Miscellaneous (non-Superhero) - "M" page 1

Written by Tom DeFalco. Illustrated & coloured by Barry Windsor-Smith (layouts Herb Trimpe).
Letters: Higgins/Albers/Chiang/Novak. Editor: Larry Hama.

Reprinting:  Machine Man #1-4 (1984 mini-series) - minus covers; subsequently re-published as Machine Man 2020 (a two issue mini-series)

Rating: * * * (out of 5)

Number of readings: 2

Published by Marvel Comics

This follow-up to the late-'70s comic book series has Machine Man, the "living  robot", being reassembled in the year 2020 -- a cyberpunkish reality almost 40  years from when he last remembers. He hooks up with some black market rebels at odds with a power-onto-itself mega-corporation...a corporation run by his old enemy, Sunset Bain.

Sometimes, when reviewing graphic novels, I use the phrase "comic booky" as a compliment, meaning there's lots of colourful adventure and a kind of  earnestness-devoid-of-pretension. But sometimes the phrase can have negative connotations, denoting a story that seems kind of superficial. This Machine Man TPB (also known as Machine Man 2020) is comic booky in the latter sense.

Don't get me wrong: it's entertaining and likeable and I wasn't bored. But it never really becomes more than just an action story. The plot seems a little half-baked and the future reality not entirely thought out. Tom DeFalco and company emphasize fight scenes, and short change some of the emotion and human drama the premise promises -- in a scene where Machine Man learns an old friend was murdered, he doesn't react at all. And Machine Man at times seems like a supporting character in his own book!

As well, it's not clear what the story's about. I don't mean, what happens or why (although it's vague here and there; not being that familiar with Machiney's previous adventures, I'm not sure why the villains are so obsessed with him), but what I mean is -- what's the point, the themes, the subtext?

The mega-corporation manufactures robots, so one might infer that the story's about technology-out-of-control...except the good guy rebels also manufacture robots. The whole robot-with-a-soul idea that was at the core of the original series, of Machine Man seeking acceptance and identity in a hostile world, is here kind of muted.

Conversely there are some cute touches, like the black marketeers holing up in an abandoned McDonald's restaurant. And there's imaginative future extrapolation, like future slang, and hints of socially acceptable polygamy. And the scene where the characters first view Sanctuary is memorable.

The art by Barry Windsor-Smith is, as always, incredible to look at, though I'll admit I sometimes quibble with his work. He's a truly great artist, no doubt about it, but there are better comic book artists. His intricate style's a little busy in spots, and aloof. Still, it's always striking.

Machine Man (originally called Mr. Machine) was created by Jack Kirby in the pages of Marvel's problematic movie tie-in, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and was sort of comicdoms answer to Adam Link. In the pages of his own, short-lived comic, he evolved into a kind of poor man's Silver Surfer. In both cases he never really managed to be more than an also-ran, a character with more potential than actual success. Even so, those appearances strike me as slightly more ambitious than this story line. DeFalco apparently wrote the final issues of Machine Man's first series, suggesting this attempt at rebooting the character may have been a labour of love...but it feels kind of workmanlike.

In the end, Machine Man is enjoyable, on a non-think level, but it could've been -- it should've been -- much more. Still, you've got to love any story where "Sanctuary" is in Canada.

Original cover price: $9.25 CDN./$6.95 USA

Magnus Robot Fighter: Invasion 1994 (SC TPB) 120 pgs.

Written by Jim Shooter, with Laura Hitchcock. Pencils by David Lapham, Mark Moretti, Paul Creddick. Inks by various. Colours/Letters: various. Editors: Janet Jackson, Don Perlin.

Reprinting: Magnus, Robot Fighter (Valiant series) #5-8 (1991) plus covers

Rating: * * * * (out of 5)

Number of readings: 2

Published by Valiant Comics

For more Magnus see Predator vs. Magnus

The initial Valiant publishing line came and went during the time I had fallen out of reading comics, but I was curious about what they had done with their revival of Russ Manning's clean-cut far future hero, Magnus. Curious, but also cynical, I picked up this out-of-print TPB with reservation. Between buying it and reading it, though, by chance I came across references to Valiant's (early) Magnus. Good references. Approving references. Maybe not gushing, but certainly contented.

After all, this was Jim Shooter, a man who acquired a very bad reputation as Marvel's editor-in-chief, but also a man who had cranked out some fine stories years before as a writer on the Legion of Super-Heroes (a similar milieu to Magnus) and the Avengers.

The end result is that Magnus, Robot Fighter, is, well, kind of fun.

Shooter updates the old squeaky clean future by throwing in a ghetto and political machinations, but he hasn't updated it too much. There's a retro look and feel to the thing in spots. The year 4001 is still pretty cool looking, and Magnus is still a stand-up kind of guy.

