Remember last month when I was bitching about not actually seeing the Batman/Karate Kid fight in Justice League #8? Well, look what shows up, just in time for Friday Night Fights!
So now I've actually read Countdown #1, erm, #51 and I'm just not sure I'm on for the ride, which seems to be the general consensus.
I mean, I liked 52. I like Paul Dini. The art's pretty good. So what's wrong?
I think the problem is the Monitors.
As a concept, I've never liked the Monitor. Not only did he have a name that might as well have been "Not-the-Watcher", but DC Comics already had an omniscient expositor, and he's got better fashion sense. Furthermore, while I like continuity, I don't like stories that are about continuity, and the Monitor was entirely about was protecting continuity (or, as he called it, "reality").
So I wasn't exactly thrilled to see that the new multi-verse comes with a complete set of Nu-Monitors. 
Yes, as Diamondrock points out, the Monitors act as continuity cops, correcting confusing continuity errors... "with EXTREME PREJUDICE!" < wailing guitars > But they won't, as he hopes, reduce the "porousness" of the multi-verse since any story with the Monitors will feature someone jumping between worlds, if only to get shot. By their very existence, the Monitors will only increase the porousness. Similarly, stories with the Monitors will increase the number of stories that are about the existence of the multi-verse, rather than simply set in it.
And Countdown looks like it's going to follow the same pattern. Andrew Hickey, at his new Countdown Blog, points out that the characters featured in the first issue, and those slated to appear, are the stress points of DC continuity: characters that are "supposed" to be dead, like Jason Todd and those whose histories contradict "official" canon, like Duela Dent, which implies the story will be about their status as continuity question marks.
Which could not interest me less. Stories intended to solve continuity problems, turning editorial errors into story engines, also turn compelling characters into walking plot points. Donna Troy is not interesting because her origin got screwed up by constant re-writes. She's interesting in spite of it (if she's interesting at all). So centering a plot on how much her background doesn't make sense is like...
It's like seeing a play with an amazing, intricate set. Something truly spectacular to look at. But the play itself is just characters talking about the set, either how pretty it is or how bizarre or just detailing how each piece fits together. As a guy who built sets in college, sure, I might find it interesting to know how it was built, but I'm not sure I could stand the characters in the play just gabbing about it and nothing else for two hours, with a fifteen minute intermission.
And all the Monitors seem to do is walk onto sets, shout "That tree is made out of cardboard!" then shoot the first character who knocks down the 2-D tree.
Maybe it's too soon to make the call, and I will pick up the next issue (especially since it looks like it features Jimmy Olsen vs. Dini's take on the Joker). But I know that 52 wow'ed me AND set up its theme of change in its first issue; and Countdown just didn't. So before I can commit another $150 dollars and a year's time to this thing, I need to know it's about more than just cardboard cut-outs.
And I'm only half joking about that.
Yes, though nefarious means (i.e. someone in DC Publicity handed it to me), I obtained a galley copy of The Plain Janes, the first graphic novel from DC Comics' new imprint for teen girls, MINX.
Personally, I think that MINX as a concept is a very good idea. Expanding the comic book reading audience to be as inclusive as possible, with as much variety of content as possible, is critical to the long term success of the medium, AND only DC Comics really has the resources and commitment to successfully back such a venture. Of course, actually attracting a new audience depends entirely on the quality of the content produced.
Fortunately, if this book is indicative of what's to come, I think they are off to a good start.
Right away, it's clear that this book is not another superhero book or even another Vertigo book, shrunk down and repackaged. And it's not American manga, either. It's its own animal.
Cecil Castellucci writes a compelling and charming story about Jane, the new girl at school, and how her crazy scheme of guerilla artwork unites the other outcasts, coincidentally also named Jane, and eventually the entire school. Though it is her first graphic novel, Castellucci is not over wordy but allows Jim Rugg's simple and expressive art do most of the storytelling. Rugg is particularly apt at drawing teen girls that actually look like teen girls, while remaining visually interesting and distinct from one another, particular the Janes.
And though the general plot is a little bit cliched, it's clear from page one that there is more going on than just high school melodrama. Layered into the story are questions about the value and purpose of art and the compromises between freedom and security we deal with in a time of terrorism (handled much better and more complexly than some other comics series I know).
Castellucci's best writing is in the narrator, "Main" Jane. Jane's struggle to find her identity in the wake of a traumatic event makes her entirely sympathetic, but she never comes across as self-pitying or morose. And though she shows a lot of maturity about the world, she remains at all times a teenager, impulsive, passionate, and sometimes overwhelmed by her emotions.
The supporting characters, however, are more two-dimensional (the other Janes, for example, refer to themselves as "BrainJayne," "TheatreJane," and "SportyJane," like Spice Girls). They remain fun and empathetic, but we never really get to know them outside of what Main Jane thinks about them.
Two characters that stand out are Jane's overprotective mother and James, "president, secretary and treasurer of the Queer Club" and the only openly gay boy in school. Jane's Mom (who's never given a real name) may be irrational in her fears and a hindrance to Jane's social life, but we know why her mother is so scared and understand that her concerns come from her love for her daughter, making Jane's Mom tragically poignant. And while I thought I was going to hate James as a token and stereotypical character, he surprised me with his bravery, honestly, and lovability. He steals every scene he's in.
