Reviews for 4th of July, 2012

ACTION COMICS #11

Grant Morrison continues his second larger arc on "Action Comics" with an issue that is emblematic of the series to date. The story starts with a strong sequence featuring Superman saving and bonding with citizens of an impoverished Metropolis neighborhood, presented in Rags ("Identity Crisis") Morales' detailed artwork. The focus on Superman as an approachable, spunky young man in touch with the interests of his neighbors feels far outshines the strange alien-related threat he has just dealt with.

Yet, the story is not content to continue in this manner - with the turn of the page comes the artistic change, as Brad ("Heroes for Hire") Walker steps in to illustrate a sequence featuring Clark in his new guise of a fireman. The change is obviously temporary, and in keeping with the Silver Age stories which were liable for any contrivance that would be neatly undone by the end of the story. Realistically, the comic stories are paced differently in 2012, which justifies the change as the young Superman spending the arc experimenting with a different alter ago.

This is further cemented in a two page scene featuring Batman, that picks up on the mention in the last month's issue of the "Justice League". Still, for the story's sake, the reader only has to know that the two are friends, and that Clark feels free to speak openly with the Gotham superhero. Unfortunately, at this point, the frequent scene changes, with Rags Morales' two pages stuck between two blocks of four page Brad Walker sequences, contribute to the choppiness in the presentation which has quickly came to define both this issue and most of the ones that preceded it.

It's not that the two artists sport completely different styles, which is certainly not going to endear this issue to any of the readers, but that the cumulative effect of all the fragments and tangents doesn't add up to the greater whole. As the issue goes on, Superman's new secret identity get supplemented by the main plot line, once again involving the aliens with the plans for taking over the Earth.

This goes back to the core of Morrison's re-imagination of DC's premiere superhero. While initially playing up the fact that the story echoes the character's Great Depression beginnings, the writer has since come to balance the social justice elements with a healthy dose of science fiction, centered around the character's alien heritage. And while it's completely possible that once he finishes this story, Morrison will use the September's #0 issue to come back to the character's Smallville beginnings, the status quo remains decidedly un-Superman like for the time being.

Seeing Superman living in Braniac's ship hovering in Earth's orbit and having to deal with the threat wiping out the galactic civilizations feels strangely out of character, following John Byrne's more grounded take on the mythos. The focus on Clark's alien heritage can be taken as part of his coming of age, with the superhero side of the character gradually replacing the science fiction leanings. Nevertheless, Superman is the first and in many way archetypal superhero, making the change of focus seem largely out of place, particularly when utilized in such a stop and start fashion.

It remains to be seen how the arc works as a whole, but in this particular case, it can be said that the writer did little to make #13 anything more than a collection of scenes that directly follow the ones in the preceding issue. The story comes with the standard Sholly Fish back-up justifying the inflated price. Illustrated by the "T.H.U.N.D.E.R. Agents"' Cafu, eight pager would feel right at home in an anthology of Superman stories, or even as a subplot in this very issue. As presented by Fish, it stipulates an interesting, if underdeveloped idea of a store specializing in selling Superman T-shirts.

The story could only be done with Morrison's newest iteration of the character, as the T-shirt is a part of one of his Superman costumes, but despite Cafu's expressive facial work, only picks up at the end, being somewhat elevated by a welcome twist. Otherwise, as always, the back-up inoffensively picks up on the Morrison inspirations to provide a more grounded piece of world-building that is unlikely to be referenced again, despite the plot referencing some of the events taking place in the main story. Most interestingly, the dialogue firmly grounds the Morrison/Morales plot as taking place roughly a year after Superman debuted, making for another problem in the publisher's timeline.

Both the Justice League and Morrison's Action Comics (despite the two-part "Legion of Superheroes" story preceding the current arc) firmly take place in the early days of the character's career. Johns tries to present the events as taking place five years later, to make them concurrent with the rest of the publisher's titles, but in story terms, it's clear that a much shorter time has passed between the two arcs. Morrison on the other hand, has his story changing focus sometimes issue by issue, but the bulk of the narrative that he seems adamant on continuing does feature a slowly evolving cast and the character of the young Superman. As of now, it's been relatively easy to piece together the chronology of the events, but seeing several different versions of the character so far does contribute to the aforementioned lack of focus.

