Trinity Mothers by Yasmin Liang

Action Comics #5

It’s the “New 52,” and the new Action Comics, and inevitably we revisit fall of Krypton. But how many ways can Krypton be annihilated? In Grant Morrison’s take on Supes’ origin, he makes subtle tweaks to how it all went down in the House of El. With minor adjustments to previous continuity, Morrison paves the road for a plethora of possibilities for future stories. We press pause on the events of issue #4 and focus on baby Kal-El making it to a planet with a yellow sun and less gravity, so he will be super. Superman’s chunky, little baby self is escorted in a rocket powered by an artificial intelligence Jor-El calls Brainiac. It is Brainiac who narrates this issue, entitled, “Rocket Song.”

Morrison telling the story from the rocket’s point of view is rather brilliant. The Brainiac technology has traveled across galaxies and has a penchant for arrogance. “Jor-El of El, the father of such a mind!” Brainiac’s mind, I presume. “Apes with atom bombs” is the way it refers to humans as the military descends upon the crash site. There is a matter of factness in the narration that feels stoic and extreme, perhaps what we imagine an alien to be. It works well in this context.

As many of you know, I am an admitted Morrison apologist. I find his reference-heavy, symbolic writing to be thought-provoking. Up to this point, Action Comics has seemed a bit more straight-laced than what we usually get from Morrison, and I’ve been waiting for the weird. Well, it is time to put your thinking caps back on, kids. Action Comics #5 is bringing the converging plotlines and a bit of time-travel fancy. Morrison will ties it all together, magically, at some point, but we are going to have to wait for it. In the meantime, issue #5 does give us a few “a-ha!” moments regarding the previous four issues.

What was that clothed goat creature that Lex thought was an alien in issue #2? Where IS Krypto? Um, is Superman’s cape indestructible? How did the U.S. Army get possession of the rocket? These questions are answered in somewhat satisfying ways. Still, for all the exposition in Action Comics #5, we are now faced with a heap of new questions. Who is the Anti-Superman Army? What the hell is Synthi-K? Wait. How is the Fortress of Solitude created? Is that the Legion? Did you just say “tesseract?”

Action Comics #5 succeeds by bringing richness and nuance to a long-loved story. But if someone picked up this comic and had not read any of the prior issues, they would be completely lost. This is where Action Comics #5 fails, because I thought that is what DC was trying to get away from. The purpose of the relaunch was to bring in new readers, particularly on flagship titles such as this. For a seasoned comic reader, the quirky, esoteric elements that Morrison adds to his stories are part of his charm. But the truth is, Morrison’s writing has made Action Comics insular after a few issues. You simply must go back to issue #1 to know what is going on.

Andy Kubert does a super job on art duties this month. He may have drawn one of most handsome Jon Kents I have ever seen. He has a knack for letting the eyes of the character tell the story in a panel. There is some really great expressiveness, which gives a lot of much needed emotion to the story. Where Grant goes off on a bit of an alien tangent, Kubert brings the issue back down to Earth with some classic (solid) comic art. I also think that Jesse Delperdang’s inks and Brand Anderson’s colors play a big part in the traditional feel of the issue.

While there is something fantastic in Morrison’s cryptic references and unabashed imagination, the feeling of “Oh my gosh! That was so good” does not dwell in these 20 pages. It is clever and interesting, but serves more as disjointed, ambiguous groundwork than an action comic.

A version of this review was published previously on Newsarama.

In the world of many superheroes, killing a villain is verboten. Theoretically, doing so would undermine their moral authority and blur the line between angels and demons — even if the target is a cold-blooded murderer with no remorse and a high recidivism rate. Better to break a few of the bad guy’s bones and ship him or her off to the nearest prison or high-security facility for sociopaths. Right? Not always. Sometimes a character does something so heinous and/or is such a threat to society that a hero is justified in choosing the nuclear option.

