The Incredible Hercules #121 Review

Writers: Greg Pak and Fred van Lente
Penciller: Clayton Henry

Greg Pak is having a lot of fun. I'm not sure how he managed it, but he took one of Marvel's lamest heroes, Hercules, and somehow managed to turn him into one of the most interesting, entertaining, goofiest, yet strangely plausible heroes that Marvel has ever written. Greg Pak is clearly fascinated with Greek myth and stories, but what is so fantastic about his take on them is that Pak realises that the stories themselves are often simply funny. There is a tendency to solemnise anything old. My wife's former choir director conducts Palestrina at about double the normal pace. His reasoning is that other conductors simply get the pace wrong; centuries of thinking of Palestrina as classic and religious have caused conductors to gradually slow down the pacing, because they think that's how anything classic or religious is supposed to sound. Greek myths and stories often suffer the same fate. Because they're about gods and are written in an old language, they are told with great solemnity as classic stories with deep insights.

Greg Pak does to Hercules what my wife's choir director does to Palestrina. He scrapes of the barnicles of solemnity and returns the story to its former, brisk pace. Hercules represents everything the archaic Greeks loved about themselves: he's a hard drinking, womanizing warrior. This story has no real plot, as many of the stories of Hercules has no plot. Instead, we see a number of Hercules', erm, feats. We hear the story of how he tricked Atlas into taking back his curse of holding up the heavens by pretending he needed to fix his cloak. The image of Atlas, holding up the stars, with the disappointed speech bubble, "Tch", is hilarious. We find out that he tricked Namora, the queen of Atlantis, into kissing him in issue #111, by pretending he was drowning. Rather than get angry, Namora of course propositions him.

All of Hercules' latest adventures are cast against the backdrop of Cho's kidnapping by the Amazons. They want him to sire the next generation of Amazons, you see, which Cho thinks is great. Of course, Hercules also thinks this is great, since he wants his companion to share in the fun. The one catch, though, is that they plan to kill him afterwards, which is somewhat less great. The amazons are dressed somewhere between Greek goddesses and go-go dancers and have rocket launchers, which all Amazons certainly would have had, if the ancient Greeks had known about rocket launchers. Hercules is unconcerned, because he's pretty sure Cho can take care of himself, but decides to rescue him anyway, more because it would probably be fun than because he is worried. And then Namor shows up, and he's mad, which makes sense, since Namor's always mad.

There's also some clever use of Greek in the book that I'm wondering if Pak didn't use it to slip some of his jokes past his editors. Apparently the Amazons stole Cho because they believe that he is Hercules' eromenos. Cho denies this vehemently, while the Amazon explains that it's "perfectly normal" and "none of her business". This is actually a rather complex joke about Greek sex. Homosexual relationships in Greece at the time were usually asymmetrical, in which one older man, the erastes, had a passive younger partner (often an adolescent), the eromenos. The eromenos, however, wasn't supposed to discuss his affair, as he isn't supposed to enjoy being passive, so Cho's denial of the affair is perfectly expected behaviour for an eromenos. Since an eromenos is supposed to deny the affair, Cho has no way of persuading the Amazon that he isn't actually Hercules' eromenos, which he finds incredibly frustrating. Pak is mixing scholarly debate about the relationship of Achilles and Patroclus with "not that there's anything wrong with that" jokes from shows like Seinfeld. It's a very clever bit of humour, and I have no idea how Pak would have gotten this past his editors unless they had no idea what an eromenos was.

The scene with Ares and the beginning is also laugh-out-loud funny. He's sitting in a diner, listening to women talk about how sexy Hercules is and how revolting Ares is. Ares, of course, hates his half-brother, and simply sits there and stews. The sight of the god of war, sitting in a diner, fuming about how sexy his brother is, is brilliant and wickedly funny. Oeming and Pak have done a great job of recreating the character of Ares in his proper glory, the god of war, and I am excited to see him back in this book. He comes across both as brilliant and ruthless, which in some contexts makes him incredibly scary and in others makes him simply hilarious. One of the best things about this scene is that it reminds us that often the gods were jealous of heroes like Hercules partly because they were so frickin' annoying. Hubris or arrogance, the tragic flaw of all heroes according to Aristotle, can sometimes simply be the result of being more attractive than one of the gods. Sometimes hubris can consist of shaking one's fist at the gods like Oilean Ajax. Other times, it can just be the result of out-sexying Ares in a winking photograph signed "Love thee, silly". Here we see an example of the latter.