THE BOYS #68

With the series' ending announced at #70, the last story has slowly turned into the deconstruction of the group. The titular Boys, their mission fulfilled in the previous arc, finally get to question their leader's decisions, leading to a devastating confrontation. Billy Butcher's genocidal side was previously largely kept in check by the manipulations he performed to get his revenge on Homelander, the title's Superman analogue. With the last vestiges of the organized superhero front torn down, Ennis has started wrapping up the loose ends, which in a story this violent, means a barrage of deaths, much more painful than the ones that preceded them.

Issue 68, the third part of "Bloody doors off", features Hughie gathering up the rest of the boys and sharing his intel with them, in what is essentially a twelve page monologue summing up the truth behind the recent events, while clarifying some of the conclusions the character has drawn from his own investigative work. Despite the amount of the world building, and the seriousness with which he approaches the story seven years in the making, Ennis manages to preserve the voices of the cast in these info-heavy pages, and finishes on a nice twist involving the Female.

The rest of the story considers the much more direct confrontation between Mother's Milk and the Butcher. The writer uses a two page break in the middle of the sequence to concentrate on a subplot, before returning to the two, now past the point of reasoning out with each other. Employing the technique enables the shift to seem more natural while still shocking. The horrible violence these two friends unleash on one another demonstrates the culmination of their differences, and ends with the death of one of the characters.

It goes without saying that Ennis' character work carries out what would in other hands be a sensationalistic ill motivated fight, but there are still some glitches in the presentation. Russ Braun, the artist that replaced the series co-creator Darick Robertson is on a technical level a better draftsman, but he tends to repeat some of the poses the character makes, which is usually reserved for his rendition of Butcher but in this issue leads to some monotony when it comes to Hughie's expression. More importantly, his take on Mother's Milk somewhat squares with Robertson's more realistic depiction, leading to a large swathe of panels where the character doesn't really look like himself, as presented before.

This is typically excusable in a monthly comic with alternating artists, but feels slightly out of place considering Dynamite's commitment to the title, and the artist's otherwise superior work. Braun's MM simply looks too broad, too cartoony, and with the beard shown here brings to mind Popeye's Bruto instead of the more realistic character design, as seen on Robertson's cover. It doesn't really detract from the impact of the final pages, but seeing the character's huge cartoony hands lashing out at the square jawed Butcher, certainly brings to mind a different sensibility than that of the series' co-creator.

PUNISHER #13

The accelerated schedule Marvel has forced on its titles regularly calls for fill-in artists, and in the case of Punisher #13, the editorial saw fit to employ Mico ("Moon Knight") Suayan. With the news of a "War Zone" crossover imminent, it's difficult to gauge where the Greg Rucka run is headed. On the face of it, the writer is bringing his creation, Rachel Cole-Alves back head on with the men who staged a massacre on her wedding day. Thus, by returning to the story he was telling before the "Omega drive" crossover, Rucka feels like he's starting to wrap up the plot threads. With the news of a line-wide relaunch starting October, it would be a surprise if this particular iteration of Marvel's vigilante survived to be on the stands in a year's time.

Until then, the writer presents another solid, if under-performing issue of "the Punisher". In order to get an upper hand against the Exchange, Frank and Rachel are forced to go undercover and infiltrate a superhero technology auction, which is a plot recently seen in Scott Snyder and Jock's "Black mirror" arc on "Detective comics". The Punisher has a better plan, though, and the issue reads inoffensively enough, but there is a certain conflict at its core. Having Punisher in a disguise is a traditionally silly element, but one that Rucka fully commits to, in order for his story to work. Throughout the Rucka/Chechetto run, Frank is well aware that he is working in the Marvel universe, and he tries to turn the situation in his favor.

This time, it includes a plan to get a piece of superhero hardware, while posing as the 1980s villain, the Power Broker. There is something off about the last latter, which coupled with lines like "Get out of my way! Criminals masterminds and henchmen first -- " supposes a lightness of tone that isn't really to be found in the otherwise grim tone. The writer usually finds place for some whimsy and black comedy, but his is a down to Earth style, which is why he has carved a niche for himself writing urban vigilantes like "Batman".

