Idiot Box Pull List – Week Of March 8th, 2015

Despite the noted absence of both The Flash and the Arrow, it was a busy week in the world of small-screen super-heroics.

On a tangentially related note, someone applied the Bechdel test to all of (the new) Doctor Who. The results are surprising.

The Walking Dead S5 E13 – Forget

Summary: During a secret meeting, Carol, Rick and Darryl hatch a plan to liberate handguns from Alexandria's control; upon the plan's completion, Darryl refuses to take a gun, deciding instead to abide by Alexandria's rules. Aaron and Darryl go hunting together, attempt to capture a wild horse before losing him to the zombie hordes; later, the two have dinner with Eric, and Darryl agrees to replace Eric as a recruiter. Deanna throws a party; the survivors have varying degrees of difficulty adjusting to polite society.

Notable lines: When he utters "[t]he more they're out there, the more they become what they really are," Darryl is almost certainly not talking about horses. Likewise when he says to Aaron: "You were trying to help him."

Memorable moment: By threatening Jessie's son, Carol demonstrates that she is willing to go at any length to ensure her group is safe. In the words of a fellow fan: "When the bogeyman goes to sleep, he checks under the bed for Carol."

Diversity score:

♀♀♀♀: Much of the episode focuses on Sasha's problems with adapting to civilized life, and a number of women interact with her in a more or less direct attempt to relieve that tension. Michonne is shown to be the most eager to embrace her new, more peaceful existence.

RRRR: Aaron features prominently in Darryl's plot; the two discuss their similar status as misfits. He also exchanges words (or rather: meaningful glances) with his partner Eric. Tara does not really stand out in this episode.

ππππ: Sasha's PTSD is probably the episode's most poignant plot. A touching moment occurs when Noah tries to leave the party only to have Glenn and Maggie talk him out of it, reminding him that they are "in it together"; the scene was reminiscient of many conversations I have had with parents and siblings at extended family gatherings.

. . .

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. S2 E12 – Who You Really Are

The second half of this season is certainly giving more attention to supernatural elements.

Summary: When an amnesic Sif appears on the shores of Portugal, the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. are called in to help. Through investigation and deduction, the agents figure out Sif had been sent to track down a Kree. Mockingbird and Skye locate the Kree, but Skye's powers manifest uncontrollably, and the alien escapes. Later, the agents catch Bintak the Kree as he attempts to recover a crate containing six diviners – "enough," he tells Coulson et al, "to create an army." Bintak restores Sif's memory, and in the course of their interaction, discovers that Skye has been terrigenized. A battle ensues over the course of which Skye demonstrates that she is not a threat by showing her willingness to sacrifice her freedom and well-being. Sif departs to Asgard with the Kree. In a conversation which Skye has the misfortune of overhearing, Fitz demonstrates he is basically the only compassionate person in Coulson's employ. Mockingbird and Agent Mackenzie are still up to something nefarious, and apparently it involves rendering Hunter unconscious.

Notable line: "There are tides in the universe that you cannot swim against." Sif, imparting cosmic wisdom.

Memorable moments: Every scene with Sif.

Diversity score:

♀♀♀♀: Somehow, Agent May seems to understand what Skye is going through without needing to be told, but this does not prevent them from having meaningful interactions. Sif, Skye, May and Mockingbird all have undeniable chemistry.

0: This episode is not explicitly LGBTQA-inclusive.

πππ: Agent May features prominently in this episode, as does Agent Mackenzie.

. . .

Powers S1 E1-3 – Pilot, Like a Power, Mickey Rooney Cries No More

I have not yet read Powers, though it has certainly been on my list for some time. Based on the critical literature and Brian Michael Bendis' reputation, I can only assume the comic is a perfectly decent deconstructionist take on the superhero. Unfortunately, Powers' translation to television has spawned a plodding behemoth of awkward character exposition. The giant's feet of clay is plot, which is remarkably thin and inchoate, and driven by some very uneven dialogue.

Notable line: Though most of Powers' characters seem content to mumble expletives, some hold a more sophisticated discourse. The teleporting Royale – probably the show's most interesting character – frequently waxes philosophical. "The secret to doing everything that you are capable of," he tells his protégée, "is to understand how little time you have."

Memorable moment: I'm sure there were some, but none readily come to mind.

Diversity score:

♀♀♀♀: Calista's interactions with Retro-Girl shows the remarkable depth – and strength – of both characters.

0: This series is arguably LGBTQA-inclusive in that Calista has suggested Royale and Simons are in a relationship. While Royale and Simons do interact, Calista may not be the best judge of such things. Saying that Royale is "identifiably LGBTQA" would certainly be a bit of a stretch at this time.

πππ: Considering how her subordinate status is frequently emphasized, it is hard not to think of Deena Pilgrim as Detective Christian Walker's side-kick. That being said, they did cast a person of colour when the role did not absolutely call for it.

"How can anything matter when every possible thing happens?"

Though last week was rather busy, I did manage to get a fair bit of reading done: I had the pleasure of perusing Azzarello and Risso's Batman: Broken City (2004), the first volume of Hickman and Dragotta's East of West (The Promise, 2013), and the second volume of Remender and Scalera's Black Science (Welcome, Nowhere; 2015). The title of this review is shamelessly stolen from Remender and Scalera's Black Science.

For their first contribution to Batman's canon, dynamic duo Azzarello and Risso channel Frank Miller to create a quaint and curious volume of comic-book noir. While seeking justice for the victim of a hired killer, Azzarello's Batman waxes theological, soliloquizing in the rain while perched upon the cornices of Risso's Gotham, a baroque monument carved out of black shadows. Broken City is not a whodunnit so much as a whydunnit: we are not delving into the mystery of the murderer's identity – it is not at all a mystery; Batman tells us outright: it was Croc. We are instead made to wonder about the motivation of the person who ordered the hit, and forced to to consider what it means to share our fallen world with such monsters.

Diversity score:

♀♀♀: Batman follows the trail of evidence through Gotham's underworld, repeatedly running into the mistress of a suspect, a woman named Margo Farr, who becomes something of a deuteragonist. Margo is clearly a "dame" after Frank Miller's heart; though coy to the point of cloying on her first meeting with the Dark Knight, she becomes bristly and evasive after he brushes off her advances. It is perhaps not entirely irrelevant to point out that all the women in Broken City are either murder victims or connected to the mob, often both.

0: This comic is not explicitly LGBTQA-inclusive.

πππ: Batman's most capable ally is detective Crispus Allen (whose name is inexplicably misspelled "Crispis"). His dialogue lays out more character than is customary for a character whose chief purpose is to disclose plot-precipitating information; much to his credit, Detective Allen is not exactly eager to trade notes with a vigilante. Azzarello introduces two Japanese mobsters named Fat Man and Little Boy, the former an amalgamation of sumo and yakuza, the latter a ninja with hints of geisha. Cringe-worthy as such characterization may seem to certain readers, Fat Man and Little Boy have at least some merit insofar as they manage to knock out the Batman.

For the first volume of East of West, Hickman delivers a very peculiar mash-up of alternate history and eschatology with a hint of King's Dark Tower series. In the aftermath of a mysterious cataclysm, North America was divided into seven warring nations. Wishing to exact vengeance upon the secret cabal of America's heads of states for the murder of his paramour, Death deserts his fellow Horsemen of the Apocalypse to exact his vengeance – oblivious to whatever part he may be playing in the prophesied End of the World.