The story is a team-up, introducing Magnus' Japanese counterpart, Rai -- and the idea that Japan is one giant city, ruled over by a computer, Grandmother (think of it as a more benign version of the city-intelligence in Frank Miller's Ronin). Anti-granny rebels want to destroy Grandmother, feeling she has robbed her people of the desire for free will...unaware that Grandmother is the only thing standing between earth and an alien invasion fleet.

On one hand:

Invasion fails to be more than just a romp. There's character stuff, self-sacrifice, and moral dilemmas, but they're devoid of real passion. Rai struggles with a heart wrenching dilemma near the end but, once he's made his decision, doesn't seem to give it a second thought. Curiously, though the story has twists and turns, it doesn't really seem like it does, seeming too simple and straightforward. And the alien invasion thing is a bit...unconvincing. The aliens are ill-defined and Magnus learns about it in the most perfunctory manner. The art is unspectacular, delivering few panels that make your mouth drop open, or exquisitely rendered faces conveying subtle nuances. This is more craftsmanship than artistic expression.

On the other hand:

The story trundles along briskly, boasting some interesting ideas and is devoid of pretension. The climax, when we discover just why this outer space fleet fears the city-intelligence, is kind of imaginative. Even minor things like future slang or the idea that, in the ghetto, the women tend not to shave, is off-beat (not to mention gutsy, given the way the mainstream media tends to freak at the idea of female body hair). The art boasts an openness and a pleasing...clarity. It doesn't get lost in stylized contortions and muddy, incomprehensible panels. There's a no-nonsense storytelling style at work here that, frankly, went out of vogue a long time ago, and is missed. In writing and art, one gets the feeling the creators saw themselves as subservient to the needs of the story, not the other way around. As I said, it's all refreshingly unpretentious, delivered with clarity. The vivid colours are particularly striking, yet likewise unobtrusive, and enhance the vision of this far-future of clean streets and towering buildings.

From a Magnus-fan point of view, Invasion is a bit disappointing. He has to share the limelight with Rai (being prepped for his own series) not to mention Solar (another '60s character revived by Valiant, who appears in a couple of scenes) and seems a bit out of his element in the climax -- and out of his local (NorthAm) for the body of the story. Rai's a perfectly acceptable character...but it is called Magnus, after all.

Overall, Magnus, Robot Fighter: Invasion is...fun. Even as we get into the climax, and the good guys cavalierly incinerate alien ships like something out of "Star Wars" (where death and destruction has no accompanying moral consequences), I found myself reading it with a relaxed, easy-going grin on my face. It may not be high art, but I'll probably keep an eye out for the first Magnus TPB (Steel Nation) and other Valiant comics. At least, early Valiants. Shooter was shortly given the boot, and some reviews suggested the whole line went downhill after that.

Cover price: $13.65 CDN./$9.95 USA.

The Mammoth Book of Best Crime Comics 2008 (SC TPB) 480 pages

Writers/artists: various. Editor: Paul Gravett.
published in black & white

Reprinting: a lot (24 stories!)

Additional notes: intro by Gravett (to the collection, and each story)

Rating: * * * 1/2 (out of 5)

Number of readings: 1

Suggested for Mature Readers

Published by Running Press Books

The "Mammoth Book of..." anthology series has produced a huge catalogue of short story collections, ranging from "Dickensian Whodunnits" to "Lesbian Erotica". But in a kind of unusual branching out, this text-only series has also included some comic book collections, including a Horror comics and a War comics collections. And this: crime comics.

It's a particularly diverse collection, ranging from old Golden Age stories to comics published in the 1990s, mainly American but with some European comics thrown in (some translated into English for the first time). Stand alone film noirish tales are interspersed with those featuring series characters (like The Spirit, Ms. Tree, Italy's The Torpedo, and others). And the lengths run from eight page shorts to feature length comics as long as fifty pages, as well as a couple of daily newspaper comic strip story lines. There are mainstream, general readership tales...and mature readers stories.

In its very diversity and scope, the collection succeeds as a nice tome to have on the shelf, with a little something for everyone.

The problem with "best of..." collections is that they very rarely live up to that adjective. As grab bags of hit and miss tales collected conveniently between a single cover, they're fun to flip through, where you might have picked it up for a particular creator and instead find it a nice introduction to the work of someone you'd never heard of before. But it's the sheer quantity (and variety) of material that is the appeal...more than the quality.

Still, editor Paul Gravett has done an exemplary job of assembling an eclectic collection. The inclusion of series characters was part of the appeal for me, as it meant the collection wasn't just a stream of philandering husbands and murderous business partners, but included tales of adventure and heroism, as well. Gravett also does a good job considering that most of the publishers that dominate American comics today don't seem to like to participate in multi-company collections, maybe fearing it would dilute there efforts to cultivate a readership loyal to their "brand" (supposedly DC had been approached with a request to include a Batman comic in another multi-company anthology...and DC refused). So there are no Marvel or DC or Dark Horse properties represented here -- excepting ones where the rights ultimately reside with the creators.