I’m speaking specifically of Wonder Woman, who wisely took out evil mastermind Maxwell Lord in the events leading up to Infinite Crisis. Later, in a stunning display of self-righteousness, Batman and Superman castigated her for saving their asses and, possibly, the world. Worse, Wonder Woman eventually was turned into a remorseful sad-sack in post-IC events. Lord was a menace on a global scale. Out of paranoia, he hatched a deadly plan to destroy metahumans, and when Blue Beetle (Ted Kord) found out and refused to join him, Lord put a bullet through the Kord’s head. He then used mind control to sic Superman on Bruce and Diana, and Bruce was lucky to have escaped with his life. Did we mention that he was the driving force behind that scary OMAC cyborg army?

Under the influence of Wonder Woman’s lasso, Lord confessed that the only way to free Superman from his dark influence was to kill him. The lasso doesn’t lie, so Diana snapped Lord’s neck. Yet, she was immediately vilified by her fellow Trinity-mates when the act was broadcast worldwide. Batman, still paranoid from the mind-wipes (See: Identity Crisis), basically told her she should have stayed on her island and to get lost.Continuing the horse’s ass theme, Superman chimed in: “You’re trying to help people you can’t even relate to. … They’re scared of us. They’re scared of us because of you.”

V. and I have talked about this many times, and she has my back. Take it away, V.!

“Bruce is a giant fucking judgment ball. I hated that scene. The premier woman in the DCU was cast out for doing the thing that needed to be done — for being a warrior and perhaps being “masculine?”

Let’s review: Diana stops a maniac from manipulating an insanely powerful being who happens to be a dear friend, and she’s the bad guy? And if Superman was so worried about frightening mankind, why didn’t he consider how much more terrified people would have been if Lord had remained his puppet-master? Talk about bad PR.

I’m not saying that the incident should have been treated lightly. It’s a very big deal when a character as principled as Wonder Woman gets to that point. I can see her being somber and taking it seriously, but not being overly remorseful.

Back to Batman. If anyone should have put the drop on a pathological criminal, it’s him. In the case of the Joker, who has left a long, bloody trail of death, Bruce’s rigid no-killing code is ludicrous. That made his angry criticism of Wonder Woman all the more infuriating. And don’t get me started on Superman’s nemesis, Lex Luthor, another master of serial destruction. (The idea that the DC “can’t” remove the Joker or Lex because they’re legacy villains is another issue.)

One could argue that killing is a slippery slope; that if you start with Maxwell Lord it’s just a matter of time before you’re crushing Killer Moth. But again, this is extreme, relentless menace we’re talking about. Really, what else should Wonder Woman have done with so little time to decide?

This was undoubtedly a dramatic and controversial plot point that got fans talking, and from an editorial standpoint, a strong response is always better than the sound of crickets. But as far as we’re concerned, Diana was done wrong for doing the right thing. (On a side note, major props to Brian Azzarello for giving Wonder Woman her full Amazonian swagger in that first relaunch issue. It’s a beautiful thing.)

Blue Beetle: Really? As a reader pointed out on our Facebook page, it looks like a Power Rangers getup. Upon closer inspection, it resembles a Happy Meal action figure. From 1996. Grade: D

Green Arrow: This one’s pretty good and captures GA’s general Robin Hood vibe, with a 21st Century edge. Green Arrow’s costume isn’t fancy, and the nice guns count as an accessory. Grade: B+

Hawkman: In Smallville‘s defense, Hawkman’s comics costume is glorious and therefore very hard to pull off without CGI and big bucks. Again, if I saw this at Dragon*Con, I’d be kinda impressed. However, I saw a Hawkgirl at D*C whose wings were bigger, more feathery, and far more striking than this. The helmet looks like it was decorated with gold spray paint, and overall, it’s a letdown. Grade: C-

Booster Gold: Not awful. Booster isn’t the most serious character in the DCU, but he looks like he’s ready to handle some business in this instance. Snazzy shades, and props for the oh-so-accurate product placement patches. Very NASCAR. Grade: B

