Earth X ... at last

I bought Earth X four years ago, but only this May did I manage to read it all the way through. 

This says more about my eyes being bigger than my stomach, reading-wise, than about the quality of the work by Alex Ross, Jim Krueger, and John Paul Leon. 

Still, the book is dense, both in concept and execution. Readers weaned on more pedestrian crossover events (oh, all the villains have escaped from Arkham ... again!) may be surprised by how ambitious Earth X is. Its goal is nothing less than a unified theory of the disparate events at the bedrock of the Marvel Universe, encompassing the Celestials, Inhumans, and Asgardians, along with Uatu the Watcher and Galactus thrown in for good measure. And those are just the cosmic players. The book is also chock-full of the typical suspects—Reed Richards, Tony Stark, Captain America, Spider-Man, the Thing, et al. 

So, this is a book that swings for the fences. It doesn't quite get there, but it still offers much to recommend. 

First, the world-building and continuity bridges are impressive. Krueger, as writer (sharing story credit with Alex Ross, who also designed the futuristic landscape and characters), has set himself a Miltonian task (to "justify the ways of God to men," as the poet announced in Paradise Lost) by teasing out "a purpose to the throng of accidental heroes that Stan [Lee] and Jack [Kirby] created so many years ago." Earth, it seems, is home to a gestating Celestial, protected through the years by mutations implanted in the indigenous inhabitants. Said mutations present themselves as superheroes, but only after traumatic events, such as World War II (for many of the Invaders) or radioactive spiders (for ... well, you know), germinate the deeply buried seeds. 

Second, this may well be John Paul Leon's masterpiece. I haven't yet read The Winter Men, which some readers declare his finest work. Yet it's hard to imagine any other artist organically working so many heavy hitters into one story. The climactic battle between Galactus and the Celestials rivals any big-budget superhero film, and that's just one sequence among dozens that are equally jaw-dropping. 

It was also gutsy of Krueger, Ross, and Leon to use Aaron Stack, aka Machine Man, aka Mister Machine, as the story's protagonist. Outside of hardcore fans in 1999 (when Earth X was first published), who even remembered this character from Kirby's short-lived 2001: A Space Odyssey series? But Stack makes the perfect vehicle to observe a Watcher's dissolution into madness. That the creative team also worked in an appearance by the Monolith, the hunk of extraterrestrial stone that gave humanity's ancestors the edge over their enemies in Kubrick's original film, is a bonus. 

However, Earth X's biggest assets are also its biggest flaws. The ambitious plot is sometimes too convoluted. A teenaged Red Skull skulks about the periphery, a new Daredevil's origin remains fraught with mystery (if it was revealed, it flew over this reader's head), and a major plot point—all of humanity gaining superpowers—isn't explored in nearly the detail that it could (or should). 

A series that relies so much on the audience's previous knowledge of the Marvel Universe doesn't need origin recaps for the major players, but the book overflows with them. Worse, these summaries of Spider-Man, the X-Men, and the Fantastic Four don't provide any new analyses or breakthrough observations. 

And the ongoing battle of wits between Stack and Uatu becomes tiresome, especially when extended to text pieces at the end of each chapter. These could uncharitably be described as filler, something to fill the empty spaces around Ross's concept sketches. A better use of the pages comes in the appendix to Chapter Twelve, when Captain America offers an insightful analysis of his relationship with the Red Skull and with America itself. More insights like this would allow the words to compete with Ross's sublime designs.  

In the end, Earth X is a book that commands attention. It transcends the tired rationales for most large-scale events and delivers a carefully considered vision of the Marvel Universe's past and future, along with some slices of philosophy suitable for our own time. Despite flaws in pacing and an overabundance of underutilized characters, it's a book that deserves to be revisited.

Even if it takes some readers four years to do it. 

 

Godzilla vs. Spider-Man

Of the three Godzilla oneshots released by Marvel so far, I expected the least of Godzilla vs. Spider-Man. Maybe that's why I liked it the most. 

Given Spider-Man's popularity, a meeting of the two characters could be seen as a blatant cash grab. Yet setting the story in the 1980s era, with Spidey newly garbed in his symbiote suit from Secret Wars, provides as much rationale as such a story needs. 

It makes sense that Godzilla, the "eighty-thousand ton surgeon," should head to New York to destroy the spreading "cancer" of the alien symbiote. And, just as Godzilla vs. Fantastic Four provided fan service by mixing the Silver Surfer's power cosmic with the Big G's own radioactive powers (to say nothing of a Godzilla-sized Thing battling him), this issue sees the black suit expanding its ambitions to kaiju-sized extremes. 

An unexpected delight of the issue is the inclusion of typical Spider-Man subplots—Mary Jane v. Black Cat, Peter being verbally abused by J. Jonah Jameson, and the perennial Parker woe-is-me soliloquy as he muses on his mistakes. 

