Jimmy Olsen’s Blues

For all of the usual Pixar brand of amazing technical virtuosity on display in WALL-E (and believe me, there’s plenty of it), it’s the wonderful characterization which makes the movie such a joy to watch. That director Andrew Stanton and his wizards at Pixar were able to draw such well-developed characters with such little dialogue is testament to the skill of their animation and story departments. I have trouble imagining a more human movie about robots.

If you’ve seen director Stanton’s previous masterpiece, Finding Nemo — and really, if you haven’t by now, you really should — that depth of character won’t surprise you in the least. WALL-E himself shows himself to be one of the more appealing leads of any of the Pixar films; on retrospect, this big-hearted, curious, noble, romantic little waste-collection robot is probably the most likable lead Pixar’s ever created. All of the film’s robot characters have distinct, well-crafted personalities, and almost none of them have much dialogue to speak of (pun intended). I think WALL-E and Eve spoke ten different words between them, yet there was never any problem communicating with each other or with the audience.

During the early parts of the movie, the audience is expected to piece together for themselves what happened to Earth, but once the setting changes, the Kid Gloves of Subtlety come off in favor of the Brass Knuckles of In Your Face. That’s not necessarily a bad thing; the less-subtle bits also provided a good deal of the movie’s comic relief. WALL-E might be a love story between two robots, but it also falls cleanly in the Science Fiction Film With a Message mold. The same segments of the population which allowed themselves to get lathered up about the environmental message in Happy Feet will be thoroughly pissed off by WALL-E, which amplifies the green message and throws in several helpings of condemnation of our consumerist society to boot. The two other main themes I took from the movie — Open Your Eyes to the World Around You and Follow Your Own Directive — likely won’t go over any better with the crowd who’d be upset with the Take Care of the Planet one. But I think all of these points are valid ones to teach our kids (and adults). More than valid, really. Essential.

Anyway , it’s nice to see that Pixar has next year’s Best Animated Feature Oscar wrapped up early. One critic mentioned that he thought WALL-E could be up for Best Picture, but now that the Academy Awards have a separate animation category, I’m not sure any animated flick will ever get a Best Picture nomination again. I’ll be curious to see if it gets a Best Original Screenplay nomination for Andrew Stanton, especially given the paucity of dialogue; my suspicion is not, though my hope is yes. I guess we’ll find out in February.

Grade: A.

(Related side note: the short feature before the movie is one of the best they’ve done yet. Hysterical, and also dialogue-free, as most of their shorts are. Do not arrive to the movie late.)

It’s fairly obvious from my reviews that I’m the least studious and analytical^[1] of the Thunderdog stable of writers (all three of us), but I am trying to get a little better at the critical review, especially when discussing DC and Marvel’s duelling Big Thingies.

(See? I’m getting better already.)

Despite Marvel’s efforts to keep it low-key by only releasing 244 books last week, we did notice that Secret Invasion snuck up on the halfway mark (with the actual mini-series midpoint #4 out July 9th), and felt Marvel could maybe use a hand in spreading the word on the internet. Especially after we couldn’t shut up about the competition’s Final Crisis last Thursday.

(By the way: here’s the part where we warn, “So yeah, there might be a spoiler or two below. Proceed with caution, Person Who’s Read A Little Far Into A Secret Invasion Review Expecting To See Nothing About Secret Invasion“.)

This spring arrived as the Invasion began losing some layers of its Secret, and Marvel posed the one question haunting the Marvel Universe: Who Do You Trust? We’re four months in now, and I’d say the series and its tie-ins are raising still more questions, and at a much faster rate than they’re answering them. I’m not ready to let the ever-filling pool of mysteries drive me to complain…yet. Given his track record, there’s every reason to believe SI architect Brian Michael Bendis will give us not just resolutions, but satisfying ones as well.

I’d love to be able to post concise reviews for New Avengers #42 and Mighty Avengers #15. I wish I could close here by assuring you that both comics are informative without being too heavy on the exposition and add much to the SI tale without being overly indispensable. I’d be happy to end the review with simple praise for the lovely art provided by Jim Cheung and John Romita, Jr., because it is indeed lovely. But I can’t sign off yet, because of the whole “boatload of new questions” thing.

