I had a post all set to go for today.  You’ll see it tomorrow.  Today I would like to take a moment to discuss a very serious illness that I was recently diagnosed with.

It’s called Tie Up The Goddamn Villain Syndrome, and eighty percent of Americans experience it at one time or another.  Sadly, mine is an extreme case.

For example, when people around me discuss Pan’s Labyrinth, and how it’s such a breathtaking visual achievement paired with a dark, fairytale-like story, all I can think about is how I wished the murderous bastard of a captain had won, because when that idiot maid incapacitated him temporarily she didn’t Tie Up The Goddamn Villain.  For that alone, he deserved to win, and I don’t even care that he knocked a guy’s teeth out with a whiskey bottle.

I have to bite my fist to keep from shouting at screen in every Die Hard movie except the first, because John McClane won’t just Tie Up The Goddamn Villain.

And Dollhouse?  The series I started watching out of loyalty to Joss Whedon, and continued watching because it got pretty good, and then got excited about because it got really, really good, just completely tanked in my eyes, because oh my good god, just when the heroine knocked out the villain, and all was won, she wandered off to take care of something else and then acted shocked, shocked!, when it turned out that unconsciousness was a temporary state.  And so, I leave you with my final reaction to the series. Read the rest of this entry �

The Battle for the Cowl so far is comprised of three main books, numerous associated mini-series, and a few scattered one-shot tie-ins.  I’m not strongly affected either way by most of these, but this week two of those one-shots loom large in my mind.

The first is an example of the perfect tie-in.  It shows us something we never would have seen if we were following a conventional narrative, and offers us something truly different from the norm while still maintaining the tone of the world for which it was created.  That one was Battle for the Cowl: Arkham Asylum.  Written by David Hine, it takes us on a tour of Arkham Asylum, and for once focuses on the less gruesome aspects of the institution.  Jeremiah Arkham narrates the story, not in the usual hard-boiled tone taken by the Gotham crowd, but with sincere sadness that he hasn’t been able to help the inmates. 

While we sense that he is somewhat unhinged himself, he’s an eccentric and an idealist, not the usual film-noir lunatic.  He finds picks a few inmates who pose no threat, and leads them out of the ruined structure.  In the end, before the final, worrying sting, he expresses the hope that he can rebuild the asylum so that it lives up to its name – so that it can be a true asylum for those who are unable to survive in the conventional world.  It’s refreshing, it’s sobering, and it’s creative.

Sadly, I only really got to thinking about how excellent it was while reading Battle for the Cowl: The Network.  Well, now I know something about myself, at least.  Pissiness is a bigger motivator than honest admiration.

So let’s get to it! 

Well, first thing’s first.  Huntress’s costume has been changed back to a glorified bikini.  And why?  Because the promotional poster for the event, drawn by Tony Daniel, has her back in her Jim Lee costume.  I don’t see why this would necessitate a costume change in the actual book any more than the ‘The Real Power In The DCU’ poster would necessitate putting every woman in the DCU in a white evening dress, but I guess that’s how they’re going to play it.

Honestly?  I didn’t even notice the costume change.  A girl fighting crime in a bikini doesn’t catch my eye anymore.  What made me notice was the characters in the story can’t stop picking at the new outfit.  Batgirl, still with a perfect command of the English language, mentions it once.  Oracle mentions it later.  Both talk about how impractical it is.

I don’t know why.  Maybe it’s a jab by writer at a mandated costume change.  Maybe he’s was trying to have his cake and eat it, too, by putting Huntress in a two-piece bathing suit and still snarking about it.  I’m not sure who made the decisions to regress Huntress sartorially. 

I just know that the decision was also made to regress her personally.  When the villain announces that he will start murdering two hostages if the heroes don’t murder one, Huntress pulls her crossbow and is about to take a hostage out when Batgirl knocks her aside.  This is the deal-breaker for me.  Cass is back on the moral high ground, but she had to knock Helena off it to get there.  Never mind that in continuity we haven’t seen Huntress kill in years.  Never mind that we’ve never seen her kill that casually.  In the end, the plot of this book involves the worst mistake a team book can make: cutting off one character at the knees to make another character look good.  That’s never the way to go.

