A Familiar Story, Beautifully Told

Does Geoff Johns sleep? From where I'm sitting, it looks like he's writing roughly 70 percent of the books DC is putting out right now, including event stories like "Blackest Night." He's like the Joyce Carol Oates of comic book writers.

Johns' work rarely disappoints, but I approached his latest project, "Superman: Secret Origin," with trepidation. The Man of Steel's backstory has been told many times in almost every medium, and it was hard to believe that there was anything new to say. But while I'm not a rabid Superman fan, I am a sucker for how-it-all-began tales and Gary Frank's artwork. I'm glad I put my skepticism aside, because "Secret Origin" No. 1 is winning in its simplicity and obvious affection for all the origin tales that preceded it.

In Johns' version, Clark Kent is a teenager who is freaked out by his burgeoning powers. Like all adolescents, he's stuck in a changing, unpredictable body. The difference is that when he kisses his childhood sweetheart, Lana, the embarrassing, involuntary reaction is scorching heat vision. Ma and Pa Kent realize they can't put off The Talk any longer, and as a parent, I found myself wondering how I'd break the news to my kid that he dropped out of the sky in a rocket ship. Their big reveal goes badly, especially after unexpected holographs of Clark's — uh, Kal-El's — Kryptonian birth parents appear near the rocket they've hidden in the barn. Clark goes nuts with anger and confusion, and Pa Kent's loving reassurance ("You are my son.") is so touching that it made me a little teary.

The art in this book is gorgeous. Frank draws Clark exactly like a young Christopher Reeve, who is the gold standard for Superman. There's one panel where teen Lex Luthor's facial expression is so perfectly furious that I kept flipping back to study it. Even if you knew nothing about who Luthor eventually becomes, it would be chilling.

Rarely has my 9-year-old son so entranced by a comic book. As I watched him read "Secret Origin" for the second time, I was struck by how few of my comics I've been able to share with him. Let's face it; once you leave the kids' section, a great many comic books are filled with imagery inappropriate for children under 13. "Secret Origin" isn't a "kids" comic book, but it is accessible in the best possible way. He's antsy for No. 2, and so am I.

Thoughts On Random Comics

A few thoughts about comics purchased over the last two weeks:

1. Did Tom Tresser/Nemesis seriously turn down Wonder Woman's offer to mend fences during "a long hot shower?(Issue No. 35)" I've been reading "Wonder Woman" off and on since 1977, and I have never seen her make a proposal quite like that. Not that I'm hating, because I've written before about how previous writers tiptoed around the sexuality of arguably the sexiest character in the D.C. universe. Some readers howled when Diana began her relationship with Metahuman Affairs Agent Tresser, but I thought Gail Simone developed their Amazonian courtship nicely. And when he found out that her original motive was just to keep her bloodline going ... ouch. Diana's attempt to make up Teddy Pendergrass-style was totally unexpected, as was Tresser's "We're through" response. Yeah, like that would really happen.

2. I can't believe I fell for the "Archie proposes to Veronica" gimmick, but like a chump, I bought Archie No. 600, the first of SIX issues devoted to this storyline. There is so much wrong with this comic, including the idea that all the major players would stick around after graduation to attend "State University" in Riverdale. Wouldn't Dilton at least have gotten a full ride at an Ivy League school? Spoilers ahead! So upon college graduation, Archie — despite having no job — blows a check from his parents on a ring for Veronica. Betty (now a New York City career woman) and Jughead just happen to be walking past the jewelry store when Archie pops the question. She's devastated, but can someone explain to me why she wants him to begin with? Again, Archie is unemployed, so Mr. Lodge swoops in to give him a bullshit position at Lodge Enterprises. Meanwhile, Veronica begins planning what is sure to be a tacky production devoted to her ego, complete with 22 bridesmaids. The issue ends with her asking (No, she didn't!) Betty to be her maid of honor, and Betty simultaneously declaring, "You won." There is a genuinely funny panel where Veronica tells her wedding planner that the event can't be "a low-key" affair like the Obama inauguration ball.