Incredible Hercules #121 is a fantastic book. It has explosions and jets and a submarine and scuba gear and wrestling and multi-variable calculus and lava and a jealous king and a medusa with her snakes in a pony-tail and just about everything else that Pak can think to throw into the adventure. Somehow he manages to include all of this without ever losing control of the story or losing control of his characters. Instead the book has the same sense of amoral fun that permeated Greek myth. Gods fight. Gods get laid. Were you expecting insights?

A-

Buffy: Season Eight #18 Review

Writer: Joss Whedon
Penciller: Karl Moline

Spoiler Alert

With its third part, the episode "The Time of your Life" is finally starting to come together. What is most interesting about this comic is that Joss Whedon has quite successfully merged his comic book, Fray, with the Buffy universe at large. Several elements are coming together here. At the end of Season Seven, Buffy turned all potential slayers into true slayers, thus changing the world. Moreover, by doing so, she changed her own fate, or rather, removed it. Buffy had been the "one girl, in all the world, a chosen One. One born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, to stop the spread of evil". By imbuing the other potential slayers with her power, she removed her own destiny. The final line of the television show was Dawn asking Buffy, "Yeah, Buffy, what are we going to do now?". Buffy lets out a small smile, indicating that, for the first time since she was called to be the Slayer, she was able to ask herself that question.

The importance of the current story line is that it appears, somehow, that Buffy failed. In Fray's future, there is only one slayer again. Most fans had assumed that Fray was simply out of continuity, and because it was published before the final episode was aired, it had just not taken the finale of the series into account. Either Joss Whedon knew what he was planning all along, or he made it seem like he did. Instead, the existence of Fray indicates that somehow Buffy failed, and quickly. All the history books that Buffy reads at the beginning of Issue #18 include no mention of her army of slayers, indicating that her army was either wiped out or depowered before anyone could even notice.

How did all of this happen? Curiously, this issue indicates that somehow Buffy is probably responsible. The Willow of the future claims to have very little magic power left, which may or may not be true. Moreover, whatever she told Fray about Buffy convinced Fray that Buffy needed to be killed or at least captured. The Willow of the future is also apparently conspiring to bring someone back into the past, possibly to change whatever would happen, so that magic will not be eliminated from the world. Either Buffy will lose to this group, Twilight, or somehow she imbalanced magic enough that it will somehow be destroyed.

We are beginning to see some of the complexities of the themes of this season. Buffy has created an entire army of slayers, and humanity has simply had enough. We have seen humanity try to fight magic before, with the disastrous Initiative from season four. Twilight is humanity's response to the continuing threat from magic and from the fairly tale world that continues to press against its borders. One curious thing about the themes of this season is that it's not entirely clear who is in the right. Sure, Twilight is creepy, but when presented with the possibility that humanity might be out to stop magic, Buffy's response is to simply say, "Bring them on".

There is an interesting character moment in which we realise Buffy may have lost her compass. When she and Fray are watching vampires attack a group of citizens, Buffy doesn't leap into battle, but instead plans to watch them kill the humans so they can follow them back to their base. At first, I tried to rationalise this scene, thinking that perhaps Buffy was about to discuss a plan in which Fray stops the vampires while she follows the driver back to their base, but I'm not so sure. This is a new Buffy, not the one who foolishly ran off to save innocent civilians while Drusilla killed Kendra and put Willow in the hospital, falling for the same ruse "every single time!" as Angelus mocked. Looking carefully over the season, there have been a few moments where Buffy's utilitarian reasoning has arisen. She has been robbing banks in order to finance her army. She has put some of her soldiers into jeopardy by turning them into her decoys, one of whom was killed. This issue, she is content to simply watch people die for the greater good. Her reasoning has started to resemble some of the darker reasoning of the Watchers during the television show, which makes sense given that this has basically become her role relative to the newer slayers. Future Willow may not have needed to invent very much in order to turn Fray against Buffy.

As a whole, then, the arc of this story is very impressive. It is good to see this comic turn from a series of interesting events to a genuine story with important themes that Whedon wants to tell. In its particular moments, some of the scenes are very funny. Dawn's comment to Lorelahn is laugh-out-loud funny when she asks him whether or not he was caught in a "legend blender". The face-off between Harth and Gunther is suitably creepy, as the two of them realise that they are in a stalemate, and Gunther shows Harth that maybe he isn't the biggest creep in town. The future Willow is starting to be developed well, and she is not the dark Willow of season six nor the vampire Willow of season three. Instead, she is simply a sad figure, almost like a repository of dark and mostly forgotten memories. She looks like an old, broken doll, with cracks on her porcelain forehead and in a tattered, dirty dress. Her comment that she "earned" her title as "madwoman" indicates that somehow she may be responsible for her own misery.

