Unca Cheeks the Toy Wonder's Silver Age Comics Web Site!
Up and Down (and Up and Down and Up Again) With DC Comics' SILVER AGE Series (PART THREE)
... and here, at last,
we reliably separate the men from the storytelling boys.
With no single DC Comics super-hero more ably or accurately symbolizing the
manifold storytelling virtues of the Silver Age than he (in recent years) maladroitly
mischaracterized Hal [GREEN LANTERN] Jordan, overall: it
only stands to reason, then, that Kurt Busiek's sure and skillful "take"
on said character should stand head and shoulders over the bulk of its competition,
in this SILVER AGE sweepstakes.
"Alone... Against Injustice!" [GREEN LANTERN #1; July, 2000; Kurt Busiek, author; Brent E. Anderson, artwork] gets it all "right" and then some, straight from the proverbial git-go; starting out with the superbly well-rendered Gil Kane cover, and hyper-accelerating from there.
It's worth comparing, in fact, all the ways in which Busiek's faithful and
perceptive riff on Hal Jordan -- plainly and simply; hands down; case
closed -- mercilessly drubs the modern-day, Image Comics-y "Kyle
Rayner" approach to the exact same concept, without even so much as breaking
a halfway decent sweat, ultimately. (Not that that's exactly
the four-color equivalent of out-homering Ken Griffey, Jr., mind.
But... still...)
Whereas the present-day ring-wielder -- hereafter referred to as "Jo-Jo, the Crab-Faced Boy" -- is unfailingly blundering and reactive, even after having held the ring for six long, dire and dreadful years...
... here, by way of comparison, we are treated once again (one never misses water quite so much as when one has just belly-crawled their way through the meta-fictive equivalent of the Gobi Desert; have you ever noticed?) to a hero who is, refreshingly, clear-eyed and cogent and pro-
active, throughout; one who doesn't whine and sulk and gibber, over
and over and over again, to the dull and dispirited effect that: "... I'm good enough... I'm smart enough... and, gosh darn it,
people like me!" (Jo-Jo, you see, is DC Comics' answer to Al
Franken's notorious "Stuart Smalley" character.)
Here, in other words: we are once again treated -- after far, far too long a time -- to a Green Lantern who is, plainly and demonstrably, worthy of custodianship of The Single Most Powerful Artifact In the Known DC Comics Universe, Entire; and who, ultimately -- by dint of applied reason (rather than blunt and unconvincing auctorial fiat) -- triumphs over Lex Luthor, Sinestro and Company where all the other transmogrified Justice Leaguers have failed to do so.
Author Busiek has gone on the record, elesewhere on this site, to the effect that "Hal Jordan is my all-time favorite JLAer."
I'd say that much was pretty much obvious, based upon the four-color
evidence at hand.
Equally as obvious, as well:
DC Comics, Inc. tapped the wrong blamed fellah to helm the ongoing monthly
GREEN LANTERN comic, back in '94.
Overall Grade, then: A+. And only because Unca can't
gradeor recommend it any more highly, without making up his own alphabet
in the process.
Unca keeps waiting and waiting for people to notice what a darned good writer Geoff Johns has become, over the last twelve months or so.
The fun, frothy STARS AND S.T.R.I.P.E. failed to get the word out, apparently. (You kids just try Unca's patience, really, sometimes. Honest to God.)
Here's hoping that SHOWCASE #1 managed to shake a few of you sleepyheads awake,
then.
"The 7 Soldiers of Victory" [SHOWCASE #1; July, 200; Geoff Johns,
author; Dick Giordano, artist] is such a dead-on "take" on those gloriously
giddy days when the only real "reason" any half-dozen or so comics characters
needed to form a brand spanking new super-team was the (collective) lack of
a regular berth anywhere else that -- were it not for the obvious storytelling
"ties" to the greater SILVER AGE storyline, overall -- Unca might very well
have been suckered into believing he was reading an unpublished issue of DC
SUPER-STARS, ultimately.
Scooping up a nice, representative handful of otherwise disenfranchised Silver Age DC characters, including Adam Strange; Batgirl; Blackhawk; Deadman; Mento; Metamorpho; and a revamped Shining Knight -- what, were Mark Merlin and Tommy Tomorrow busy that weekend, or something? -- Johns and Giordano proceed to have so blamed much fun with said concept that it would take someone even more ridiculously curmedgeonly than Unca, really, to give narrowed eye to their efforts...
... and, really: what would be the bloody point of that, f'chrissakes...?
[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE: ... and it has not gone unnoticed by Unca, by the by, that there have beem many and muttonheaded postings,upon the various and sundry comics message boards, to the feeble, fanboysih effect that: "... but... but... where, oh, WHERE does this partic'lar incarnation of 'The 7 Soldiers of Victory' fit into connnnnnntiiiiiinnnnnOOOOOOOity, for the love of Allah -- ?!?"
