The Great Comic Book Heroes: Superman

Jules Feiffer observed, "The advent of the superhero was a bizarre comeuppance for the American dream... Once the odds were appraised honestly, it was apparent you had to be super to get by in this world." He went on to note that all the pulp heroes like the Shadow and Green Hornet were fakes getting by with gimmicks, while Superman was essentially omnipotent. That being the case, Feiffer questioned the geeky Clark Kent put-on. "Superman as a secret masochist? Field for study there... why not a more typical identity? ...The truth may be that Kent existed not for the purposes of the story but for the reader. He is Superman's opinion of the rest of us, a pointed caricature of what we, the noncriminal element, were really like." Fans of "Kill Bill" may recall Tarantino and Carradine swiping the argument. I beg to differ.

Who amongst us talks to children openly as equals? That don't wish to be arrested, or at least become scorned by society? How can you be anything but at least a little patronizing and reserved amongst minds that just are not mature enough to be subjected to naked truth? It isn't that Superman critiques mankind-- it's just that Clark Kent is as close as he can come comfortably to our level. Yes, he's talking down to us, but with the best of intentions.

"It seems that among Lois Lane, Clark Kent, and Superman there existed a schizoid and chaste menage a trois... it appears he wanted Lois to respect him for his fake self... to be there when he pretended he needed her. She never was -- so, of course, he loved her. A typical American romance. Superman never needed her... Lois chased him -- so, of course, he didn't love her... Clark Kent acted as the control for Superman... Our cultural opposite of the man who didn't make out with women has never been the man who did -- but rather the man who could if he wanted to, but still didn't... Real rapport was not for women. It was for villains. That's why they got hit so hard."

Alternately, Superman could be the overprotective guardian. Lois wants Superman, in ways a child should not want her super-daddy. Superman, naturally, races to protect her when she once again is endangered, but is then skeeved out by her advances. However, Superman is a loving authority figure who doesn't want to damage the girl's self-esteem, so he provides her with a safe, undesirable affirmation of her womanhood-- Clark Kent. Just a theory.

Next we could consider Larry Niven's 1971 essay, Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex. Suddenly, his heartbreaking, repetitive returns to save doomed Krypton make so much sense. Even if the Strange Visitor from Another Plant were willing to stoop to pedophilia/bestiality and lie with creatures of another species, who's to say they wouldn't "break." Of course he'd know unfathomable longing for his time-lost movie star lady love... it's the reciprocity I wonder about. Sure, Superman would be a sweetly naive, rugged brute of a man to a native Kryptonian. That might keep your interest for a while. Then it starts to set in that this guy has not spent his life amongst his super-intelligent brethren, but simple grade-schoolers. Likely the "special" kind. What would you talk about? Further, if there's one area Superman would fall short under the circumstances, it's "experience." Faster than a speeding bullet? More powerful than a locomotive? These are not quite accolades when applied to one's tender nether regions. Perhaps it was best to leave Krypton as it no longer stood? They'd always have Argo City...

I once had similar thoughts about the Martian Manhunter, until he went through a streak in the 90's when he started bed hopping. I came up with another idea for him, which can be read here.

A Frank Review of "28 Days Later..." (2002) & "28 Weeks Later..." (2007)

The Short Version? Zombie apocalypse, sans "zombies."
What Is It? Horror.
Who Is In It?. "Days:" Cillian Murphy. Chris Eccleston. "Weeks:" Robert Carlyle
Should I See It? Yeah... alright... damn it.



My favorite movie monster is the Living Dead. Usually, I just say zombie, but semantics are important here. You see, in the golden age of Hollywood, zombies were a reasonable approximation of the zuvembi of Caribbean origins. In "voodoo," zombies were the reanimated dead, put to work as soulless slaves by a "witch doctor." Research has suggested there was such a thing, but rather than the dead, these slaves were actually "junkies" strung out on particularly nasty drugs. This being the case, zombie's gotta eat. According to myth, zombies couldn't eat meat, salt, or anything particularly flavorful, as it would awaken their taste buds and their minds to the fact they ought to be dead, and that's where they'd go again. The popular notion of zombies was forever altered in 1968, when the film "Night of the Ghouls" had its name changed to "...Living Dead." Romero and Russo introduced these truly vacant creatures as our loved ones turned mindless and hungry for warm human flesh. This opened the international floodgates for apocalyptic cannibal horror, and while I don't recall whether "Night" referred to its creatures as zombies, that's exactly what they were dubbed.

