You've probably heard that Gail Simone was rather unceremoniously fired from "Batgirl."
There's a crossover--"Death of the Family"--going on in the Bat-books right now, promising to end with an "unspeakable tragedy" that puts Batman on the brink of "losing his humanity." Nightwing also loses "so much," according to solicits.
When Mike C. Nelson tweeted Gail "did you not put enough women in refrigerators or something?" she responded, "Funny you should say that."
So putting it all together: what character, probably female, is dying in "Death of the Family"?
After reading that Batman solicit, I would have guessed Alfred, and I still think that's the most likely situation. Who else's death would have such a major impact on Batman and Nightwing? He's not exactly a woman in a refrigerator, though, except in a very metaphorical sense. Unless Joker actually stuffs him in a fridge.
The other person that makes sense is Commissioner Gordon. He has the stronger ties to Batgirl, but what would they do in the wake of his death? We've barely seen any other GCPD characters, so it's not like there's someone they're grooming to take over. Still, might make sense that Gail would have something to say about this decision.
It might be Barbara Gordon, Sr. instead, which makes the most sense from a Gail-off-Batgirl perspective, if not a big-Batman-crossover perspective. Neither Bruce nor Dick have much connection to her, but Gail's been building her up as a supporting character in "Batgirl," and she's definitely "family." I can see where "oh, hey, we're killing Barbara Sr." might lead to some friction. But if Barbara Sr. is one of several casualties, it actually makes the most sense.
If not for the solicit that explicitly said Barbara was alive and confronting her brother, I'd guess that Barbara herself would be dying, in part as a "be careful what you wish for" to those annoying (to DC, anyway) Cass/Steph/Oracle fans.
Maybe I'm wrong, but it sure looks like this is the direction things are headed. Someone is dying in "Death of the Family," probably multiple someones, and the result is Gail Simone being kicked off a book that owes its popularity largely to her presence. Apologies to Ray Fawkes, but I don't think I'll be following his tenure on the character.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Sunday, November 11, 2012
A story of nerdrage past
I remember a time in 8th Grade, I think it was. I was walking to my lunch table, probably to talk about Star Wars or something with my equally geeky friends, when some girls at their table talked to me. I don't remember really if they just said hi or asked me how I was or asked me to sit with them or what. What I do remember is blowing them off with some rather rude language.
I was on to them.
Even some of my friends were surprised by my conduct, but I knew better. Years of taunting and bullying had put me on-guard. I'd naïvely entered enough seemingly-innocent conversations or answered apparently innocuous questions that inevitably led to embarrassment and humiliation; I may not have always known a trap when I saw one, but I'd had enough experience that I wouldn't walk into such a blatantly obvious one. Better to ignore it or fire a warning shot. I wasn't going to let them mess with me, not without a fight, anyway.
I mean, really. Those girls really thought I'd believe they wanted to talk to me? What kind of idiot did I look like?
This is just one of far, far too many examples of how being the target of bullying messes up your entire approach to the world. It's only been within the last couple of years that I've actually been able to understand how screwed-up some of my instincts are. I still can't take a compliment without wondering if it's meant sarcastically, can't stop imagining that people who are friendly to my face are actually laughing at me behind my back. When your formative years are dominated by dysfunctional, abusive relationships with your peers, it's hard to break out of the negative, cynical, paranoid thought processes that develop as a result.
And all this is a roundabout way of saying that I completely understand why the "Fake Geek Girl" meme has taken root in the collective male nerd consciousness. I know why the notion exists, and I know why it's alluring, because I've been subject to the same basic thought-biases myself.
Which is not to say that I can explain the whole thing; I'm no psychologist. But I know what it's like to have that suspicion-bordering-on-certainty that anyone who's being nice to you, anyone who's entering your conversation or trying to engage with you who isn't clearly an outcast in the same way you are, is working with sinister ulterior motives. Humans are very good at recognizing patterns--patterns like "this cool/attractive person wants to talk to me/be my friend -> no, turns out they just wanted to humiliate me in front of everyone"--and it doesn't take long for those patterns to get ingrained. And once you've got those patterns in your head, you start comparing every experience to them, and you learn pretty quickly that making a type 2 error--a false negative--is far more costly in the short-term than a type 1 false positive error.
Consequently, you become a jerkass to anyone outside your clique, which you don't realize at the time is exactly the original problem. You withdraw. You become like an abused animal, flinching at every outstretched hand, and sometimes lashing out with a preemptive strike.
This doesn't make the "Fake Geek Girl" meme any less sexist or otherwise terrible, not by a longshot. After all, you don't see this kind of backlash against self-professed geeky guys like Vin Diesel who would have been equally out of place at the lunch table. It perpetuates negative stereotypes on every end, and continues a cycle of negativity, abuse, and bullying that should never have begun in the first place, and certainly should never have extended beyond the bounds of the junior high. But the magic of the Internet is that abuse, bullying, and cliqueishness can encompass the whole world, and the increasing popularity of aspects of "geek culture" means that geeks can maintain this weird cognitive dissonance that simultaneously assumes that geeky stuff is stuff that no one would genuinely like unless they were an outcast, but girls only like it because they're jumping on this huge bandwagon. Naturally, typical nerd entitlement and a dash of MRA misogyny keep the whole thing at a nicely disgusting level of discourse.