3. "Red Robin" started out with promise, but a few things are starting to bug me. It's really not like Tim Drake, even in grief, to run off to Europe on a wild goose chase. I can understand him being pissed off about Dick Grayson's insistence on bringing Damian Wayne into the Bat-fold, but I can't see him cutting ties completely. He and Dick (and Alfred) are awfully close, and why would he give Damian the satisfaction of leaving? Plus, the art in this issue was particularly awful. In some panels, Tim looks like a wiry teenager, which makes sense. In others, he looks like a 30-year-old, which is nuts. I'm giving this title one more chance, and only because I am so fond of the character.

Geeking Out On "Batman and Robin"

My friend S., a fellow comic book geek, refuses to buy Grant Morrison's sublime "Batman and Robin" because, well, he's still smarting from "Final Crisis." I think S. has reached the end of his tolerance for the author's ambitious brand of storytelling, which sometimes comes across as the result of marathon Sharpie-huffing. I admit that there are entire issues of "Final Crisis" that made no sense to me, even after repeat readings.

But "Batman and Robin" is a completely different animal, and it's great stuff. It's only three issues old, but next to "Secret Six," it's become the book I look forward to most each month — even ahead of (gasp) "Wonder Woman." The combination of Morrison's writing and Frank Quitely's art has been just about perfect, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about what happens when Philip Tan steps into the artist's role in issue No. 4. But so far, this book has hit its marks every time. S., are you listening? We'll talk.

This should be obvious to anyone with a passing knowledge of Morrison's work, but "Batman & Robin" is not for the children. My 9-year-old son desperately wants to read it, but the just-concluded Professor Pyg storyline — in which a pig-masked nutcase tries to unleash disease-carrying "Dollotrons" throughout Gotham City — is the stuff of effed-up nightmares. Pyg isn't just villanous; he's sick. (Spoiler alert!) There's a series of panels involving an briefly abducted Damian Wayne (Robin), who becomes an audience of one for the professor's creepy cabaret dance. Seriously, at one point, old boy is dropping it like it's hot and ripping off his shirt ("I want to be sick in public!"), which is one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen in a mainstream comic book. But Damian — having been raised by assassins and all — is pretty unflappable, and once he gets free and starts kicking everyone's ass, it's clear that the boy can handle himself in extreme situations.

I'm very curious to see how Damian's relationship with Batman/Dick Grayson (swoon!) gels over the months, because their dynamic is different from any previous Batman-and-Robin pairing. There are moments of playfulness (Damian suggests they go by "Robin and Batman"), but there is nothing happy-go-lucky about Bruce Wayne's son. Remember; this is the kid who beheaded a criminal in "Batman and Son" and tried to kill Robin III, Tim Drake. He's a handful for Dick and Alfred, and I suspect Morrison has some big plans for this character's development.

Mr. Tan, good luck to you.

Book Of The Month: "Whatever Happened To the Man Of Tomorrow?"

Though I accept that Alan Moore is an exceptional and groundbreaking writer, I’ve often found his work difficult to love. However, when Moore’s “Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?” stories were reissued in trade form, I went directly to the comics shop and bought the book. This volume is delightful, and it’s a great read whether you’re a hardcore comics lover or a casual reader with only basic knowledge of Superman.

Written in the 1980s as the final chapter for the Silver Age Superman, “Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?” is touching, haunting and playful in all the right places — and in a way, it highlights the problem with the lack of an expiration date on iconic comic book characters. No one stays dead (or missing) in comic books anymore, and it is harder to care when you know that a the story of a character’s life has no real end. As wonderful as Neil Gaiman’s “Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?” story was — and it was plenty wonderful — it was undermined a little by the knowledge that Bruce Wayne isn’t really gone for good.