Both Mighty and New Avengers continue revisiting previously established events (though, strangely, the previous issues of each title ended on “To Be Continued” present-day moments, neither of which is picked up this month) and shed more light on the infiltration before the actual Secret Invasion, mostly from the Skrulls point of view. This month, we get to learn an awful lot about the when and how Hank Pym and Jessica Drew got “Skrullswapped”. And with these new tidbits, confirmations and revelations, we also get a fresh batch of questions, sometimes with a side order of slight confusion. Here’s the five biggest on the plate for me tonight:

1. In Secret Invasion #3, why is the SHIELD Helicarrier now adrift in the Bermuda Triangle?

Yeah, hopefully this will get answered in Secret Invasion #4 or elsewhere^[2], but… huh? I’m no physicist, and I’m not a huge fan of forcing comics to adhere to The Book-Learned Science, but I doubt the Helicarrier’s got much gliding potential. Certainly not enough to carry it from a couple miles above NYC (where it began its powerless descent in SI #1) to the central Atlantic Ocean.

2. How and when do all these events and reveals and Skrullswaps fit together?

I hope Bendis’ reach isn’t exceeding his grasp the further we go, as many of these overlapping plot points were in fact his doing. Following these two newest updates to whatever passes for timeline and continuity through last week, my baby headache has now reached toddler stage trying to reconcile these, for instance:^[3]

Spider-Woman (since revealed as a Skrull) delivering dead Skrullektra to Tony Stark (after the Ultron arc in Mighty Avengers

Tony showing said corpse to his Illuminati (including, prominently, Reed Richards) , then discovering that Black Bolt is actually a Skrull in disguise. Oh, and then they’re attacked by a bunch of Super Skrulls.

The opening pages of Secret Invasion #1, where Reed Richards (obviously the real deal given that book’s ending) acts like this is the first time he’s seen Skrullektra or heard of any sort of Skrull swapping, much less that Skrulls are now undetectable by current methods.

Is Bendis simply trying to retcon/erase a book (Illuminati #5) he just did eight months ago? Or does Reed have short-term memory issues these days?

3. Speaking of Black Bolt… What the hell happened to the humans/Inhumans that were switched out?

My first instinct was that the Skrulls are at war with Earth, and might have some sort of Intergalactic Geneva Convention to adhere to, but there seems to have been a little too much collateral damage involving civilians, and a little too much zeal on the part of the invaders to kill those who oppose them. So should we be flying the flags at half-mast for Electra, Jarvis, Dum Dum Dugan, Jessica Drew, Hank Pym and Black Bolt? For that matter, within 5 seconds of the end of Illuminati #5, why wasn’t any remaining member of the Illuminati (and I realize they stated that the trust issues precluded any of them from working together anymore) on Def Con 4 and at least trying to find out if Black Bolt was alive somewhere?

4. Like DC, why does Marvel even bother with age ratings on their comics?

This is directly related to last week’s books: Both featured a slightly off-putting display of the “pretty much naked” ladies, with Mighty Avengers (and John Romita, Jr.) going a bit further, adding a suggestive serving of ice cream to an already crowded post-coital bed of Hank Pym and a lady who wasn’t his wife. Just like Allen, I’m no prude and certainly wasn’t offended or necessarily even jarred from the tale at hand. But, these comics were indeed both rated “A” (which I’m assuming doesn’t mean “Allen’s gonna shake his head at this one”), so Marvel either needs to pay more attention or admit they don’t pay any and shut off the ratings altogether.

5. Can we really translate the Skrulls’ dialogue?

Nope, doesn’t look like it. So far, it’s been consistent inside single issues, but try and compare, say, Secret Invasion #3 to these current Mighty Avengers and New Avengers (MA and NA have long sections that are helpfully subtitled); they’re not sharing the same “letters” at all. When did Marvel start underestimating our geeky need to learn a new fictional language? If Marvel’s going to assume all their readers are grown ups (see previous question), then maybe expect us to spot this kind of thing pretty easily and give your letterers a little help. It’s only 26 characters, fellas.