I explain this because screenwriter Alex Garland and director Danny Boyle steadfastly denied that their "28 Days Later..." was a zombie movie, but instead a tale of violent masses infected with a virulent horror known only as "Rage." This is utter and complete bullshit. The trailer below for their film even claims "Danny Boyle reinvents zombie horror." Again, bullshit. Like "Resident Evil," the story steals liberally and near wholesale from a variety of sources, but unlike the much maligned Paul Anderson picture, it is defiantly unapologetic about the matter, and pompous in its denial of derivation. Innovations? Like when the soldiers become so loathsome you begin rooting for the zombies and the few civilians the troops plan to rape and murder. Right up to featuring a named "hero" zombie, that movie was filmed in 1985 as "Day of the Dead" by George Romero. Fast zombies? Russo's "Return of the Living Dead" had some speedy brain suckers in 1985. Not that it matters, as Tobe Hooper had already done "Lifeforce," which ends with diseased masses of ghoulish "vampires" rampaging the devastated streets of London. Turning the supernatural "zombies" into the scientific "infected?" Romero did that also, in "The Crazies." There's the flashback monologues that help invest you in the characters and horror of the situation, while not straining your budget, but Romero did the same thing in most of his "Dead" movies. So Boyle did a zombie movie, Garner pieced a script together from other zombie movies, neither will own up, and the movie isn't a Tarantinoesque salvage job so much as a variation on themes from equally good or better films.

The part that drives me nuts is that "28 Days Later..." is a good film. The performances are solid, the audience responds to the characters, the frenetic cinematography sells the terror and the movie glides right over budgetary restrictions. If its creators weren't so galling in their plagiarism and invented schism between "zombie" and "infected," I'd be more willing to give it credit. So your mob of vicious, mindless killers beats and tears people apart without the eating of intestines. This is hardly reinvention. Also, the highly effective dread early in the film gives way to suspense and finally fatigue as the story progresses. I appreciated the genre rebelling ending, but by that point I'd lost interest. I do love the music though. Shit, okay, Boyle reinvented "zombie horror" with a better soundtrack. Happy now?



After my less than complimentary review of its predecessor, you might wonder why I would have seen the sequel. I guess the scale of the production seemed impressive, and so much source material for stolen plot had been mined last time, I figured they had to try something new. I was right, in that they found new avenues to plunder, seeing as much of the tone of "Weeks" is right out of the new wave of zombie pictures that followed in "Days" wake.

Like Cameron with "Aliens" (not to mention "Resident Evil,") the focus shifts from a few isolated civilians surviving to a heavily armed military response to the alien threat. Like Romero's "Day" and "Land of the Dead," we are presented with a reoccurring "hero" zombie that motivates much of the action and aids in the final resolution. Like "The Omega Man," we've got the immune human whose blood can potentially cure a plagued people, and like "Return of the Living Dead Part 2," our guide into zombie land is a prepubescent boy (though I wasn't sure for a ways into the movie, as he was something of a mongoloid Taylor Hansen.) Not to mention, with its propulsive pacing, explosions and constant child endangerment, it was pretty obvious someone had taken Spielberg's "War of the Worlds" to heart. The characters are cardboard, except for Robert Carlyle, who gives one of his best performances yet. I had massive problems with the contrived situations and painfully obvious set-ups, but ultimately, I enjoyed the film as a no-brainer. It is more intense, and more consistently so, than the original (while aping Boyle's style to maximum effect.) As a zombie fan, I found this movie far less antagonizing than the first, but it is more of an experience than a story, and one I'm unlikely to repeat.