Diversity score:

♀♀♀♀: Through Hu interactions with her sister Xiaolian (Death's paramour), the reader catches a glimpse of a fraught, lifelike relationship.

0: This comic is not explicitly LGBTQA-inclusive.

ππππ: East of West's America – like actual America – is a land of immigrants: ethnically diverse and torn apart by racial tensions. Though they say very little, Nick Dragotta manages to infuse Wolf and Crow with a kind of sombre dignity that transcends stereotypes about America's First Nations.

Black Science's second volume unravels the skeins of fate and deception even further than the first, uncovering motivations which even the most astute reader could hardly have suspected and, in the process, redeeming characters with whom there was previously very little reason to sympathize. While the accursed Pillar is still forcing the dimensionauts to jump from world to world, Remender's formula has not gotten stale; Scalera's surrealistic landscapes do not fail to impress.

Diversity score:

♀♀♀♀: Women dimensionauts continue to argue; Pia shows more determination than before.

0: This comic is not explicitly LGBTQA-inclusive.

ππππ: Welcome, Nowhere provides a great deal of backstory, including the origins of Kadir and the Native-American Techno-Shaman; both characters play increasingly significant roles.

Idiot Box Pull List – Week of March 1st, 2015

The Walking Dead S5 E12 – Remember

In his review of this week’s episode, Jeremy Egner of the New York Times calls our favourite bunch of survivors “a group of feral adapters straining against the bounds of polite existence.” He is not wrong.

Plot synopsis: Having arrived safely to Alexandria, Rick has a heart-to-heart with its head honcho, former congresswoman Deanna Munroe. Rick’s gang agrees to leave their firearms at the door (apparently, the zombie apocalypse is what it takes to make Americans reconsider the Second Amendment). Aaron shows Rick and Carl to their luxurious new home; Rick sheds his majestic beard and receives a haircut from Jessie, his affable new neighbour. One by one the survivors meet Deanna for an interview. The gang opts to sleep in the same living room for safety. Rick has something of a freak-out when Carl and Judith wander out of sight, and also a bit of a rage when the pistol he stashed in the woods goes missing. Carl follows the mysterious Enid through a secret passage beyond the wall and into the forest; after she gives him the slip, he loops around to the entrance for some zombie-slaying fun with dad. Tara, Glen and Noah try their hardest to tolerate the incompetence of the supply-run crew, but fisticuffs prove inevitable. In the end, Rick and Michonne are made constables and the survivors deem it safe to sleep in their own separate houses.

Notable line: “You said you're a family, that's what you said. It's absolutely amazing to me how people – with completely different backgrounds and nothing in common – can become that, don't you think?" Deanna Munroe calls attention to one of The Walking Dead’s central themes: the shifting boundary between in-group and out-group; the complex, volatile politics of that boundary.

Memorable moments: The way the survivors are bewildered by creature comforts provides the audience with a few choice opportunities to count their blessings. I was especially touched by Carl’s hesitation when faced with the choice between pool and video games.

Diversity score:

♀♀♀♀: It is worth noting when the television series wanders off the comic's beaten path: making Deanna (a woman) the leader of the Alexandria community is one such departure from the comic script. The way in which Carol sells herself dramatically short in her interview is a particularly poignant counterpoint to Michonne’s more straightforward espousal of the Alexandria project. Is Carol downplaying her strengths for the tactical advantage, or out of nostalgia? Perhaps both?

RRR: Eric is nowhere to be seen and Aaron does not play a particularly significant part. That being said, it does look like he is going to be a fixture – haters be damned. And Tara does not stand back idly when Aiden has his tantrum, either.

πππ: Michonne is still one of the main instigators of the new social situation; Glenn’s left-hook to Aiden’s face may give the wrong idea about martial arts and Koreans, but it is much too satisfying for criticism.

. . .

Gotham S1 E18 – Everyone Has a Cobblepot

Moral ambiguity goes to 11 as even Gordon must temper his ethics with practicality.

Summary: In keeping with its formula, Gotham presents four independent plots. For this week’s case, Gordon teams up with DA Harvey Dent to track down Commissioner Loeb’s legendary stash of blackmail material after the latter forces Bullock to produce a false confession, exonerating the murderous Detective Flass. Gordon and Dent follow their first lead straight into a deathtrap; Bullock swoops in just in time to save them from a horde of knife-happy bookies. Their second lead has them visit Penguin, who has heard Falcone discuss a mysterious, out-of-the-way farm with the comissionner. Gordon, Bullock and Penguin investigate, hoping to uncover boxes of incriminating material but instead find Myriam, Loeb's matricidal daughter. Rather than bruiting the scandal, Gordon uses it to gain leverage over Loeb. Previously, during Jim Gordon’s visit to the hospital, a recovering Alfred Pennyworth stops Bruce Wayne from tattling on the man who stabbed him. We finally meet Dr. Dollmacher (Colm Feore); he and Fish Mooney have a number of conversations so as to establish the parameters of their business relationship. Finding herself in a precarious position, Fish must reiterate her promise to the prisoners whose very lives she uses as bargaining chips. Edward Nygma continues his futile attempts to woo Ms. Kringle.

Notable line: "You know, you tell yourself: I'll just do this one bad thing, but all the good things I do later will make up for it. But they don't. There's still that bad thing." It turns out there is moral fiber underneath Bullock's cynicism.

Memorable moment: Many elements of this episode stretch credibility; we are getting the surrealism we have come to expect from the comic-book source material (i.e.: an obsequiously sweet elderly couple turns homicidal at the drop of a hat, Dr. Dollmacher’s surgical patchworks).

Diversity score:

♀♀: Chief Sarah Essen, Selina Kyle, and Myriam Loeb all play small but significant roles; Fish steals the show. Does Fish's new eye symbolize a novel outlook on life, and if so, is it a more compassionate or a more calculating perspective? Or is she becoming the Old Man of The Tell-Tale Heart? Be that as it may: none of the women interact directly or significantly with other women.

0: This episode is not explicitly LGBTQA-inclusive.

πππ: As previously mentionned, Fish and Chief Essen are featured prominently. I am not entirely sure what to make of the knife-wielding Chinese bookies.

. . .

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. S2 E11 – Aftershocks

Coulson's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. are back on the offensive.

Summary: In the aftermath of Skye’s exposure to the Terragen mist, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s last agents cope with the death of Agent Triplett each in their own way. Simmons fears a mutation pandemic; Fitz hides the results of Skye’s tests. Raina is none too pleased at having grown barbs; her attempted suicide is interrupted by a well-meaning capture mission which is itself interrupted by a mysterious teleporter. Hydra is looking to fill Whitehall’s vacancy, but the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. have plans of their own for their would-be ringleader Bakshi. Mockingbird and Agent Mackenzie are up to something, and it's probably nefarious.

Notable line: "Leper? I think you're a rockstar." Bobbie Morse could go undercover as a motivational speaker.

Memorable moment: Fitz is done feeling inadequate; he is now ready to share some of the last few months' hard-earned lessons. “You're just different now and there's nothing wrong with that."