This is the best issue yet of the series, even though nothing much happens in it. Instead, Whedon is carefully drawing out his themes and subtly tying together his narrative, leaving the reader to realise that something very, very bad is about to happen, and that it might be the fault of our favourite characters.

A-

Thunderbolts #123 Review

Writers: Christos N. Gage
Penciller: Fernando Blanco

Marvel's most disfunctional superhero team finally gets involved in the Secret Invasion by attacking the Skrulls in Washington. In doing so, they provide us with one of the most fun superhero comics to be written in recent years, and Gage shows us that he has complete understanding of the Thunderbolts franchise after only two issues. At the end of Secret Invasion #1, Captain Marvel attacked Thunderbolts Mountain, but instead of killing the Thunderbolts, Norman Osborn uses a little pop psychology to undermine his confidence. From the Captain Marvel comic, we know that te Skrull Captain Marvel's encoding didn't quite work, and he really believed he is Captain Marvel. Delivering a great line, "I know something about not being sure if you're really pink...or green", Osborn persuades him to instead attack his own Skrull allies.

One of the nice thing about Gage's run, as opposed to Ellis's run, is that Gage seems to be having a lot of fun with the idea of supervillains in charge, whereas Ellis's run sometimes came across as cynical and even a little mean spirited. Here, the characters are gleefully sociopathic, working together partly because they have to and partly because it's fun. Almost every character is completely off their rocker, but Gage has the remarkable ability to make is seem as though the team and even the effectiveness of the team make perfect sense. Osborn comes across as an incredibly effective leader, even (or especially) of madmen, whose broken psychology makes them easier to manipulate than ordinary people with complex desires. Pulling out an automatic rife, he declares "We're at war", and they head into battle.

The battle is, quite simply, hilarious. Penance of course inflicts pain on himself in order to destroy a Skrull ship. Osborne decides to ram one of the Skrull ships, which may not be the tactically most sound decision, but is certainly the most fun. Venom is dropped into a sea of Skrulls, and of course enjoys eating as many of them as he possibly can, but may end up eating some civilians as well. Bullseye acts like he's a little kid in an arcade game, and is happy for the chance to have an "unsupervised field trip" in which he can murder as many Skrulls (and even some of Osborn's troops) as possible. Everyone is utterly convinced that Swordsman's sister is a Skrull, but they let it pass because they are useful in the fight. Radioactive Man nearly explodes. Moonstone decides to betray humanity in exchange for power. Finally, Osborne sees a bunch of Spider Clones, and the maniacal Green Goblin laugh returns as he prepares to lose his mind again, which seems to happen on a regular basis.

While Grant Morisson is exploring the depths of evil and its meaning in Final Crisis, Gage here is examining the other side. He is making evil fun. Somehow, though, he manages to avoid the mean-spirited satire of books like Preacher or even Ellis's run, and instead manages to turn the chaotic nature of sociopaths into the premise for a truly manic glee. The madness of the Thunderbolts has been fully unleashed, and seeing each character rampaging about, doing more damage to the Skrulls than anyone else gives the same sense of fun that one has when destroying sandcastles or knocking over blocks. Somehow, this book isn't mean-spirited. Gage loves writing this book, and it comes across on every page.

I also want to compliment Blanco's art. He has a lot of fun drawing alien technology and high-tech backgrounds, and there is plenty of opportunity to do that here. He provides a real sense of the layout inside Osborne's ship, for example, and it comes across as a real place. The characters are well drawn, and the cackly look on Bullseye's face is classic. I have two little quibbles, though. Is Moonstone supposed to look completely naked from behind? I know her suit is white, but there is more than one scene where I had to do a bit of a double-take because the lighting makes it look like she's wearing no clothing. Also, Blanco seems a little uncomfortable with architecture, and even though they are fighting in a city, there are few buildings. In the large spreadpage, you'll notice that he carefully puts any buildings behind alien ships, while the most visible part of the ground is a field.

This is one of the best Thunderbolts comics in years. I can't remember enjoying one as much since the origin story of Radioactive Man a few years ago. Gage is having an absolute blast writing the characters and I am having just as much fun reading about them.