The Vixen #1 (Nov-Dec 1978)

"THE VIXEN No.1, November-December. "Who Is The Vixen" is by Gerry Conway, Bob Oksner, and Vince Colleta. Fashion model Mari McCabe comes in contact with the Tantu Totem, and suddenly regains her long forgotten past, as well as the powers and abilities of three animals. At the United Nations, she attacks the African ruler who murdered her father, years ago."

That was the synopsis given by The Comic Reader #159 (August 1978) as part of their announcement of DC titles caught in the infamous "Implosion." You can read in great detail the circumstances in this article at Dial "B" For Blog. The gist is the suits at Warner Brothers and sales impacted by heavy snows conspired to cut DC comic production by 40% in one fell swoop, robbing what should have been the first African-American super-heroine with her own title. I'm quite fond of Mari McCabe, and am pleased that she's begun to get her due a quarter-century later through the Justice League of America comic and cartoon.

Dial "B" For Blog covered the first issue of her non-series, among many others here. That's also where I got the art poorly and hastily colored under duress by myself above. According to that blog, "Created by Gerry Conway with Carla Conway... The story's final caption reads: "THE END…AND THE BEGINNING." Vixen finally made her official debut three years later, in Action Comics #521." You can also find the splash page for the aborted project there.

Unsatisfied with those slim details (wrapped in an otherwise highly informative article,) I cast about on the internet for more. Luckily, I came upon the Answer Man Bob Rozakis' synopsis of the issue, as part of fantastically extensive coverage of Cancelled Comics Cavalcade, the only place Vixen's story ever saw print. Here's what he had to say...

"The last full-length book included in is THE VIXEN #1. Is she the same character who finally debuted in ACTION COMICS #521, three years after the DC Implosion? The same one who became a member (with Vibe and Gypsy) of what's been referred to as the Justice League of Detroit? Well, yes…and no.

Super-model Marilyn McCabe is on top of the fashion world and a modern businesswoman, but after seeing President Manitoba of the African nation of D'Mulla on TV, she faints. This brings back awful memories of her childhood, memories buried in her subconscious oft her father being murdered by Manitoba.

After consulting with her attorney and realizing she can not pursue Manitoba from a legal standpoint, Marilyn discovers that a necklace left with her by her father has mystical powers. It awakens powers within Marlyn and she dons the costume of The Vixen.

The Vixen learns that Manitoba, while now preaching peace, intends to unite all of Africa under his rule…by force. His true mission in coming to the United States is not to preach peace, but to murder the sole remaining witness to his crimes in his own country. Luckily, The Vixen is there to save the day. In the battle that ensues, Manitoba is killed by his own manic attack, bringing down a massive cross which crushes him.

The story ends with Marilyn feeling that a new energy has taken control of her, that she has been reborn. And the bottom caption promises us that this is "The End…and The Beginning." (Well, so, it took three years before she actually appeared. Maybe she was just a slow starter…)


Beginning with issue #2, there was to be a back-up feature in THE VIXEN, one that I was going to be writing. It never got past script stage… and a few columns from now, I'll be sharing all the details about a series SO canceled that it never even made it into CCC!"

So there you go. Hopefully The Vixen #1 will be available for us all, but until then, I'm happy to have enough details to keep me quiet in the meantime.

Mel Gibson is "Jew Hating Schmuck"

Too many reviews this week. I'm tired. It was this or that video where the couple bring in the black guy that can't perform. Lots of cursing and the occasional full-frontal nudity (tastefully rendered) aside, I'm not sure Blogspot or myself are quite ready to display full-blown porn (even when more concerned with humiliation than masterbation.) This is one of those intances where flogging the joke makes it funnier. JEWWWS!!!

A Frank Review of "Revolver"

Based on Guy Ritchie's career trajectory, I'm trying to figure out which film adaptation of a Marvel Comics super-hero would be best suited to redeem his talents. You know, Jason Statham has done a few films with "Incredible Hulk" director Louis Leterrier, so some introductions later, he's starring in "Union Jack." Since Ritchie already owes Quentin Tarantino royalties for his entire career, he could even crib "From Dusk Til Dawn" once the vampires show up. More immediately, while I feel he's a bit too flashy for "The First Avenger: Captain America," I imagine he'd conceive a bitchin' Vita-Ray sequence.