Joe Kelly writes the script as a pastiche of Spider-Man stories from forty years ago (which never go out of style, apparently), while Nick Bradshaw channels the style of Art Adams to give the visuals a slick, ultra-detailed 1980s sheen. The result is the most effortless Godzilla mash-up yet. 

  

Godzilla vs. Hulk

 

It's taken forty-eight years, but Marvel has finally gotten around to the titanic match-up it promised back in Godzilla: King of the Monsters #1. 

On the letters page of that first issue, editor Archie Goodwin ran a one-panel gag by Dave Cockrum speculating about an encounter between the Big G and the Green Goliath. It didn't go well for the Hulk. 

The Hulk fares better in Godzilla vs. Hulk #1, the second in a series of standalone adventures starring Toho Studios' biggest star and various luminaries of the Marvel Universe. This issue is courtesy of writer Gerry Duggan, artist Giuseppe Camuncoli, inker Daniele Orlandini, colorist Federico Blee, and inker Ariana Maher. 

Duggan introduces a world where General Thunderbolt Ross's Hulkbusters organization has been on a mission to eliminate monsters from the world, including various kaiju. Ross has already dispatched the Hulk (or so he thinks) and is now baiting a trap for Godzilla in the desert. Oh, and two of his prized associates are Dr. Demonicus (who first appeared in the fourth and fifth issues of Marvel's original Godzilla series) and Dr. Bruce Banner. 

Revealing much more would ruin the fun of this monster mashup. Suffice it to say that Duggan meshes Godzilla, the Hulk, and various other aspects of the Marvel U in inventive ways. Those looking for epic, kaiju-sized battles will not be disappointed. Also, a dangling—and disturbing—plot thread regarding Rick Jones remains for another day. 

Camuncoli and Orlandini draw a Godzilla more in line with the original cinematic version of the creature than most of Marvel's renditions thus far. Their Hulk, however, looks a little anemic, and if it is meant to fit the '70s model of the character, it falls short in some places. (A variant cover by Scott Koblish and Rachelle Rosenberg looks more like the Hulk of this era.)

Overall, a fun comic! I'm looking forward to round three next month, when Godzilla meets the 1980s Spider-Man. 

ROM Omnibus Vol. 1

 I was recently a guest writer at the Collected Editions blogsite, reviewing ROM Omnibus volume 1. Here's a link. 

Godzilla vs. Fantastic Four

Anybody who knows how much I love comics also knows how much I wear my heart on my sleeve where the Marvel Comics' series Godzilla King of the Monsters is concerned. It's easily the best series of my youth and firmly in my top-five favorite series ever. 

So I was excited to see the original 24 issues reprinted last year in a deluxe hardcover edition and even more excited to learn of a new six-issue series featuring Godzilla and some of the luminaries in Marvel's stable. The first of these is Godzilla vs. Fantastic Four. (Spoilers ahead!)

First, it's obvious the creators went all-in to make Godzilla an integral part of the Marvel Universe, in much the same way that DC did last year with Justice League vs. Godzilla vs. Kong.  This issue includes not just the Big G and Marvel's cosmic-powered quartet, but also Silver Surfer, King Ghidorah, and even a cameo by Galactus. 

The story takes place shortly after Godzilla's first movie appearance. Readers learn very early (page one, panel two, as a matter of fact) that the Fantastic Four tried to help Tokyo during that initial cinematic encounter but arrived too late. Now Godzilla is back, attacking New York City, so Reed, Sue, Ben, and Johnny have a second chance. 

This scenario sets the stage for an issue that is almost entirely action, exactly what most readers want from a pairing of these properties. An added wrinkle comes from the news that King Ghidorah, the three-headed hydra from Toho Productions, is the new herald of Galactus. Thus, it will require the combined might of the FF and the Silver Surfer, Galactus's former herald, to stop him. 

The story goes down smooth and is fun to read. Writer Ryan North has captured the dynamics of the FF's relationships during the Silver Age—the uber-intellectual Reed, the bantering Johnny/Ben dynamic—while modernizing Sue Storm to make her far more capable than she ever was in the early years of the strip. 

One big caveat—and it may be more a matter of editorial dictate than a flaw in North's script—is that nothing in the story makes it abundantly clear this is all happening in the past. Maybe Marvel doesn't want to call attention to the age of its most popular properties, maybe the powers-that-be thought a story spread across six decades would lose dramatic immediacy, or maybe the whole story-across-decades idea is meant to be more of an Easter Egg than a bonafide plot point. 

However, the only real indication I had about the timeframes being adjusted from issue to issue came from the house ad on the back cover: "Godzilla takes on the Marvel Universe across the eras!" The story itself takes a far more subtle approach: the bathtub-shaped Fantasticar and Sue's hairstyle are tipoffs that this isn't happening in contemporary continuity, but it wasn't until a reference by Ben to the Silver Surfer being exiled to Earth that I really figured out the timeframe. (Maybe I'm dense, too—always a possibility.)