Diversity score:

♀♀♀♀: Much of this episode takes the form of conversations between Skye and other capable women (and men!) on either side of a safety glass.

0: This episode is not explicitly LGBTQA-inclusive.

πππ: People of colour play important parts. Even the dead: Agent Tripplet is gone but not soon forgotten, and the tone of much of the episode is rather funereal.

Idiot Box Pull List - Week of February 22nd

Like most humans of the developed world, I enjoy television moving pictures on a screen. As most of the shows I watch are derived from the comic books I study, it occurs to me I should probably start thinking about them somewhat more critically. This is a first attempt.

. . .

The Walking Dead S5 E11 – The Distance

After Rick’s monologue last week, I was afraid not even an act of God could derail the grim train of thought the survivors have been on since Atlanta. It looks as though I was wrong and things are on the upswing.

Summary: Rick is not convinced that Aaron’s invitation to join a walled community is legitimate – after Woodbury and Terminus, can we blame him? Michonne provides an optimistic counterpoint to Rick’s paranoia. In order to verify the newcomer’s claims, Rick decides the best course of action is to take a car and an RV – which Aaron and his unseen accomplice have so generously provided – for a midnight drive. The writers stuff Aaron’s dialogue chock full of ambiguities and equivocations to stoke the fire of our suspicion. After splitting off upon encountering setbacks (and by “setbacks,” I mean: “shambling hordes of the undead”), team reconnaissance-car eventually reconvenes with the rest of the survivors in a decrepit warehouse. Aaron is reunited with his partner Eric whom the survivors apparently saved off-camera after he signaled his distress with a flare gun. The next morning they make their way to the gates of fabled Alexandria and everything is coming up Milhouse. (Or is it?)  

Notable line: “Even though you were wrong, you were still right.” Carol’s only line packs enough character to fill an entire episode.

Memorable moment: I wish I could say the most impactful scene was Aaron and Eric’s reunion, but I would be dishonest if I did not confess how I was overcome with perverse glee at the sight of a flare lodged into a walker’s face.

Diversity score:

♀♀♀: Michonne is clearly a key player in this week’s episode.

RRRR: As a comic-reader, I had been looking forward to Aaron and Eric’s introduction; I continue to be grateful to the writers for keeping walking clichés out of my Walking Dead. Ross Marquand’s performance is no bit part; Aaron’s role as the instigator of this week’s plot was clearly established a week ago, before any details about his character became known to the TV audience. All things considered, this character introduction was remarkably on-key.

πππ: Both incarnations of The Walking Dead feature people of colour in positions of considerable agency. This episode is no exception.

. . .

Gotham S1 E17 – Red Hood

An object lesson on the fickleness of loyalty.

Summary: Five simultaneously-occurring, non-intersecting plots unravel over the course of this episode. Gordon and Bullock’s weekly investigation focuses on a series of high-profile bank robberies by the Red Hood Gang; the case pretty much cracks itself as in-fighting over the trademark hood tears the gang apart. A depressed Barbara Kean plays host to Ivy and Selina; Fish Mooney uses some unorthodox negotiation tactics at Dr.Dollmacher’s organ farm. Penguin receives unexpected help from Butch to get liquor for his failing club. Alfred Pennyworth is paid a visit by a guilt-ridden fellow veteran with questionable motives.

Notable line: “Perhaps it’s not our friends but our enemies that define us.” The Penguin, quoting U2’s Cedars of Lebanon by way of Arkham Origins.

Memorable moment: The final seconds of Fish’s negotiation session.

Diversity score:

♀♀♀♀: Jada Pinket-Smith continues to shine as Fish Mooney. Selina’s cuttingly cynical response to Barbara’s lecture on the power of allure is almost subversive. Dr. Leslie Thompkins is sadly absent from this episode.

RRR: Showing LGBTQA characters (Barbara) in “ordinary” situations is an important aspect of representation.

πππ: While Fish Mooney steals the show, only one other person of colour gets a line. Chief of Police Sarah Essen, detectives Crispus Allen and Renée Montoya are all absent from this episode.

. . .

Agent Carter S1 E8 – Valediction

A season finale, hopefully not a series finale. 

Summary: Howard Stark and Edwin Jarvis surrender to the authorities in the aftermath of Dottie’s gas attack on a theater. The SSR sets up a trap for Dottie and Dr. Fennhoff using Howard Stark as bait. Dottie and Fennhoff outsmart the SSR, sending  a hypnotized policeman to capture Stark. The SSR rush to Stark’s secret hangar, arriving too late to prevent a hypnotized Howard from taking flight with a payload of deadly, psychosis-inducing gas. Carter and Dottie exchange words (and blows) in the control room where Fennhoff keeps feeding Stark hypnotic suggestion. Carter prevails; Fennhoff slips away; Carter talks Stark out of gassing Time Square and the day is saved. Meanwhile, Fennhoff’s words fall on Sousa’s deaf (err, plugged) ears and the latter serves the former an all-American knuckle sandwich. Later, at the secret SSR headquarters, Peggy Carter receives unanimous applause but Agent Thompson gets all the credit when the top brass drops in. Jarvis sets up Peggy and Angie in one of Stark’s houses and they all lived happily ever after.  

Notable line: “I know my value; anyone else’s opinion doesn’t really matter.” Margaret Carter’s post-conventional wisdom: applicable regardless of gender or creed. 

Memorable moment: Hayley Atwell’s sense of timing for repartee has been nothing short of stunning throughout the series.

Diversity score:♀♀♀♀: More than just a clash of female agencies, Agent Carter’s skirmish with Bridget Regan’s Dottie Underwood is a carefully choreographed articulation of conflicting philosophies.  

0: This episode is not explicitly LGBTQA-inclusive.

ππ: The only person of colour in this episode is the black policeman whom Fennhoff hypnotizes.

. . . 

Arrow S3 E15 – Nanda Parbat

The plot thickens as the series’s women approach center stage.

Summary: Against Oliver’s wishes, Thea confesses to Laurel how Sarah really died. In the aftermath of this conversation, Thea tips the League of Assassins as to Merlyn’s whereabouts. Laurel tracks down and engages Merlyn as Black Canary; he proves the superior fighter until Nyssa and her acolytes descend upon him. Oliver fails to prevent Merlyn from being taken away to Nanda Parbat to face the League of Assassin's draconian brand of justice, though he does manage to capture Nyssa. Nyssa gladly discloses Nanda Parbat’s location, fully expecting Team Arrow to fail in their rescue attempt. Oliver and Diggle borrow an ARGUS jet from Lyla, lead a two-men assault on the League’s headquarters, and are captured. Instead of executing them, Ra’s al Ghul makes Oliver an offer he can’t refuse. Meanwhile, back at Team Arrow’s headquarters, Thea frees Nyssa and tells her – a professional killer – how she murdered the her lover, because airing grievances is part of the healing process and there is absolutely no way that could go catastrophically wrong. Oh, and Felicity stops Ray Palmer from blowing himself up while building the A.T.O.M. suit and they have CW sexy-times.

Notable line: “This whole situation has gone from endearingly eccentric to creepily not okay.” Felicity, putting her foot down.

Memorable moment: Ray Palmer’s post-coital epiphany which leads to Iron Man’s the A.T.O.M. suit’s first flight.