[Siiiiiiiiiigh.
[People. People.
[It's a l-i-m-i-t-e-d s-e-r-i-e-s.
[Called T-H-E S-I-L-V-E-R A-G-E.
[With R-O-B-B-Y freakin' R-E-E-D as one of the principal characters.
[Welcome to another funtabulous episode of Missing-The-Point
Theatre.]
[SON OF ASIDE: Similarly (albeit somewhat bemusedly): Unca has also noted how many/most of these posters aforementioned -- whenever reminded, gently, that unblinking anal retentiveness is never, ever an attractive online trait -- have taken to remarking, snidely: "... oh, well. I guess it must be an example of 'HyperTime,' then."
[Unca would just like it known, by way of response, that nothing in this world -- no, not even the severed head of Rob Liefeld, attractively garnished on a silver serving platter -- would make him happier, ultimately, than the assembled writers and editors of DC Comics taking precisely this avenue, whenever harried or hectored over some niggling, pissant, ages-agone plot point or what-have-you. "Heh-heh-heh. That's right, Fanboy. It's H*Y*P*E*R*T*I*M*E! Nobody cares anymore whether or not Air Wave's mechanical sidekick, Static the Proverb Parrot, first met the rest of the Justice Society in ALL-STAR COMICS #43 or #44! From this day forward, 'continuity' is a storytelling seasoning; not a freakin' ENTREE! Back, back to the basement cots which spawned you! MWAH-ha-ha-haaaaaa!"
[I'm just sayin', really, is all.]
Overall Grade, then: B+. Minus one letter rank only because said issue, inexplicably, wasn't double-sized; and Unca was really enjoying himself, dammit.
Plus: he's still kinda bummed out by the whole "Mark Merlin: MIA" thing, in all honesty.
Now, obviously: no limited series worth its weight in Mylar can ever, ever be worth a reader's time and/or attention, unless the actual ending to same whips some major league, heavy-duty bootay.
Mark Waid comes to SILVER AGE 80 PAGE GIANT #1 with his very bestest pair of combat boots strapped on; ready to (as the venerable schoolyard saying goes) kick butt and chew bubble gum...
... and -- thankfully, as matters turn out -- he's allllllllllll outta
bubble gum.
"S.O.S. To Nowhere!" [SILVER AGE 80 PAGE GIANT #1; July, 2000; Mark Waid, author; Eduardo Barreto, artist] just plain ol' works; all the way from the gloriously hyperventilated opening caption ("WHO are they? WHAT are they? The clue is right on this very page!") to the classic splitting-the-ninety-seven-assembled-heroes-into-separate-teams shtick to the completely over-the-top Silver Age-style dialogue ("Hey, Gillhead! Wonder Chick is slippery when wet!"), and back again.
Anyone self-confessed Silver Age comics fan who doesn't walk away from this one grinning ear-to-ear like a seven-year-old on Christmas morning, breathlessly enthusing: "Yes! YESSSS! The Ol' Waidster got it all exactly right, detail for detail; rivet for storytelling grommet and rivet!"...
... well: Unca just thinks mebbe said tight-lipped and perennial komics
killjoys oughtta take themselves a wee, little spin 'round this here site, for
an hour or so; and re-familiarize themselves with just what it was, PRECISELY,
that said landmark (and still unsurpassed) comics storytelling era was all the
hell about, in all nekkid honesty.
Sniff and call 'em (or this) "silly"... and: guess what? That whistling sound you just heard, whizzing over your head...?
The Point.
Sneer derisively and wave 'em (or this) off as "mindless" or "relentlessly, aggressively cheerful"... and: that gargantuan conceptual elephant in the living room you just stumbled over, in your blind, frantic rush towards fanboy judgment...?
The Point.
Stick out your tongue and waggle your fingers and mewl, online, to the effect that (as someone tantrumed to Unca, via e-mail), goldurn it, "there's just no place for the ridiculous likes of a 'Robby Reed' nowadays, in DC Comics continuity!" and: why in God's name are you even reading super-hero comics anymore, f'chrissakes...?
The. POINT.
[Unca just flat-out marvels at that particularly tortured line o' "reasoning," by the by. People being gnoshed on by radioactive SPIDERS...? Fine, fine.
[Tiny, orphaned waifs in Cairo shamelessly ripping off Modesty Blaise's origin and psionically controlling weather patterns? Groovytunes, baby.
[Animated clay golems traipsing the earth in high-heeled boots and piloting invisible robot planes, whilst smacking people in the head and prattling on and on and bloody on about 'non-violence'...? Hell, lemme buy two --
[... but: "Robby Reed is just so durned... silly!"
[You kids. Better than a night of Comedy Central, sometimes.
