Writer: Garth Ennis; Pencils: Darick Robertson; Inks: Jimmy Palmiotti; Cover: Bill Sienkiewicz
Rating 4 out of 5 stars
When Marvel Comics first announced that some of the miniseries coming out through their mature readers Marvel Max imprint would feature long-running characters in out-of-continuity stories, a number of fans reacted with a vitriolic uproar. Comments were slung about that this, along with Marvel's Ultimate line, would be the death knell of continuity.
Well, having read the Marvel Max Fury miniseries, as well as the U.S. War Machine weekly title, I can honestly say "To hell with continuity!"
Don't get me wrong: continuity can be a wonderful thing. It can enrich a fictional universe, giving it a historical perspective that enables creators to develop their stories and characters more fully. But continuity can also be an albatross hanging around a writer's neck, a straightjacket that binds creativity. If a writer wants to tell a particular tale, but then finds that it will contradict a storyline published two decades ago, he is in a pickle. On the one hand, a perfectly good idea could be rendered unworkable merely because of an intricate fictional history. On the other hand, the readers who purchased and enjoyed that twenty year old story would understandably be upset if someone else came along and blatantly contradicted it. A compromise is needed, and that is the so-called "out-of-continuity" series.
I've found out-of-continuity stories often feature some of the best material published in mainstream comics. Unchained from continuity, writers can reinterpret popular characters, take them in new directions, and shake things up that would be utterly impossible within the status quo. Garth Ennis has done just that with Nick Fury and SHIELD in this miniseries.
Ennis sets up a world much closer to our own, a world without superheroes or sci-fi technology. In this reality, the SHIELD organization was much more tightly controlled by the United States government. SHIELD's ideological opposite, the terrorist syndicate Hydra, was merely a Soviet-backed endeavor, a way to fight to Cold War by proxy. Now that the Cold War is over, and Hydra gone, SHIELD has been hit by budget cuts, entangled in red tape, left to drift without a clear mandate. And Nick Fury, the tough-talking, cigar-chomping man of action who guided SHIELD with a firm hand for decades, has seen the reigns of power seized from him and given to the bureaucrats. Given a purely symbolic "advisory position," Fury is miserable, an old soldier who has been cast out by his successors in the hopes that he will quietly fade away.
Ennis' series is a satirical riff at the military and politics, filled with his trademark black humor. He uses the story to point out how politics and bureaucracy all too frequently become entangled with the military, using war as an onerous tool to achieve ignoble goals and amass power.
But Nick Fury himself doesn't escape Ennis' bitter wit, either. Fury is shown as a relic, a man stubbornly, obsessively rooted in the past, who clutches at his past glories and memories of battle. He hates riding a desk, hates living a civilian life, hates not having control. He desperately seizes at any possible chance to regain even a fragment of his past. And he is given just such an opportunity when his old nemesis, Colonel Gagarin, instigates an international crisis
Gagarin, an ex-Soviet officer and former Hydra agent, also feels horribly bored out of place in the post Cold War world. In an effort to stir things up, Gagarin backs a volatile revolution on Napoleon Island, a tiny but strategically placed location in the Pacific. Gagarin knows the revolution can't succeed, but he doesn't care. His real goal is to force the hands of the global superpowers, to create a bloody conflict where he can recreate the glorious combat of his past.
Ennis writes Fury and Gagarin very much as two sides of the same coin. Both are fixated with the past, with recapturing their "blood and thunder" days. Gagarin openly admits it, reveling in the carnage of battle. Fury claims to find Gagarin's beliefs and actions utterly repulsive. Yet when Fury is brought out of retirement to help deal with the Napoleon Island crisis, he uses the situation as an opportunity to regain his authority in SHIELD. He pretty much snatches control of the situation from his bosses, and personally heads into battle, leading a taskforce of new recruits. Despite Fury's voiced protestations and cynicism regarding the conflict and the United States' motives it is obvious that he is reinvigorated by these events. And the question is raised, by more than one character, as to whether Fury, on a certain level, conscious or unconscious, wanted Gagarin to act, to provide him with an opportunity to jump back in the saddle. By the end of issue #6, even Fury himself isn't sure of the answer.