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[1]I’m also the least discriminating–I bought three issues of Salvation Run before deciding it was actually neither awesome nor anything approaching it.

[2]And maybe it already has been; Again, we don’t buy every comic (read: most comics) out there, so feel free to let us know if any of our current queries have been addressed. Quoth the D: “That’s fucking teamwork.”

[3]This post is already way too long, so I’m shelving my “Hank Pym in Civil War” related questions ’til I dig out the last two issues of that miniseries.

Hanging on the wall of my office is an Identity Crisis poster my wife got me for Father’s Day a few years ago. It features the art from the cover of issue #1 — and it’s signed by artist Michael Turner. The poster also came with a photo of him signing it (or one much like it, I suppose). My children look at it all the time and like to rattle off the names of the characters on it.

Rest well, Michael Turner. From what little was made public about your health, I know it was a hard battle for the last few years. Thirty-seven is far, far, far too young.

Tim: Unlike any other previous miniseries or even regular story arc, I’ve decided to read the entire series as a whole each time a new issue comes out. Sure, my comic-buying process required me to immediately read the latest installment over Chinese on New Comics Day, but I did read both issues together last night, the better to feel the rhythm of the work. I think I got more out of Final Crisis this way, and will continue until further notice.

First thing I noticed under the new method? The art, while solid in #1, was stunning in #2.

Allen: As much as I enjoyed this issue, I’m still wondering where, exactly, Morrison’s going with this story. We’re two issues into a seven-issue series with the word “crisis” in the title, implying some sort of multiversal shakeup, and the multiverse is, so far, just a bit part of one of the storylines weaving through the series. I have every faith that Morrison has something planned, but these first two issues have really all been setup. And I have a feeling that #3 will also be setup for The Big Stuff which will start going down in #4.

T: I don’t know… I’d say “RUN!” was a pretty charged way to end part two and send us hurtling into part three. Yeah, there’s some continuing setup, but the mood that goes along with that (creepy and dire) is right on for me. And the pace is a little quicker in #2, as it should have been if he’s giving us some kind of “full on, no bull&@%& twilight of the gods” in #3. The question: is there a story being told in Final Crisis so far, or is it just A Repository of Hints? I side with “story”, though the extended caveman bit in #1 has to be some kind of treasure chest of clues, right? That’s the only explanation I see for how long that dragged out. And the 4th-wall-breaking opening page to FC #2 is probably more informative than my lazy butt’s willing to discover.

A: This seems like it would be a good time to break in tell our readers to go check out Douglas Wolk’s Final Crisis Annotations — he had the first batch of annotations for #2 up by yesterday afternoon, and he has some really good stuff on there I certainly didn’t catch.

T: Good stuff I didn’t catch? For me, that was Sonny Sumo. Had no idea he was a Kirby 4th World creation. Didn’t care that I didn’t know and I enjoyed his appearance anyway (the half-finished heart transplant that skeeved us out a little notwithstanding).

A: I can’t believe I didn’t catch the reference to Flash #163 on the first page. And I know you didn’t, either, based on what you said above.

T: Totally missed that. And it does bolster your point about the added benefit to looking for that kind of Easter egg. I just have a harder time reading anything from that point of view at the same time I’m trying to absorb surface-level action-n-talkin’. If I do analyze a comic like FC in more depth, I’m usually more jazzed when I see something that charges the atmosphere or emphasizes What’s Going On (the Human Flame’s getting video of Libra and of J’onn’s execution on a “DAMRUNG” phone, for example) than I am at some quarter-inch billboard in the background of page 2, panel 4 telling you What’s Going to Happen In the End.

Which makes me ask: should the reader really have to embark on some panel-by-panel dissection of Final Crisis? Should they even want to? Is there that much caché in guessing the Shocker before it happens in print? In knowing exactly who all these characters are? These are Grant Morrison comics, not M. Night Shyamalan movies.