I sympathize with the folks who dreamt up this "fake geek girl" meme, I really do. I know where they're coming from, and I've been there myself. Which is why I feel justified in saying they need to knock it the heck off. Grow up. See a therapist. Work out these issues, because the cost-benefit analysis that kept you alive in junior high isn't applicable in the real world. Constantly assuming that every nice gesture disguises malice, constantly assuming that no one would want to be in your situation (and yet thinking that people are pretending to be in your situation) denies you real human contact and relationships, and turns you into something twisted, bitter, self-absorbed, and entitled. And that really is someone that no one should want to be.
And what's worse, it makes you into a bully yourself. When you scoff derisively at someone who just wants to join the club, who just wants to be part of the group, you're perpetuating the cycle that led you to be the suspicious, bitter cynic you've become. Remember how crappy it felt to know that you were on the bottom of the social hierarchy? It doesn't feel any better to the people you're trying to shove down there, and it shouldn't make you feel better that you've managed to elevate yourself at the expense of others.
I mean, didn't you ever watch a teen sitcom in the '90s?
The social hierarchy that sucked in high school doesn't actually have to be perpetuated outside of those brick walls. Society has its own crappy caste system without you inventing new cliques to keep people out of.
Cut it out. Get some therapy. Work out your problems. And burn the damn "No Girls Allowed" sign.
I was on to them.
Even some of my friends were surprised by my conduct, but I knew better. Years of taunting and bullying had put me on-guard. I'd naïvely entered enough seemingly-innocent conversations or answered apparently innocuous questions that inevitably led to embarrassment and humiliation; I may not have always known a trap when I saw one, but I'd had enough experience that I wouldn't walk into such a blatantly obvious one. Better to ignore it or fire a warning shot. I wasn't going to let them mess with me, not without a fight, anyway.
I mean, really. Those girls really thought I'd believe they wanted to talk to me? What kind of idiot did I look like?
This is just one of far, far too many examples of how being the target of bullying messes up your entire approach to the world. It's only been within the last couple of years that I've actually been able to understand how screwed-up some of my instincts are. I still can't take a compliment without wondering if it's meant sarcastically, can't stop imagining that people who are friendly to my face are actually laughing at me behind my back. When your formative years are dominated by dysfunctional, abusive relationships with your peers, it's hard to break out of the negative, cynical, paranoid thought processes that develop as a result.
And all this is a roundabout way of saying that I completely understand why the "Fake Geek Girl" meme has taken root in the collective male nerd consciousness. I know why the notion exists, and I know why it's alluring, because I've been subject to the same basic thought-biases myself.
Which is not to say that I can explain the whole thing; I'm no psychologist. But I know what it's like to have that suspicion-bordering-on-certainty that anyone who's being nice to you, anyone who's entering your conversation or trying to engage with you who isn't clearly an outcast in the same way you are, is working with sinister ulterior motives. Humans are very good at recognizing patterns--patterns like "this cool/attractive person wants to talk to me/be my friend -> no, turns out they just wanted to humiliate me in front of everyone"--and it doesn't take long for those patterns to get ingrained. And once you've got those patterns in your head, you start comparing every experience to them, and you learn pretty quickly that making a type 2 error--a false negative--is far more costly in the short-term than a type 1 false positive error.
Consequently, you become a jerkass to anyone outside your clique, which you don't realize at the time is exactly the original problem. You withdraw. You become like an abused animal, flinching at every outstretched hand, and sometimes lashing out with a preemptive strike.
This doesn't make the "Fake Geek Girl" meme any less sexist or otherwise terrible, not by a longshot. After all, you don't see this kind of backlash against self-professed geeky guys like Vin Diesel who would have been equally out of place at the lunch table. It perpetuates negative stereotypes on every end, and continues a cycle of negativity, abuse, and bullying that should never have begun in the first place, and certainly should never have extended beyond the bounds of the junior high. But the magic of the Internet is that abuse, bullying, and cliqueishness can encompass the whole world, and the increasing popularity of aspects of "geek culture" means that geeks can maintain this weird cognitive dissonance that simultaneously assumes that geeky stuff is stuff that no one would genuinely like unless they were an outcast, but girls only like it because they're jumping on this huge bandwagon. Naturally, typical nerd entitlement and a dash of MRA misogyny keep the whole thing at a nicely disgusting level of discourse.
