely believes it lends the book credibility as a Batman title.
 
Another part of the trouble is that Loeb expects everyone to be as well versed in the character's history as he (thinks he) is. Why should a casual reader care who Calendar Man is, for example? Loeb has plucked elements from history to appease fans, overlooking anyone who may be picking up a Batman title, or even a comic in general, for the first time. The Batman mythos is placed front and centre but so much is made of it that it actually detracts from the comic.
 
The Long Halloween's biggest crime has to be its laboured mysteries. Without wishing to give too much away one of the book’s sub-plots sees one of the Falcones murdered. Nobody is revealed as the killer in the pages of the comic though Loeb insists that all the clues are there if you look for them. If they do exist then they are skilfully hidden because nobody ever seems entirely clear on who did it. It’s easy for Mr Loeb to say people should be able to work it out, he wrote the blasted book!
 
While it’s not recommended reading Long Halloween still has its merits. Loeb writes the Batman character very well, acknowledging that he's a detective as well as a superhero and Gotham's conscience. Anyone who's seen Bale and Nolan's The Dark Knight should also enjoy seeing part of the film's inspiration and source material.
 
It’s Tim Sale is what gives this title its greatest selling point. His dark, brooding art is the perfect fit for a Batman tale. The deep shadows suit 'The Caped Crusader' as well as they do the film noir attempt of a plot. Sale gives us an interesting take on each character, with the Joker standing out alongside Batman as warranting particularly high praise.
 
It's the non-superheroes that really show how good the artist is. While most people could draw something approaching a recognisable Batman thanks to the character's distinctive costume Sale creates a cast of people in suits that have their own instantly recognisable looks and personalities.
 
Visually pleasant it may be, but Batman: The Long Halloween is an utter disappointment for anyone who values a logical plot.

All-Star Superman

We all know the Superman origin story. He is the last survivor of a dying race of superbeings, sent to Earth and raised on a farm before growing up to become the morally righteous world protector with a penchant for red underwear and capes. The character has been rebooted, adapted and updated so many times over the last decade or three that a nauseating number of stories recounting this simple tale now exist.

Thankfully when Grant Morrison wrote the twelve issue All-Star Superman he boiled down the thirty years or so of Superman’s life to eight words split across four panels. That was the first of many things he got right with the series.

All-Star Superman celebrates the character’s sixty-plus years of canon and history without ever becoming beholden to it. If something works Morrison includes it. If something is best left forgotten then it is. Numerous aspects of Superman and his world are reworked all in order to give us the best story possible, often things you wouldn’t expect to appear in such a relatively short series. That’s exactly how comics should be written.

Jimmy Olsen is transformed from irritating sidekick to brilliant scientist. The Fortress of Solitude is accessed using a key that weighs half a billion tonnes. The high intellect of the character, so often forgotten or downplayed over the decades, is highlighted at various points and there are dozens of examples of Superman truly being the strongest man on Earth, again something his regular appearances often downplay in order to heighten drama.

The premise of the series is setup in the very first issue. After Superman thwarts the latest diabolical plan of Lex Luthor it is revealed that ‘The Man of Steel’ has become oversaturated with solar radiation and is given a limited amount of time to live.

This development not only makes Supes fallible but it gives him something he so rarely has in modern comics: a purpose. Knowing he is going to die Superman focuses on tying up loose ends and ensuring that the world will be safe in his absence. There are some beautifully touching moments between the character (both as Superman and Clark Kent) and his father and Lois Lane.  

It all naturally comes down to a final showdown with Luthor, but it is far from the by-the-numbers Kryptonite-filled encounter most fans would (rightfully) expect. The climactic confrontation is just one of many instances in which Morrison defies expectations and surprises everyone from long term fans to those just picking up their first comic.

Morrison’s script truly does Superman justice. Fun, exciting adventures are woven with believable characters. Frank Quitely’s artwork is the perfect fit for the title, with Superman being all lantern jaw, boyish cowlick and kindly smile. Morrison has provided an excellent script but it’s Quitely who expertly brings it to life and imbues it with a warmth and sense of wonder rarely associated with famous Metropolis resident.

Whether you’re a fan of the character or not you will enjoy this book.

Critical information:

Writer: Grant Morrison
Artist: Frank Quitely
ISBN: 9780857688170

Dial H

At time of writing only the first four issues of revived DC title Dial H (previously referred to as Dial H for Hero during publication runs in the 1960s and 1980s) have been released and the central storyline is still in the process of being revealed. That in itself is a reason to read it in my opinion, as it's rare these days for mainstream comics to give us a storyline that hasn’t been crowbarred into a three or four issue arc. That gradual process of revealing what’s going on is rewarding and means you’re always left wanting a little more.

The general premise is simple. Pudgy, out-of-work everyman Nelson Jent is set upon by hoodlums when making his way home from visiting a sick friend in hospital. Seeking help he dives into a phone booth and attempts to dial H-E-L-P but accidentally (but conveniently as far as the plot is concerned) dials H-E-R-O instead.

Emerging from the phone box in his place is Boy Chimney. He makes short work of the thugs that troubled Jent and then goes for a night-time jaunt through the city. Sometime later our tubby protagonist finds himself back in his apartment, remembering what happened.

The obligatory “learning how the phone box works” scene, which so easily could have been an infodump, is instead used as a fun way of giving us a selection of fleeting superhero appearances.

The main plot itself has so far introduced a toad-like antagonist whose mode of speech flits between East End tough and educated mastermind and Ex Nihilo, a woman with mastery over nothing who is very interested in the magical phone dials. Joining him and protagonist Jent is a mysterious superheroine with access to a portable phone dial of her own.

The big attraction with the Dial H title is obviously China Miéville. His hefty reputation is what will initially draw a lot of people to the book. It’s what made me pick up issue one, along with Brian Bolland’s perfectly judged cover art. But readers will find themselves staying for the neat premise and Mateus Santolouco’s interior art, which is not only great but also an excellent fit with Miéville’s writing and the feel of the book.

The New 52 project has had many surprise hits and misses. Dial H is very much in the former camp. I hope we see the creative team, and Nelson Jent, stick around for a long time to come.

Critical information:
Writer: China Miéville
Artist: Mateus Santolouco
ISBN: Yet to be collected