Of course, this makes perfect sense from a business standpoint, and new readers keep discovering (and rediscovering) these titles. My point is that the level of poignancy that Moore achieved here is rare because the medium doesn’t often allow for it. A character like Superman is so much more compelling when he is ultimately defeated by something, whether it’s mortality or a changing world. Superman was rebooted in 1986 with “The Man of Steel” arc, but Moore’s story represents the end of a long and storied era. You should read it.

Hello, Gorgeous

Is there a comics fan out there who didn't love J.H. Williams III's ravishing art work in Detective Comics No. 854? Greg Rucka's introduction-to-Batwoman storyline was certainly good, which I expected. But Williams' visuals stole the show, and I am already steeling myself for the inevitable letdown when a new artist takes over. It's been a while since I really lingered over the pages of a comic book this way or re-read it just to ponder how the artist pulled it off.

Red Robin Doesn't Suck

When word first began circulating about all the Bat-family reshuffling, my first question was, “What’s going to happen to Tim (Drake) Wayne?” After Wonder Woman, Tim – Robin III, if you like – is my favorite DC Comics character. With Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne cast as the new Batman & Robin, I was afraid DC was going to so something dumb like “kill” Tim or send him off-grid for a year during the reboot.

Alas, Tim is alive and (sorta) well as Red Robin, but I had no expectations that Red Robin No. 1 would be good. In fact, as I reluctantly handed over my $2.99, I was mentally preparing for abject disappointment. What a pleasant surprise that it was a good read and a thoughtful step forward for the character.

Unlike Dick, Tim became an orphan relatively recently, when his biological father died in the events of “Identity Crisis.” Batman’s disappearance has hit him particularly hard, and it certainly doesn’t help that Damian – who once tried to kill him – is not only wearing the Robin costume but also taunting him as an imposter. Bruce may have adopted Tim, but Damian is playing the biological card.

At first, this struck me as outrageous. Why would Dick allow that evil little shit to be Robin to his Batman? But considering the enormous responsibility Dick feels to honor Batman’s legacy, I can see how he would take it upon himself to raise and rehabilitate Damian as Bruce might have. He views Tim as his highly capable younger brother who can assist the new team in any way he likes. But Tim, angry and grieving, isn’t convinced that Batman is dead. So after punching Damian in the face (yay!) he heads to Europe to think, fight some bad guys in a new costume and, ever the detective, search for Bruce.

Tim almost always has his wits about him, so it’s interesting to see him question his state of mind and place in the world. Chris Yost’s storyline is pretty intense, and the art’s not bad – though Tim seems to morph into a 30-year-old bodybuilder when he’s in costume. Overall, it’s a promising character evolution that has raised my hopes for Red Robin considerably.

Shot Through The Heart

I've written before about how much I've enjoyed Ultimate Spider-Man, easily one of the most consistently well-written comics I read regularly. After a long, satisfying run, the title ended last week with No. 133. I'm still too upset to discuss this coherently, not necessarily because the book ended but because of the godawful way it ended. Imagine one of your favorite television shows going out in a giant, flaming ball of WTF, and you'll have an idea of how pissed off I am.

Brian Hibbs of The Savage Critics put it perfectly: "Fuck. Seriously, you can't do a wordless comic for $4. FUCK, and no, you can't end your run on the book on such a downer note. Especially not a book like this."

Thanks, Marvel.

Holy Flying Batmobile!

Grant Morrison's Batman & Robin No. 1 turns out to be the perfect comic to banish "Battle for the Cowl's" bad aftertaste. The story quickly establishes that this Batman (Dick Grayson) and Robin (Damian Wayne) team will have a totally different dynamic than Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake. The villains are both comedic and horrifying, and the Batmobile flies! I know Frank Quitely's art is polarizing, but I thought some of his panels — especially the full page of Batman and Robin diving through the air — were downright breathtaking. Did I mention that the Batmobile flies?

After being reduced to a semi-wussy joy rider in "Cowl," Damian, the alleged result of a Talia-Bruce hookup, is back to being an arrogant badass. He's rude to Alfred, whom he refers to as "Pennyworth." When Dick admits that being Batman is intimidating, Damian basically tells him to step aside if he's not up to it. Dude is 12 years old, tops. His altered Robin costume and Doc Marten-esque boots are dope as hell.