I sympathize with the folks who dreamt up this "fake geek girl" meme, I really do. I know where they're coming from, and I've been there myself. Which is why I feel justified in saying they need to knock it the heck off. Grow up. See a therapist. Work out these issues, because the cost-benefit analysis that kept you alive in junior high isn't applicable in the real world. Constantly assuming that every nice gesture disguises malice, constantly assuming that no one would want to be in your situation (and yet thinking that people are pretending to be in your situation) denies you real human contact and relationships, and turns you into something twisted, bitter, self-absorbed, and entitled. And that really is someone that no one should want to be.
And what's worse, it makes you into a bully yourself. When you scoff derisively at someone who just wants to join the club, who just wants to be part of the group, you're perpetuating the cycle that led you to be the suspicious, bitter cynic you've become. Remember how crappy it felt to know that you were on the bottom of the social hierarchy? It doesn't feel any better to the people you're trying to shove down there, and it shouldn't make you feel better that you've managed to elevate yourself at the expense of others.
I mean, didn't you ever watch a teen sitcom in the '90s?
The social hierarchy that sucked in high school doesn't actually have to be perpetuated outside of those brick walls. Society has its own crappy caste system without you inventing new cliques to keep people out of.
Cut it out. Get some therapy. Work out your problems. And burn the damn "No Girls Allowed" sign.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Not the Daily Planet!
New revelations from "Superman (vol. 3)" #13 suggest that Clark Kent will be quitting his job at the Daily Planet1. This is, of course, an entirely unprecedented change, since Clark has always worked for the Planet.
Well, except when it was the Star. But it's been the Planet since the radio days, and Clark has always worked there.
Oh, except for that 15-year span where he anchored the WGBS newscast. But he's worked for the Planet ever since the Crisis.
Except for that time when, under the influence of the Eradicator, he quit the Planet to work for Collin Thornton's Newstime magazine. And the time when Lex Luthor bought the Daily Planet, dismantled it, and fired Clark (and most everyone else) as he rolled it into his multimedia news service, LexCom. And the time when Clark was fired from the Planet for writing a true-but-unprovable story about President Luthor's involvement in the Imperiex War.
Look, I'm on-board with thinking that the New 52 reboot was largely unnecessary, and that a lot of the changes have been for the worse (cf. briefless Kryptonian armor). But I just can't work up a nerdrage over this one. Newspapers are struggling, and the traditional media is having a crisis of spinelessness (and these are not unrelated problems). The principled, idealistic, ascetic Clark Kent of this new DCU is the kind of person who might strike out on his own to do real, hard-hitting journalism, unhampered by corporate sponsorship or the need to turn a profit. As someone who can see and hear everything, who doesn't need to eat or sleep, who isn't necessarily reliant on a regular paycheck, who can't be physically threatened or intimidated, and who is unflaggingly honest3, Clark is actually the perfect person to take on this kind of job.
At worst, it'll be a temporary change, shaking up the status quo for a little bit. At best, it'll be something that actually works really well and sticks around for awhile, like the WGBS job in the '70s-80s. If nothing else, I hope it leads to some interesting new stories, and that it means there'll be more focus on Clark Kent doing Clark Kent things than there has been in the last several years.
1. They also suggest that Clark's only been a reporter for 5 years, when he was working for the Star at least 6 years ago in the current timeline. And that's assuming no time has actually passed since "Action Comics (vol. 2) #1"
2. That said, the troubling part of all this is the article I read that referenced Matt Drudge in the context of Clark's blogging career, which seems like the exact opposite of anything Clark should be doing. Part of it, sure, is my decidedly liberal political bent. But part of it is also the fact that Drudge has a history of ideologically-motivated and heavily slanted stories, factual errors, and the precise kind of scandal-sheet celebrity-stalking "news" that Clark decries in the preview pages. I hope the treatment ends up, ironically, being better than the reporting.
3. Except for that whole secret identity issue.
Well, except when it was the Star. But it's been the Planet since the radio days, and Clark has always worked there.
Oh, except for that 15-year span where he anchored the WGBS newscast. But he's worked for the Planet ever since the Crisis.
Except for that time when, under the influence of the Eradicator, he quit the Planet to work for Collin Thornton's Newstime magazine. And the time when Lex Luthor bought the Daily Planet, dismantled it, and fired Clark (and most everyone else) as he rolled it into his multimedia news service, LexCom. And the time when Clark was fired from the Planet for writing a true-but-unprovable story about President Luthor's involvement in the Imperiex War.
Look, I'm on-board with thinking that the New 52 reboot was largely unnecessary, and that a lot of the changes have been for the worse (cf. briefless Kryptonian armor). But I just can't work up a nerdrage over this one. Newspapers are struggling, and the traditional media is having a crisis of spinelessness (and these are not unrelated problems). The principled, idealistic, ascetic Clark Kent of this new DCU is the kind of person who might strike out on his own to do real, hard-hitting journalism, unhampered by corporate sponsorship or the need to turn a profit. As someone who can see and hear everything, who doesn't need to eat or sleep, who isn't necessarily reliant on a regular paycheck, who can't be physically threatened or intimidated, and who is unflaggingly honest3, Clark is actually the perfect person to take on this kind of job.