In short: Buy Battle for the Cowl:Arkham Asylum.  Leave Battle for the Cowl: The Network on the shelf.  And stop making women fight in swimwear.

The other day I was in a comics forum and saw a certain creator roasted in absentia.  Par for the course, so far.  We’re comics geeks.  We eat our own.  Most of the people in the forum joined in the, how shall I put this, unholy orgy of hate.  Again, that’s pretty normal for the internet, and I have, in the past, not been above joining a group that took pleasure in tearing into an innocent human being who has done nothing more than write a comic in a way I don’t approve of. 

This time, however, it surprised me.  A single apoplectic comics fan can happen anywhere.  And, of course, there are pockets of fan-worship and deep hatred depending on which section of the internet you stumble into.  On one site Frank Miller is a misunderstood genius.  On another he’s Satan incarnate.  But this creator would have been popular anywhere a couple of years ago.

I haven’t been a comics fan for all that long, but even in a few years, I’ve noticed that there can be a complete reversal of popular opinion about one creator or another.  Sometimes it can be as simple as having a huge build up to a disappointing run.  Sometimes it’s an unpopular decision about what to do with one character or another (although that usually is what gets editors in trouble).  Sometimes it’s an unfortunate public statement.

Sometimes, however, there doesn’t seem to be any reason for it at all.  One year, the creator is the best thing happening, and then the tide turns.  Fans go from clamoring for more to screaming about how that’s enough already.

I wonder how comics professionals feel about this.  I suppose anyone in charge of a  comics company has resigned themselves to hatred, but what about those who depend on popularity for a living?  Do they live in dread that one day their name on a website will mean an avalanche of scorn and criticism?  I certainly would.

Fortunately, critics are immune.  Right?

Philip Bond is one of my favorite artists. He absolutely killed on Vimanarama and Kill Your Boyfriend, not to mention his Invisibles work. He’s one of the artists I follow on Flickr, and he’s got all of his art neatly sorted into a group cleverly named “artwork.”

He’s got a very cool set going of female astronauts. Each head shot comes along with a bit of history. Here’s a sample:

Delta Tau Delta sweetheart Judith Resnik became the fourth female astronaut when she flew as mission specialist aboard the maiden voyage of the Shuttle Discovery in 1984. Judith was killed during the launch of her second spaceflight aboard the Shuttle Challenger in 1986.

He’s got a ton of pieces of art, and about half a dozen astronauts. Go give it a look.

In 1997, Frank Miller did this book called Tales to Offend. It was an extra-sized one shot, rather than a graphic novel, and featured three stories. One of the stories was Daddy’s Little Girl, a Sin City tale about a sadistic couple and brutal violence. The other two were about Lance Blastoff, Frank Miller’s take on Buck Rogers.

It isn’t exactly a straight take on the character at all. Lance is brash, loud, and offensive. He’s Buck Rogers after making his way through a crooked mirror, eight or nine packs of smokes, and probably homelessness. The two stories are ’90s-era pop psychology and political correctness versus an unbelievable level of super tough guy machismo. Think of every role Sylvester Stallone, Bruce Willis, and Clint Eastwood ever did being ground up into bits and reformed as one being, and then that one being being force fed a diet of trashy movies and old EC books.

I don’t think that it’s Miller’s best work, but it is one of the relatively few times he’s done an out and out humor book, so it’s pretty interesting to see. It’s also one of the things he’s done that I can’t seem to find reprinted or collected. Daddy’s Little Girl made it into “Booze, Broads, & Bullets,” a collection of Sin City one shots, but Lance has faded into the ether.

I hadn’t even actually read the story until last week, despite having heard about it off and on for years. I love that Miller’s space ships still look like big body Cadillacs. Also nice is how the story is told in pages of two panels a piece until the last two. The “CHOMP” on the next to last page is a total cartoon bit, and I mean that in the best possible way. Lance Blastoff would fit right in on [adult swim] nowadays, I think.