Diversity score:

♀♀♀♀: This week’s plot is more or less entirely precipitated by Thea and Laurel’s conversation near the start of the episode. Both Thea and Laurel show remarkable strength of character standing up to Oliver, just as Felicity demonstrates the use of cool reason and moderation is more productive than Ray Palmer’s obsessiveness. Male characters still pull most of the strings, however.

RRR: Nyssa al Ghul’s conversation with Laurel about the moment she fell in love with Sarah gives us crucial insight into her character’s emotional depth. 

πππ: It is simultaneously refreshing and touching to see Diggle – the action hero – interact with his infant daughter.

Writing and Drawing the Dark Knight

Writing and drawing are two very different crafts. When a creator takes it upon himself to do both, the resulting fusion of art and storytelling can take the reader to unexpected places.

In Batman: Odyssey (2010-2012), Neal Adams attempts to show up James Joyce by making Bruce Wayne his very own Leopold Bloom. Like his modernist predecessor, the DC veteran takes a great deal of liberty with classical tropes: catabasis and cyclops make the cut, empowered female characters do not. The Homeric journey is stretched to cover less familiar territory where the reader meets Neanderthals, trolls, mutant Egyptian gods, and jive-talking mages.

(Matt Fraction’s gender-swapping Ody-C exhibits radically different sensibilities).

Thematically, the product of this collision between ancient inspiration and the modern male power fantasy is predictably uneven. At times Odyssey reads more like a retrospective of Neal Adams’ contributions to the Batman mythos than anything else: Deadman, the League of Assassins and Man-Bat all feature very prominently. As a spectral guide to the underworld, Deadman’s responsibility to Batman and Robin is like that of Virgil’s to Dante. The underworld in this case is a hollow earth overpopulated with dinosaurs, a fantasy cliché which, while satisfying in a gee-whiz sort of way, cannot help but remind the wary reader of Neal Adams’ climate-change denying theories of Earth’s expansion.

While Odyssey is all over the place when it comes to plot, themes and characterization, its narration is certainly very consistent: every episode is introduced and narrated by beefcake Bruce Wayne sitting across a table from an unseen interlocutor whose point of view the reader shares. Inexcusably, most of the frame story’s dialogue takes place in front of a computer-generated backdrop which could not have seemed less contrived even at the height of the nineties. Adams’ layouts masterfully integrate text, the flow of which is most easily intuited on his splash pages. The writer/illustrator's script is unfortunately not on the same level as his artistic vision: I frequently found myself looking back to previous frames or pages – for fear of having read them out of sequence – only to find out my confusion stemmed not from misleading layouts but rather from awkward or repetitive pieces of dialogue.

Diversity score:
♀♀:  None of the series’ fourteen issues depict a woman who is not under the direct and complete control of a man. Even Talia al Ghul is merely a pawn in her father's schemes.
0: The series is not explicitly LGBTQA-inclusive.
ππ: While Sensei, Ra's and Talia Al-Ghul all have significant impacts on Odyssey's plot, they tend to conform to the common stereotype of the scheming "oriental" mastermind. Moreover, the physiology of the craven primitives whom Batman and Robin must beat into compliance is worryingly reminiscent of caricatures based on racial stereotypes.

. . .

Walter Simonson's The Judas Coin (2012) tells six stories happening around the same cursed object: one of the thirty shekels of Judas Iscarioth's reward. The first tale is but a brief introduction, an account of Judas' last days which, instead of making a religious statement of any kind, focusses on the convoluted circumstances through which the coin came to line the pockets of a murderer. The second story skips 40 years forward as the coin travels to Celtic Europe by way of Roman legionnaires; the third takes place some 900 years afterwards, when Northerners go a-Viking on Welsh shores. The fourth episode follows the coin upon the High Seas during the golden age of piracy; the fifth, featuring Bat Lash, has the cursed piece of silver land in the Wild West. The sixth takes us at last to the "present day," where Batman has a run-in with Two-Face at the Gotham Historical Museum. The seventh and last tale, something of an epilogue, tracks the coin into the far future when it crosses paths with a certain Manhunter.

Simonson uses each self-contained story as an opportunity to explore a radically different artistic style. The sixth episode especially is a bit of a formalist experiment, forcing the reader to view the album at a 90 degrees angle and interspersing comic frames with ersatz newspaper clippings. Every story exhibits the creator's concern for setting: where Adams would be content to use a blur in lieu a background, Simonson gives us careful recreations of historical environments.

Diversity score:
♀♀♀♀:  Two of the seven stories show women exerting agency: in the second, we meet Ardra, a leader of the Celts;  in the seventh, the thieves Ledora and Fenette give Manhunter a run for his money.
0: This graphic novel is not explicitly LGBTQA-inclusive.
0: People of colour are alluded to once in flashback sequence, but are not otherwise represented in this graphic novel.

The Bechdel Test + The Vito Russo Test + The π Index

I believe it is not scandalous to suppose popular imaginaries contribute to the shaping of social reality: consequently, inclusive representation in fiction should be a matter of consideration in criticism. I have decided to formalize my appreciation for diversity in the form of a variation on two popular sets of criteria (the Bechdel test and the Vito Russo test). Going forward, all of my reviews will feature a short section rating fictions between ♀ and ♀♀♀♀ based on the following standards (with each criterion being worth one ♀):

1. The fiction features a woman who "has a name," or who is "tied into the plot in such a way that [her] removal would have a significant effect."

2. This woman talks about something other than a man ...

3. ... to another woman ...

4. ... who also "has a name."

The answer as to whether or not a fiction passes the Bechdel test will therefore take one of the following five formats:

0, ♀ or ♀♀: Fail: this fiction does not explicitly represent women's voices or women's worlds.

♀♀♀: This fiction comes close to representing women's voices or women's worlds.

♀♀♀♀: Pass: this fiction stands out for its representation of women's voices and women's worlds.

I will also consider whether the fictions I review pass the Vito Russo test for LGBTQA-inclusiveness. I will be taking into account the following criteria, each worth one R.

1. The fiction features a character who is identifiably LGBTQA.

2. This character is not "solely or predominantly defined by their sexual orientation or gender identity."
3. This character is "tied into the plot in such a way that their removal would have a significant effect" (i.e.: the character is not there merely to support a heteronormative character's story).
4. Supererogatory: This character interacts with at least one other identifiably LGBTQA character; this criterion cannot be met if 2 is not also fulfilled.

And so: fictions will receive one of five possible R scores:

0 or R: The fiction is not explicitly LGBTQA-inclusive.

RR: The fiction is somewhat LGBTQA-inclusive.

RRR: The fiction is noticeably LGBTQA-inclusive. 

RRRR: The fiction stands out on account of its LGBTQA-inclusiveness.

Lastly, I propose to adapt the Vito Russo test to assess the representations of people of colour using the following benchmarks:

1. The fiction features a character who is a person of colour. Non-human sapients do not count unless the issue of their rights and/or integration factors significantly into the plot.
2. This character cannot be summarized by popular stereotypes about people of colour.
3. This character is "tied into the plot in such a way that their removal would have a significant effect" (i.e.: the character is not there merely to support a white character's story).
4. Supererogatory: This character interacts with at least one other person of colour; this criterion cannot be met if 2 is not also fulfilled.