Swear to Jesus.]
Gather 'round, now, chill'uns.
Unca's gonna s'plain something to you all.
The older and crankier and more exasperated Unca gets, as the years barrelroll by: he finds himself grown increasingly certain that -- right where the fan meets the boy -- there are really only two types of mainstream comics fans, ultimately; with all other sub-groupings of same sliding, neatly, into one of the aforementioned "niches."
Those who are, for whatever reason, well and truly embarrassed to still be harboring, post-adolescence, any residual mote or modicum of fondness for the goofy damned things...
... and, at the other end of the storytelling spectrum: those who (rightfully) acknowledge that "goofiness" is one of the glorious and inherent strengths of said sub-genre (i.e., "super-hero comics").
Now: those resting spear and shield within the confines of the first camp -- who hastily stash their JIMMY OLSEN and SGT. FURY comics out of sight, whenever company comes a-calling; who attempt to "justify" their clinging, desperately, to what is (at bedrock) an inherently juvenile sub-genre, by meticulously charting and graphing and indexing First and Last Appearances of this spandexed mesomorph or that one, and gravely labeling the end result a "cosmology"; who are (in short) constitutionally incapable of picking up and bloody reading a frickin' c-o-m-i-c b-o-o-k without obsessing over whether or not Page Sixteen, Panel Four of said effort means that Peter David is pro- or anti-manatee, and what would John Byrne or Garth Ennis have to say about it over on the Usenet boards, for pete's sake --
... these people, plainly, have long, loooonnnnnnng since "outgrown" super-hero comics; and -- really and truly -- oughtta be moving onwards to... I dunno... Russian novels, mebbe. Or spluttering, embittered online denunciations of the latest Camille Paglia offering. Feng Shui. Logging, nightly, onto www.matlock.com. Pimping. Racehorse doping.
Something. ANYdamnedthing, really.
Just so long as it doesn't actually involve attempting to further the pretense -- even for one solitary nano-second longer, mind -- that said genre Has. ANYthing. Else. To. Say. TO. Or. FOR. Them. (... or vice-
versa, really, for all of that.)
That's the first group, mind.
Now, that second group, on the other hand...
... well, now: these fine folks still harbor, within their respective breasts, just enough of that kidsharp and crystalline heart's awareness that there's absolutely n-o-t-h-i-n-g "wrong" with the simple and straightforward notion that Super-Hero Comics Are, Inherently, A Juvenile Storytelling Genre.
That there is (likewise) n-o-t-h-i-n-g inherently "shameful" or "embarrassing" with the incontrovertible fact that said baseline juvenility is, in all actuality, said genre's chiefest and most indispensible storytelling strength; with said point rendered inarguable and manifest, clearly, in the non-agenda driven comparison of actual sales figures for super-hero comics, Silver Age and Now.
("Kids don't read anymore"...? Two words: HARRY POTTER.
"Kids don't collect anymore"...? One word: POKEMON.
"Kids don't like super- heroes anymore"...? BATMAN: THE ANIMATED SERIES. And the X-MEN movie. What is
this, anyway: slow-pitch softball...?)
Most vital and important of all, however:
Said second fannish grouping -- both singularly, and in the collective -- are still capable of picking up something as wondrous and fine as (oh, say) a SILVER AGE 80 PAGE GIANT -- with its jaw-droppingly perfect faux "reprint" back-up stories, and its splendiferous mock "Super-Turtle" pages, and (oh, yesyesYES) R*O*B*B*Y R*E*E*D in a starring role, using his magic "H"-Dial to transform longtime comics stiff J'onn J'onzz into the gleefully deranged and demented "Go-Go"...
... and grinning.
And then LAUGHING.
Like little children.
People like that can come over to Unca's house and play with his toys ANY danged time, by golly and by jingo.
... and, yes: that most especially means YOU, Mark.
And you, Kurt.
And bring Tom and Geoff and all the rest of the crew with you,
while you're at it.
Overall Grade, then: A+, then. Obviously.
... and Unca doesn't much care what the rest of those li'l onionheads (i.e., Nic, the Per'fesser, T, Bill) have to harrumph contrarily on the matter, neither.
(Except for wherever and/or on whatever they may happen to agree
with him, I mean. Then, they're all bloody geniuses, and
eternal credits to their respective species.)
Howsomever: the aforementioned foursome will be weighing in on the matter of DC's SILVER AGE limited, right here, next time out.
Be here. With your "Go-Go" checks on.
The SILVER AGE Limited Series (PAGE ONE)
The SILVER AGE Limited Series (PAGE TWO)
The SILVER AGE Limited Series (PAGE FOUR)
The SILVER AGE Limited Series (PAGE FIVE)
The SILVER AGE Limited Series (PAGE SIX)
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