I don't want to slag on Guy Ritchie. I dug the shit out of my introduction to him, "Snatch," still one of the best guys' nights at the movies I've had. "Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels" was lower-rent, but solid for putting him on the map. Unfortunately, these films led me to "Swept Away," evidence that Madonna is no mere sorry actress, but the living embodiment of a curse made upon films bearing her taint. Hence, the aforementioned career trajectory of her husband. I understand "Revolver" invokes Kabbalistic mysticism and numerology. I'm a believer in many of the teachings of the Zohar, even though I'm aware it's as big of a scam as any of Ritchie's heist movies. The existence of "Revolver" further shatters vessels of light and inhibits the coming of the Messianic Age. Guy Ritchie is not a worthy opponent, but the victim of "Revolver." It's fucktop.

This is a top-down travesty. It's a painfully pretentious "art" film with gunfights and titties and raptors and Big Pussy. The whole premise is swimming in psycho-babble
that Ritchie seems to not fully understand and is unable to articulate in his work or commentary, but feels compelled to inflict upon his audience like an attention-starved grade-schooler. Ritchie is a lightweight storyteller best served by a large cast of character actors commanding easy affection while going through the motions of entertaining plot complications. Here, he spends nearly two hours ill-served by Statham in a good toupee giving a terrible performance consisting of looking hurt and confused for no readily apparent reason for most of the running time. Then, the reason is given, and you wish you could go back to not knowing. There's cryptic dialogue where there should be piss-taking. There's ominous but well-trod quotes masquerading as insight. There's Ray Liotta bare-assed naked and in a speedo, nowhere near as painful as the quotes and dialogue. I cannot express to you the many ways in which this film goes wrong without spoiling the Shyamalan twists, complete with Shyamalan execution, which should give you some idea of the nonsense to come.

The film is not a complete waste, so long as you remember to invest absolutely nothing in it. Rather than falling back on his usual obnoxious, overly-stylized directing gimmicks, Ritchie employs new obnoxious, overly-stylized directing gimmicks, completely at random without concern for tone or consistency. There are scenes in the film that seem to exist solely to exploit them. For instance, late in the flick, attentions shift away from Statham, right when it's least appropriate, for an extended sequence involving several background characters you've just learned matter in no way to the story. Further, one goes through an unexplained, and again, ultimately irrelevant personality turnabout for no other reason than to engage in flashy ultraviolence. Similarly, Ritchie steals the O-Ren Ishii animated sequence from "Kill Bill" for some really cool images that were created for no discernible purpose beyond tarting up a hoary cliche. If you've ever enjoyed a Guy Ritchie film, there's perhaps something salvageable here if you're willing to join Fonzie in jumping the shark. If not, wow, get the hell out from under this ridiculous fucker with all due haste.

All I know is it makes me giddy to hear Statham use the word "efficacy" onscreen, which Heather Chandler would have missed on next week's vocab test were it not for that taste of Big Blue (and perhaps last night's Corn Nuts.) In tribute, I will use the word "efficacy" as much as possible in the near future to honor this watershed moment in film history. I expect everyone to scream at each usage.

"Efficacy" is to Guy Ritchie's "Revolver" as "talent" is to Paris Hilton's singing career.

A Frank Review of "BIGGER, STRONGER, FASTER*"

I was thinking the other day about one of my favorite super-heroes, Captain America, and the conflict between his "steroid abuse" and my Theory of Seminal Integrity in Super-Heroic Fiction. Haters like to point out that Cap got all his abilities out of a test tube, making him no better than all those athletes who shame sports by "juicing up." Mark Gruenwald was very conscious of this, and being a part of the "Just Say No" 80's, repeatedly addressed drugs over his long tenure writing the Sentinel of Liberty. For instance, there was the time Cap accidentally overdosed on a variation of cocaine, went nuts, and beat up Daredevil. In a bid to negate the issue, Gruenwald had the Super Soldier Serum removed from Cap's system, so he could build himself back to fighting form with nothing but heart. Didn't take, because everyone knows Cap's career started in a secret laboratory where he was the only recipient of a glorified steroid that he only needed to take once, with none of the negative effects and a wealth of additional benefits. You either have to accept that, or reject the character at his core.