At worst, it'll be a temporary change, shaking up the status quo for a little bit. At best, it'll be something that actually works really well and sticks around for awhile, like the WGBS job in the '70s-80s. If nothing else, I hope it leads to some interesting new stories, and that it means there'll be more focus on Clark Kent doing Clark Kent things than there has been in the last several years.
1. They also suggest that Clark's only been a reporter for 5 years, when he was working for the Star at least 6 years ago in the current timeline. And that's assuming no time has actually passed since "Action Comics (vol. 2) #1"
2. That said, the troubling part of all this is the article I read that referenced Matt Drudge in the context of Clark's blogging career, which seems like the exact opposite of anything Clark should be doing. Part of it, sure, is my decidedly liberal political bent. But part of it is also the fact that Drudge has a history of ideologically-motivated and heavily slanted stories, factual errors, and the precise kind of scandal-sheet celebrity-stalking "news" that Clark decries in the preview pages. I hope the treatment ends up, ironically, being better than the reporting.
3. Except for that whole secret identity issue.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
With one magic word...
I didn't read "Justice League" #0, but I've read plenty about it. I haven't cared for the characterization of anyone, nor the arbitrary changes, nor even Gary Frank's art this time around. I can't think of many artists who I'd find less suited to a character like Captain Marvel than Gary Frank. It's not that he's not a good artist, it's just the same reason I wouldn't put Steve Dillon on a Care Bears comic.
It might be naïve optimism at this point, or it might be that Geoff Johns has made his writing so clichéd and nuance-free that it's simple to extrapolate the plotline, but I think I see where he's trying to go with this. Billy Batson is a jerkass, but he's a jerkass with a heart of gold. Gaining the powers of Shazam--and particularly the wisdom of Zeus--will eventually force him to become a better person and a hero and whatnot. I suspect that's the endpoint of this story, showing how Billy grows as a person into a true champion. It's a redemption story, it's the story that "Amazing Fantasy" #15 told in like twelve pages. It might even be a worthwhile story, but it's not a story I want to read.
There are two reasons for this. One is that, in order to tell this story, Johns seems to think that he needed to make the protagonist a generally unlikable dick, so that his eventual redemption would be that much greater. That's anything but necessary; I honestly think it's lazy. It's easier to write characters at the extremes than characters who actually have some semblance of recognizable humanity. Moreover, it's forced Johns to generate characters who are even more extreme jerkasses, so that there's some contrast between the protagonist and the villains. So the rich jackass dad in the story, who would otherwise be the transplanted smarmy jerk from any '80s underdog movie, has to be a Snidely Whiplash-type who would assault a child in broad daylight. It's sloppy, it's lazy, it's unnecessary.
But the other reason is a larger one, one exemplified by the rest of the book that "Shazam" has been a backup in. If Billy Batson were the only character who had fallen so far so he could pick himself back up, it wouldn't be quite so unpalatable. But Geoff Johns' whole approach to the New 52 has been to make the heroes arrogant, unlikable, abrasive jerkasses, to the point where it takes them five years to realize that, hey, maybe they should learn some teamwork. Making Billy Batson a jerkass only blends him into the morass of unlikable assholes that the Justice League has become.
I know there's an audience for this version ofCaptain Marvel. The guy who works my LCS loves it. But I'm getting sick and tired of reading about "heroes" who behave like villains, and I'm getting sicker and tireder of what the villains have to become to provide that contrast.
I finally dropped "Justice League" this week. I won't be looking back.
It might be naïve optimism at this point, or it might be that Geoff Johns has made his writing so clichéd and nuance-free that it's simple to extrapolate the plotline, but I think I see where he's trying to go with this. Billy Batson is a jerkass, but he's a jerkass with a heart of gold. Gaining the powers of Shazam--and particularly the wisdom of Zeus--will eventually force him to become a better person and a hero and whatnot. I suspect that's the endpoint of this story, showing how Billy grows as a person into a true champion. It's a redemption story, it's the story that "Amazing Fantasy" #15 told in like twelve pages. It might even be a worthwhile story, but it's not a story I want to read.
There are two reasons for this. One is that, in order to tell this story, Johns seems to think that he needed to make the protagonist a generally unlikable dick, so that his eventual redemption would be that much greater. That's anything but necessary; I honestly think it's lazy. It's easier to write characters at the extremes than characters who actually have some semblance of recognizable humanity. Moreover, it's forced Johns to generate characters who are even more extreme jerkasses, so that there's some contrast between the protagonist and the villains. So the rich jackass dad in the story, who would otherwise be the transplanted smarmy jerk from any '80s underdog movie, has to be a Snidely Whiplash-type who would assault a child in broad daylight. It's sloppy, it's lazy, it's unnecessary.
