THIS GREEN MILK TASTES FUNNY

Good day, waifs and weasels, and welcome once again to the fragrant catacombs of my BARGAIN BASEMENT OF DOOOOOM. What with all the revelling in Martianness, it’s been a long, long time since this irregular celebration of discounted dregs has turned its attention away from the DC universe, so let’s voyage across the ultramenstruum to the House of Ideas. Specifically, 1983 and THE NEW DEFENDERS. 

Launched in 1972 by Roy Thomas, the original Defenders title featured Dr Strange, Namor and the Hulk (and later, the Silver Surfer) as a highly dysfunctional assemblage of lone-wolf powerhouses, brought together reluctantly and in an ad-hoc fashion. Described as a ‘non-team’, over the next decade the Defenders had a series of fairly bizarre cosmic, occult and superheroic adventures (including a run-in with Howard the Duck) and a rotating lineup of second-tier characters, including Hellcat, Nighthawk and the Son of Satan. Just over a decade after its inception, and now with J.M. DeMatteis at the helm, it was time to kick over some bins and hurl insults at applecarts.

In issue #125, after being convinced of a prophecy that foretold the destruction of the Earth should they remain together, the original Defenders decided to disband – assuming, that is, that a team that was never really a team can disband at all. Waiting in the wings (and with wings, in several cases) were some secondary members, brought together by the Beast, clearly desperate for any gig he could get after leaving the Avengers a couple of years earlier. Along for the ride were his former X-Men teammates Iceman and the Angel, both somewhat adrift and seeking a new purpose; another ex-Avenger, the troubled, arrogant psychic Moondragon; and Defenders hangers-on Valkyrie (steel-boobed Asgardian angel of death and rider of the winged horse Aragorn) and the Gargoyle (a septuagenarian mystically trapped in the hideous tangerine-coloured body of a… well, you can probably guess).

If this seems like a motley collection, well, it is. In fact, it has echoes of the Champions, the ill-fated mid-1970s super-team that also featured Iceman and Angel, alongside Hercules, Ghost Rider and Black Widow. However, the Champions were an entirely random congregation of stray characters who had absolutely nothing in common and no reason at all to be together beyond lazy marketing strategies. The New Defenders, on the other hand, may also have featured a handful of founding X-Men, a mythical being and an occult monster, but they had somewhat stronger interpersonal connections. Indeed, the book went on to develop something of a bickering-and-learning extended family vibe, with Beast and Candy Southern (Angel’s girlfriend, who ended up leading the team) in relatively responsible parental roles, Gargoyle as a snaggle-toothed grandpa, Valkyrie as a cool, ass-kicking aunt, and Angel and Iceman as horny teenage boys lusting after disruptive hairless outsider Moondragon. No longer a non-team, this lot also lived together, first occupying a New York brownstone in a super-powered facsimile of The Cosby Show, before moving to Angel’s mountaintop aerie. Compounding the domestic vibe even further, the Beast even picked up a dog along the way, Sassafras –who simply vanished from Marvel continuity at the end of the series, seemingly abandoned by a neglectful Hank McCoy. Surely she’s due a vengeful comeback? The campaign for a Dark Sassafras limited series starts here. 

The revamped title got off to a relatively inauspicious start, with the New Defenders going up against the boilerplate villainy of the Secret Empire, led by Professor Power (kind of a tenth-rate Doctor Doom-lite clad in armour made of Lego, only crappier). There are some entertaining issues here though, with the team fighting sad-sack mercenaries Mad Dog and the Mutant Force, a gigantic baby-man called Leviathan and a virtual-reality version of the New Mutants. They also gain a new recruit, in the form of a former adversary Cloud, a teenage girl who turns into, well… you can probably guess. Her presence on the team leads to some remarkably awkward scenes that have not aged well. Cloud (like everyone else on the team) develops a crush on Moondragon, one that at first appears to be reciprocated. However, before this has a chance to develop into the first same-sex relationship in mainstream comics, Cloud undergoes a spontaneous gender swap, Moondragon loses interest, Iceman displays some regrettable transphobia and the whole romantic subplot is quickly forgotten.

After J.M. DeMatteis left the book with #131, Peter Gillis took over writing duties and steered the title into strange new waters. Where DeMatteis’s run essentially consisted of standard super-hero fare made interesting by a focus on character interaction, Gillis’s run was much darker, more mysterious, at times verging on a horror title. Indeed, One of the stand-out issues of his run, #134, is particularly creepy ­– essentially a slasher film masquerading as a superhero title. The team are being hunted by the assassin Manslaughter, who is somehow able to move unseen and unheard through their home. After monstrously taunting them for a while, he kills almost the entire team, one by one, in imaginative and grisly ways (though all is not quite as it seems, of course…).