Perhaps Marco Chechetto's more animated style would have carried the tone a little better. Mico Suayan's works in a slightly more detailed photo referenced style here, making for a movie-like atmosphere, but the static images eventually take the life out of some sequences. A Dean Martin lookalike approaches Rachel at one point, but the likeness is so belabored that it takes the reader out of the story to think about the reference. It's certain that being a fill-in artist is a thankless job, but to his credit Suayan does manage to be very clear when it comes to layouts. Likewise, he has a consistent take on Chechetto's characters, which avoids the confusion in the final pages.

Despite the minimal backgrounds, the reader is at all times present that Frank and Rachel are on a boat, with Matt Hollingsworth's colors making captions replacing the need for captions when it comes to the scene shifts. All in all, #13 is a decent comic, and an acceptable chapter in the ongoing Rucka "Punisher" narrative. It does little to elevate the story so far, which has seen much more accomplished moments than the ones provided here. Hopefully, by the time they are finished with the character, Rucka and Chechetto will leave behind a complete story, that is none the worse for inclusion of outside superhero elements.

Animal man #1-4

In 1987, inspired by the success of Alan ("Swamp thing", "Watchmen") Moore, DC's talent division scouted United Kingdom for similar comics writers, hoping they would help rejuvinate their line of secondary titles. Looking for a smart and edgy take, they were drawn towards "Zenith", Grant Morrison's post modern superhero and asked the writer to pitch them a revival of one of their many moribund properties. The "2000 AD" magazine writer, inspired by Moore's work, submitted an outline for four issues, centered on finding a new take involving Buddy Baker, the Animal man.

The seldom seen character's profile has previously been boosted by Marv ("New Teen Titans") Wolfman's including him in his work on "Action comics" and "DC comics presents". The key DC writer of the early eighties gave Buddy a cameo in DC's first and most ambitious cross over event "Crisis on infinite Earths", and Morrison followed up with his revamp just as the company was starting to branch out to more risky Direct market exclusive material.

Thus, in 1988 the first of the original planned four issues debuted, pencilled by Chas ("Coyote") Truog and inked by Doug Hazlewood. For a start, the artistic team was standard for DC's lesser selling titles of the time, and brings to mind the Mike Grell written "Green arrow". Getting an indie penciller clearly uncomfortable with superheroes on a book with the stylized covers of one Brian Bolland seemed an industry practice, but certainly provided a jarring juxtaposition. Truog was certainly a strong storyteller even then, providing clear layouts, easily distinguished characters and a lot of energy to his pages, but was given neither the time nor the adequate compensation to proceed with a layered detailed approach allowed to Bolland and rare few talents of his caliber. From the start, it's easy to see that the initial four issues were designed with the goal of spotlighting the writer and, as such, relegated Truog to the role of a collaborator whose contribution is not to easy to discern.

Where Grant Morrison, the writer of the revamp started of with was by providing a look at a late eighties superhero trying to make a come back while still thinking of ways to provide for his family. As depicted, Buddy is a naivee, but well meaning common man, who loves his wife and their two children, determined to try and make a real break as a superhero. In doing this he seeks support of his illustrator wife, and proceeds to test out his animal mimicking abilities, mimicking Alan Moore's early "Marvelman" issues. Morrison is careful to realize the suburban neighborhood Buddy and Ellen live in, realizing that the neighboring forest, and the adjacent wild life, will play a larger role later on. Buddy is portrayed as a fan of punk and indie rock music, which the writer uses to justify the inclusion of a leather jacket on his original A-man costume.

Interestingly, this is about as much as Morrison ventures with Buddy's character. Beyond the character's empathy towards animals, the writer is pleased with leaving him a blank slate, deliberately steering clear of the retelling of Buddy's original Silver age origin, where "the man with animal powers" was treated as little more than a leading story novelty in a mystery anthology. Once DC comics decided to extend the mini series towards an ongoing run with the character, both him and Truog would get a chance for a post modern revision of Animal Man's first appearances in "Strange adventures" magazine, but interestingly Morrison decided on exploiting the back story of another failed 1960s try out superhero as a way of delineating Buddy in opposition to another similar character.