My only real complaint about the book is that it kind of ends abruptly. It feels like there's a lot of story left to tell when The Plain Janes finishes, even if it does climax with a fairly strong resolution. I guess I just didn't want it to end, which isn't that bad at all.
All in all, I think The Plain Janes is a great kick off book that firmly establishes MINX as an imprint for girls looking for meaning in art, looking to improve the world, and, maybe, looking for a little bit of anarchy.
I think this could work.
Grant Morrison does an exit interview for 52 and lets a few cats out of the bag:
The same pitch also introduced two new Japanese pop-culture inspired superteams - the venerable monster-huntin' crew of Big Science Action and the Super Young Team (whose members include Most Excellent SuperBat, Big Atomic Lantern Boy and Shy Crazy Lolita Canary) - both of which will appear in my next big DCU project in 2008....
...Doc Magnus' Plutonium Man will probably turn up again in the forthcoming Metal Men series....
...If you miss Vic Sage as the Question, you should be able to follow the adventures of Vic's counterpart on the Charlton/Watchmen world of Earth 4...
One of the greatest advantages of long form, episodic storytelling is that characters develop over time as a natural reaction to their experiences. Rather than the sudden epiphany required in a two hour movie, a comic book character can, issue by issue, over years, progress through stages of growth.
Catwoman, for example, moved from thief with little conscience to someone who robs only from the rich to Robin Hood in black leather to out-and-out vigilante superhero—not over the course of one story but over two series running over 15 years! Such a well mapped progression gives a sense of character growth earned, an arc rewarded and a hero in the place she ought to be!
Which is why I really hate "psycho-changers," those plot devices that explain personality change as the sudden result of some external influence. Instead of personality changing as a natural reaction to personal experience, characters are bonked on the head with a coconut or exposed to "evil radiation" and suddenly they're jerks, murderous and wearing stupid emo haircuts. (Why yes, I did see Spider-Man 3 this weekend. Why do you ask?)
One of the many reasons I stopped watching Smallville was that the only times the characters changed at all was when they were hit with Kryptonite-infused pollen (or Kryptonite-infused bugs, or red Kryptonite, or black Kryptonite, or...) and suddenly they were adrenaline-seeking bad girls who dressed skankily or wanted to kill Clark. Why should the writers take the time to come up with a good, compelling reason teenagers would want to have sex or Lex Luthor would want to be evil, when there's Plotdevise-inite just lying around everywhere?
I mean, "psycho-changers" are okay for one-shot stories where they set-up otherwise impossible situations ("Oh no, Superman thinks he's Darkseid's son!") or are used as metaphors for internal struggles (one of fantasy's great strengths is that internal demons become external, where they are easier to punch in the nose). But when they are over-used or are used in place of real development, where the metaphor is dropped entirely, they become a major problem.
Particularly when the "psycho-changer" actually REPLACES real development (that some other writer took the time to create) with arbitrary excuses for new behavior. God forbid the loss of his entire city and almost everyone he knows drove Hal Jordan to try change history, no matter what the cost. That would, you know, make sense. Nope, he had to be infected with an alien parasite no one knew about before. (Also, all the people he killed are not actually dead.)
Or Cassandra Cain. Daughter of assassins. Trained from birth to be an assassin. Used by Batman more as a weapon than as a person. Never discovered her human side, no matter how hard she tried. Forced to fight her mother, over and over again, until she finally kills her. Disappears for a year. But what explains her trying to kill Robin? 
Evil Serum!
But more annoying to me than the "psycho-changers" explaining why good characters went bad are the "psycho-changers" that explain why villains reformed. I watched Catwoman grow a conscience over a very long period of time. To say that her growth was not her own, but imposed on her by a meddling Zatanna, is to say that Catwoman couldn't have changed on her own.
The problem is that "psycho-changers" define personality as something constant and inert unless arbitrarily acted upon by fantastic forces. That rehabilitation is just as impossible as falls from grace. That some people are just born evil, and some are born good, and nothing short of alien intervention can change that.
In fact, personality is something that's constantly in flux. Are you the same person you were five years ago? Have you grown in anyway? Are you better? Are you worse? And is any of this change a result of brainwashing?
Vic Sage, what makes you such a badass?
Really? I never would have guessed.
(For answers to more burning questions, check here!)
My MySpace account finally pays off and I get a preview of DC's new weekly, Countdown.
And it looks like Darkseid's back, still playing with his HeroClix:
I mean, it's cool and all that Paul Dini and Co. are not being coy about who the bad guys are, and Darkseid's desire to be the architect of the new universe nicely ties this series into the underlying theme of 52, but it's hard to look at an Evil Space Tyrant looming over detailed models of his enemies and not think of this:
This post contains spoilers about 52 52, in case anyone cares anymore.