I will grant one π for each criterion, for a possibility of five different ratings on what I have termed "the π index":

0 or π: The fiction is not explicitly PoC-inclusive.

ππ: The fiction is somewhat PoC-inclusive.

πππ: The fiction is noticeably PoC-inclusive.

ππππ: The fiction stands out on account of its PoC-inclusiveness.

I understand none of these yardsticks provide a perfect measure of inclusiveness: meeting most (or all) of the criteria does not automatically place a work above criticism – nor is a fiction which does not conform to any of these standards necessarily bereft of aesthetic merit. These tests can nevertheless be used to jump-start a critical discussion; nuances which cannot be summarized by a four-point scale will have to receive more detailed attention under the relevant heading. Furthermore, I prefer to err on the side of inclusiveness: if an interaction between significant women characters is not exclusively about men, it will score a ♀♀♀♀.

Metanarrative as a Roadmap to Parallel Universes: "Multiversity" and "Black Science"

Ahead of Convergence – the event which will bring about “an end” to the current phase of the DC multiverse, but not (we are told) to its New Earth setting – Dan Didio has announced changes in editorial guidelines intended to put diverse storytelling approaches before such paltry things as canon and continuity. Whereas there is little doubt that 75 years of contradicting narratives might stick in the craw of a new reader intent on getting acquainted with the DC multiverse, it would be a mistake to operate under the assumption that a more streamlined setting might make complex exposition unnecessary. To be sure, comics’ most celebrated stories rarely depend on the reader’s acquaintance with lore: following the principle of Chekhov’s gun, writers tend to incorporate only the most relevant references to previous works. Be that as it may, crises and retcons would not have become a genre unto themselves if they did not speak to the interests of a significant portion of the comic-reading audience.

It is therefore not unreasonable to surmise that genre readers experience anagnorisis differently than the audiences of other fictions – the comic-reader, looking for coherence beyond the episodic plots, embarks on a personal quest to piece together the metanarrative of an expanding fictional continuum. The editors at DC have not been particularly consistent about providing clear directions on this journey: the original crisis (On Infinite Earths) is the only one of its kind to have a substantial metanarrative epilogue (History of the DC Universe, in which Harbinger details the consequences of the event on continuity). While Final Crisis is certainly a metanarrative – a story encompassing stories – it also raises more questions than it answers.

Grant Morrison’s Multiversity (especially its latest issue, the Guidebook) harkens back to Final Crisis, in part to tie up some of its loose ends, but mainly so as to connect disparate narratives within a coherent, purposeful whole. Despite the inadequate prose of some of its entries, the Multiversity Guidebook conveys a powerful sense of the explosion of narrative into metanarrative, forcing a reflexion on the relevance (or irrelevance) of canons in fiction.

Multiversity combines metanarrative with metafiction: multiple elements of the setting call attention to the artifactual character of stories, up to and including the metanarrative. Resuscitating a trope from The Flash of Two Worlds, Morrison shows the DC multiverse is held together by the comics medium in a kind of holographic structure: every realm is represented in every other realm in the form of a comic (interestingly, Batman comes to this realization the same way we do: by reading the Guidebook). Metafiction permeates the whole of DC's metaphysic down to its very nomenclature: the orrery of worlds is suspended in an aether called the Bleed, which is to say, in comic-book parlance, the image that runs off the page.

Metanarrative does not have to be an explicit or central element of plot. Most of the exposition in the first volume of Remender and Scalera’s Black Science is not metanarrative per se: the reader is instead made to dance around the story’s chronology, beginning in medias res (as is customary) before witnessing the chain of events leading to the plot trigger in a series of cleverly interspersed flashbacks. Grant McKay and his fellow dimensionauts are adrift in the quantum eververse, the maelstrom of all possible worlds. Though the action of Black Science focuses on a singular narrative thread (that is to say: it does not have to cope with the narrative entropy of a shared universe) it nevertheless has a highly ingenious way of intuiting that other narratives beyond the purview of the reader are equally relevant, especially insofar as they involve alternate-universe versions of the protagonist. The “reality” of the story is thereby shown to be derived from an arbitrary impulse of the reader, a fortuitous consequence of the inclination to make the first given information the central point of any interpretive scheme.

"There is no good side here." – Gail Simone's "The Movement"

In May 2014, the Tumblrs groaned: Gail Simone’s latest team-book was scheduled for cancellation with what seemed at the time like very little editorial fanfare. New characters at DC have not had very much luck this past decade; I was holding out hope The Movement might break the pattern. I was disappointed, if not altogether surprised.

(The title of this review is shamelessly lifted from the second volume of the series.)

As the protectors of their benighted urban setting of Coral City’s low-income neighborhood, the superpowered members of the Movement assume more complex roles than typical vigilantes. Between scenes of violence, our heroes work alongside muggle allies at improvised soup kitchens, shelters, and classrooms. While the scenes of urban domesticity give the book some grassroots credibility -- providing a moral counterpoint to the more straightforward styles of problem-solving traditionally promoted by the genre -- the Movement’s political endgame remains exceedingly vague. Altercations with a plethora of unrelated antagonists are made more complex than necessary by dissension within the ranks, creating a kafkaesque climate of all-against-all which tends to undermine the book’s message of pacifism and class solidarity. 

The Movement’s roster of misfit heroes boasts more diversity than the Planeteers: four of its six members are women, three of whom are women of colour. Virtue (née Holly Ann Fields) is a powerful empath capable of tapping into all of the energies of the emotional spectrum. As the practical, street-smart leader of the titular group, Virtue knows how to attract people to her cause: she is aided in her social justice mission by the geokinetic Tremor (Roshanna Chatterji, a transfer from Simone’s pre-Nu52 Secret Six); Katharsis (Kulap Villaysack), a former cop with a flight-suit and a very large collection of grudges; Vengeance Moth (Drew Fisher), a self-effacing wheelchair-user with energy-construct powers; Mouse (Jayden Revell), a kooky rat empath; and Burden (otherwise known as Christopher), a troubled teen with the ability to change into any one of the many demons that haunt his fervid religious imagination. 

Burden’s perspective as an inexperienced newcomer to seedy Coral City often serves as the reader’s way into The Movement’s fallen world. Though Burden’s naïveté is at times an excellent pretext for entertaining pathos, I suspect it also proves a very awkward fit for many readers; I was grateful for Batgirl’s cameos for providing a different, less obstructed point-of-view.

Ultimately, The Movement does not really break away from the conventions of the bourgeois power-fantasy: despite the book's emphasis on social issues, Coral City's beleaguered proletariat is not given any alternative to standing in a crossfire. Be that as it may, it would not be entirely fair to suggest Simone plays up class struggle as a shortcut to thematic substance. We must take into consideration the fact that The Movement’s storytelling style is consistent with its overt gospel of diversity: instead of a singular view of a narrative centered on objective violence, we are given multiple angles on a plot elaborated around complex interpersonal drama. While there is some evidence to suggest The Movement bit more than it could chew – tackling too many issues without giving any of them the nuance and attention it deserves – it is not unreasonable to suppose the need to wrap things up before cancellation affected the pace. When all is said and done, DC Comics should have given The Movement a much longer run in consideration of Simone’s concern for inclusiveness: cancelling the series on account of underwhelming sales flies in the face of the socially-progressive values the publisher professes to uphold.