Thus, somewhat unexpectedly, the Bob Haney and Mike Sekowsky's original "Showcase presents" two part story starring B'wana Beast ends up impacting the plot of original proposed "Animal man" mini series much more than any of the title character's initial appearances. The Beast was recently featured in a "Swamp Thing" story, but Morrison was still mindful that at this point he was dealing with introducing the new audience to two long forgotten characters, and as such, provides the pertinent information in a way that was much more in touch with the then modern sensibilities. In a time when the image aware writer routinely had the characters tossing "Rolling stone" magazine with the Justice League as the cover feature, and a reference to an Ann Rice article inside, Morrison was intent to present a very polarizing post Cold war landscape. On the one hand, the reader was treated to Chas Truog and Doug Hazlewood's version of suburban LA paradise, with the downtown San Diego being presented as an urban nightmare where Animal man has to work in.

That the writer is very aware of his character's status as a one note joke superhero is directly referenced in the introductory issue, with Morrison reassuring the reader that he is very clear on the direction he's taking the character in. Even Buddy's ambition of rising to the status of regular working superheroes such as Blue Beetle, falls to the wayside in a scene where the writer plays up Buddy's relative similarity to the orange clad Aquaman, another blond character, and likewise a long standing foil for the audience disinterested in the underwater exploits of the unlikely ocean based superhero. Likewise, most of the popularity Blue Beetle had in what was until recently modern DCU stemmed from the Justice League writers essentially transforming him into a parody of a generic superhero, but Animal man of course isn't aware of any of this. To him, these are perfectly legitimate superhuman characters that he hopes will recognize him as a peer, while shunning the company of Element man (another Bob Haney creation), another oddball concept that never caught on as much as the company wanted to.

Most significant though, is Buddy's relationship to the original superhero, Superman, who Morrison smartly includes in these pages as an objective point of comparison. Thus, a TV sketch lampooning Animal Man's ability as a sort of pet detective gets him an S.T.A.R. labs call, with the scientist freely admitting that the only reason they proceeded with dialing the LA-based superhero was that Superman wasn't able to answer the emergency in time. This is not just a cynical aside but a crucial point Morrison makes, given that the case as depicted would seem completely ill suited to the DC's flagship books, whether by the logistics or the style of the story. Simply put, Animal man was entirely the right person to call when it comes to dealing with a science fictional/horror mash up, centered around another, long forgotten DC animal based superhero.

That Superman himself briefly shows up to introduce himself and promptly flies away to deal with an airplane emergency further drives home Morrison's point that there is more to the distinction between "Animal Man" and "Action comics" than the popularity of the characters involved. And seeing how Morrison's initial approach to Buddy Baker leans much more heavily on the Clive Barker and Steven King horror revisionism rather than the typical superhero inspirations, there is no doubt that the writer was right to call attention to the need for a separate approach, and a different kind of hero.

In a lot of ways, what Alan Moore did on "Swamp Thing" was simply to take the ideas in a more mature direction. The underlying template of a EC-style monster comic was still providing the structure behind the revision, but the advent of the Direct Market enabled the writers to approach the themes from a more informed stance, educated by the prevaling horror literature of the time, and the non-fiction work that supported the ideas. When it comes to "Animal man", Morrison was simply a vegetarian who elaborated on his contempt for the cruelty toward animals, and tried to present his informed opinion in the context of a superhero comic book.

That he took the stance seriously, and presented his case in these initial four issues reassures the readers that the writer-centered comic they are reading at least represents an intelligent and well thought out slice of pop culture. The layered approach, filled with foreshadowing, tight characterization and poetic narration certainly reminds of Moore's work, but the burgeoning sub genre of similar offerings, including Neil Gaiman's "the Sandman" quickly found a lot of fans sympathetic to it. Basically, the intelligent, well written superhero book quickly came to mean a revision of a  little seen superhero, illustrated by a capable yet undistinguished up and coming artist, aiming at fan in late teens, and adamant on keeping his interest by sliding the envelope, virtuoso storytelling.

The obvious benefits of this approach were the high profile typically given by the superhero fandom to the riskier Marvel and DC material, a steady publication, and adequate financial reward, eventually including the royalties when it comes to the republication of the same material. In such a system, ignorant to the material outside the superhero genre and foreign publications, it's easy to understand the sudden and meteoric rise of the careers of Moore, Gaiman and Morrison. The talented scribes simply introduced intelligent, detailed scripts coming from the inspirations outside traditional pulp stories, and realized in technique that often had more in common with the work of post modern prose writers than Robert Kanigher, Stan Lee and Bob Haney.