Some readers have complained that Ennis' wrote Nick Fury as an unlikable asshole. He did. But, the fact is, beloved long-time Marvel character or not, Fury has long been an asshole. Even when he started out as an honorable World War II soldier, he was a gruff, take-no-crap ramrod. And once he was transplanted into modern Marvel continuity as a government agent, it was probably inevitable that his already-gritty image became dirtied. Especially after the Vietnam War and Watergate, when the public began to seriously distrust the government. Fiction as a whole shifted towards a pessimistic depiction of politics, the military, and espionage. SHIELD, which seemed like a straight-laced group of patriotic soldiers fighting super-terrorists in the 1960s, took on a more sinister, Big Brother image in the post-Nixon 1970s. It has consistently been depicted in a morally ambiguous light since then, with Fury himself often falling into a gray area of ethics and behavior. Formerly stalwart allies such as Captain America and Iron Man now regard him with a measure of suspicion due to his past manipulation of events. So the Nick Fury who Garth Ennis writes can be regarded as an extrapolation of the "real" character, an examination of what Fury would be like if all his worse qualities came to the fore.
I expect that the graphic violence in Fury was also (quite understandably) off-putting to a number of readers. In certain respects, Garth Ennis can be regarded as the David Cronenberg of the comic book medium. Much of Ennis' social commentary, as well as his black humor, is achieved through his characteristic and, indeed, enthusiastic use of graphic bloodshed and gore. It was one of the hallmarks of his Vertigo series Preacher. It is likewise offered up in liberal doses here in Fury. Witness Gagarin's hulking, hideously scarred henchman, known only as Fuckface. (A characteristic Ennis name, if ever!) And the vicious hand-to-hand combat between Fury and Gagarin in #6 is so violently over-the-top that in transcends the revolting to become almost completely ludicrous.
But, given the miniseries' subject matter, it is appropriate for Ennis to utilize excessive amounts of violence and graphic horror. Fury addresses how war, despite its terrible results, is all too often casually utilized to achieve selfish goals. For individuals such as Fury and Gagarin, conflict provides them with an opportunity to stroke their egos and to escape what they regard as a mundane existence. Most importantly, to them the battlefield is a playground on which to play God. Through this, we can see that Fury (as well as Gagarin) is really a microcosm for governments and politicians. Achieving nationalistic pride through armed conflict is a fulfillment of the ego on a massive level. It can divert attention from a bleak domestic state of affairs. And it provides those in power with the opportunity to exert influence, to reshape the globe in their favor.
By including scenes of horrific carnage, Ennis clearly illustrates the nasty, dirty reality of war. He shows the true cost of war, as the lives of innocents are destroyed by the power brokering of aloof politicians and generals.
And so the extreme violence of the story, with its farcical nature, demonstrates just how ridiculous all of this is. War has been referred to as the failure of reason. Without reason, there is insanity. And that is exactly what Ennis captures here: insanity. War, when you come right down to it, is insane. Occasionally it is a necessary insanity. But more often than not it is an insanity that is utterly pointless, that takes place because people all too willingly forsake reason.
Of course, Ennis also seems to possess a very twisted sense of humor. He no doubt enjoys driving the shock value off the scale in his writing. At times this unfortunately overshadows plot development and characterization.
Rendering all this bloodshed is penciller Darick Robertson. At first consideration, he wouldn't have been my choice for this series' artist. I mostly recall his work in the early 1990s on New Warriors a book with a completely different tone than Fury. But I've believe that since then Robertson has also worked on the Warren Ellis-penned Transmetropolitan, another sort of biting satire from what I have heard. So he's probably had practice! In any case, Robertson's art does work here. He captures Garth Ennis' gut-wrenching action in vivid, painful detail.
Jimmy Palmiotti's inks were undoubtedly a good choice for Robertson's pencils. Palmiotti has repeatedly demonstrated himself to be a skilled inker, finishing the work of a diverse selection of artists. In the recent past, he has also shown something of a penchant for over-the-top, toilet humor. So no doubt he approached Robertson's pencils with a distinct enthusiasm! In any case, the gritty finished artwork suits Ennis' story perfectly.
Covers are provided by Bill Sienkiewicz. He produced some interesting work for these half dozen pieces, ranging from the highly realistic to the incredibly surreal. The more nonsensical, exaggerated work ties in with Ennis' themes perfectly. And the cover for the final issue, a stark silhouette of Nick Fury standing amidst the cold tombstones of a vast cemetery, drives home the serious underlying nature of the story.
Wild Stars #4, $2.95 US, published by Little Rocket Productions
Writer: Michael Tierney; Pencils: Dave Simons; Inks/Rendering: Tierney; Cover: Frank Brunner
Rating 3.5 out of 5 stars
Michael Teirney's Wild Stars is a twisting tale of parallel universes, Native American mysticism, and invaders from outer space.