For your edification ...

Coursera is showcasing an interesting selection of lecture series this winter, with subjects ranging from game theory to online surveilance law. I think I might watch some of the lectures on fantasy and science fiction if time allows, perhaps while I perform my morning exercises. Last semester I watched part of a series on comic books and graphic novels; I could not complete it due to conflicting commitments, but it was extremely refreshing to get a different perspective on the subject.

I recently watched and re-watched Don Hertzfeldt's It's Such a Beautiful Day, which was made available on Canadian Netflix a short while ago. It is truly a masterful piece of storytelling, articulating a deeply troubling impressionistic portrayal of mental illness through a series of clever philosophical vignettes. I was particularly impressed by the way in which Hertzfeldt utilizes space, cutting it up like an astute comic-book artist while making this division of the visual field stand for simultaneity instead of sequence.

On "Shipping"

I have limited experience with the "shipping" community. I have to think that interest in non-heteronormative relationships will eventually result in better representation.

Unfortunately, there does seem to be a degree of exoticization of the non-heteronormative other on the part of certain audiences. It is perhaps not quite objectification -- it is understandable that such audiences would value those things on the level of mere aesthetics. Problems arise when the authorial process bends under audience expectations in order to perpetuate heteronormative essentializations of non-heteronormative character and behaviour.

This is why I appreciate fictions that undermine audience expectations with regards to relationships. I was perversely thrilled at how many people could not see Korasami as "a thing" because both characters had previously dated men. It was a teachable moment: a time to open their eyes to bisexuality and/or the fluidity of orientation. Sadly, I feel as though it will be some time before male homosexuality receives the same treatment, largely because the hetero-males who run culture feel much more threatened by gay men than by bi-women or lesbian characters whom they somehow still manage to objectify.

Resolutions and Recommendations

January in Québec is cold and dreary; one of the only potentially good things about it is New Year's resolutions. Amongst other things, I have resolved to organize my online presence, and so I moved all of my creative writing from 2006 to the present onto another blog in order for this space to be fully dedicated to my half-baked ideas short critical essays. I am superlatively grateful to Zoe from Chic & Sassy Designs for the new-and-improved template. 

Also a resolution: to prepare more of my food. 

Another good thing about January is the abundance of recommendations appearing in the form of yearly reviews. After consulting Paste, CBR, Comics Alliance, and Mental Floss, I have settled on the following shortlist of tomes I definitely want to add to my collection:

- She-Hulk by Charles Soule, Javier Pulido and Ron Wemberly

- Moon Knight by Warren Ellis and Declan Shalvey

- Lumberjanes written and illustrated by the inimitable Noelle Stevenson (whose excellent Nimona can be read online).

- The latest Saga hardcover by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples

- The Wicked + the Divine by Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie

- Through the Woods, written and illustrated by Emily Carroll

I will also be adding these titles to my wishlist (in case anyone feels generous):

- Here, a formalist experiment by Richard McGuire

- The Wake by Scott Snyder and Sean Murphy

- Jolies ténèbres by Marie Pommepuy et Sébastien Cosset (collectively known as Kerascoët)

- East of West by Jonathan Hickman and Nick Dragotta

- Pretty Deadly by Kelly Sue DeConnick and Emma Rios

- Lazarus by Greg Rucka and Michael Lark

If I have not included certain of the more popular titles on this list (particularly, G. W. Wilson's Ms. Marvel or Grant Morrison's Multiversity), it is in some cases because I already own them. Indeed, I have recently reviewed Ms. Marvel and I very much look forward to its second volume. My pull-list currently consists of Multiversity, Justice League Dark, Constantine, The Sandman: Overture --and I systematically pre-order every hardcover/TPB of Aquaman, Wonder Woman and Swamp Thing.

I am also extremely excited about A. David Lewis' American Comics, Literary Theory and Religion (of which I have received a review copy; a first in my academic career). I do worry it may make my own work redundant.

What are you looking forward to reading in 2015?

"Men kill for the truth because they do not know how to live for it." -- G.W. Wilson's "Air"

The title for this review is stolen from the second volume
of G. Willow Wilson’s Air.

From 2008 to 2010, G. Willow Wilson chronicled the trials and tribulations of Blythe Cameron, hyperpract extraordinaire. Hyperpracts are (mostly) women and (much more rarely) men, ordinary in every respect except for their singular intuition and fierce imagination. Given the right circumstances, hyperpracts are capable of tapping into the essence of things, manipulating the symbols which ontologically pre-figure reality in order to produce a variety of thaumaturgic effects (though mainly: efficient, expedient air travel).

If my pseudo-metaphysical verbiage does not truly give it justice, it is because Wilson’s Air is utterly unpigeon-holeable. Air is a treatise on the power of words, a meditation on the origins of ideas, a thesis on liminality; it is a narratologist’s fantasy. Air is a pamphlet against both fundamentalism and the extremes of relativism, arguing that symbols are too wild and too precious to bow to any agenda. While certainly a highly satisfying alternate-history/sci-fi yarn, Air is above all a love story -- though not by any means a straightforward one.

Wilson is particularly adept at presenting us multilayered characters, progressively revealing their motivations by unraveling the intricate web of their allegiances. We make acquaintance with certain very colourful organizations in the process, some which we might wish were real -- sky-faring gypsies and punk-rock mujahideens -- others which we cannot help but hate for embodying our own paranoid, parochialist tendencies.

Blythe Cameron is a complicated personna in that she alternates between tumbleweed passivity and extremes of resourcefulness; one might charitably suppose this to be the path a traveller must walk to find herself in a world of unknowables. Thinking back on the story as a whole, I am grateful to observe a tendency towards increasing agency is indeed part of Blythe's evolution.

M.K. Perker’s art is a model of restraint; action scenes (and even hallucinations) are depicted with rare tact and sobriety, leaving more than enough breathing room for the reader’s imagination -- and not a little ambiguity.

Getting Better in a Difficult World

Hello close and/or distant friends,

I am writing this note from grey Burlington, on the wind-swept shores of lake Ontario.

2014 came and went. A difficult year for a lot of us, yes? And by “a lot of us,” I am expanding the circle to include “residents of planet Earth.” I daresay 2014 was at least a little awful for the major part of the human species, what with the Crimean crisis, ISIS, Ebola, a slew of new homophobic laws, and the rhetoric of austerity rising to a shrill, fever pitch.

Within the narrower circle of my friends and acquaintances, I am aware of lost jobs/prospects, mental/physical illnesses, and mourning. There were also pleasant disturbances which, for all their pleasantness, are disturbances nonetheless: births and relocations. For the most part, my friends have again proven themselves to be extremely resilient, resourceful and compassionate. And so: congratulations! You played a very bad hand very well.

2014 is the year in which I recovered from mononucleosis. This might not sound like A Big Deal but Actually, It Kindof Is. To give you an idea: there were some days around February that if I dropped something on the floor, it did not get picked up for a few... weeks. Mononucleosis makes the Picking Up of Things highly improbable, and the Pulling Up by One’s Bootstraps effectively impossible. It affords unparalleled insight into human limitation, like a preview of life at 80. Do not catch it.