What I liked most about this book is the way it combined pure fun with some of the more macabre elements Batman books are known for. The balance was just about perfect, as was the overall introduction to this new series. It's that rare comic that made me impatient for the next installment.

Archie, You Moron

Many moons ago, I owned a "Little Archie" digest that featured a familiar story: Betty lobbies for Archie's affections, and he reacts like a jerk. Because Archie didn't want to walk Betty home from school, he took her through a muddy, meandering route that ruined her outfit and hair. Veronica, in typical mean girl fashion, laughed at Betty when the pair arrived at the Choklit Shoppe.

Archie felt so bad that he offered to walk Betty to school properly the next day, and he even gave her a lock of his hair. However, I was disappointed that Betty let him off the hook so easily and continued to carry a torch for him. I also never completely forgave Archie for being such an asshole, which is probably something to be discussed with a therapist.

Now, there's proof that Archie is an idiot in matters of the heart: CNN reports that Archie will pop the question to Veronica — Veronica! — in a special 32-page issue. The comic will explore the post-college lives of the Riverdale gang, and it's clear from her blog that Betty is heartbroken.

I get that Veronica's wealth, sophistication and overall hotness would be alluring to a 17-year-old boy. But Betty is just as pretty, and I don't recall her once berating Archie for running out of money, driving a piece of shit vehicle or not catering to her every whim. Besides, Archie isn't exactly a Mensa member, so unless his music career takes off, how does he expect to keep Veronica in Gucci and Tiffany? He'll be singing a different tune when he's filing for bankruptcy at 28.

Here's how I'd write that script: Reggie gets his act together, becomes a nice guy (with an edge) and sweeps dear Betty off of her feet. For all his issues, Reggie has always been sexier, funnier and more ambitious than his red-haired nemesis. Living happily ever after with Reggie would be sweet, sweet revenge for Betty Cooper. Archie would be doomed to a life of regret and sending Betty sad e-mails.

I have a theory about why Betty, Veronica and bodacious troublemaker Cheryl Blossom have been fighting over Archie all these years, but I've already said too much.

Dick Grayson: An Appreciation (Of Sorts)

I know Dick Grayson isn't real and that if he were, he'd be plenty legal by now. But it used to make me feel a tad queasy whenever comics made reference to Grayson's (aka Nightwing) hotness or sex life. I mentioned this to my friend Shag a year or two ago, because I was beginning to get the feeling that Nightwing had either hooked up with every young woman in the D.C. universe or figured prominently in their fantasies. His reply was along the lines of, "Heck, yes. This is why he is a hero among male D.C. readers."

Grayson hasn't been Batman's teen sidekick for years, but being confronted with this is a little like running into the kid you used to babysit and realizing that he's not only a college senior but also incredibly good-looking. And ripped. It seems wrong, if not illegal, to notice.

Oh, well. Artist Nicola Stewart kicked that door down with a fabulously glute-tastic panel of Nightwing in the latest issue of "Secret Six." Dang. I guess fighting crime with circus-honed acrobatics is a hell of a workout. My friend V. confessed that she stared at that particular panel for 10 minutes. A Facebook friend, also female, virtually high-fived my mention of this particular rendering.

I am now of the opinion that Stewart should draw Nightwing, like, all the time.

The End of Batman's Long, Strange Trip

There's probably no way Neil Gaiman and Andy Kubert could have topped the first installment of "Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader," which was one of the best single-issue comics I've read this year. But while part two isn't as original as the first, it's still quite good.