In a reality where the Americas were never colonized and jet propulsion was not discovered, a fascist power known as the Artomiques arose in Europe and sought global conquest in the late 20th century. Assisted by extraterrestrial allies and armed with nuclear weapons, they were well on their way to achieving that goal. Even the united tribes of North America eventually knew that they would fall. And so the Kanze shamaness Rosetta Stonewolf, aided by a warrior known as the Kelt, enacted a desperate plan: they mystically altered reality itself, wiping the Artomiques out of existence and creating a world not unlike our own.
In this new reality, only six humans still remember the Artomique-controlled world: Rosetta Stonewolf, her apprentice Songwolf, the Kelt, and a trio of Artomique officers, all of whom were at the site of the mystic ceremony. In the decade since the reality warp, the three surviving Artomiques, with the aid of their alien allies (who also recognize that Earth history has been altered), have manipulated events on a global scale. They are also searching for the Kelt, convinced he possesses alien technology that will allow them to recreate their reality. The problem is, the Artomiques have located three separate yet identical individuals who appear to be the Kelt. Two are in completely different locations on Earth, and one has traveled to a far-off alien space station. And there is also Rosetta Stonewolf and her apprentice, who are working to thwart the fascists' plans.
Wild Stars is an ambitious sci-fi/fantasy project. Perhaps too ambitious. Michael Tierney has created a sprawling story arc that is so spread out it occasionally loses coherence. There are a number of very interesting elements to this series, but scarcely the room to develop them all. For example, it is not quite clear exactly how Stonewolf is opposing the Artomique's schemes. In issue #4, we see her apprentice Songwolf on a space station meeting with an unnamed humanoid alien ally and apparently searching for one of the Kelt doppelgangers. But we are never told how Songwolf arrived in space. I would assume from certain dialogue that she is working with a separate group of aliens who are in opposition to the Artomiques' allies. But it hasn't been explicitly stated, much less explained how the two Kanze mystics acquired extraterrestrial help to begin with. I'll give Tierney the benefit of the doubt and hope that he clears this up in the near future.
Actually, there is a lengthy piece of exposition early on in issue #4 regarding the Artomiques and their wolf-like alien benefactors. Unfortunately, the delivery of this scene is a bit clunky. It is as if Tierney realized that he had a large amount of information he needed to get across to the reader as soon as possible. In order to do this, he actually has one of the characters sit down and spell things out to another member of the cast. Of course, I do admit that awkward exposition was better than none. So Tierney does greatly clarify the storyline via this scene.
There have also been a few sequences in the series so far where it is unclear exactly what is taking place on the page. Tierney's dialogue in these scenes could definitely have been clearer.
Despite the weaknesses in the writing, Wild Stars nevertheless has tremendous potential. Issue #4 left me even more interested in the story than before. Especially concerning the mystery of the three identical counterparts of the Kelt, all who are seemingly unaware of each other's existence. I'm eagerly anticipating seeing where this plotline is leading. I think that if Tierney tightens things up, he will end up with a very strong story.
Pencils are provided by Dave Simons, a very underrated artist who did a number of assignments at Marvel in the 1980s, as well as various stories for Claypool's Elvira series. Simons has a solid, dependable style and a strong sense of storytelling. Some of his art on Wild Stars does seem rushed, and there are a few odd perspectives he's drawn. But on the whole it is quality work.
Wild Stars doesn't seem to have been inked in a traditional manner. Some of the artwork appears to have been directly reproduced from the pencils. Other parts have been "rendered" by Tierney himself. I am uncertain if Tierney's work on the art was done by hand, by computer, or both. It has an interesting look to it. Characters drawn in uninked pencils against rendered backgrounds offers an unusual contrast. Most of the time it works well. But on occasion it does appear rather odd and inconsistent.
What initially drew me to Wild Stars were the lushly illustrated covers by fantasy artist Frank Brunner. He is perhaps best known in the comics field for his work on Doctor Strange and various Marvel horror series in the 1970s, where he produced some stunning, detailed work. In recent years, Brunner has mostly focused on prose fiction illustration and on private commissions. It is a pleasure to see him return to the comic book industry as the regular cover artist on Wild Stars. The superb cover coloring by Tom Smith vibrantly brings Brunner's work to life.
Issue #4 has Brunner's most impressive cover yet. He even used zip-a-tone for the shading. I can't recall the last time I've seen zip-a-tone on a cover. It's one of those cool effects that were so prevalent before the advent of computer coloring and tones. The sight of zip-a-tone nowadays brings about a pleasant nostalgia for the first comics I ever saw as a kid, back in the early 1980s. I'm glad to see an artist still using it.
Besides, zip-a-tone has a very cool name! Zip-a-tone, zip-a-tone, zip-a-tone…
Oh, sorry. Don't mind me. But be sure to give Wild Stars a look if you have an opportunity.