A: I don’t think they have to, but I think it’s rewarding that they can. The fact that Morrison has clearly put a lot of thought into what’s going on and tried to load it down with symbolism and foreshadowing adds to that feeling that this story is something Epic and Important. It’s part of what makes reading Watchmen so rewarding (not that I’m saying this series is on the level of Watchmen, mind you) — I’ve read Watchmen seven times and I’m still catching bits I had never noticed before. It’s nice to see the creators taking their work so seriously.

Also, you certainly nailed the “mood” part. Creepy and dire it is — there’s definitely a feeling that we’re building up to something Big and Unspeakably Evil. I still have the feeling that the “multiversal upheaval” is going to require a rebuilding of the universe(s) after Evil destroys all of the good, including killing all or most of the DCU’s heroes. (Which could mean that the characters who implicitly died in the issues, and J’onn J’onzz in the last, could be Actually Really Dead yet still be back good as new when this series is done.)

But if that hypothesis is even in the right ballpark — that this series will result in some kind of redesigned or rebuilt DCU, whatever form that takes — well, it certainly seems like none of the rest of the DCU books are playing along right now, doesn’t it? It doesn’t feel like the books in the rest of the line are building toward any sort of apocalyptic (or Apokoliptic?) death-and-rebirth. Seems like the creators many of the books have long-term plans which don’t involve the Cosmic Reset Button. And if Morrison is going to be rebooting the DCU (in whatever form that takes), shouldn’t the rest of the line be playing along? (Though with what we’ve seen of DC editorial over the last few months, it’s likely not safe to assume that there would be any interoffice editorial communication.)

T: Is Morrison’s Batman R.I.P. even one of the threads to be woven into FC? Doesn’t read like it.

A: I agree — it’s just about the only book which we’ve been told is pretty directly Final Crisis-related… but so far, I’m having trouble seeing how. Given the high-concept pitches of both series, I don’t know how they’re going to be part of the same story, though given that Morrison’s writing both, I’m sure he’s up to something.

It’s inevitable that we stack up what’s gone on here so far against Marvel’s own summer megalith, Secret Invasion (a series we’ve talked about surprisingly little on this site so far). Compare and contrast the Final Crisis arc thus far to Secret Invasion’s: SI might have jumped right into the Big Action more quickly, but Big Action happened in #1 which hasn’t been even referenced again in the main series — for instance, opening the Negative Zone inside the Baxter Building. I don’t think that’s going to be an issue with Final Crisis. I think we’ll get some serious payoff for what’s been set up already. If FC is Batman Begins — more thoughful, leisurely-paced — then SI is Transformers, bigger and louder and punchier. Both have their place, but I think FC will wind up feeling more cohesive and, ultimately, satisfying.

T: Except Michael Bay didn’t make you go watch Iron Man to see how we got from Point A to Point B in Transformers. (Or more accurately, Transformers didn’t have an intermission during which you really should go to the lobby to watch these Mighty Transformers and New Transformers DVD’s.) I think both Big Events will satisfy in different ways, as you say.

A: A digression: at what point, exactly, did the comics industry decide to give up the pretense that we were expecting kids to be reading comics? Not that this topic is specific to FC #2 (and not that it’s the first time I’ve talked about it), but it occurred to me while reading it — the original Crisis on Infinite Earths, which was to DC 1985 what Final Crisis is to DC 2008, didn’t have a freshly-ripped-from-its-owner’s-chest heart in a bar glass. It also certainly didn’t feature the word “asshole” — the strongest cursing you got in mainstream comics back then was an occasional “hell” or “damn,” and Marvel wouldn’t even use those. It’s not that I have a problem with either element on their own — I mean, c’mon, Preacher is one of my favorite comics ever. But Preacher is clearly marked NOT FOR KIDS. Final Crisis is DC’s flagship event for the summer, kids are going to be reading it, and I think maybe a little more editorial control and forethought could’ve gone into those elements of the story.

T: “Asshole,” while character- appropriate, really took me out of the scene. There was an awful lot of @!$&#$ being used, so why let that one blue word go? It sucked all the coolness out of “…give you brain damage with a toilet seat!”

A: My thought exactly — it would’ve taken nothing from the story to throw a “@!$&#$” in there instead.