Bodybuilder turned documentarian Chris Bell appropriately brought up Cap in his new film "Bigger, Stronger, Faster* (*The Side Effects of Being American,) and even chatted with Stan Lee while wearing a signed shirt. Bell had always believed in the dream of training hard and eating right to become like his idols, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Hulk Hogan, and Sylvester Stallone. One-by-one, along with an increasingly large number of professional athletes, these heroes were revealed to have been created and sustained through doping. Bell knew this, and though disillusioned, remained clean. Both his brothers did not, out bulking him and deluding themselves with visions of grandeur. One of his co-workers at Gold's Gym was 50, living in his van in the parking lot, and still expecting his second shot at greatness after his small role in 1987's "Over The Top." Bell seemed intent on waking them all up with a film that would explore the dangers of steroids. What he found, or at least ended up with, was persuasive propaganda in favor of decriminalizing the stuff.

Sold as coming from the producers of a couple of Michael Moore's movies, you can definitely see the influence of his philosophy all over "Bigger*." It's very much like "Bowling For Columbine," which seemed like it was going for your guns, but really was after opportunistic politicos and the media. Bell always gives the impression of being a deer caught in headlights, but between revealing editing and the occasional ambush, the guy's obviously playing up the vulnerability. Even still, Bell is effective at exposing the hypocrisies and outright lies of American society as a whole, especially the macho end of the spectrum. It's also highly accessible, with enough sports and action film coverage to hook the guys, but an emphasis on the human interest and personal drama for women and girly men like me. The odds don't favor catching a showing outside a major city, as the film's only grossed a quarter-mill, with only one theater showing it here in Houston. If you don't have access where you live, I highly recommend feeding the title into your NetFlix queue for later viewing.

As for the Captain America question, well, Bell put the lie to one muscle-head's claim that he could knock a baseball into orbit. So many athletes are using these days, it isn't so much an advantage as a practicality. Regardless, you can't stick a needle in and a jersey on expecting to equal Barry Bonds. It's only a Super Soldier Serum if the right man is on the receiving end, at least if you expect proof in advertising...

The Comic Book Heroes: The First History of Modern Comic Books from the Silver Age to the Present

Sorry for a post title whose length reminds people of that Fiona Apple album, but it's what appears on the cover to both editions of the book I'll be discussing off and on for the next several months. Also, it helps differentiate from "The Great Comic Book Heroes" by Jules Feiffer, which I'll also be returning to soon.

Will Jacobs' and Gerard Jones' non-Great "Comic Book Heroes" was first published in 1985 by Crown Publishers Inc. Don't take the lack of greatness as a criticism, as I've never read the book. I bought my copy at the San Diego Comic Con in 2000, and sat on it for eight years. I did this because I'd already purchased the 1997 Prima Publishing edition when it came out, and it had turned out to be the best book on comics I've read before or since. The latter edition was greatly expanded and updated by Jones alone, with enough of the original cannibalised to warrant a secondary credit to Jacobs. I decided it was about time to compare the two, so I'm reading both editions simultaneously. That's why this isn't a review, as I expect I'd rather just chart my progress with commentary.

To begin with, Heroes '85 is clearly the creation of two major DC Silver Age fanboys, while the latter is by a jaded industry veteran still better over his recent departure from the industry. The beauty of '97 is the candor and clarity of the work, as Jones rightly expects to be done with scripting comics. With his experiences still fresh in his memory, Jones balanced careful research with hip-shooting and a bit of backroom tales. '85 feels more like a lengthy article for "Amazing Heroes," as it lacks the bite, color, and depth to rate "The Comics Journal." It's still fine historical reference, but focuses more on the now oft-tread recollections of the comics themselves, rather than the efforts and inspirations behind their creation. For that, go directly to '97.