In 2014 I did not graduate from anything, but I did meet many new and important people, first and foremost the man from whose house I am currently writing this note. Stuff I tweeted (about Gamergate, of all stupid things) received the attention of comic-book legend Andy Khouri. A comment I left on YouTube (about Wittgenstein) was picked up by Idea Channel. I was invited onto a board of comic-book academics (I need to get a business card that says: “Etienne Domingue: Comic-Book Scholar and Master of the Dark Arts”).

I read -- not prodigiously, but attentively, laboriously -- the kind of reading which makes every subsequent attempt at writing superlatively daunting. Between panic attacks I was able to chart a course for future study, a detour which will take as long as it will take and which I will probably still be on well after my doctorate (that is, if I ever finish my doctorate, which is doubtful). 

In 2015, I have discovered misanthropy is not at all endearing to me, and neither is the belief in “success” as a rigid designator. Quoth Granny Hempstock: “You don’t pass or fail at being a person, dear.”

In 2015 I will probably fail to save the Faculté de théologie et d’études religieuses from becoming one of the first victims of nefarious occult influences. Hopefully I won’t let it get me down too much. I plan to make more loud music, and to keep drawing badly. In an ideal world, I would also like to get back into writing badly; academic writing doesn’t count, not because I do it well (I don’t) but because it doesn’t really matter as much as stories matter (to me). 

Also: Exercise? Maybe? Not making any promises there, to be honest.

I hope we make 2015 healthy, happy and fun -- and that if you’re struggling, you don’t struggle alone. The world needs more deep thoughts, good feelings, bad art, and silly noise; fewer entitled, curmudgeonly naysayers.

AGE QUOD AGIS,     

e.     

On the Subject of Angry Internets

I feel as though there must be such a thing as "legitimate outrage." Insofar as many traditions in our civilization perpetuate inequality, a "culture of outrage" might not be so bad a thing if it can lead people to take the step from discourse to action.

As Prof. Neil deGrasse Tyson's tweets have never victimized anyone, I fail to see how they might meet the criteria for "legitimate outrage."

Five Things for Which I Have No Patience

1. Verbiage

 All terms used in a manner specific to the argument must be thoroughly operationalized, particularly when they are borrowed from a foreign language. The expectation that all of the participants in the argument must be familiar with specific uses of language in advance of the argument is not only unfair; it is also very poor communicative strategy. 

2. Mistaking etymology for argument

The origins of words and their shifts in meaning, while they certainly present an aesthetic interest, are not germane to the argument. All variables must be operationalized in order to avoid speaking at cross purposes.

3. Mistaking word-play for argument

We are not permitted to infer anything about the facts outside of the language-game on the sole basis of the language-game's internal logic (grammar). Word-play is a creative use of language which by itself cannot reveal anything hidden in the world.

4. Mistaking form (convention) for the point

When trends in discourse (or narrative) reach a certain level of sophistication, it is tempting to ascribe more meaning to their form than to their content or context. This is a mistake: meaning is the whole, and more than the sum of its parts. 

5. Philosophical genealogies

An idea's pedigree does not matter. If an idea is to have any worth at all, it must be able to stand on its own merits without relying on reputation.

Addendum
I should nuance my position by stating I do not object to all theses which call attention to etymology, linguistic or literary conventions -- nor do I take exception to the notion that reading should take authorship into account. The aforementioned variables are all part of the broad situation which comprises "meaning." I only wish to object to the insistence that any single of these (largely extraneous) factors is paramount, or sufficient to argue a point convincingly. Formal logic does not have to be the whole of the argument but it should still be the crux of it under many -- if not most -- circumstances.

I make no reservation concerning my condemnation of verbiage, though. Using "ordinary" language and defining unusual terms is an absolute necessity.

Weëna

Minnesota, my brother and sister-in-law's feline roommate.

Catsitting takes me out of my usual element. My brother and sister-in-law borrowed some bédés from the local library, and so I read the first two volumes of Éric Corbeyran and Alice Picard's Weëna, an earnest (if derivative) attempt at mythopoeia which may not be available in English at this time. 

Weëna follows the titular character's quest to escape the dark destiny prophesied at the moment of her birth by a grim spectre. The deuteragonist, a young aristocrat with an unpronounceable name, seeks to marry Weëna in order to break an unspecified curse on his bloodline through the sacrifice of their hypothetical firstborn. With the perinatal portents, magical allies and trials of initiation, it sometimes feels as though the author must be writing the script between the lines of a fantasy tropes checklist. All of the characters wear their motivations on their sleeve, making absolutely certain to soliloquize in the most grandiloquent manner at every given opportunity. This penchant for awkward dialogue and frankly juvenile melodrama is highly unfortunate, as poor exposition detracts from the exploration of what might be an intricate and fascinating mythology.

Picard conjures enchanting scenery and striking fauna; the layouts, while not particularly innovative, serve the story well. I personally don't feel compelled to find out what happens to our young heroine, but I suppose there are worse ways to spend an hour with a cat.

"Good is not a thing you are, it's a thing you do" : 3 Reviews

This week I read two (relatively) recent anthologies: the first volume of G. Willow Wilson and Adrian Alphona’s Ms. Marvel, followed by Jeff Lemire and Terry Dodson’s Teen Titans: Earth One. I also perused yet another first volume, the New 52’s Voodoo by Ron Marz, Josh Williamson and Sam Basri. The title of this post is lifted from the pages of Ms. Marvel.

The first six issues of the new Ms. Marvel’s adventures are collected under the fitting title of No Normal, the implication being not only that there is nothing ordinary about a shape-shifting teenager in a world of marvels and monsters, but also that normalcy is itself a construct without any real moral status. Kamala Khan’s struggle to control her newfound powers mirrors her search for a functional identity; the usual sources are not forthcoming with solutions to either problem. American/secular values and familial/religious authority are shown to be as ill-equipped to assist Kamala with her shape-shifting abilities as they are ineffectual at helping her navigate her dual identity. 

No Normal is moreover highly atypical for a superhero story arc: we don’t encounter a real villain before issue 4, and none of the altercations show Ms. Marvel achieve unambiguous victory through the use of force. The focus is decidedly on character development, which is achieved through her many interactions with a colourful cast of New Jerseyan high-schoolers, wage-earners and misfits. Though it may not conform to the expectations of most readers, this focus on character development does not make for a slow pace: fortunately for us, Kamala has a knack for getting into trouble, and her Jersey City environment is depicted in such a vibrant way as to provide much comic relief.

No Normal has many highly interesting things to say about religion and ethics, but it shies away from giving any single character the theological or moral upper-hand. The numenal is encountered in a surrealistic dream-state which is almost a parody of both superhero fiction and traditional iconography. The conversational style of the hierophany undermines the traditional separation of sacred and profane, standing in stark contrast to the stodgy moralism of school and mosque.

+ Watch this insightful video on how Kamala Khan is changing the world of media for the better.

+ Read these G. Willow Wilson interviews with CBR and the New York Times.

. . .

Lemire and Dodson’s Teen Titans is a reimagining of the celebrated Wolfman/Pérez creation for the low-fantasy series Earth One. Focussing on a teen-aged ensemble cast rather than on a single adult protagonist (as in the Superman and Batman novels of the same series) makes for a very different kind of book. The plot’s progress is somewhat hampered by the need to provide background for all six of the main characters so that by the end of the first volume there are still more questions than answers.