Wonder Woman: Even though this is Lois Lane in Diana’s costume, I dig it. In fact,  like it so much that I wish David E. Kelley & Co. had gone this route for the TV show. It’s got some warrior flourishes, and it appears classic and youthful. Points off for the cheap-o tiara and star deficit, though. Grade: A-

Zatanna: Fishnets, check. Tuxedo getup, check. Hot boots, check. Matrix-y trench coat, check. This is a fairly simple look, but it’s effective and awfully stylish: Grade: A

Black Canary: I’m sorry, but this is ridiculous. Dinah looks like a cross between in Val Kilmer in Top Gun and a mannequin at Wilsons Leather. The costume screams “cheap,” and the Ziggy Stardust raccoon mask isn’t helping matters. Grade: D-

Stargirl: The mask is effed up, and the costume is only slightly above Halloween quality. I think had those shorts in fourth grade. Anyway, Stargirl is such an underexposed character that I’m happy to see her at all. By the way, that staff looks like a solar light fixture that was ripped out of someone’s front yard. Grade: C

Aquaman: I really, really got a kick out of this. I’m a tad biased because orange and green are my alma mater’s colors, but Aquaman’s costume looks functional for a guy who spends most of his time in the water, and it’s sleek and modern. Groovy footwear, too! With apologies to my Aquaman-loving friends, “cool” is not a word I often associate with King Arthur, so this is well played.  Grade: A+

Clark Ken/Superman: I realize that he has yet to officially become the Man of Steel on Smallville, but at this point, Clark ought to have more than jeans, a blue T-shirt, and a red jacket from Costco. Can’t a Kryptonian get some love on his own show?! Even Welling’s well-documented beauty can’t redeem this. Grade: F

Illustration by Coran Stone

Author’s Note: If fan sentimentality of any kind repulses you, please avoid the following essay.

The relationship between Batman and Superman has fascinated me since I was a kid. Equal parts bickering couple, friends, and teammates, they are quite a combo. Their surface differences are interesting enough — Clark’s pastoral and idyllic upbringing (minus that whole exploding planet thing) vs. Bruce’s youth as the orphaned Prince of Gotham. But when a really good writer brings them together, you get a sense of their mutual respect and understanding, in spite of the way they often grate on one another. Though Bruce keeps almost everyone at arm’s length, there’s a certain we-don’t-have-to-discuss-it intimacy in his relationship with Clark. They are the Lennon-McCartney of the Justice League. Perhaps that ‘s why I responded so strongly to the image above (by Trocken via DeviantArt). I’m usually bothered by stories suggesting that Bruce and Clark encountered one another as kids, but there is something really believable and authentic about this.

It has been my experience that opposites attract in friendships and in love. Therefore, I can see sunny, optimistic Clark homing on in brooding, intense Bruce on the first day of middle school and befriending him. I’m not saying they’d be going on double dates, but given their extraordinary backgrounds and mutual brilliance (and let’s not forget that Superman is brilliant), it’s plausible that some kind of relationship would develop. If Lex Luthor hadn’t been such a mega-douche and used his powers for good, he might have been a lot like Bruce. To borrow V.’s brilliant term, Batman and Superman are oppo-sames. (And yes, I know that this scenario flies in the face of canon and would likely result in a very different outcome for these characters, but just indulge me today, OK?) Uh-oh. We gotta quash that Clayface situation by the monkey bars.

Some of my favorite stories involve these two, even when they’re about to scrap. Remember the scene in Darwyn Cook’s Justice League: The New Frontier where Batman almost defeats Superman using nothing but sheer will, cable, and a motorcycle? And then Superman is like, “I can’t be beaten by this … this … human!” More than a few times, Superman has said something along the lines of “You’re out of your mind, but I kinda like the way you roll.” And of course, they have kicked a lot of asses together (See: Public Enemies) and even saved each other’s lives. It’s significant that Clark entrusted Bruce with a bit of Kryptonite, just in case.