Specifically, at this early point in his career, Morrison was still introducing himself to the audience, and just seeing the scene transitions the Scottish scribe utilizes is enough to brings to mind the technique behind Moore's "Swamp thing". The tightly plotted, allusion heavy work in a real way felt like the growth of the medium, and certainly makes sense when it comes to Bwana Beast's narration, as the trench coated psychic gets introduced in a creepy and detached manner, befitting a modern day vampire. Chad Truog is careful to concentrate on the silhouette of the Beast's helmet, certain that most of the readers wouldn't be able to recognize it, but at the same time helping convey that this is no ordinary stalker inflicting violence in San Diego's back streets.

Morrison is likewise careful to allude to the character's identity in broad terms, waiting patiently for the full reveal, while utilizing the chance to elaborate on the feral character's impressions of the big city. That these passages read similar to Frank Miller's "Daredevil" captions, describing a blind man's augmented perception of a busy streets of a polluted metropolis goes without saying, but Morrison is still very cognizant of his stated aim with this storyline. Compared to the lovable, easy going naivety of Buddy Baker, B'wana beast is simply delusional, driven to the point of madness in his grief over the cruelty perpetrated to his animal friend. By proceeding with the deconstruction of a superhuman Tarzan with a strange power to fuse animals, Morrison seems to imply why one character works in for the modern audiences, and the other doesn't.

Grant Morrison could be said to have basically reinvented Buddy from the ground up, but he still keeps his friends from the character's initial appearance in "Strange adventures". Both Ellen and Roger are still depicted as Buddy's friends and confidantes, with the writer adding two children to further cement Animal Man as a unique family oriented superhero. Buddy certainly likes animals, but he still lives a life of an ordinary person, and this seems to be how he manages to balance the two halves of his personality. On the other hand, by having the Beast's best friend murdered in the civil coup introduced in the pages of "Swamp Thing", and his strange gorilla confidante abducted and experimented upon, the Africa based superhero seems certainly to be the victim of a writer forcing his hand on a more innocent property from another age.

To be charitable to Morrison, B'wana beast is such an overblown Silver age cliche that it's difficult to imagine how the character could possibly appeal to the modern readers. When a property needs both a name change, a complete redesign and a rethink when it comes to the character's base of operations (nothing less than the mountain of Kilimanjaro in the original story), as well as his methods and powers, it's easy to see why the character could see life solely as a guest star, the like of Marvel's "Ka-Zar", a perpetual retro-flavored diversion. And while both Marvel and DC have certainly braved relaunching the characters whole cloth before (while retaining the trademarks), Morrison was certainly thinking that using the Beast as an antagonist in a well told experimental story would at least provide what might have been his last appearance some semblance of dignity, even when it comes to the destruction of the character. That Truog struggles with his original Silver age character design comes as no surprise, an leaves the reader without any real desire to see such a generic impossibly muscled, caricature again.

Again, the writer takes no easy routes, as B'wana beast lives to both have his revenge and hopefully somewhere down the line reappears as a better adjusted and realized character. In this case, this means returning in a later Morrison-written issue of the ongoing series to help an actual African character stylize himself alongside similar ideas. That the company failed to exploit the Freedom beast to it's full potential is a point that has little bearings on the way Morrison approached his initial four "Animal Man" issues. Suffice to say that the writer had more in mind when tackling B'wana beast then simply turning him into a delusional maniac and ending the story with his death, conveniently not at the hands of the protagonist.

Obviously, the whole point of replacing the arbitrary Silver age logic of the stories with an approach that was less instinctive but more topical, meant that the climax of the story takes the place at the San Diego ZOO, but the writer goes well and beyond merely choosing the appropriate setting for the long delayed confrontation between the two characters. First, in order to provide some of the foils for the title character, Morrison peppers the story with overgrown human animal hybrids, but even their presence goes beyond merely showing Animal Man's abilities. Namely, by giving Buddy a chance to rediscover the extent of his powers, the writer starts to elaborate on his protagonist, and truly begin him on the road to recognizing his true calling.