Anyway, the multiverse is back, as we all knew it would be since at least last November. A lot of folks are happy about the return of Earth 4, the Charlton Heroes, and Earth 5/S, the Captain Marvel-verse, Devon's excited about the Wildstorm books officially being incorporated as Earth-50, and Kalinara is excited about her proposed, gender-reversed Earth-25.
But the world I'm eager to see is Earth-1.
Rip Hunter explicitly states that there is "New Earth", the composite Earth most of the DC line are set in, and then there is "Earths 1-51". New Earth is the world we know; Earth-1 is something... else.
Presumably, it's the Silver-Age DC Earth. The world where the first superheroes were Batman and the Martian Manhunter. Where Hal Jordan was the first human called Green Lantern, and Jay Garrick is nothing but a beloved comic book character. It's a world where the Crisis on Infinite Earths never happened; where perhaps even Crisis on Two Earths never happened.
It would be a more stream-lined setting; almost entirely science fiction influenced, with most of its heroes receiving power from either lab accidents or alien sources. It would jettison a lot of confusing character history, so that Hawkman would finally MAKE SENSE! (also: Wonder Girl).
It wouldn't necessarily be a better place to set most of the stories. I prefer the crazy, mixed up jumble that is the Post Crisis universe, but Earth-1 would still be a fun place to visit, I think, for two main reasons:
1) Earth-1 would be far less shackled to the real world than even the normal DCU. This means you could explore how the world would be changed if an Atlantean, an Amazon, a Martian, a Space Cop, and a man who re-writes the laws of physics with every step have been policing the world since 1960.
and 2) It means that crazy, god-like bastard the Earth-1 Superman is still out there, playing tricks on his best friends to teach them lessons and winking at an audience that only he sees. I wonder what HE's been up to the last twenty years.
Most of what I know about Ms. Marvel I picked up from the blogs. I gather that she's a super-strong powerhouse and leader of one of Marvel's premier super teams with a confusing back story and, um, a generous endowment. Basically, she's Marvel's Power Girl. But nevertheless, I'd like to take a moment to consider how Marvel is presenting their blonde bombshell to the potential comics buyer (as taken from their July Solicitations):
First up is the cover of Ms. Marvel #17 by Greg Horn. I know Horn mostly as the cover artist on She-Hulk, where a reputation for bad cheesecake poses didn't stop him from producing some really awesome covers.
First off, I like that after photo-referencing the face, Horn went ahead and photo referenced the hair too, giving the finished image a more natural look (rather than looking like a real person wearing a yellow foam wig). I also like how the lighting and speed lines emphasize her smile and the flaming bits of debris suggest how powerfully she broke through. The head seems maybe too big for her body, but the rest of her seems reasonably well proportioned. Over all, this is a very good representation of a strong woman who really, really enjoys beating the crap out of doors.
And then we have Frank Cho's cover for Mighty Avengers #5:
Oy.
I don't mind that Ms. Marvel is shown getting shot in the back; I assume that's a scene in the comic itself and seeing the leader and strongest member of the team taken out on the cover shows the seriousness of the threat. It's that she's shot off to the side, facing away from the viewer, while Ant-Man--Ant-Man?--gets to look badass front and center.
Okay, we get it. Frank Cho likes to draw women's butts. But this is getting ridiculous, especially after the ass-tastic covers for Mighty Avengers #3 AND Mighty Avengers #4. Why can't Ms. Marvel face the viewer, so we can see her reaction to the attack? Why can't we empathize with her, rather than gaze at her?
Is she a character, or is she an object?
Greg Horn has his answer, Mr. Cho. What's yours?
This post is only going to be relevant for the next 24 hours but it contains a heck of possible spoiler, so if you care, turn away now, otherwise join me after the jump:
Update: Well, that gets a big nevermind. It might still be relevant for a future storyline though, so I'm leaving it up.
Read more
Remember when Justice League of America #1 came out, and it was implied that Buddy "Animal Man" Baker didn't survive 52, and then he did die, and everyone was sad, and then he was brought back to life, and everyone was happy again?
Yeah about that...
This is a sketch of a deleted page from 52 #47: 
Those are the Yellow Aliens who operate outside the DC Universe that gave Buddy his powers and saved his life, just after redirecting him through time and space to, basically, last week's issue. And at the bottom of the page one reassures the other by saying "Believe in Her"...
... which is the mantra of 52's new space tyrant, Lady Styx.
On the one hand, this is good. It elevates Lady Styx to the level of reality-threatening villain, putting her on par with Mr. Mind and the (surprisingly still) unnamed backer of Intergang. If she controls such Fourth Wall violating entities as the Yellow Aliens, then she could re-write the entire DC Universe. Hopefully that means 52 #52 will wrap up her storyline in a slightly more satisfying way than having Lobo chucking her into a Sun-Eater.
On the other hand, it also means Buddy got back to Earth where and when he did because Lady Styx wanted him to, which can't be good for him or any of the Bakers.
Now maybe I'm wrong, and maybe it was cut because it wasn't actually relevant, but the sketches revealed that Egg Fu was behind the missing scientists, so maybe I'm not.
I'm just saying, just because Buddy made it back to Earth, doesn't mean he necessarily gets a happy ending...
... then again, this is comics. No one gets an ending...