A-

Batman #679 Review

Writer: Grant Morrison
Penciller: Tony Daniel

In the latest installment of Batman R.I.P., the entire story is beginning to come together. Moreover, Morrison's entire run is beginning to tie together in a way that shows he knew exactly what he was planning right from his very first issue. We see the return of the Club of Heroes, one of Morrison's more interesting creations, and much of the mystery of the story has been revealed. Batman's insanity is explained and we learn more about the roles of Alfred and, possibly, Thomas Wayne.

Batman has, at this point, completely lost his mind. However, the explanation of this is very interesting. It isn't just that he was injected with drugs in the last issue. Rather, the trigger word Doctor Hurt implanted in his head has somehow "shut off" Bruce Wayne, and Bruce has had to escape into another personality, the Batman of Zur-En-Arrh. This is actually a reasonably plausible explanation, at least in comic book terms. Perhaps it is better to say that it is an intelligible explanation of what has happened to Batman. Before, we just had Batman hallucinating and acting erratically, but none of it made sense. Now it makes some sense. He has created this persona for himself in which he is all-powerful, but lacking the conscience of Bruce Wayne. Now, the Black Glove must face what is in some ways a more powerful and certainly a more dangerous version of Batman, and they almost certainly will not like it.

Some of the red herrings of previous issues have been removed. Alfred is not evil, which is something of a relief. While having Alfred revealed evil would be better than having Thomas Wayne revealed to be evil, that is not exactly a recommendation. Jezebel Jet also seems to not have been involved in the Black Glove, which avoids the cliché of having the hero fall for a duplicitous vixen. Moreover, the possibility that Doctor Hurt may be Thomas Wayne is finally made explicit for all of the readers who didn't read Detective Comics #235 in 1956. Curiously, Doctor Hurt seems to genuinely believe that he is Thomas Wayne, but Alfred does not believe it. That opens up a whole new set of possibilities: is Doctor Hurt insane? Has he had plastic surgery? Is he from Earth-3? It is certainly odd that Alfred would not recognize him if it was really him.

The story is also leading up to its final confrontation, which appears to take place at Arkham Asylum. Nightwing has been brought in for a lobotomy and presumably to serve as bait. The Joker is being brought into the picture, and since Morrison hasn't done very much with the Joker at all, this promises to be very interesting. In the brave but somewhat unsuccessful Batman #663, he gave a prose story centered on the Joker, but one didn't really get a sense form that how he would portray the character. However, the final act at Arkham needs to include the Joker if it is going to truly spell the end of Batman, and I wonder if Doctor Hurt hasn't unleashed more than he can deal with in siding with the Joker, who is not known for keeping his bargains.

There are some very clever moments in this book. The scene with the gargoyles in which they talk about the "grid" around which people grow like vines is a very interesting image, and quickly followed by another replay of Batman's origin, in which Batman is produced by the city in which he lives. The way in which we arrange our lives into patterns and the way in which those patterns shape our lives is an important part of what it is to be human, and the way in which architecture instantiates those patterns is an important insight. Morrison constantly uses architecture as metaphor, and the Batman is so tied with Gotham he is inseparable from it. A nice thing about this scene is that Morrison finds the time to be reflective in the middle of the madness of R.I.P. Every once and a while he takes a chance to step back and remind us of his themes before stepping back into the story.

Moreover, another important theme in this story is theatricality. The characters in Batman are constantly making themselves up as characters. They take the ideal of playing their role extremely literally. As a result, the characters in this story are constantly driven by the role they have chosen to play. Batman is trying to play Zorro. Charlie thinks he is Caligula. The entire story of R.I.P. is based on a Danse Macabre. Everything that the Black Glove does is done primarily for dramatic effect. Do they have any other motivation than to play their parts? How much of our own motivation is often provided by the roles we want to play? Morrison uses theatrical metaphors almost as much as Shakespeare, though with a slightly different purpose. Shakespeare is interested in how we play our roles in a divine drama. Morrison is more interested in how we create our sense of ourselves out of the roles we decide to play. Gotham City provides the ultimate backdrop for him to explore these themes.

This issue is one of the strongest of Morrison's Batman run. It shows he has truly mastered this material. Morrison is starting to bring all of his themes together toward a conclusion that, given the themes, is seeming more and more inevitable. Everyone in this story is playing some sort of character in a play. Plays have conclusions, and with this story, the final act approaches its climax.