In the Dark Knight Returns movie, the Joker famously says to Batman, “You complete me!” I think that line applies more to this dynamic duo.

Many, many others have written about the genius of the original All-Star Superman, so the series doesn’t need my late stamp of approval. But while I fully expected to enjoy the story, I didn’t anticipate just how much more I would appreciate Superman as a character after finishing them.

I recently purchased the trades in a mad rush to catch up before watching the direct-to-DVD film that was released last week. Several times, I’d flipped through the All-Star Superman collection in a bookstore, shrugged and put it back. Again, I assumed that it was good, but I was convinced there were no more truly interesting stories about the Man of Steel. Even the gushing cover blurbs couldn’t win me over.

My bad.

Comic book icons are the hardest to write because they can only be trifled with to a point. Usually, you can’t deviate too much from their basic backstory or blueprint. If they’re killed, editorial brings them back in a year’s time. In this context, maintaining the freshness of a storied, nearly invulnerable hero like Superman is an especially difficult task. He loves his job, his parents, and Lois. He’s loyal to his friends. He’s good with children. He does the right thing because that’s what he learned in Kansas. Isn’t that kind of goodness … boring?

All-Star Superman — the series and the movie (adapted for the screen by the late, great Dwayne McDuffie) — answer this question with a resounding “No.” Grant Morrison, Frank Quitely and Jamie Grant took a character who is often dismissed as a demigod Boy Scout and reminded us of why he is the most important superhero of all time. I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who hasn’t yet read the comics or seen the film, but suffice to say that Kal-El’s heroism comes across as something incredibly decent and organic, not predictable and corny. And dude, he makes Da Vinci look average. Batman is justifiably celebrated as a genius, but in these stories, Superman is over-the-top brilliant. He’s perfecting A.I., concocting serums, reading Lois’ DNA, and communicating (sorta) with his 28th Century counterparts. All before breakfast. The Fortress of Solitude is like the best Manhattan penthouse ever, crossed with Mt. Olympus and NASA. And he designed it HIMSELF.

Unfortuantely, this level of awesomeness can’t be sustained indefinitely, which is why some of the most powerful Superman stories — including Alan Moore’s Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow? — have less than happy endings. But they do have hopeful, emotionally resonant endings. I am not ashamed to say that I was in tears by the end of Morrison’s series and the movie adaptation. My husband, a non-geek, gave the latter his ultimate compliment. “That was tight.”

Indeed. Superman, you’re my hero.

Lois has done a lot of outrageous, even dangerous things to get a scoop, but this took the (chocolate!) cake. While trying to report on life in Metropolis’ hood — seriously dubbed “Little Africa” — Lois is frozen out at every turn by wary African Americans. Doors slam in her face. A street activist rails against the intrusion of “young and sweet and pretty” whitey. Even the school kids are like, “Girl, bye.”

Desperate, Lois enlists the Man of Steel to put her into some kind of transformation thingy to give her the ultimate cover. Enter, Soul Sister Lois! The effects last for only 24 hours, but our star reporter gets a bitter taste of life on the other side of the tracks. She feels conspicuous! Taxis drive past! Other downtrodden black people live in apartments plagued by vermin! As the indignities mount, Lois wonders, “Is this what happens every time these human beings ride in a subway? Or bus? Or enter an all-white school?” I’ll let you guys wrestle with this difficult question.

My favorite part of this book is the way she totally calls Superman on the carpet about whether he would marry her in spite of her (temporary) race. And for a moment, he seems to be tap dancing for dear life by deflecting her question with a question. He’s all, “Dude, that question is fucked up. I’m the ultimate outsider, even though I am a strikingly handsome, white male Kryptonian with piercing blue eyes, the body of a god, and flying capabilities. And, uh, I can’t marry you anyway because that would put your life in danger …” Good thing Supes is faster than a speeding bullet, because he is working hard to dodge this one.