From the start, Buddy is shown things that go well beyond his knowledge and expertise, but Morrison portrays him as willing to learn and quick to react without making any major mistakes in the process. Buddy is certainly naivee but his good nature continually helps him with understanding his foes, even if his inherent pacifism gives them an immediate upper hand in the fight. Most importantly, the character takes his time to check up on the vanquished foe and sticks around to see how well off are the animals he has helped save from the Beast's fusion.

This is why the writer begins the fourth issue by having Buddy narrate the events following the previous episode's conclusion from the perspective of tucking in his young daughter after he has dealt with the hostilities. Morrison wants the reader to know that Buddy survives the tale, but at the same time that his family has shared their burden of horror in an unrelated incident. That he does not punish the protagonist for not being there to partake in their subplot, involving attempted rape, and again, cruelty towards animals, shows that Morrison understands that for the audience to take a liking to the superhero he's revamping means that first he has to genuinely like the character, and avoid using him as a target for the writer's neuroses.

Basically, the care that the writer went into fleshing out Ellen Baker and her neighborhood meant that he allotted Buddy's wife a co-starring role beyond serving as the Animal Man's voice of reason. The sitcom-like heaping upon stock character types populating the suburbia near forest grove gets thrown in a reversal, when a band of rednecks heads there specifically for animal hunting. That these broad caricatures quickly devolve into homicidal maniacs is nothing new, but seeing Ellen and her daughter Maxine, at the center of their rage works purposefully to drive the reader in a much more likelier scenario than Buddy and B'wana Beast's tussle among the San Diego's laboratories and back allies. These cruel drunks are shown to be hostile towards animals first, and then proceed to affect Buddy's family, in firm view with the writer's liberal agenda that animal cruelty leads to abhorrent behavior towards fellow humans.

This ties into directly into B'wana Beast's rampage, as the Africa's protector quickly loses sight of the emotions of his fellow man, as he heads to help his animal friend. The lack of attention he gives to human life is precisely what conveys to the readers that he has gone to far, and that his intentions, no matter how noble, never excuse the rampage that he leaves in his wake, which is also underlined by Morrison's updated origin of the character, showing the character's revenge on the soldiers that killed his one human friend in the local civil war.

Never settling for easy answers, Morrison again employs the reversal that feeds into the twists inherent in the genre, by having both one of Ellen's pursuers, and a previously docile cartoon neighbor show heroism and humanity when entrusted with the inhuman savagery of a psychotic redneck. Despite the depravity and perversion surrounding the modern day world, the writer seems to reaffirm his belief in the better side of the human nature. And while there are casualties on both fronts of the conflicts Buddy and Ellen partake in, Morrison finishes Animal Man's narration (a somewhat dubious concept in itself, given the character's expressive nature) with "There must be some hope. Just some".

Yet, the story goes for several more pages bringing the main, more elaborate plot to it's conclusion, which is much more fierce and controversial. Basically, Morrison ends up following the standard plot of two heroes fighting one another until they realize that they are basically on the same side and unite against the common villain, with having dr. Myers, the face of animal testing in the storyline, as the main antagonist ultimately responsible for both the abduction of the Beast's gorilla friend, and the new strain of Anthrax that the animal is dying of.

Thus, the main plot strand ends up bearing the brunt of Morrison's philosophical stance. And just as the disease was foreshadowed by a child wearing a T-shirt of the band of the same name (at the time seemingly important solely for establishing a realistic atmosphere), so does the chief theme of the difference between the treatment of humans and animals come to a head with dr. Myers developing a strain of Anthrax seeking to target animals without directly harming the citizens of the invaded country. Morrison shows us that the animal human hybrids B'wana beast creates are ultimately short lived, delusional creations, as well as the Beast himself as ultimately wrong in taking only the stance of endangered animals without regard for his fellow humans, with likewise dr. Myers experiments in military application of the disease with the goal of wiping out animals in order to starve the enemy's population during the hostilities, as misguided on a number of levels.

That Myers was hiding the true goals of the S.T.A.R. labs experiments with a cover story about working on an AIDS vaccine was both topical and benevolent without any side effects. The real story that ends up taking the life of B'wana beast's companion is much more ambiguous, scary and all too human. Every step of the way, Morrison implies that humans and animals should and must coexist together, with the civilized people using their elevated stance not to the detriment of the biosphere, but, like Animal Man, to take inspiration from it, and work for a better and healthier life for everyone.