A-

Action Comics #868 Review

Writer: Geoff Johns
Penciller: Gary Frank

Geoff Johns continues to produce the finest run on Superman that I have ever read. He is completely reinventing (or rereinventing) the character and his world in a way that is so perfect, it doesn't feel like a revinention. Rather, it feels like this is the way the character should always have been in the first place.

In this story, Johns in reinventing Braniac into one of the greatest single threat Superman has ever faced. Braniac is a more destructive version of the Borg, capturing single cities and individuals, and then wiping out the entire civilization. He seeks "perfection", which was one of the key principles of the Borg, presumably wishing to assimilate all knowledge to himself so that he can encompass the entire universe. That's pretty dangerous. He has captured the bottled city of Kandor, and now is attacking Earth, as it has the two remaining Kryptonians (he must not know about the third or care about Power Girl). It is not enough that he absorb the civilizations; the civilizations must also be exterminated so that he can contain all of the information exclusively.

This book is hinting very strongly that Braniac may, in fact, be responsible for the destruction of Krypton. I'm not sure of how good an idea this is. Tinkering with the origins of DC's greatest characters is always dangerous business, and until now, its destruction has always been a natural disaster. However, it would not fundamentally alter Superman's origin, as Jor-El may have been aware of what was occurring as a result of Braniac's machinations. It would lend much greater emotional weight to one of Superman's arch-nemeses if he was responsible for Krypton's destruction, so if that's the way the story chooses to go, I will not be disappointed.

The sheer power of Braniac takes this story to an epic level. He finally, for the first time ever in comics, emerges from his cocoon to fight Superman. Superman gets to fight the real Brainiac, not a machine or a clone. Moreover, Brainiac is so strong, he makes very short work of Superman. Braniac isn't just highly intelligent and technologically advanced, he is strong as well, meaning that Superman cannot simply beat him by working around his latest plan. When Superman defeats him (as I assume he will), Superman will have accomplished on of his greatest victories ever.

Gary Frank's art in Action Comics is very strong. His facial expressions are some of the best drawn in comics. Sometimes they seem so accurate, I wonder if he isn't working from photographs. The early scenes with Supergirl and Cat Grant are largely funny because of the facial expressions that Frank draws for the various characters. Supergirl's cluelessness at the hostility of Cat would likely not have come across so clearly without Grant's art. Moreover, the almost bored disdain of Brainiac at Superman makes him seem more powerful. Truly powerful people don't often don't express much emotion; they don't have to. Frank manages to bring real life to the character of Brainiac, who has often seemed very, well, artificial.

There is some interesting development of Superman's relationship to his parents and his cousin. Originally, they protected him. Now, he protects them. There is a strange sense of helplessness that parents feel when they realise they can no longer protect their children, and even the sense of pride they have in their children can never really offset that. Supergirl is truly terrified of Brainiac, as she has encountered him before on Krypton, and wants to protect Superman from something that she understands better than he does. This was her opporuntity to fulfil the role she was sent to Earth for in the first place. However, there is nothing she can do, and she realises quite clearly the Superman doesn't need her, at least, not as a protector.

The final scene of the book is fantastic. Brainiac has come to Earth. He may have destroyed Krypton, and now he plans to capture Manhattan and destroy the rest of the planet. Even though the skull design of Brainiac's ship is old, Frank makes it look creepier by giving it a darker colour and adding a few touches that almost make it look like it is rotting. My only complaint is this: shouldn't the ship be bigger? I mean, this is the greatest threat the Earth has ever seen and it's not even the size of a skyscraper. Aircraft carriers are larger than the ship. I'd hoped that the most dangerous alien threat the world has ever faced would be at least the size of a city.

In any event, Johns, who seems to be writing half of the books at DC right now, has truly captured the epic scale of the Superman tale. He is a man from another planet. Now he faces what Supergirl calls "the worst of aliens". This story successfully revitalises one of Superman's greatest adversaries, and tells a story worth of DC's greatest hero.

A-

Angel: After the Fall #11 Review

Writer: Bryan Lynch
Penciller: Nick Runge

Spoiler Alert

After ten issues of trying to find its tone, Angel: After the Fall #11 is the best issue yet. Angel and Gunn finally meet face-to-face, and Lynch has the opportunity to explore the psychology of vampirism that was always such an important part of both the shows Angel and Buffy. Neither show ever really glorified vampires. They were neither Murnau's Nosferatu nor Rice's Lestat. Vampire were not characterised in the purely aesthetic categories of ugly and beautiful.