Just in time to save Superman from a philosophical monologue about alien-human-race mixing, the effects wear off and Lois is restored to her old self. Of course, everything ends on an “I’d like to buy the world a Coke” note. Lessons have been learned. Interracial friendships have been formed. Woman-on-the-street exposes are written. Pultizer committee, recognize!

Uh, sweetie?

Another winner is this illustration of that lovable ruffian, Green Lantern Guy Gardner. With his cocksure grin, he’s about to go make some trouble, and enjoy it immensely.

There’s more Trek goodness with my favorite grumpy physician, Bones McCoy. He’s sweating and annoyed, and he does not have time for your bullshit or more bad news. Perfect.

My God, man!

Finally, there’s this moody, broody image of Superman and Batman, surveying their domain. The image conveys a genuine friendship, and I love the way Batman’s billowing cape serves as a focal point. This is beautiful stuff, and it looks like Ann U. takes commissions. Check her out and show a talented, young artist some love.

That Darkseid mess was crazy, yo.

I’m glad Superman, Batman, Robin got along so fabulously in their early days. But certain covers suggest that there were exploits that were not recorded in the JLA archives. (And please do not leave us an angry note about how warped my mind is or how I’m reading too much into these pristine, utterly sincere comics. I know my mind is warped, and trampling on childhood memories is what WTF? Wednesday does.)

“Remember that languid, sun-dappled afternoon at the swimming hole? Yeah, we’re not gonna mention that to Flash and Green Lantern. They might get the wrong idea. Robin, this is our little secret.” There’s an epic story going on here. Batman’s teasing expression says, “Should we?” Meanwhile, Superman seems vaguely embarrassed, like he’s thinking, “Bruce, this is kinda fucked up. On the other hand, it’s been a long day, and Robin and these half-naked young men seem to be OK with it …”

There are a lot of jokes I could make here about bringing out the big guns or being locked and loaded … oh, wait. I just did. Grayson’s a smug, confident little bastard, isn’t he?

When it comes to “crime-fighting,” sometimes, three’s a crowd. Batman’s clenched-fist jealousy here is palpable, as if he knows that things will never be the same between him and Robin after this night.

The very handsome Brit Henry Cavill is the new cinema Superman, and for the life of me, I can’t tell whether anyone cares. Too soon? It seems like we were just being introduced to Brandon Routh, who did a good job in a flawed movie, Superman Returns. I’m not all that excited about a reboot, but I’m a little bummed that Routh didn’t get a chance to show what he could do in a (potentially) better movie. In any case, Cavill will look great with a spit-curl and a cape. And for the love of Rao, please cast a believable Lois Lane this time around.

Does the unveiling of the new Man of Steel have you pumped for the movie?

There’s nothing new about the similarities between Superman and a certain carpenter from Nazareth, but in some stories, the parallels are neon-sign obvious. Shortly after watching Superman Returns — in which Kal-El even rises from his hospital deathbed after a few days (three?) — my brother asked, “Are we sure this isn’t a movie about Jesus?”

Writer J. Michael Straczynski is an atheist, but he has spoken of Superman in biblical (or, depending on your point of view, mythological) terms. In JMS’ highly anticipated Superman debut, the Man of Steel comes across the way I’ve often imagined Jesus might: captivating, earnest, the tiniest bit smug. He doesn’t carry much in the way of cash or material possessions, and he walks a lot. Wherever he goes, people pepper him with questions, try his patience and practically dare him to use his powers. Sound familiar?

Literally down to Earth, Superman is on a sort of fact-finding stroll through America, telling one journalist, “I’m not flying because I’m walking.” (As a former newspaper reporter, I thought the pack of hero-chasing journalists seemed gratuitously dim, especially considering Clark Kent’s line of work. But maybe they were TMZ types.)

The best moments in this issue are the smallest, like when Superman checks the funds in his cape pocket before ordering a cheese steak sandwich, or when star-struck residents react as if a caped Zac Efron were in their presence. It’s not every day that you see a metahuman celebrity in Philly, and I was charmed by Eddy Barrows’ scenes of grinning, gobsmacked citizens.