The lack of the major companies' participation could threaten to make this a "Best Crime Comics...by Second String Companies". But the nature of the genre means the majors wouldn't necessarily have been primary contributors anyway (now if there was a Mammoth Book of Super Heroes, then there might be a problem).

Visually, the book is rarely to be faulted, with most of the comics nicely drawn in various styles, some presenting the work of acknowledged masters (Alex Raymond's beautifully elegant art on a lengthy Secret Agent X-9 newspaper strip) some European artists not well known in North America. It's all presented in black and white, even stories originally published in colour, but black & white suits the crime n' mean streets milieu.

But story-wise, a lot seem too insubstantial, or build to anti-climactic, almost shaggy dog endings. "The Switch" features the European-created exploits of a 1930s Chicago hit man, the Torpedo. Beautifully illustrated in a Joe Kubert-esque way by Jordi Bernet, it's a rather unsavory series (apparently original artist, American Alex Toth, bowed out after the first few episodes finding the series' nihilistic glorification of an amoral killer not to his tastes). But the plot, in this instalment, is pretty weak, with the Torpedo planning revenge against a cop that takes eight pages of planning for a rather simple resolution. More high brow is "The Murder of Hung", about a Vietnamese woman in New York, but it's a pretty obvious tale that seems stretched even at eight pages. A Golden Age American comic by the classic Simon & Kirby team, a traditionally told tale of con artists, is well told, and quite entertaining, seeming almost to be shoe horning an entire B-movie into its limited pages...but resolves in an abruptly anti-climactic resolution.

What you notice about a lot of the European comics is a penchant for setting the stories in the U.S. Editor Gravett applauds these efforts, remarking how remarkable it is that they capture the mood of New York or Chicago when the creators had never even visited the States. But I regard it with a tad more cynicism. As a Canadian who sees too many Canadian storytellers preferring to set their stories in the U.S. -- essentially killing their own cultural through neglect -- I think it's a shame that creators would rather write about things they've read, rather than things they know. It smacks less of creative inspiration...and more creative regurgitation.

That may be why one of the best of the European translations here is "The Street", featuring the recurring character of Commissioner Spada, which actually is set in Europe, and is an appealing, low-key little tale (and one of the least gritty in this collection).

I could go on detailing some criticisms, or how some of the "series" stories seem to suffer from their continuity, often unclear what was happening or why -- including a couple of other U.S.-set, European comics (Alack Sinner and Kane). Even with an episode of Will Eisner's classic The Spirit, Gravett has strangely selected a story that seems to draw upon too much continuity to quite satisfy as a stand alone tale.

But some of the more memorable tales include the Secret Agent X-9 epic (covering 80 pages in this collection!) which is a fun, movie serial-like romp -- though there is a printing error (pgs. 150-151 should be inserted between pgs. 142 and 143) and it's only held together by the most tenuous logic (strangely, the identity of the villain is blatantly revealed early...yet then is treated as a "revelation" toward the end) -- this particular X-9 story was adapted to a BBC radio series many years later; Charles Burns' darkly quirky El Borbah about a cynical detective who dresses like a Mexican masked wrestler; comics' legend Jack Cole's film noir-ish "Murder, Morphine, and Me"; Johnny Craig's traditional, but well-told tale of infidelity and murder, "The Sewer"; and the previously-referenced Commissiaro Spada story. As well as others that, if not classics, are nonetheless enjoyable page turners, such as a Mike Hammer newspaper strip by Hammer creator Mickey Spillane.

I can't quite sign off on the "Best" designation...but for the price, it remains a generous collection, and with its smattering of European creators, Golden Age tales, newspaper strips, and indie comics, can open up a window on a world of lesser known creators and characters.

Worth having on the shelf.

Cover price: $__ CDN./ $17.95 USA.

The Man Who Grew Young 2001 (SC GN) 112 pgs.

Written by Daniel Quinn. Illustrated, coloured and lettered by Tim Eldred.

Rating: * * * (out of 5)

Number of readings: 1

Published by Context Books

(Mildly) Suggested for Mature Readers

The Man Who Grew Young begins in what appears to be modern times. Except it isn't, not quite. The world as we know it has reached its end and is now reversing itself. Scientists have theorized that our expanding Universe will eventually begin contracting, but what writer Daniel Quinn imagines is that this reversal will entail a turning back of time, as well. In the world the story's hero, Adam Taylor, inhabits, life is lived in reverse. People are dug out of the ground, grow younger over the course of their lives, eventually returning to their mother's womb. The opening sequence is particularly effective as Adam and friends wait by a grave side so that he can meet, for the first time, the woman who will be his wife.