But the other reason is a larger one, one exemplified by the rest of the book that "Shazam" has been a backup in. If Billy Batson were the only character who had fallen so far so he could pick himself back up, it wouldn't be quite so unpalatable. But Geoff Johns' whole approach to the New 52 has been to make the heroes arrogant, unlikable, abrasive jerkasses, to the point where it takes them five years to realize that, hey, maybe they should learn some teamwork. Making Billy Batson a jerkass only blends him into the morass of unlikable assholes that the Justice League has become.
I know there's an audience for this version of
I finally dropped "Justice League" this week. I won't be looking back.
Sunday, September 02, 2012
Focused Totality
Reading "Justice League" #12 finally gelled for me the big problems I have with the book. It's not just that it's bad, it's not just that it's melodramatic and poorly-written and incomprehensible and generally unattractive and wholly inconsequential to the rest of the universe. It's that it's all those things in very familiar ways.
In short, it's an early '90s X-Men series.
I may be being unfair with this comparison, since I read only a handful of X-Men comics in the early '90s (barring the beat-up copy of "The Dark Phoenix Saga" that I read repeatedly around the same time). But then, there's a reason I couldn't get into those comics, and that reason is that I had no idea what was ever going on with them. I remember trying to parse out what the heck was going on with Psylocke and Revanche and eventually just going back to Spider-Man and Moon Knight.
But when I read the overwrought exchange between Superman and Wonder Woman and how they both just felt so alone, right before kissing, I couldn't think of anything besides Scott and Jean or Gambit and Rogue. All the focus on infighting and drama and personal conflicts and relationships, all the villains who don't do much beyond monologuing or standing and looking menacing, all the references to past events that I'm not familiar with, all the Jim Lee art, and suddenly it all clicked together. Geoff Johns is trying to be Chris Claremont, and while it's been clear from the start that he was trying to focus this book like an exposé, only now has it become clear why.
It's not really surprising, the Claremont/Lee X-Men being among the best-selling comics in history. The entire New 52 seems to have been an effort in sympathetic magic or cargo cult comic creation, as if acting like it was the '90s again would bring back the prosperity the industry had during that time. It's just...weird. And it's certainly not the Justice League comic I want to be reading.
And so I'm done with it. Finally. Sealed with a kiss.
In short, it's an early '90s X-Men series.
I may be being unfair with this comparison, since I read only a handful of X-Men comics in the early '90s (barring the beat-up copy of "The Dark Phoenix Saga" that I read repeatedly around the same time). But then, there's a reason I couldn't get into those comics, and that reason is that I had no idea what was ever going on with them. I remember trying to parse out what the heck was going on with Psylocke and Revanche and eventually just going back to Spider-Man and Moon Knight.
But when I read the overwrought exchange between Superman and Wonder Woman and how they both just felt so alone, right before kissing, I couldn't think of anything besides Scott and Jean or Gambit and Rogue. All the focus on infighting and drama and personal conflicts and relationships, all the villains who don't do much beyond monologuing or standing and looking menacing, all the references to past events that I'm not familiar with, all the Jim Lee art, and suddenly it all clicked together. Geoff Johns is trying to be Chris Claremont, and while it's been clear from the start that he was trying to focus this book like an exposé, only now has it become clear why.
It's not really surprising, the Claremont/Lee X-Men being among the best-selling comics in history. The entire New 52 seems to have been an effort in sympathetic magic or cargo cult comic creation, as if acting like it was the '90s again would bring back the prosperity the industry had during that time. It's just...weird. And it's certainly not the Justice League comic I want to be reading.
And so I'm done with it. Finally. Sealed with a kiss.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Parallel Posters
Awhile back, some organization did a deal where you could send away for copies of the movie posters of the five Superman films, and naturally I jumped on it. I framed two of them (mostly because even cheap frames are kind of expensive) and had them both hanging up in my apartment. There was this one:
And this one:
Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm the only person alive who liked "Superman Returns." For all its flaws, it still had gorgeous effects, some great moments, and I'm a sucker for Superman and messianic imagery. I wouldn't want every Superman story to do that kind of thing, but I'm fine with it occasionally.
Plus, I like the poster a lot. The only Superman movie poster I like better is this one:
Which I'll probably be framing next. What can I say? It's dynamic, it has Superman on it, and it doesn't have Richard Pryor.
Now, you may be aware that the first teaser poster for Man of Steel came out. I thought it was kind of cool when I saw it online, but seeing it in person at the movie theater made me realize that I needed to get it. So I found it on eBay and overpaid for it. But it's a pretty cool poster, and I suspect it won't be the only one I get before the film comes out.
That said, I've got it up in the same room as the Superman Returns poster now, and I noticed something weird having them right near each other.
So, um, something really dangerous happening down and to the right, there, Superman?
Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm the only person alive who liked "Superman Returns." For all its flaws, it still had gorgeous effects, some great moments, and I'm a sucker for Superman and messianic imagery. I wouldn't want every Superman story to do that kind of thing, but I'm fine with it occasionally.
Plus, I like the poster a lot. The only Superman movie poster I like better is this one:
Now, you may be aware that the first teaser poster for Man of Steel came out. I thought it was kind of cool when I saw it online, but seeing it in person at the movie theater made me realize that I needed to get it. So I found it on eBay and overpaid for it. But it's a pretty cool poster, and I suspect it won't be the only one I get before the film comes out.
That said, I've got it up in the same room as the Superman Returns poster now, and I noticed something weird having them right near each other.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Exposé Comics
I've realized recently that a lot of the problems I have with modern comics have the same genesis. I know I've done a bunch of reading of (and listening to) folks like Chris Sims and David Brothers, and that's influenced a lot of this, but I haven't been careful enough to document links or anything. So I apologize if I'm referencing other people's ideas without linking attribution, and if anyone wants to point out where some of these thoughts have originated, I'll be happy to add in the links.
That's assuming anyone still reads this blog, of course.
Anyway, it's clear that a lot of comics writers these days, mostly (inasmuch as I notice it) at DC have this weird sense of shame and embarrassment regarding comics of the past. Unfortunately, this seems to be tied into an overbearing sense of nostalgia, and desire to have comics be like they were back in that past.
And so there's this tendency to tell stories that attempt to justify those comics from the past, to show that they weren't just kids' stuff, that they're just as mature and nuanced and adult as comics are/can be today.
The way they accomplish this is by showing that there was stuff going on behind the scenes in those comics--mature stuff, grown-up stuff, not that silly four-color kiddie nonsense, no way. And so we get "Identity Crisis," showing that behind the simple stories of the '70s League, there were secrets and conspiracies and conflicts and rape. We get "Countdown to Infinite Crisis" which does much the same thing to the Bwa-Ha-Ha JLI era. We get "Flash: Rebirth," showing us that behind silly stick-in-the-mud Barry Allen was his mom's tragic death, that even his goofy outdated bowtie had an origin. We get Geoff Johns' "Aquaman," where people confront the character with comments taken directly from real-world message boards (which make no sense in the context of the New 52 DCU) and he shows that, no, Aquaman is totally badass.
And we get "Justice League," which makes the whole thing almost literal. Most of the action in "Justice League" happens off-panel, giving the reader a behind-the-scenes view instead. We've seen, from the hints here and there, that the familiar Justice League battles seem to all be happening--they've fought Starro and Amazo and the Key and so forth--but in our behind-the-scenes look, we see that the League is not a coalition of Super Friends, but a loose organization of powerful people who mostly can't stand each other, being coordinated by a put-upon government agent trying desperately to keep up their public façade of being chums.
And in their second storyline, their main villain is the guy who chronicled their first adventures, trying to show the world the "truth" about the League. Presumably, that truth is that they're a bunch of jerks who don't actually work well together.
It's all so...tabloid. Hence "exposé comics"--comics designed to publicize the seemy background behind what otherwise seem like innocuous, innocent events.
They're not new, really. Martin Pasko's Internet-infamous "Superman" (vol. 1) #330 is the same kind of thing, trying to show that something silly has a totally reasonable explanation. It's also not something that can't be done well; I'd argue that Mark Waid's "JLA: Year One" is kind of like this as well, fleshing out the characters (and doing a bit of retconning) between the scenes, adding in new conflicts and so forth. But there's no rape there, no murder, none of those cheap, tawdry plot devices that modern comics writers see as shortcuts to "mature" storytelling.
No, those come from the ur-example, Alan Moore's "Watchmen." "Watchmen" is the exposé comic, giving us a world where there are two ages of heroes. One seems simple and colorful and bright and optimistic, the other more dingy with shades of gray. But, we discover, that bright and optimistic era wasn't actually so. We learn, through flashbacks and Hollis Mason's exposé autobiography, that the "heroes" were flawed people with serious conflicts and--hey presto!--rape.
And so it seems like the lesson that Dan Didio and Brad Meltzer and Geoff Johns took from "Watchmen" is that the bright, four-colored comics of the past were unrealistic, and that lack of realism is something shameful and embarrassing. The way to make it more realistic was to expose the seedy background of interpersonal conflict and damaged people and murder and rape, and that would justify its existence, would validate their fandom and nostalgia, and would make the whole effort worthwhile.
"Watchmen" is a great book. I've read it multiple times. I've liked it every time. I'm getting to the point where I wish it was never written, where we could wipe it from history, rather than spend the rest of eternity trying to emulate it.
Superheroes are silly. There's no escaping that silliness. Slathering rape and murder on top of it only makes it silly in a more disgusting way, and makes the slatherer look silly for thinking that rape and murder, rather than depth and quality, are what make something "mature." I'd like to see DC Comics wake the hell up and embrace some of that silliness again. I'd like to see the sort of things we're getting from Marvel--the Pet Avengers, Atlantean hillbillies, "what if the Hulk had a Hulk?"--at DC again.