Vampires instead are pathetic mockeries of their former selves. They have human emotions and they have their human memories, but they have lost their humanity, sometimes called their ability to love. Instead, those emotions have nothing to ground them, as they are no longer human, and can never be fulfilled. However, lacking that humanity, they cannot even realise that they are unfulfilled. As Darla said of her unborn baby when she realised she was about to turn back into a soulless vampire, "I won't be able to love it. I won't even be able to remember that I loved it."

In this issue, we see that this is what has become of Gunn, one of main characters on Angel for all but its first season. He still wants to be a hero. He still hates vampires. He believes he has visions from the Powers That Be, and plans to save Los Angeles. However, his emotions are confused. He lurches back and forth between rage and pride. Meanwhile, he can't even quite see what is wrong with leaving a demon, rotting, nailed to a wall for week. He cannot be a hero, and he cannot even be aware that he cannot be a hero. He still wants Angel's approval, while he also wants to kill him. Simply stated, Gunn is a mess. Moreover, he can never be anything more than a mess, because all his emotions and desires are distortions of a humanity that he has forever lost.

The issue takes the right approach in having the reader realise what has happened to Gunn at the same time as Angel realises it. We see that Angel still holds deep affection for his former friend, and come to the realise along with him, that he will almost certainly need to kill him. That captures perfectly the simultaneous sense of familiarity and loss that accompany characters in the Buffy universe when they encounter their sired former loved ones. And Gunn is one of our loved ones, too. Many people identified with him on the show more, perhaps, than any of the other characters. He was a normal guy trying to make things right, deeply angry at the death of his sister at the hands of vampires. Now he is one, and cannot see that he can no more save himself than he could save his sister. He is lost to us, and this book makes us feel it strongly.

The issue has other strong elements as well. The banter between Spike, Connor and Gwen is well written, and it looks like Gwen is going to be playing a much larger role in this story than one might have thought. When Gun stabs Angel, thinking he's still a vampire, it's a reminder of the kind of torture that vampires are able to inflict on each other. Gunn's complete indecision at finding out that Angel is dying shows just how confused he's become. Then, Gunn's strange and ambiguous whisper to Angel, "I found her first", reminds us that this story will stay personal for a long time.

Overall, this is definitely the best issue of Angel: After the Fall by far. It is better than most of the Buffy: Season Eight comics, as well. The book has really returned to its roots, not being afraid to tell the sort of dark, meaningful stories that made the television shows so memorable.

A-

Final Crisis #3 Review

Writer: Grant Morrison
Penciller: J. G. Jones

After three issues, Final Crisis is truly turning into Grant Morrison's masterpiece. Once one gets past the horrid Countdown to Final Crisis and Morrison's characteristic narrative lapses, what we have here is a truly epic story that not only is a monumental "event", but thematically profound. Grant Morrison always has a lot to say, both about comic books and about life, and in this book he blends both of those obsessions nearly perfectly. This book is scary, moving and exciting. It is also an interesting reflection on the nature of freedom and the ugliness of evil.

The book contains a number of scenes that deal with the nature of freedom: Checkmate plans to introduce universal law enforcement; Superman is trapped at the hospital bed by the necessity of protecting his life; two rogue Monitors begin machinations to protect the Earth (and Monitor machinations never end well); Lex Luthor is given a choice, to obey Libra or lose his free will; Mister Miracle, who cannot be bound, escapes with a bunch of superbrats ruled by their vanity; Hal Jordan is arrested and trusts the justice of the Guardians to free him; a draft is introduced of all the superheroes; and, finally, Darkseid springs the Anti-Life Equation, which rids people of their free will, on the entire planet. Every step is a dark reflection on the meaning of freedom. Is Superman bound by love? In what sense is Luthor's choice a choice at all? Does Jordan's trust in Oan justice mean that he is in any sense free? Morrison never answers any of these questions directly. Instead, freedom provides a theme and backdrop. Every scene asks a new question. The reader is invited to think carefully and deeply about freedom's nature and importance.

There are a lot of very clever moments in the book, and it is sometimes very funny. Nix is fired from his fast food job for being creepy, which is I suppose what an amnesiac Watcher constantly reciting the dictionary would come across as. Oliver Queen's rant about the draft would be too overt as political commentary if we could not almost hear Black Canary rolling her eyes. The scene at the airport is quite amusing since the Super Young Team can't figure out whether or not they want to rescue Mister Miracle and Super Sumo or get their autographs. Morrison's humour can sometimes be bleak or mocking, but most of the humour in this book seems almost lighthearted, especially in the face of the darkness surrounding it.