It’s been an interesting week for Dr. Doom. Wait, let me rephrase that: Dr. Doom has been a total jerk this week! Yes, I know being a jerk is his thing, but he’s gone the extra mile lately. In Dark Avengers, he’s rude to Osborn and his henchmen for saving his life. In Dr. Doom and the Masters of Evil, not only does he double-cross Magneto, but the entire miniseries is reasoning to make Doom even more of an asshole. Then you have Dark Reign: The Cabal. In one segment, he burns alive two of his servants just to make sure Loki is who she says she is.

Plus there’s the first segment, written by Jonathan Hickman and Adi Granov. I thought it was a cool segment (I love Granov-drawn Venom), but… I just didn’t think they went far enough. So I went back and fixed it up. The first page is untouched, but I’d like to think that the rest of it is an improvement.

Interesting that Doom thinks that Noh-Varr and Ares won’t stand for Osborn’s shit for too long. Plus I guess we’re getting the Spider-Man movie Goblin armor in comic form once Osborn gets tired of being Iron Patriot.

I know that I’m Mister Push Comics Forward Break Them Characters Give Us The New-new, but I do have one continuity-based pet peeve. I really dislike it when creators take established characters and regress them, or just change them entirely, in order to fit them into the story they want to tell.

There are plenty of examples out there. The most egregious are probably Bobby Drake, Iceman, and Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, with Sam Guthrie, Cannonball, bringing up the rear. Bobby and Johnny were the hot-headed youngsters of the X-Men and Fantastic Four, respectively, and Sam is pretty much the poster-child for the second generation of X-Men. All three have gone from immature, mistake-making, and newbie heroes into grown-up, mature, and seasoned adults.

Bobby is an Omega-level mutant with an insane amount of control over ice, and therefore water, and has come to terms with that. Johnny has wielded the Power Cosmic a couple of times, saved the world several dozen times, and seen planets, dimensions, and time periods other people don’t even dream about. Sam was trained by the son of the X-Men’s best strategist, who was himself a child of war. He also had the benefit of being trained by two generations of X-Men, and when he struck out on his own, he found success.

The problem is that when a writer has a story that needs an impetuous kind of fella, or a newbie to make a dumb decision, or someone to show just how mature or smart another character is… guess which dudes are the fall guys.

Reed Richards has gone through the “ignoring his family for the benefit of science by the way he is a jerk” cycle a fistful of times now, most recently in Mark Millar’s Civil War. You’d think that Cyclops’s turn as the depressed and distant loner would be over after New X-Men, a story designed to push him past that, would never happen again. Or that Beast Boy, who is like thirty years old and should get a new name, would be written as something other than a horny teenager. Nah.

This is something that’s been bugging me more than usual lately, since the three biggest guys in comics have all been doing it. Mark Millar, Brian Bendis, and Geoff Johns have all taken characters who had established personalities or gimmicks, tossed it out, and slotted something new in because they needed X so that they could write Y. Rather than creating X, they just took Z and turned it into X. And that’s lame.

I brought visual aids. Read the rest of this entry �

Barry’s back, Bart’s back, Ice is back, and now, in the Legion of 3 WorldsConner Kent is back.  I am just waiting for Thomas and Martha Wayne to pop back to life.  (Ever notice there seems to be a theme to which of the Wayne’s appears?  Martha always seems to show up in fever dreams and near-death states, and Thomas always seems to appear in flashbacks doing things that influence the physical present.  He’s hung out with Jor-El, joined a Secret Society that, against his wishes, drugged the Gotham water supply, and healed the hell out of tons of mobsters.)  And we haven’t even gotten to Blackest Night with the Black Lanterns yet.

The reaction to all of these resurrections has been mixed, but I am all for it.  Bring them all back, I say.  Why?  Because I like characters to be alive, that’s why.  A dead character makes for some pretty angst from the survivors, and a few Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahn!-type moments whenever the survivors meet up with the person who killed off their loved ones.  Other than that, they’ve been neutralized.  All the potential for more stories and unique character moments is lost for one big, dramatic moment, and a few echoes down the line. 

Some people say that bringing all these characters back to life lessens the impact of a character’s death.  Although I can see their point, I disagree.  I think death itself lessens the impact of death.  Recently, every big event had to come complete with a dead character.  Some one’s head was on the block, or it couldn’t really be called an event.  Something had to ‘change forever.’  Not only was death a guarantee in event books, more often than not it was announced.  It was hinted at half-a-year before the issue came out, solicits for the months after were littered with references to some big loss.  We all saw it coming.  Death stopped being a shock, and because one more required dramatic beat. 