T: So do you want to talk about some of the happenings this issue? To me, that Libra “co-plot” (not really a subplot, not quite the main thrust) needs to do something different or just more in #3. It hasn’t strayed too far from Underworld Unleashed at this point.

A: Yup, I think that’s a plotline that’s going to blossom next issue, likely with the return (somehow, some way) of Darkseid. (Funny to think of it as a “return” when he hasn’t been “gone” very long at all.)

T: What are the odds that Libra’s “boss” isn’t Darkseid? Long, I’m sure, but hear me out: If Libra’s all about the balance, and Darkseid represents the idea that Evil Won, wouldn’t someone like Libra be a counter to that? Maybe’s he’s giving the bad guys what they want in exchange for something that’s gonna bring the Goodness back.

A: Hmm, not sure I buy that theory, but if it turns out to be true, I’ll certainly give you all due credit! I’m pretty sure “the boss” is indeed Darkseid — in fact, I think Morrison or Johns might have admitted as much in an interview with Newsarama around the time of DC Universe #0. Might have to go look that up. I think the theory was that the balance Libra was correcting was the fact that good guys always come out on top in the current DCU — it was time for the bad guys to win a few rounds. But I suppose we’ll see! (Let’s not even get into the “Libra is Barry Allen” theory just yet…)

T: Oh, I realize Darkseid’s the Big Bad here — I’m just wondering if we’re just assuming Libra’s working for him. Again, the odds are long that he’s not. (And to the Barry Allen as Libra supporters: Morrison can twist with the best of ‘em, but he’s more conventional than he gets credit for. I wouldn’t even bet my copy of Zero Hour #0 on this happening.)

Bludhaven as a Apokolips Firepit franchise — this was truly chilling, and succeeds mightily in a crucial way for something Final and Crisis: it suspends that belief that the good guys will always find a way to save the DCU. Even if you only allow a .0001% chance of it happening, you do allow it. Bravo, with emphasis on the “brrrrr”.

A: And I think what Morrison’s very strongly getting it is that this time, they’re not going to find a way to save the DCU — at least not until after the fact.

T: Overall? I say the last page of FC #2 is a blatant shout from Glorious Grant that we’re going to be moving a lot more quickly from here on out. And while I admit there are rewards available by reading the book with one eye on a magnifying glass and the other on Wikipedia, there’s also a thrilling ride to be had by letting the story itself do the driving and not worry so much about seeing every mile marker and street sign on the way to the final destination.

Discovered while researching yesterday’s now-legendary Tuesday 10^[1]:

While this particular Bullpen Bulletin (from Avengers #71, December 1969) also saw Stan trumpeting an upcoming Jim Steranko romance comic, “a hearts-and-flowers assignment for one of our love books”, we prefer to see this crystal ball as half-full.

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[1]Why’s it legendary? See that post’s comments, specifically the first one.

Remember way back in the ’70s when — what? You weren’t even born in the Seventies?

…damn, we’re old.

OK, well, back in the ’60s and ’70s, even up into the front half of the ’80s, Marvel overlord Stan Lee would assign nicknames to the creators of most of the comics they were putting out which, we assume, were probably supposed to sound either funny or hip… but really just came across as kind of lame: Stan “The Man” Lee. “Joltin’” Joe Sinnott. “Dauntless” Don McGregor. Jack “King” Kirby. (Okay, we’ll admit that one wasn’t lame at all.)

We decided that’s a tradition which could use some back-bringin’ and updatin’, so we slapped together new Stan-like nicknames for some of today’s creators. And while we’d like these to seem funny or hip, we realize that, like Stan’s, they’re probably just kind of lame.

1. “Mad” Joe Madureira. (Stan took the easy way out sometimes, too.)
   
   9. “Glorious” Grant Morrison.
   
   8. “Marketshare” Mark Millar.
   
   7. “Junior This” John Romita, Jr.
   
   6. “Maximum” Matt Fraction.
   
   5. “Death-Dealin’” Dan DiDio.
   
   4. “Electable” Ed Brubaker.
   
   3. “Goddamn” Frank Miller.
   