Other scenes are especially brutal and jarring, but in an appropriate way. Final Crisis is supposed to be about what happens when evil wins, and Morrison doesn't shy away from the implications of that. The murders of Überfraulein, Orion, Replika and one of the Atomic Knights do not come across as in any way poetic or profound. They are just bleak brutality that are a result of the darkness that is overtaking the world. Other scenes also capture the ugliness of violence. Superman is literally using his powers to hold Lois Lane together. Libra's absolutely malevolent, mocking attack on the Human Flame solidifies his role as a complete monster.

One thing very present in this story is the way that the villains do not just hurt people, they mock them. The sheer disdain they feel for everything is present in every scene. Interestingly, this penchant for mockery not only comes from the evil characters, but the good or ordinary ones as well. Aside from Libra's attack on the Human Flame, there is Boodikka/Granny Goodness's snarl at Wonder Woman and Mary Marvel's barrage of insults in the final battle. Yet, this mockery is seen in other characters as well. Father Time ridicules Frankenstein behind his back, the restaurant manager mocks Nix, and Black Canary makes fun of Green Arrow. Morrison does a great job of allowing his villains to be truly vile, while at the same time, reflecting some of those evil characteristics in the heroes.

The conclusion of the book is brilliantly handled. Not content to have a slow burn any longer, Morrison lets his premise explode. He releases the Anti-Life Equation on the whole world, giving the only two people who notice, Mr. Terrific and Oracle, not even enough time to figure out what is happening before it is too late. Wally West and Barry Allen then arrive two weeks in the future, where the whole world has been turned into dystopian madness in which four superheroines in bondage gear riding dogs attack the Flashes. This is a fantastic climax, well earned from the entire history of the Anti-Life Equation. Now we know why Darkseid wanted it so badly and why it was imperative to keep it from him. The results are horrific and revolting.

There are a few small criticisms I have of the book. Again, Morrison fails to identify characters that a reader might not be familiar with. I don't think that every reader should be expected to know every character. The Black King is only identified as Taleb, and unless one has been following Checkmate, one wouldn't know who that is. In the final scene, one of the Atomic Knights has his sister killed, making me as a reader think, "Was I supposed to know they were related?". However, Morrison is much better at scene setting than he normally is, and lets us know who Replika is and explains his powers in one sentence to make sense of his murder. Unfortunately, one mistake that is not his fault, is that Überfraulein is accidently named <berfraulein because of a font problem. Since the scene is already in German (she says "Ich bin <berfraulein"), who it is that just got murdered is rendered accidently unclear.

Something that I dislike about Morrison is his little mocking comic in-jokes. I happen to like comics, which is why I'm reading them, and sometimes his little in-jokes seem mean spirited. The "praying for a resurrection" comment from issue #2 almost single-handedly ruined the drama of Martian Manhunter's funeral, and there are a couple of instances of this here. One is the quirky dialogue around Barry Allen's return. Iris asks, "And it's not Barry from the past or parallel Earth Barry, is it? Jay, tell me." Jay says, no, this is the real Barry Allen. How, exactly, would he know? He spent about ten seconds with him and presumably he would have the same aura if he was from the past. This is a bit of clunky exposition buried in an in-joke and doesn't work. The other little in-joke is subtle, and a jab at Jim Lee. At the end, a group of superheroines show up in bondage gear, but Catwoman shows up in an unaltered costume. The joke, I suppose, is the Catwoman is already wearing bondage gear. I suppose in some context this could be funny, but this scene is supposed to be frightening and the joke ruins the moment. Fortunately, it took me until a second read to catch the joke, but had I caught it the first time, I would not have enjoyed the book as much.

Despite these few criticisms, Final Crisis #3 is a phenomenal comic book. It expands the possibilities of the medium and blends almost seamlessly the wonder of the superhero genre with the probity of high art. Comics don't get much better than this.

A

Robin #175 Review

Writer: Fabian Nicieza
Penciler: Joe Bennett

Robin #175 is a great issue, really expanding on and developing the story of R.I.P., while simultaneously telling the story from the point of view of Robin, who, honestly, is more interesting than Bruce Wayne right now. Moreover, it is nice to see a part of a crossover that, unlike Detective Comics #847, is actually a part of the story by more than pure editorial fiat.

The story is about Robin and his growing fears that Batman, his mentor and now father, has in fact gone insane, and that is why he cannot find him. By and large, this is true, though the insanity was brought on largely by drugs injected by Doctor Hurt. Robin doesn't know this, though, and despite my often arguing that Batman is sane but driven, this comic made me realise that the last two years of Batman's life are really consistent with someone who is losing his mind.