In this new incarnation, the Titans are connected by more than just their heroic proclivities; five of them are orphans recruited without their consent into a Star Labs experiment. One can hardly help but wonder how much of the novel’s conflict makes sense seeing how most of it could have been avoided through a few lines of realistic dialogue. The plot depends rather excessively on the teenagers’ rebelliousness and extreme distrust of authority, perhaps even more so than it does on the cynical machinations of machiavellian scientist Elinore Stone.

Despite the seemingly gratuitous conflict, it is interesting to see the trope of the “evil stepmother” subverted in that at least some of  the Titans' foster-parents’ grow genuinely attached to the test-subjects. On the other hand, I am not sure how to interpret Lemire’s decision to make Elinore the architect of Cyborg (instead of Silas, Cyborg’s father in the original Wolfman/Pérez run). As much as I am in favour of reinterpreting popular narratives to include more women in positions of power and prestige, it is not clear to me that turning a martyr into an evil mastermind is an improvement on the source material. 

. . .

Having not read the whole of WildStorm’s Stormwatch/The Authority, I cannot really comment on Voodoo’s (un)faithfulness to earlier source material. The titular character is a mind-reading, shape-shifting human/Daemonite hybrid sent to report on Earth’s heroes in advance of an alien invasion. Marz, Williamson and Basri’s take on the character unapologetically straddles the line between representation and reproduction: while the decision to have a shape-shifting spy pose as a dancer in a strip-club attended by military types makes sense for plotting purposes, Basri’s treatment of the subject leaves little doubt that sexualization was the primary motivation for this creative direction. In fairness to Basri, it could be noted that Voodoo is rarely as sexualized in the story proper as much as she is on the Tyler covers; moreover, Basri exerts remarkable restraint in his imaginative depictions of brutal mayhem.

A vague sense of “the search for truth” drives a fast-paced plot as Voodoo alienates herself from both sides of her hybrid identity, leaving many bloody corpses in her wake. Her only capable, non-superpowered antagonist is revenge-driven special-ops investigator Jessica Fallon; ordinary men are expendable yokels whose hormones rule out the very possibility of free will or lifelike personality. Kyle Rayner/Green Lantern and a new Black Jack are thrown into the fray to remind readers of the larger DC universe in which this otherwise straightforward sci-fi thriller takes place. By the end of the volume, the reader is left in very much the same position as the protagonist, knowing neither where to go nor for which faction to root.

Only on CW...

I love The Flash, especially last night's episode, but something dangerously close to this happened:

Shazam! The Monster Society of Evil

In Shazam! The Monster Society of Evil, Jeff Smith reimagines Captain Marvel’s origins, drawing not only from the Fawcett canon, but also from more incongruous sources such as Middle-Eastern myths and popular physics. These many inspirations are largely ornamental and do not crowd out a story that reads like an urban fairytale. While we do get the sense that the plot takes place in a world which extends beyond the story’s purview, the writer/artist does not presume our prior acquaintance with the characters; all of the narrative threads are neatly contained within the book's 206 pages. Smith’s retelling is eminently accessible, vibrant with character and raw energy.

Despite the tale’s light-hearted, child-friendly tone, Smith manages to throw some strong emotional punches. Captain Marvel’s struggle is not primarily with the cosmic but rather with the mundane; it is the day-to-day troubles of Billy Batson’s life on the streets which stir up the most pathos.

It is much to Smith’s credit that this all-ages title does not shy away from politics: considering it was written in the aftermath of 9-11, the reinterpretation of Marvel’s nemesis Doctor Sivana as the attorney general of “heartland” security can be read as a particularly audacious indictment of anti-terrorist paranoia.

"The only people reading are fanboys who don't count": thoughts on Morrison’s X-Men

I recently read the first two volumes of Grant Morrison’s New X-Men (issues 114-126). Here are some of my impressions:

There are expressions one only ever encounters in Morrison’s works -- phrases such as “I feel like a Hindu sex god” that fall so far outside the category of verisimilar dialogue as to create a genre all of their own. That “sex god” line is delivered by Henry McCoy/Beast, a modern Chiron whose character usually emphasizes sophistication over animality. I do not begrudge Morrison’s eagerness to expose the mainstream to esoteric concepts and turns of phrase, but I rather wish he would do so in a manner that is more mindful of precedents.

The initial arc of Morrison’s run introduces Cassandra Nova, the first of a new psychokinetic species, an evil parody of Charles Xavier. In lieu of the usual characterization, Morrison develops Cassandra Nova as part of a purpose-driven extinction machine, putting forward an evolutionary theory of species-wide apoptosis.Though this is not the first time Xavier is shown to have an evil double, previous writers have shied away from making this trope the cornerstone of any pseudo-scientific eschatology. This is certainly a matter of taste, but I find that -- in the interest of narrative flow -- it may be preferable for writers of speculative fiction not to construct elaborate rationalizations for the scientific plausibility of their scenarios, as this only draws attention to those magical/mythical elements which most contemporary readers are eager to take as given.

The second arc deals mainly with the U-Men, a group unscrupulous transhumanists harvesting mutant organs. The U-Men have a frontman in the person of Elon Musk lookalike John Sublime, but the concept of their movement is actually introduced by a school-shooting teenager. It is refreshing to see the enemy manifest as a largely leaderless ideology instead of a government and/or corporate conspiracy against an innocent minority. 

Quitely’s art is at its most expressive when depicting unseemly mutations; one does not get the impression that the students at Xavier’s are part of a fortunate genetic elite. More than in perhaps any previous incarnation of the X-Men, the reader is confronted with abhorrent disfigurations. Even the more iconic characters are shown in a less dignifying light, often appearing without any kind of distinctive attire. The New X-Men’s work uniforms are clearly more functional than ritual.

Emma Frost, the only exception to this rule, is probably the series’ most problematic character. She is never shown without her X-shaped bikini: one supposes it can stand for either body-positive female-empowerment or male-gaze slavery, but lectio dificilior potior suggests the latter is more likely. I wonder whether Frost’s Machiavellian morality can credibly extend to embrace the instrumentalization of the feminine form.

In an eleven-page manifesto dated October 20th 2000, Morrison states his intention to make the X-Men “cool again,” complaining about the sacrosanctity of status quo in the superhero comic genre.

“ The only people reading are fanboys who don't count. [...] Longtime fans will read the book and bitch about it no matter what. We don’t need to attract them, we need to make the book accessible to the real-world audience. [...] We need to recapture the college and hipster audience because that audience is bigger than ever, and thanks to the movies and games [...] the entire mainstream is pumped and primed to consume super-hero stories.”

With hindsight, it is clear that Morrison’s intuition was largely correct: almost 15 years after his memorable X-Men run, superhero narratives are more popular and influential than ever. Be that as it may, it does not seem as though the superhero paradigm has been in any way subverted. With few exceptions, the superhero narratives developed for mainstream audiences are even more archetypal than their comic-book counterparts. We watch the Marvel cinematic universe with the expectation that an unambiguously prosocial contingent will triumph without suffering significant losses to equally unambiguously antisocial forces -- and our expectations are seldom disappointed. As Northrop Frye wrote in Anatomy of Criticism, "[… W]e could almost define popular literature […] as literature which affords an unobstructed view of archetypes."