   2. Robert “Captain” Kirkman.
   
   1. Warren Ellis. We dare not even try hanging one of these on him. Except maybe “Yessir, Mr. Warren Ellis, Sir.”

After a couple of days laborously posting in two places, our old blog Jimmy Olsen’s Blues has been officially reborn here at Thunderdog. To point JOB readers in the right direction, I enlisted the aid of –who else but–newsman Perry White:

Now that we’re all here… let the celebration begin! Here’s a blank one for you to play along with. Help Perry White by giving voice to his all-consuming rage towards Archie Andrews’ Ugly Clone, rage that he’s kept in check until today. Prove your genius by emailing said expression to tim@thunderdog.com .

I’d say we’ll post the best ones, but at this stage of the game, we’ll be posting every single one we get.

Welcome, thanks for coming, and stick around! It’ll get better.

 

 

 

Novelists don’t always make a graceful transition to the comic/graphic novel form, but veteran crime author Victor Gischler makes the jump look easy, delivering this solid one-shot and whetting our appetites for his upcoming Punisher MAX arc. Avoiding rookie struggles for the most part, he seems natural at giving the artist something to draw, and displays a firm grasp of the tight space he’s got for his plot.

It’s surprising just how tidy Little Black Book is. Gischler doesn’t stray into overambition, steering clear of the “Analyzing Frank” moments better suited for longer stories and not wasting time engineering some big plot twist or double-cross that he’d run out of space trying to unleash. By simply playing to the writer’s strengths, there’s just enough going on to introduce the players, set up Frank’s plan, establish the villainy of the villain and give the audience several money shots of the Punisher punishing without feeling rushed and without momentum-sucking exposition.

Jefte Palo’s art meshes well with the economic script–plenty of shadows and sexy, with mood to spare. I’m not sure if he’s slated to handle the art for Gischler’s upcoming turn with the main title, but he does seem suited and Marvel could do worse than Palo in there.

Welcome to funnybooks, Mr. Gischler. Any writer getting a comic published who isn’t named Bendis, Johns, or Brubaker will get our attention, but it takes a decent story to keep our attention, and Little Black Book looks to be a sign of quality reading ahead.

In no real order, other than maybe from least-to-most credibility-bruising…

10. Strangers in Paradise - Since my wife never fell for the “they’re not comics, they’re graphic novels” load, I never had to bring home Terry Moore’s heartfelt… whatever it is. I never even tried to read this on the sly in Barnes & Noble, and that’s saying something since I did read 300 that way after the movie came out. I’d love it if I actually could read this series and in doing so erase the other “chicky” things I’ve seen and heard, like Pearl Harbor, Kate Hudson’s entire career, and Rilo Kiley.

09. Spawn - Sure, Strangers in Paradise and I don’t travel in the same circles, but I am a little surprised that the flashy and (then) new-stylish Image flagship never made its way in to my bag at Sincere Comics back in the day. Image burst out nearly the same time I re-entered the buying market, but I guess my speculator gene is a recessive one, because my sole exposure to any of the Spawn mythos is the HBO series (which I did think was pretty kick-ass). The good news, I guess, is that the series is surprisingly still around, so there’s still time. (Honorable Mention: most other Image titles, notably WildC.A.T.S. and Savage Dragon)

08. Grendel - My skipping this title in the late 80’s/early 90’s is a little more puzzling, because everything I’ve heard/read about Matt Wagner’s generation-spanning story makes me sure it was way better than Spawn.

07. The Walking Dead - Zombies. Human survival instincts tested by danger and the dulling passage of time. Written by Robert Kirkman, who’s other work I’ve enjoyed, including Marvel freaking Zombies. The only excuses I can offer as to why I’ve no clue about this ongoing series is that I didn’t know who Kirkman was until his Invincible got rolling (which I did come across late, but not so late that I couldn’t quickly catch up), and by the time I realized Walking Dead existed and that he wrote it, it was already three trades in. Sorry, Robert.