We all know Batman's departure from the DC Universe is temporary; yet, Gaiman has managed to craft a story full of melancholy and meaning. In fact, his contribution is the only part of the "Batman's Dead" storyline that hasn't come off like a cheap stunt. Most of part two is a conversation between Bruce Wayne — who isn't sure that he's dead — and his late mother. (I'd be perfectly happy if I never saw another panel of young Bruce kneeling beside his murdered parents' bodies, but I'll let this one slide.) The tenderness of the dialogue between Bruce and his mother really affected me, though I wish he hadn't been in costume the entire time. Then again, Batman is no longer Bruce Wayne's alter ego. It's who he is. Maybe I've gone soft, but the ending, combined with some "Goodnight, Moon" moments, gave me the sniffles.

I think this a comic that readers will either love or loathe. The storytelling devices are well-worn, and there are no big surprises. Batman never gave up his lonely fight, and then, eventually, he died. That's it. It's just a quiet, heartfelt ending that isn't really the end.

"Battle for the Cowl" Defeats Me

It's Easter, a day when many are reflecting on resurrection. Which brings me, of course, to Jason Todd.

I know I need to let this go, but I am so annoyed after reading the second installment of "Battle for the Cowl." Why am I still reading it? Because I am naive and like to give things the benefit of the doubt. I want to keep up with my favorite characters, even if they are trapped in an unworthy storyline. I want to believe D.C. has a perfectly good reason for bring Todd back from the grave.

So here we have my favorite Robin, Tim Drake, dressed like old-school Batman and battling my least favorite, Todd, who has declared himself the new, gun-toting Batman. Todd has shot Batman's son, Damian, who for some reason has morphed from the fearless, criminal-murdering badass of "Batman and Son" to a pesky, frightened kid. Drake beats Todd with a crowbar, a scene that attempts to echo those harrowing panels from "A Death in the Family". Sigh. In the end, Todd impales Drake with a batarang, a scene that attempts to echo those harrowing panels from "Identity Crisis." SIGH.

I know when I've been beaten, no pun intended. I have to accept that there will never be a reason good enough to justify Todd's return, and that it will always piss me off. I'm giving myself permission to ignore the final installment of this series and its counterparts. After all, Wikipedia is free, and the new "Batman and Robin" book will begin eventually.

Welcome Back, Barry. I Guess.

I wanted to be more excited about the return of Barry Allen, because a) he's an iconic character and b) it's a big deal when someone comes back from the dead 20 years later. That panel of him emerging from the Speed Force was one of the more thrilling panels in the "Final Crisis" series. It's an event, so to speak.

But I was never much of a Flash follower to begin with, and I have this crazy idea that the vast majority of characters, once killed off, should stay dead. Otherwise, death in comics is meaningless and stripped of its impact. That's why I can't take the deaths of Batman and Martian Manhunter seriously, because I know D.C. already has a plan to bring them back.

Nevertheless, I put my skepticism aside and parted with $3.99(!) for the first installment of Geoff Johns' "The Flash: Rebirth." The storyline is overwhelmingly OK, though Ethan Van Sciver's artwork is quite striking. Barry Allen is the least interesting thing about the comic, which isn't surprising considering his rap as one of the most boring characters in the DCU. The sequence of panels featuring Allen and Hall Jordan, another titan of boring, is unintentionally funny.

I generally enjoy Johns' work, but I haven't decided if I'm going to read the rest of this series. D.C. will be fine without my $3.99, but I feel like I'm only encouraging these cheap back-from-the-grave stunts by buying this stuff.

Over at Once Upon a Geek, my friend Shag revealed that Barry Allen is his Scott and Jean — a topic he can't discuss without going into a sputtering rage. Another is the also-resurrected Jason Todd, the Robin who famously bought the farm in 1988. Look, I read "A Death in the Family" back in the day, and that shit meant something. Tears were shed. The fact that Todd is now very much alive makes me completely crazy and irrational (It's my Scott and Jean!), so I should probably stop talking about it now.

As you were.

My Son Approves Of This Team-Up

OK, I realize that I have repeatedly dissed Damian (who is clearly the new Robin, pictured here in Grant Morrison's upcoming "Batman and Robin"), but my 9-year-old son flipped when he saw this Frank Quitely picture. He's gonna want those boots.