Some of the dialogue is very witty. My favourite was from Robin's voiceover: "Purging his 'inner demons,' then off to a hidden temple in Nepal where Bruce said he needed to die and become reborn. Leave it to him to make that sound like a plan." Spoiler simply cracking up to the point of tears when Robin says he thinks Batman has lost his mind really sums up how most sane people would approach people dressing up as bats and birds and swinging around the city: "Of course he's crazy! We all are. I mean, look at us!"

One thing I really appreciate about the Robin comic is the way it draws Tim Drake as a complete human being, worthy of carrying a comic book himself and every bit a hero in his own right. As this book reaches its conclusion, we understand exactly what Robin plans to do and why he plans to do it. He plans to go up against Batman and defeat him, and I, as a reader, even want him to. Moreover, it looks very much like he might be the one to replace him. I know Batman #666 hints that Dick Grayson will be the likely next Batman, but Tim Drake would be the better Batman. He's more mature than Dick Grayson, and Dick Grayson moved on with his life a long time ago. Tim Drake is his son, and I imagine Batbrat (Damian) will probably become the next Robin.

One of course can't comment on this book without commenting on the cover. It is a representation of the final issue of the "Death in the Family" story in which Jason Todd dies (which was in turn an homage to the Pietà). At first, I thought that it was only a cheap marketing gimmick, especially with the header "Death of a Family", and I suppose it is a gimmick, but it is actually more than that. The point of this book is Robin realising that he may be losing Batman, which would be his greatest loss since his father died, and that he will need to carry on his mission without him. It really is a book about loss, and having the cover from Batman's greatest loss since his parents died is actually a very insightful and a important parallel.

This is an excellent book. It isn't quite as groundbreaking as the R.I.P. story, but it makes up for that with keen psychological insight and clear storytelling. I look forward to reading the rest of this story and this is a great start.

A-

Final Crisis: Requiem #1 Review

Writer: Peter Tomasi
Penciler: Doug Mahnke

Poor Martian Manhunter. While being a contant presence in nearly every incarnation of the Justice League of America, he has never been able to carry his own book, a television show or a movie. No editor has ever figured out what the problem is, but I believe it was his insecurity. As a shapeshifter, he was never quite "in his own skin", so to speak, and was often in the position of continually trying to fit in with humanity, never really noticing that he already did so.

Whatever it was that plagued the poor fellow's commercial success, he's now dead. He's probably permanently dead, given that resurrection seems to be saved for tier-one characters or at least their angry sidekicks. The quality of this story, moreover, is likely to make this a classic, and having something bad happen to you in such a classic story kept Supergirl and Barry Allen dead and Barbara Gordon in a wheelchair for twenty years.

This comic is a wonderful tribute to one of DC's most unappreciated characters. It does a very good job of tracing what it was about J'onn that made us love him. A lot of his past history is retold, including the betrayal of his brother and the death of his family, followed by many of his adventures on Earth. I knew many of these stories and some I didn't, but it had the effect of a wake in which we got to hear many of the stories about the deceased.

There were two truly masterful parts of this story. First, it gave the sense perfectly of how loved he was by his friends. As J'onn was a psychic, his friends were able to feel him die. Moreover, he gave them a part of himself, the history of Mars, and they were able to know a part of him only in his death. This brought out the real feelings people often have at the death of those close to them: they gain insights into the person who died just as they realise they will never see them again. It was very saddening, and a much more insightful approach to death than Morrison's jokey "praying for a resurrection" in Final Crisis #2.

The second aspect of this story that was done brilliantly was the actual murder of J'onn J'onzz. Murdering someone is a messy, bloody business, and this story captures it perfectly. Often characters die in either ways that are either poetic or absurd in their violence, like Supergirl's or Jason Todd's ambiguous scratches, or the dissolving of Barry Allen or the eye-poking of Psycho-Pirate. Instead, J'onn takes a while to kill. His mind thrashes out at his killers, confronting them with their worst fears. Finally, Libra takes out a knife and finishes off the writhing Martian as even Luthor looks on in horror. This is a messy, ugly death, with no charm.

This is really one of the best comics published in recent years. It was a wonderful tribute to one of DC's longest-running characters, and deeply insightful into brutality and into what it feels like to lose a friend whom one may not have appreciated as much as one ought.

We should have appreciated you more, J'onn. We'll miss you.

A