I wish we could get back to before "Watchmen."
That's assuming anyone still reads this blog, of course.
Anyway, it's clear that a lot of comics writers these days, mostly (inasmuch as I notice it) at DC have this weird sense of shame and embarrassment regarding comics of the past. Unfortunately, this seems to be tied into an overbearing sense of nostalgia, and desire to have comics be like they were back in that past.
And so there's this tendency to tell stories that attempt to justify those comics from the past, to show that they weren't just kids' stuff, that they're just as mature and nuanced and adult as comics are/can be today.
The way they accomplish this is by showing that there was stuff going on behind the scenes in those comics--mature stuff, grown-up stuff, not that silly four-color kiddie nonsense, no way. And so we get "Identity Crisis," showing that behind the simple stories of the '70s League, there were secrets and conspiracies and conflicts and rape. We get "Countdown to Infinite Crisis" which does much the same thing to the Bwa-Ha-Ha JLI era. We get "Flash: Rebirth," showing us that behind silly stick-in-the-mud Barry Allen was his mom's tragic death, that even his goofy outdated bowtie had an origin. We get Geoff Johns' "Aquaman," where people confront the character with comments taken directly from real-world message boards (which make no sense in the context of the New 52 DCU) and he shows that, no, Aquaman is totally badass.
And we get "Justice League," which makes the whole thing almost literal. Most of the action in "Justice League" happens off-panel, giving the reader a behind-the-scenes view instead. We've seen, from the hints here and there, that the familiar Justice League battles seem to all be happening--they've fought Starro and Amazo and the Key and so forth--but in our behind-the-scenes look, we see that the League is not a coalition of Super Friends, but a loose organization of powerful people who mostly can't stand each other, being coordinated by a put-upon government agent trying desperately to keep up their public façade of being chums.
And in their second storyline, their main villain is the guy who chronicled their first adventures, trying to show the world the "truth" about the League. Presumably, that truth is that they're a bunch of jerks who don't actually work well together.
It's all so...tabloid. Hence "exposé comics"--comics designed to publicize the seemy background behind what otherwise seem like innocuous, innocent events.
They're not new, really. Martin Pasko's Internet-infamous "Superman" (vol. 1) #330 is the same kind of thing, trying to show that something silly has a totally reasonable explanation. It's also not something that can't be done well; I'd argue that Mark Waid's "JLA: Year One" is kind of like this as well, fleshing out the characters (and doing a bit of retconning) between the scenes, adding in new conflicts and so forth. But there's no rape there, no murder, none of those cheap, tawdry plot devices that modern comics writers see as shortcuts to "mature" storytelling.
No, those come from the ur-example, Alan Moore's "Watchmen." "Watchmen" is the exposé comic, giving us a world where there are two ages of heroes. One seems simple and colorful and bright and optimistic, the other more dingy with shades of gray. But, we discover, that bright and optimistic era wasn't actually so. We learn, through flashbacks and Hollis Mason's exposé autobiography, that the "heroes" were flawed people with serious conflicts and--hey presto!--rape.
And so it seems like the lesson that Dan Didio and Brad Meltzer and Geoff Johns took from "Watchmen" is that the bright, four-colored comics of the past were unrealistic, and that lack of realism is something shameful and embarrassing. The way to make it more realistic was to expose the seedy background of interpersonal conflict and damaged people and murder and rape, and that would justify its existence, would validate their fandom and nostalgia, and would make the whole effort worthwhile.
"Watchmen" is a great book. I've read it multiple times. I've liked it every time. I'm getting to the point where I wish it was never written, where we could wipe it from history, rather than spend the rest of eternity trying to emulate it.
Superheroes are silly. There's no escaping that silliness. Slathering rape and murder on top of it only makes it silly in a more disgusting way, and makes the slatherer look silly for thinking that rape and murder, rather than depth and quality, are what make something "mature." I'd like to see DC Comics wake the hell up and embrace some of that silliness again. I'd like to see the sort of things we're getting from Marvel--the Pet Avengers, Atlantean hillbillies, "what if the Hulk had a Hulk?"--at DC again.
I wish we could get back to before "Watchmen."
Saturday, August 04, 2012
Brief Thoughts
Okay, a month without posting. Sorry about that. To make up for it, here are some things I've been thinking about recently.
Most of my free time right now has been devoted to Mass Effect 3 (except what's been devoted to watching the Olympics), and I'm right up against the last mission. It's actually timed really well, since I have to start working on stuff for work soon. The only thing keeping me from marathoning my way through it right now is that BioWare announced a new single-player DLC mission coming later in the summer, and I'm not sure I want to try beating the game twice. If I knew when Leviathan was slated to hit, I could make a more informed decision. Arrrgh. First world problems, I guess.