'Battle For The Cowl' Disappoints Me

The first installment of the three-part "Battle for the Cowl" was disappointing in some pretty significant ways. The story has the dull sheen of inevitability, and as others have pointed out, some of the art is effing terrible. Seriously, Tony Daniel draws one unattractive Nightwing, which is particularly offensive considering that the character is one of the heartthrobs of the D.C. universe. In several panels, his upper body makes him look almost deformed. The fact that every woman on the cover has odd, pointy breasts is another ominous sign. One of my favorite bloggers, J. Caleb Mozzocco, dissects the artistic wrongness very well.

The plot is your standard "Who is impersonating Superhero X," which is supposed to be more poignant because the real Batman is "dead." Gotham City is now a war zone, but since it's always a hellish place, the story needed to convince me that things were worse than usual. It didn't really. Various villains unite to do whatever villains do when a major cape is out of the picture. Oh, look; there's Batman's (alleged) son Damian, taking the Batmobile out for a joyride. He's still not interesting.

This installment is narrated by Robin, who is one of my favorite characters. Unfortunately, he's saddled with some cringe-inducing internal dialogue: "With great preparation and a little luck, you can avoid (death). The bullets with your name on them. The knives with your reflection in the steel ..." Yikes. There's a lot of nattering about how Dick has shut down since Batman died and some glimpses of the wannabe who is impersonating his mentor.

Of course, I don't have to buy the next two issues of this, but D.C. has made such a big deal about BFC that I'm afraid I'll be completely lost if I don't see it through to the bitter end. That's probably what they're counting on.

On a happier note, Peter Tomasi's "Outsiders" has a lot of good stuff going on. I'm interested to see where he takes this title in the months ahead.

My 'Watchmen' Enthusiasm Is Waning

You may have heard that a little flick called "Watchmen" is coming out on Friday. I'm just gonna put it out there: I'm kinda over it.

"Watchmen" is the Holy Grail for serious comics lovers, but as I've said before, I waited too long (way too long) to appreciate it. Do I understand its impact on the genre? Absolutely.

It's no secret that "Watchmen" writer Alan Moore wants nothing to do with the film adaptation or that he has absolutely no use for D.C., which owns the rights to it. Moore has frequently criticized the comics industry, and justifiably so in many cases. Hollywood isn't much better, as the film version of "The League of Extraordinary Gentleman" proved. He's got a right to be disdainful of the practices of both industries based on his past treatment.

But I'm weary of his seemingly dismissive attitude toward mainstream comics as art and the people who enjoy them. It's one of the themes in his recent Q&A interview with Wired magazine. As usual, he has a lot of interesting things to say. But some of his statements bugged me a little.

On superheroes: "But looking at the superhero today, it seems to me an awful lot like 'Watchmen' without the irony, that with 'Watchmen' we were talking very much about the potential abuses of this kind of masked vigilante justice and the kind of people that it would in all likelihood attract if these things were taking place in a more realistic world. But that was not meant approvingly."

Is it such a bad thing to enjoy "Green Lantern" without irony? Especially since it's, um, not real? Besides, he admits that he hasn't read comics closely in many years ... so how would he know?

On people who read comics: "They're being bought in many cases by hopeless nostalgics or, putting the worst construction on it, perhaps cases of arrested development who are not prepared to let their childhoods go, no matter how trite the adventures of their various heroes and idols."

Stereotypes contain a kernel of truth, as this statement certainly does. But what about the discriminating comics readers who sift through the dreck and take reading and literature seriously? Besides, if an otherwise responsible, productive adult wants to spend an hour a week with the Flash, why is that something to look down upon?

Obviously, parts of that interview took me there. And as opening day approaches, the less certain I am that I want to spend almost three hours in the relentlessly dystopian "Watchmen" universe. I'm not a person who thinks that art should never be upsetting, but I'm feeling particularly protective of my psyche right now. Maybe I'll feel differently by Friday, but it's not like Alan Moore wants my money anyway.