The idea of a backward reality is intriguing. Particularly for me. Being a scribbler of fiction, as well as reviews, I've been toying with an idea in that vein for a few years now. And there was an episode of the British science fiction sitcom, "Red Dwarf", that utilized the concept. Although "Red Dwarf"'s, um, earthy sense of humour explored aspects of the idea in ways that Daniel Quinn, wisely, leaves untouched.

The hiccup in The Man Who Grew Young is that Adam doesn't know his mother, so he cannot return to the womb. He is immortal, stuck watching the passage of time, the reversal of events as we know them (in Adam's reality, Europeans don't emigrate to North America...they pack up and leave it) and the dismantling of what we know as civilization. All the while, Adam is on a quest for his mother.

This is the first graphic novel by novelist Daniel Quinn, here teamed with artist Tim Eldred. Quinn's first novel, Ishmael, was something of a phenomenon and he's, apparently, as much a philosopher as he is a story teller, with much of his work being treatises on the Human Condition dressed up in a narrative. I suppose, put one way, he is this generation's Richard Bach. I don't say that to draw any profound comparisons between the two (it's been years since I read Bach's Jonathan Livingstone Seagull and wouldn't presume to recall any of its specifics) -- I'm merely trying to establish a point of orientation.

On one hand, The Man Who Grew Young is an intriguing odyssey through a truly alternate world. Along the way, Quinn presents some provocative ideas that are genuinely worth chewing over as he uses his premise to re-examine the place of Human Beings in the grand scheme of things, and to question our lifestyle of conspicuous consumption. And Quinn seems comfortable with the dialogue-focused medium of comics.

On the other hand, the book isn't really a story, per se. There's a beginning, and an end (of sorts) and there's a protagonist, but supporting characters come and go, most not really people but ciphers. They are tools by which the author can obliquely lecture Adam, and by extension, the reader. An exception is when Adam meets Merlin the magician. Merlin is portrayed as a quirky, humourous figure and their interaction comes alive...but he is gone too quickly. Adam has a few liaisons over the course of the story, but they are without romance, without passion.

It's reminiscent of religious comics I read as a kid. Not that Quinn is a religious writer, per se (despite having had a religious schooling). In fact, the very beliefs he challenges, such as Humanity being king of the earth, is very much at the heart of Judaeo-Christian philosophy. But there is a teaching tool technique to this story, with Adam sitting at the feet of various gurus who politely, but dispassionately, attempt to enlighten him. The "religious" feel is further articulated by a sequence that is blatantly a parable, re-interpreting the story of the Garden of Eden.

The problem with philosophy dressed up as a story, rather than a story that is infused with philosophy, is that there's no fall back position. The reader can't say, "It was a real page turner, regardless of the ideas" the way you can with something that is a story, first and foremost. I'm pretty friendly with what Quinn had to say. Nothing shocked me, or offended my beliefs. But like a lot of philosophy that is, after all, ideas in theory, there was an airiness to them, a feeling that that's all very fine, but how would you apply these beliefs practically? One can appreciate the symbolism of the back to nature ideas, but when he has characters suggest that a hunter-gatherer life is easier than our technocratic existence, one isn't sure just how literally -- or seriously -- he means us to take such statements.

This "airiness" also relates to more concrete aspects of the story. This isn't really science fiction, in which one might expect an exploration of the ins and outs of this world (such as asking how would people behave who had no fear of an unexpected, or untimely, death?) or in which things have a literal cause and effect. The big ideas at work, understandably, don't really lend themselves to a secular, concrete resolution. But even though the reader is therefore prepared, the vague ending is a little unsatisfying.

The art by Tim Eldred portrays the story with a matter-of-fact simplicity, a kind of un-splashy art style that seems appropriate for a man who has worked in television animation. In a way, it's reminiscent of the Valiant comics house style from the early 1990s. The figures are clean, the proportions well realized, though there's a vague undercurrent of PBS cartooniness -- which can be a bit off-putting when the story occasionally strays into "mature readers" areas. The colours are bright and bold, and the whole thing is pleasant to look at, with Eldred demonstrating a good eye for telling a scene through panels. At the same time, given the story's surreal aspirations, one wonders whether a more impressionistic artist might have served the material better, lending it a greater moodiness.

Ultimately, this is an interesting, likeable work. For fans of Quinn's other (non-comics) work, it presumably delivers what they've come to expect, while for comics readers, it offers a change-of-pace from the gritty tales that populate most super hero and science fiction flavoured comics. Quinn poses some interesting questions, though his answers don't always satisfy, and the story would've benefited from stronger plot and characterization to give the ideas something to rest upon.

Cover price: $32.50 CDN./$19.95 USA.

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