In Chapter One of both editions, the scene is set regarding the mediocrity of the DC Trinity and post-Code comics in general. Superman stories were modeled after the TV show, pitting "the first and greatest of heroes against an unending stream of petty crooks full of tiresome schemes and armed with kryptonite." Batman was disappointing with "lackluster stories and coarse drawings." Two variations of a line regarding the Amazing Amazon are brutal:
"The third survivor, Wonder Woman, also a DC property, had lost both the original writer and the original artist who had made her so idiosyncratic and so interesting in her first ten years; their successors were unable to make her either."
"And there was Wonder Woman, whose adventures weren't just dull, but usually didn't make sense.

'97 then flashed back to the early days of comics, where DC began with "pulp writer and master liar" Major Malcolm Wheeler-Nicholson, too cash poor to buy newspaper reprints, so he conned hungry youths to draw new strips and "vanished into the night when they came for their pay." Not likely to catch that kind of straight talk in one of the many official DC histories, and Jones continued to hint at the blood shed by mafia ties that would be later explored in detail with his "Men of Tomorrow: Geeks, Gangsters, and the Birth of the Comic Book." Jones then moved to the Wertham crusade's impact: "There had been nearly 650 comic book titles in 1952; by 1956 there were barely 400, and a few years later there would be scarcely 250." Of the eventual Marvel Comics publisher, Jones noted, "Martin Goodman's tower of schlock was collapsing faster than Babel." Those types of sordid details were missing in '85, which was more interested in tall tales from Mort Weisinger and how great Carmine Infantino was on the Flash relaunch.

Speaking of which, Jacobs and Jones detailed friends Weisinger and Julie Schwartz path through the pulps into comics, where they ended up working together. Of Flash writer John Broome, Jones and Jacobs opined that he "took the stuff of superheroes, the crude violence... and made it something consciously modern, self-amused, and expertly fun... Broome had a wry sensitivity to the little strokes of humanity that gave substance to even his most absurd creations." The difference was in '97, Jones could confide that he was also "a gentle young writer woth an intellectual bent, drawn to Asian art and travel... avoided the DC offices, preferring his house upstate where... he grew copious quantities of the forbidden vegetation that made so many jazzbos hear a little deeper and play a little lighter." Likewise, the matured Jones could link the sucess of the Flash revival with the "unprecedented political calm and social satisfaction" of the 1950's. "If you were young enough, it was almost possible to believe in a world where order and neatness were fundamental, where villainy was the work of amusing goofballs..."

'85's second chapter, "Strange Adventures in Space," was largely unaltered in '97, aside from switching places with its follow-up, "The Superman Mythos." Both were interesting and informative regarding the influence of science fiction on new features and in reinvigorating the Man of Steel. Taking advantage of C.C. Beck to essentially recreate the Marvel Family in Kryptonian garn didn't hurt. In '85, the authorial pair considered, "Weisinger had discovered that Superman grew more heroic as he grew less powerful." However, it took Jones twelve years to insightfully expound on the arrival of Kandor and Kal-El's many returns to doomed Krypton. "This introduction of pathos to Superman, the realization that not even all his powers could give him back what he loved most in life, elevated him from mere costumed crime fighter to something close to a tragic figure. This was a dark element alien to Julius Schwartz's aesthetic, an almost Greek sense of fatalism... fate presented almost as a physical law... there is also a profoundly Jewish sense to Superman's tragedy, planted there since Siegel's origin story with its references to Moses, amplified in the hero's obsessive returns to the holocaust of his home world now that Weisinger was giving his heart to the hero."

The 1985 edition measures 6"x9" at 292 pages, while 1997 offered 8 1/2" x 11" and 400 pages, the former's appearing at roughly actual size above (at least on my 14" monitor.) If anything, the text size and spacing shrank over the years, so you do the math. I'll return to this comparison soon...

You can buy the 1997 edition of The Comic Book Heroes: The First History of Modern Comic Books - From the Silver Age to the Present from Amazon.com.