06. Grant Morrison’s “Weird” DC Titles - In the late 80’s a friend of mine was briefly an overnight DJ at the local album-rock radio station. At a staff meeting, the station’s music director asked the “talent” why they didn’t have more Beatles in the rotation. My friend’s brilliant (and totally honest) response was, “Because you don’t have time to go poop while a two and half minute song is playing.” That observation fit right in with my college-altered reading habits at the time, which were strictly cram-mode. This shift was mostly permanent–I still really can’t sit at the kitchen table or on a toilet without something to read. My DJ friend’s knock on the Beatles mirrors those habits, in that I would only tend to read something I could digest while, um, digesting and something I could just purge from my brain thereafter, like, um… you get it. What I didn’t grab for kitchen table or bathroom reading was Doom Patrol or Animal Man. I blame higher education–not enough time in the day or room in the brain for that much in-depth reading. Maybe if DC was testing me on it every month I’d have devoured it.

05. Scott Pilgrim - Time will tell if this newish fan/critic darling will move up or down any future version of this list. Sure, it’s an interesting premise, combining post-adolescent romantic entanglements with the classic gauntlet style test of commitment, but the art, the musical ingredient, the fanbase… it all makes me feel too old to get into it. Probably unfair, but I doubt if the legions of fans, the producers of the probable film version, even creator Bryan Lee O’Malley are losing much sleep over my not getting into that series or wanting into their club.

04. Batman: Year One - My partner-in-blog might actually be shocked at this entry but I can explain. Miller’s fleshing out of the early days of the Dark Knight went totally under my radar in 1987, due more to the fact that I was just getting back into funnybooks and was doing more catching up than picking up current books. Had the online community existed back then, I might have a more immediate notification that something of unusually high quality was out there and been more inclined to pick up the regular ol’ Batman title. Back then, DC and Marvel hadn’t been all that adept at hyping their upcoming “regular” titles and storyarcs-as-events, unlike their effective promotion of “outside” projects like Dark Knight Returns and Secret Wars. To me, Year One was just four regular issues of Batman that came and went without being missed by me, featuring extra insight into the character that I wasn’t craving. All that said, I don’t know why I still haven’t picked up any of the collected versions of this, while somehow holding onto to at least three issues of Secret Defenders.

03. Love & Rockets - This may drop off the list soon, and not really because I’ve got so many friends screaming at me to pick the trades up (because I don’t). L&R stayed off my shelves and out of my longboxes because I just didn’t easily draw a parallel between the Big 2 and the Hernandez Brothers: they all have a fully functioning, living, breathing universe. A whole world to play in. The only difference in structure is that Marvel and DC don’t just put out one comic featuring the length, width, and depth of that universe. Can you imagine Marvel only putting out one title, (call it “Marvel”), where you might only check in on the Fantastic Four every three months or so? I couldn’t either, which is why I’ve never imagined picking up Love and Rockets. But again, things may change because, dammit, I’m a grown-up now. It’s okay to have an appetite for something a little more sophisticated. Doesn’t mean I have to stop asking my wife to dress up as Zatanna for my birthday.

02. Maus - Hard to clarify why I’ve never checked this Pulitzer winning work. Maybe it doesn’t feel like escapism to me. Maybe it’s a youthfully harebrained knee-jerk reaction to being told a piece of art is “essential” or “required”. The good news is, I don’t think that way these days, and like Love and Rockets, I may finally be ready to enjoy the book of my own volition.

01. Most of the Works of Alan Moore - Honestly, it’s easier for me to list the Alan Moore I have read, than the works I haven’t: Couldn’t really get away with not reading Watchmen, loved his Superman tales “Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow” and “For the Man Who Has Everything”, Top Ten (as much for the Gene Ha goodness), and a couple of installments of his Captain Britain with Alan Davis, reprinted in some X-Men Classic comics I got for 20 cents each and promptly wallpapered my bathroom with. The only Moore-to-film comic I read was League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. From Hell, Swamp Thing, V for Vendetta, and most of his Miracleman/Marvelman have all escaped my notice unscathed. And to be honest, if those haven’t aged any better than the Captain Britains on my wall, I don’t know if I’ll spend enough time in my bathroom to ever justify bringing them home.