Unfortunately, the effort to make Superman “relevant” is all too obvious at times, and the book begins to strain under the weight of its own message. There’s a deeply goofy segment involving some drug dealers who appear to have stepped right out of New Jack City, and Supes has one too many Preachy McPreachypants moments. By the end, I found myself wishing Original Batman were around to bust the guy’s chops. However, despite these stumbles and my lack of any deep investment in Superman (the character or the comic), JMS has laid out an interesting premise — one that makes me want to stick around for at least one more stop on Kal-El’s tour.

Mo powers, mo problems

Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?
Writer: Alan Moore
Pencils: Curt Swan
Inkers: George Perez and Kurt Schaffenberger
DC Comics

Though I accept that Alan Moore is an exceptional and groundbreaking writer, I’ve often found his work difficult to love. However, when Moore’s “Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?” stories were reissued in trade form, I went directly to the comics shop and bought the book. This volume is delightful, and it’s a great read whether you’re a hardcore comics lover or a casual reader with only basic knowledge of Superman.

Written in the 1980s as the final chapter for the Silver Age Superman, “Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?” is touching, haunting and playful in all the right places — and in a way, it highlights the problem with the lack of an expiration date on iconic comic book characters. No one stays dead (or missing) in comic books anymore, and it is harder to care when you know that a the story of a character’s life has no real end. As wonderful as Neil Gaiman’s “Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?” story was — and it was plenty wonderful — it was undermined a little by the knowledge that Bruce Wayne wasn’t really gone for good. Dude is already on his way back.

Of course, this makes perfect sense from a business standpoint, and new readers keep discovering (and rediscovering) these titles. My point is that the level of poignancy that Moore achieved here is rare because the medium doesn’t often allow for it. A character like Superman is so much more compelling when he is ultimately defeated by something, whether it’s mortality or a changing world. Superman was rebooted in 1986 with “The Man of Steel” arc, but Moore’s story represents the end of a long and storied era. You should read it.

We like him when he's angry.

My LCS owner and I were doing our regular news-of-the-week chat when I started griping about the Earth One projects DC has planned for Superman and Batman. Gripe is probably too strong a word, because I’m a big fan of Gary Frank, who’ll be illustrating the Batman arc. However, I said something about being annoyed with the repetition of two very well-worn origin stories, and that as much as I love Batman, I don’t need to see him crouched over his dead parents’ bodies ever again. That’s when the owner pointed out the obvious: “Well, you’re not the target audience for these books.”

Oh.

When I got back into comics in a serious way three years ago, I promised myself that I wouldn’t become the kind of fan who considers a reboot or revision as an affront to his or her childhood. And since I write for a living, I can appreciate the difficulty of keeping a beloved character fresh while being confined by lore and editorial dictates. But there I was, throwing shade on books that aren’t even out yet. God forbid a publisher try to bring newer, younger readers into the fold! While I’d much rather see a great writer breathe new life into a less familiar character, I’m already reading comics. Someone who isn’t in that world is more likely to enter (or re-enter) through a familiar door. And it doesn’t get more familiar than Batman and Superman.

That comic shop exchange reminded me of a Dragon*Con panel about the future of comics that I attended back in September. Panelist Darwyn Cooke, one of my favorite writers, kept it extremely real, referring to modern comic book culture as “an over-35 club.” He pointed out that comic books were never meant to be read by the same audience for 20-plus years. But because the average reader today is more likely to have a mortgage than a homeroom teacher, the demand for continuity, among other things, hangs over many titles. So naturally, someone like me — as opposed to, say, my 9-year-old son — is over Superman’s origin story because they’ve been paying attention to superhero titles for decades. As Frank himself put it, the Earth One project “is a blank slate.”

It’s nice to be reminded that there’s room under the tent for everyone — and that if it doesn’t move me, I don’t have to read it. Besides; despite my grouchy old geek act, they had me at “Gary Frank.”