Part of the problem is the artwork. It's fashionable in some quarters to slam John Romita Jr., and that's not what I'm doing here. He's a great artist, and pairing him this issue with inker Scott Hanna makes for some clean, easy-to-follow artwork. However, nothing about the visuals screams Silver or Bronze age. Sadly, not many artists from this period are still alive and/or working, so the best readers can hope for is art that replicates that past glory. And this issue, as fun as it is to look at, simply doesn't capture that era.  

Regardless, I'm onboard for all six issues. Here's hoping for a bombastic battle between Godzilla and the Hulk later in April! 

Omega the Unknown (2008)

Since Omega the Unknown was one of the seminal comic-book experiences of my childhood, I don't know why it took me seventeen years to read the character's revival mini-series, but it did. 

Written by Jonathan Lethem with Karl Rusnak, illustrated by Farel Dalrymple, and colored by Paul Hornschemeier, Omega's 2008 mini-series is collected into a gorgeous hardback that accentuates the reading experience. Cleverly designed endpapers and chapter breaks grow in meaning once the reader has finished the story. 

And what an odd story! In a nod to the original, short-lived series, written primarily by the legendary Steve Gerber with Mary Skrenes and drawn by Jim Mooney, this new iteration runs just ten issues and is jam-packed with weirdness. In a way, this is one of the most underground comix-style books Marvel has ever published, pushing the mainstream envelope in much the same way as the original Omega. That series felt like the precursor to Epic Comics of the 1980s and especially Vertigo offerings of the 1990s. Still, its impact was diluted by substitutions to the original creative team and, one suspects, editorial tampering that failed to make it more commercial. The 2008 Omega, on the other hand (pun sorta intended, as the main character fires energy blasts from his palms), was designed with a finite end in mind, and the same creators are along for each chapter. 

This "new" Omega initially follows the story beats of the original. Titus Alexander (Alex) Island, a homeschooled teenage genius, has his life upended when a traffic accident kills his parents. He then learns they are robots. Simultaneously, an alien hero—the titular Omega—makes his presence known. Omega shares a symbiotic bond with Alex, one that only strengthens as the teen is hospitalized and then released into the care of one of his nurses. He finds himself in public school, where a different facet of his education begins. 

The first issue or chapter is an homage to the original Omega. Even so, Lethem and Rusnak insert several new twists. The primary one is the introduction of the Mink, Washington Heights' own superhero, who is far more (and less) than he seems. Dressed in a purple-and-red costume, the Mink employs a small army of lookalikes and a strong PR game. Meanwhile, his headquarters houses a labyrinth where he sequesters his enemies, including a collection of robots who have traveled to Earth to infest the population with hostile nanotechnology. 

With each succeeding installment, Lethem and crew move further afield from Gerber's original premise, whatever that was. As they do, Dalrymple's illustrations become increasingly looser, moving away from mainstream superhero art to become something more akin to an R. Crumb production filtered through Dali. 

Dalrymple is a big part of the series' charm. His rendition of Washington Heights—the inhabitants, streets, schools, and vendors—is a delight. Readers learn that Omega is himself an artist; the hero's comic-book creations are featured prominently, necessitating a completely different style, rendered by Gary Panter. Similarly, the Mink's propaganda comics provide colorist Paul Hornschemeier with an opportunity to step briefly into the illustrator's role. 

The story gets out of control in later issues, where dialogue and captions are occasionally so thick they crowd out the artwork, and the authors' attempt to say something grandiose about marketing and franchises isn't given the space it needs to breathe. The final issue is a wordless installment, balancing the overly talky middle chapters. Here is where some exposition would be helpful to knit together some of the plot points and themes. 

But the loose ends may be the point. Just as the original Omega never offered closure —the book was canceled on a cliffhanger that was resolved unsatisfyingly by a different creative team several years later in the pages of The Defenders—this reimagining sends readers out of the book with some memorable images and lingering questions. 

It was gratifying to read comments in the back of the book by Lethem and Rusnak about how the original series impacted them when they read it as kids. Many of their comments reflect my own impressions and, I suspect, those of many who read Omega at a formative age. For me, the Hell's Kitchen setting of the original and its unflinching portrayal of student life in an urban public school scared the shit out of my eight-year-old self. Those parts of the series were much more compelling than any of the traditional superheroics; although I must admit, it was the Incredible Hulk, smashing his way across the cover of Omega #2, that initially drew me to the series. What was going on before and after that fight scene was far over my head, but it stuck with me. 

Revisiting Omega courtesy of this twenty-first-century revival was a lot of fun. The disadvantage for new readers might be the loss of recognizing how the reimagined parts mesh with the original. But the creators wisely realized they couldn't build their mythos entirely on a project that had failed thirty years earlier, so they crafted a compelling, self-contained world that offers a thoughtful meditation on friendship and collaboration, wrapped in a witty subversion of superhero tropes. It works wonderfully. I'm just sorry I waited seventeen years to find out.