So I’m starting to formulate what I’m sure is an entirely off-base, probably nonsensical theory about Grant Morrison’s Final Crisis. [1] This idea of mine comes both from some history of Morrison’s and from, of all places, statements by trade dress designer Chip Kidd and artist Gene Ha, who doesn’t even have anything to do with this book.

Let me ’splain.

I’ll start with Ha’s comments, which were made last September in passing as part of an explanation for the huge delays behind his and Morrison’s run on The Authority:

“First off, I don’t think The Authority #3 by Grant Morrison and Gene Ha is ever coming out. Grant is busy redesigning the DC Universe and I’ve moved onto new projects.”

I think that’s the first place I’d seen reference to that idea of Morrison “redesigning the DC Universe,” or at least put quite in terms quite that specific. We knew even then that Final Crisis was going to be another epic multiverse-shaking story, but little was known about what sort of result the series was going to have. (Honestly, we still don’t know that much about it; DC’s been doing a damn good job of not letting that particular secret slip.)

So we know (or can at least theorize with some degree of certainty) that when Morrison’s done, the DCU will have been changed in some way, likely with his particular brand of highly imaginative neo-retro fusion. (Really, if you were going to redesign or modernize/futurize a comics universe from the ground up, wouldn’t Grant Morrison be on or close to the top of your list of creators you’d want involved?)

The second bits of info which got my neurons rubbing together to form this wild-ass theory came from Chip Kidd when discussing the distinctive, if thus-far uninspiring, FC trade dress:

NRAMA: So what went into the process for Final Crisis’ look?

CK: Well, to start with Final Crisis – the big thing that no one would be able to know yet, and I won’t get too specific here, but for the people that think it’s a generic look – wait. By the third issue, you’ll start to get it. Basically, the trade dress dissolves. So, it’s starting out as something now, and by the second issue, it will be slightly different, the third issue, even more different, and between the third and fourth issue, I hope people will get it, and understand what we were doing all along. It might not make people like it any better, but they’ll at least understand what I have in mind. It’s an evolving trade dress. … There are people who are in the talkbacks saying that DC is just riffing off Civil War, but again – wait and see. By the fourth issue, you’ll realize that’s not what we’re doing. We’re doing something else.

So the trade dress is going to start to dissolve and turn into something else which will be apparent — or at least the direction will — by the third or fourth issue. This implies to me either the current dress and logo will “fall away” to reveal something new underneath, or will degrade and reform into something new over the last half of the series’ seven issues.

I don’t think what’s revealed or regrown will be simply a reworked presentation of what came before. I think it will be something entirely new.

I think the title of this series is going to change halfway through, or perhaps begin to change only to be complete at the end of the series.

Title and trade dress are important to Morrison. When he took over X-Men in 2001, he changed the name of the book to New X-Men precisely because he’d designed a logo for it which could be rotated 180 degrees and read the same. He had Marvel redesign the trade dress for all of the X-Men books to make them more visually distinct from the rest of Marvel’s line. I think to him these elements of comic books have more meaning than beyond the simple graphic appeal of them — while I’m not willing to say for sure it ties into Morrison’s interest in magic, it’s possible that it does, but at the very least ties into his penchant for meta-story. The trade dress of many of his books say something about the books themselves.

So I’m looking at the words “Final Crisis.” And I know that Morrison is building a new DCU. And I know the trade dress is going to change. And I know that there’s a tremendous battle halfway through the series which, I speculate, is going to result in the deaths of most or all of the DC heroes. And I know that Morrison’s using Jack Kirby’s Fourth World creations extensively in this series.

And while I can’t say for sure exactly what’s going to happen…

…I want to note that it wouldn’t take a lot of work visually for the word “Crisis” to evolve into the word “Genesis.” (New Genesis, remember, is Kirby’s “good twin” of Darkseid’s evil planet Apokalips.)

When this series becomes Something Genesis by issue #7, launching the shiny new Morrison-ized DCU, I want you to remember where you heard it first.

[1] That’s not to dismiss the work of artist JG Jones, by the way; it’s just that this particular notion of mine lies along the story and meta axes, so it’s much more in Morrison’s court than Jones’.