Utilizing the intelligent gorilla Djuba as a theoretical missing link between higher primates and humankind, Morrison isn't merely deconstructing B'wana Beast's initial "Showcase presents" two-parter, but spotlighting the connection between humans and animals. The Beast's mental link keeps him in contact with all of the gorilla's pain as it's tortured by Myers' scientists, and it's eventual passing the strain of Anthrax on the African superhero further drives home that what affects one species affects the other. Eventually, with Animal Man using his powers to heal B'wana by affecting his white blood cells, Morrison is pretty much extending the borders of the Dave Wood and Carmine Infantino created superhero's powers to mirror Swamp Thing's eventual infinite powers, but what strikes the reader as much more jarring is a previous sequence where the two proceed with a battle of wills.

Despite the rapid cuts and zoom ins, the whole of the telepathic fight feels sap of the dynamic and misreading the genre strengths. Yet, by having the Beast survive his friend's death in this way, the reader is enabled to both feel it's impact, and see the troubled superman on the path of foregoing his madness for a clear cut revenge that finishes the story, and leaves the character to proceed in a saner direction. Having used his powers to fuse the dead gorilla with the still living Myers, enabling the scientists fittingly dressed in inhuman white mask to proceed with the research, Morrison is cruelly letting the tormentor finally feel the agony of his victims, finishing his four original issues as a cautionary tale of nature's ferocity getting back to it's oppressors by reintegrating them into the circle of life.

Interestingly, having said his piece on the need for human and animal cohabitation, Morrison was tasked to continue the "Animal Man" series. In turn, this lead to stories where the writer embraced his narrative voice much more, abandoning the Moore's "Swamp Thing" inspirations, as he embraced the original Silver age aspect of the character, and clashed it with then current sensibilities until reaching it's famous post modern conclusion. Chas Truog and Doug Hazlewood were in tow to provide visual consistency, but aside from spotlighting several different animal powered DC characters, Morrison's never allowed the series to extensively cover the issues presented in these initial four installments.

Slaves of Mickey

On Monday, the news broke that the superhero publishing giant Marvel was acquired by the multi-media Disney corporation, spreading speculation all over the entertainment industry. With no concrete news about the fate of the best selling American comics line, it's interesting to note that the one definite statement might first come from their biggest rivals, DC comics. Themselves owned by Time/Warner, the status allows the company to experiment with other types of storytelling, mostly through the 1993's controversial "Vertigo" imprint.

In many ways a successor to Marvel's 80s "Epic" line, the DC division has been defined by groundbreaking work from some of the business' strongest writers. As a veteran among them stands Grant Morrison, whose "Sebastian O" and "the Invisibles", had the distinction of being the first mini and ongoing series commissioned for "Vertigo". A long-time cult-writer, he has none the less achieved his greatest commercial success after leaving DC's "JLA" to work on the "New X-Men" in 2001. The Marvel series occupied most of his time, but at the time he still managed to finish scripting "the Filth", his spy microcosm of a comic to be published by "Vertigo". Following the termination of his contract with the X-office, in 2004 he returned to the imprint with three different projects. Out of them, only "We3" was hinted at in his former superhero ongoing, but it was in another that Morrison really poured out all of his thoughts on working for Marvel. Not only that, but Cameron Stewart pencilled "Seaguy" ended up being a commentary on the genre, the industry itself, life and much more, proving as complex a work as "the Filth".

Yet, Morrison's superhero fans by and large ignored the book, projected to be the first in the planned trilogy of minis featuring the character. Hence, it was only in 2008, after having provided DC with two concurrent superhero events, that the company decided on following up the initial "Seaguy" three-parter. Thus, not only did the second mini-series "Slaves of Mickey Eye" see print, but it was already announced that the third one has been green lighted. Despite the writer's increased profile, "Seaguy" once again sold at stunningly low levels compared to "Batman RIP" and "Final Crisis", but the publisher decided to stick to their plans. This means that the project's concluding mini-series has a definite slot in the publishing, despite one again forcing the fans to endure an extensive delay. Interestingly, in light of the current events, the schedule provides the chance for the creators to be more topical than ever with their signature work.