Not that most resurrections aren’t hinted at as well.  Perhaps I just welcome these hints because they mean new potential and not grim inevitability.  I like them.  I look forward to them.  Why?  More characters, more stories.  Less deaths, more happy stories.  The combination: a big universe overfilled with happy stories.  That’s my kind of place.

For fun:  Which comic-book character’s death would you reverse?  (For me it has to be The Question.)

Back in the day, hermanos used to have all those cool “4th Letter is for…” graphics. Hm… his name does start with D. Yeah, let’s do it.

Neat!

10) Separate Ways
Cable/Deadpool #42 (2007)
Writer: Fabian Nicieza

Cable’s “death” in the comics was oddly done. It took place in X-Men #200 with this Cable/Deadpool issue acting like deleted scenes. Deadpool doesn’t even get a cameo in the big X-Men issue. No respect.

Having just done away with Sabretooth and having smoothed over things with Deadpool for the umpteenth time in their relationship, Cable explains that he needs to destroy the island and destroy all the future-related information in his computers. Deadpool volunteers to find where Cable keeps the backup of that information so he can help take care of it. Right before Deadpool can take off, Cable stops him.

Cable walks through the wreckage of his island paradise and thinks, “Thank you. I’m proud of you. Goodbye.”

I couldn’t imagine a better final moment between the two.

With Cable fighting Gambit and Sunfire, Deadpool is off to find that computer backup while taking on the Acolyte Senyaka. Cable is on the losing end of his fight and thinks about the concepts of sacrifice. Before the island can explode, he makes sure to teleport Deadpool off the island and back to his apartment.

“You sacrifice yourself to keep your dream from being corrupted. But most of all… you do it for the people in your life who matter the most…”

Back in his apartment, the layout is similar to the opening scenes of Cable/Deadpool #1. Deadpool immediately destroys Cable’s computer backup, looks out the window and says, “I wasn’t worth it…”

He turns on the TV to see news of Providence exploding, validating that Cable’s out of the picture. Going from sad to serious, Deadpool ends the issue promising, “…and I won’t let you down…”

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You ever heard of that Mugen thing? It’s a program to make your own fighting game characters. While some people will just use it to make the usual Street Fighter vs. Mortal Kombat type of stuff using graphics and sprites that already exist, there are some people out there who go the extra mile and make an entire character from scratch. One such character is Deadpool, made to fit into the Marvel vs. Capcom style. Check out this video of him in use. Also, he has plenty of special intro animations.

The Bob/ninjas special move is inspired.

20) Telling off T-Ray
Deadpool #33 (1999)
Writer: Joe Kelly

With Joe Kelly’s run reaching the end, we’re given the big showdown between Deadpool and T-Ray. Using some magic mumbo jumbo, T-Ray is able to show his true past to Deadpool and Mercedes Wilson. T-Ray is the real Wade Wilson and made the mistake of saving the life of a no-good mercenary named Jack. Jack killed Wade in an attempt to take his identity and accidentally got Mercedes killed in the process. He went crazy and believed himself to be Wade Wilson.

T-Ray uses this revelation to show Deadpool how evil he truly is. He resurrected his wife as part of his plan to tear at Deadpool’s soul and make him suffer with guilt. Then he shows Deadpool all the people he’s ever killed. In one nice spread, we see a crowd of thousands, with many easy to recognize if you’ve been paying attention to his comic appearances. The absolute scale of what he’s done cripples Deadpool and causes him to question his own actions. T-Ray taunts Deadpool, asking him how it feels to see his whole attempt to redeem himself shattered by the knowledge that he never had any redeeming qualities in his past to begin with.

Deadpool then… starts laughing. He laughs hard. T-Ray is beside himself. How could he possibly react to his masterstroke with laughter? Wiping the tears from his eyes, Deadpool explains himself. Sure, T-Ray came close to breaking him, but then he had a moment of clarity about squirrels and coconuts.

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