I finally managed to get "Love and Capes" vol. 3 recently, and I've been working my way through it today. It's fantastic as always, and touches on some oddly familiar territory with its real estate subplot, since my wife and I recently bought a house. I got to wondering if Thom Zahler would be willing to do a Superman book if DC offered one, but realized it just wouldn't be the same without the Lois & Clark marriage (or at this point, even a relationship). That led me to think that, like Tom Beland, he could do a great Spider-Man story...except Spider-Man isn't married anymore either.
Which got me thinking about married couples in comics, and...holy crap, there aren't many left, are there? The New 52 broke up everyone but Aquaman & Mera and Animal Man & Ellen Baker. Marvel has Reed & Sue Richards, Crystal & Ronan the Accuser, and the newly-married Northstar & Kyle Jinadu. From what I understand, even Storm & Black Panther are splitsville. Five married superhero couples in the entirety of the Big Two? That's pretty sad. It's getting to be that spouses are as absent in superhero comics as parents.
I really enjoyed "Action Comics" (vol. 2) #12, but I think it's super-weird that New 52 Captain Comet has Conduit's origin.
I'm going to check out the zero issue, but it looks like "Superboy" is going to be the first Superman-family book that I've dropped since "Superman/Batman." Superboy is a cipher, and the tie-ins with Teen Titans and so forth have left him without anything even resembling a supporting cast. I don't feel any connection with him as a character, largely because he has no real personality, and I have pretty much zero desire to read about whether or not he's going to be a hero. He's got an S-shield on his chest (and now, his bicep), of course he's going to be a hero. The fish-out-of-water naïveté is being done much better over in Supergirl, and she's actually got a story going on. Superboy is treading water, and much as I like Tom DeFalco, I don't think he's going to improve much on that.
But I'll give the zero issue a shot. It's only fair. I mean, he wrote Spider-Girl, right?
I really ought to watch "Superman vs. The Elite" one of these days. "All-Star Superman" too, for that matter. And "Justice League: Doom." The list of movies I've not watched because I've been playing Mass Effect all summer is rapidly increasing.
That's good enough for now, right? I've got some thoughts on digital comics I should write up soon. Maybe I'll do that this week.
Most of my free time right now has been devoted to Mass Effect 3 (except what's been devoted to watching the Olympics), and I'm right up against the last mission. It's actually timed really well, since I have to start working on stuff for work soon. The only thing keeping me from marathoning my way through it right now is that BioWare announced a new single-player DLC mission coming later in the summer, and I'm not sure I want to try beating the game twice. If I knew when Leviathan was slated to hit, I could make a more informed decision. Arrrgh. First world problems, I guess.
I finally managed to get "Love and Capes" vol. 3 recently, and I've been working my way through it today. It's fantastic as always, and touches on some oddly familiar territory with its real estate subplot, since my wife and I recently bought a house. I got to wondering if Thom Zahler would be willing to do a Superman book if DC offered one, but realized it just wouldn't be the same without the Lois & Clark marriage (or at this point, even a relationship). That led me to think that, like Tom Beland, he could do a great Spider-Man story...except Spider-Man isn't married anymore either.
Which got me thinking about married couples in comics, and...holy crap, there aren't many left, are there? The New 52 broke up everyone but Aquaman & Mera and Animal Man & Ellen Baker. Marvel has Reed & Sue Richards, Crystal & Ronan the Accuser, and the newly-married Northstar & Kyle Jinadu. From what I understand, even Storm & Black Panther are splitsville. Five married superhero couples in the entirety of the Big Two? That's pretty sad. It's getting to be that spouses are as absent in superhero comics as parents.
I really enjoyed "Action Comics" (vol. 2) #12, but I think it's super-weird that New 52 Captain Comet has Conduit's origin.
I'm going to check out the zero issue, but it looks like "Superboy" is going to be the first Superman-family book that I've dropped since "Superman/Batman." Superboy is a cipher, and the tie-ins with Teen Titans and so forth have left him without anything even resembling a supporting cast. I don't feel any connection with him as a character, largely because he has no real personality, and I have pretty much zero desire to read about whether or not he's going to be a hero. He's got an S-shield on his chest (and now, his bicep), of course he's going to be a hero. The fish-out-of-water naïveté is being done much better over in Supergirl, and she's actually got a story going on. Superboy is treading water, and much as I like Tom DeFalco, I don't think he's going to improve much on that.
But I'll give the zero issue a shot. It's only fair. I mean, he wrote Spider-Girl, right?
I really ought to watch "Superman vs. The Elite" one of these days. "All-Star Superman" too, for that matter. And "Justice League: Doom." The list of movies I've not watched because I've been playing Mass Effect all summer is rapidly increasing.
That's good enough for now, right? I've got some thoughts on digital comics I should write up soon. Maybe I'll do that this week.
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