Because "Seaguy" is perhaps the only series that directly deals with superhero comics as cogs in the corporate machine, illustrated by no less than a Disney-inspired amusement park iconography. Of course, adding the commentary on the re precautions of the Disney/Marvel deal would still seem tacked on if the comic itself hadn't already dealt so thoroughly and openly with very similar ideas.

In fact, having such a deeply-layered meta fictional story, with a particularly convenient picaresque imagery at the surface really seems to provide enough ambiguity to justify just such an approach. And it wouldn't necessarily involve a complete rewrite of Morrison's scripts. It's entirely possible that the visionary writer could manage to insert the topical nods at such a late stage as that of tweaking the dialogue to better suit the finished art.

In any event, "Seaguy eternal" seems like a much more contemporary project than it would have been had it completed in 2004. When finally collected in it's entirety, it may well prove to be a seminal commentary on Marvel in the last decade, with the superhero industry in tow. Which is just what Morrison and Stewart imagined it would be when they set out to work on it all those years ago.

Grant Morrison - "In every style and fashion" part 1

Grant Morrison has always been an inventive storyteller, with something of a heady and ambiguous note to his scripts. This made his already ambitious comics something of a hard thing to get for a large portion of the audience. Yet, it seems that as his profile has been increased, that the complaints have gotten louder, to the point that now, when he writes DC's flagship titles in a very stylized way, even some of his old-time fans are protesting. So how did Morrison end up with his current narrative tics that cause such controversy?

the Early years

The most acclaimed and popular of Morrison's British works, and what eventually brought him to attention of DC comics, was "Zenith". Starting in 1987, "Zenith" was serialized in four "phases", story lines that ran in the US weekly anthology "2000 AD". It consisted of Morrison and artist Steve Yeowell turning the genre conventions upside down, while presenting the readers with a superhero acting like a rockstar. "Zenith" was a complex tale, consisting of monsters straight from the stories of P.H. Lovecraft invading the bodies of superheroes, along the way tying together everything from Captain America homages to rock stars and magic. In its third phase, "Zenith" spotlighted a "Crisis"-like event, gathering homages to most of UK's comic book heroes, which is seemingly what made the American superhero publisher seek him out.

Benefiting from the attention Alan Moore had gained to the UK writers, Morrison was asked to pitch a reinvention of one of DC's superheroes. He opted for "Animal man", producing a 1988 mini-series that remade the character as an animal activist. DC chose to continue with the series, but Morrison had much more ambitious plans. Plotting a course for the next two years on the title, the writer went in for a very ambitious post-modern take, taking the previously light-hearted meta fictional elements of Silver Age to the extreme. The stories were penciled mainly by Chas Truog, starting the trend of fast and sketchy artists illustrating Morrison's stories.

Still, despite not opting to pair him with an A-list penciler, DC liked Morrison's approach so much, they made him a writer of another concurrent ongoing title, "the Doom patrol". Starting in 1989, Morrison, aided by Richard Cased on the art, did his take on one of the weirdest superhero teams, digging in whole-heartedly at the characters' core as freaks and outsiders, all the while employing even more elaborate literary techniques. Still, despite all of the philosophical themes that he exposed his readers to, exploring the comparisons between reality and fiction, Morrison still stuck to the genre conventions, building all of his narrative structures atop the traditional superhero storytelling conventions.

Taking these multi-year epic stories into account, it's interesting how a simple tale, serialized in Trident (a British anthology title at the time), can shed a lot of light on Morrison's creative process. "St. Swithin's day is a short semi-autobiographical story, illustrated by Paul Grist in an alternate style that brings to mind Hernandez brothers and other independent comics at the time. A very moody and sincere piece, "St. Swithin's day" reads like a stream of conscience piece, dealing front and center with a position of a young man in Thatcher's Britain. Thus, it stands in stark contrast to Morrison's superhero deconstructions and the heavily detailed and layered approach that has characterized so much of his work before and since.

"Arkham asylum", a Batman graphic novel Morrison wrote and Dave McKean gorgeously painted is perhaps the best example of the state his writing style at the time. The story is rich with details and allusions, common to all of Morrison's work that just bursts with creativity, and yet a lot of ideas are shown briefly in passing, as he maintains the basic plot, that of Batman trying to find his way out of the lunatic asylum his enemies have barricaded themselves into.