Gillis’s run is notable not only for its weirdness and horror vibes, but for its sense of completeness and closure. His first issue (#132) relates the story of Ephraim Soles, a man mutated by gamma radiation into a vegetation-based creature. Though seemingly destroyed at the end of this first encounter, he/it survives as a cloud of spores. Much later, these spores infect some grass and are eaten by a cow, which becomes pregnant and gives birth to a horrific grassy man-cow thing. READ THAT SENTENCE AGAIN. In the meantime, it’s revealed that Moondragon’s irascible personality was due to her constant struggle to keep in check the ancient evil that dwells within, known as the Dragon of the Moon. She eventually finds inner peace only to be immediately and ironically infected by the spores of Ephraim Soles’ horrible grass-man-cow-baby-monster, and finally succumbs to the Dragon’s influence.

This leads to an extended multi-issue climax for the series, in which the team’s greatest threat comes from within. In 1986, the book was cancelled, but Gillis goes out in style in #152, concluding the Moondragon saga with an epic battle in which most of the team – and a few new members, including murderous former foe Manslaughter – are killed. This was, of course, a particular drag for Beast and Angel, having been through the exact same situation (telepath achieves ultimate power, turns evil, much death and horror ensues) with Jean Grey a few years previously. It’s a wonder that they ever agreed to work with a psychic ever again.

While the New Defenders is hardly among the greatest comics ever written, it’s definitely an interesting and worthwhile curiosity, strong on character, big on atmosphere, ambitious in its long-form storytelling and unafraid of exploring fairly out-there ideas (like, say, nightmarish cow-man-grass-type-things). Alas, its biggest weakness is its art. Most of the issues were pencilled by Don Perlin, whose work here is at best competent but perfunctory (and at worst, simplistic and lazy), never quite conveying the atmosphere, imagination and eccentric flair that some of the stories demanded. 

On the other hand, the series had some really spectacular, eye-catching and eerie covers by the likes of Kevin Nowlan, Bill Sienkiewicz, Butch Guice, Mike Mignola and Frank Cirocco. Had this series’ interiors been handled by any of that bunch – but especially Sienkiewicz or Mignola – it might well be considered a cult classic. As is, it seems all but forgotten.


Mind you, that could be because of the cow-man-grass-babychild-devil-creature from beyond hell. Which I wish I could forget.

(originally published on The Big Glasgow Comic Page) 

A FAREWELL TO MARS

Welcome, friends, fiends and foes alike, to the salubrious confines of the BARGAIN BASEMENT OF DOOOOOM. This week’s celebration of unloved inexpensive obscurities marks the final instalment of my magnificently moreish mighty MARTIAN MANHUNTER month. Specifically, the 2006–7 eight-issue limited series by writer A.J. Lieberman (Batman: Gotham Nights, Harley Quinn) and penciller Al Barrionuevo (Batman: Gotham Nights, The Authority, X-Men). Plus inks by Bit, colours by Marta Martinez and letters by Travis Lanham – isn’t it odd how we comic types often overlook the efforts of the finishing team? 

By the time 2006 rolled around, J’onn J’onzz had undergone a few changes. In the wake of the traumatising events of Infinite Crisis, 52 and, particularly, World War III, he had become increasingly disillusioned with and disconnected from humanity. His solo series actually began with a chapter in DC’s 2006 Brave New World anthology, in which J’onn, masquerading as an agent from the DEO (Department of Extra-normal Operations), meets a man who has found a strange medallion that fell from the sky. J’onn recognises it as a Martian artefact, meaning that he may not be the last of his kind, not alone on Earth. He is shaken by the revelation, and when next we see him he has fully embraced his heritage, suddenly appearing in public in his natural, pointy-headed form, wearing some brand-spanking-new, slightly BDSMish Martian strides – his first costume change in 50 years.

J’onn’s traditional, minimal pants-and-braces garb had survived that long for a reason – while not exactly a design classic, there’s a certain elegant, almost naïve simplicity to it, not to mention a quiet confidence. He doesn’t need to update his costume to move with the times, because, as a giant, bright green, hairless, centuries-old alien, he transcends notions of fashion and cool. That said, I actually quite liked the new costume on an aesthetic level, although being clad in blue-black and red leather from the beautiful pea-green chin south does convey a different, more remote and alien image – quite pointedly so. 

Leading directly out of Brave New World, the series itself is essentially an espionage/sci-fi thriller. The discovery of the medallion leads J’onn to a group of incarcerated Martians, who may not be all they seem. Along the way, he becomes mired in a shadowy conspiracy, is hunted by government operatives and his fellow heroes, and crosses a few long-held moral rubicons too. As an odd twist, the human supporting cast have distractingly familiar names – Giggs, Ferguson, Keane, a female agent called Rio Ferdinand… As a walking, talking geek cliché, I know little about sport, and rank football somewhere between nasal torture and bathing in dead badgers in the panoply of experiences this world has to offer, but even I recognise that lot.

Much as this foray through J’onn’s solo books has been a delightful indulgence for me personally, it’s true to say we’re not necessarily going out on a high note here. I have mixed feelings about this series. On the plus side, Barrionuevo’s art is largely excellent – at its best it recalls, even approaches the diligent and stylish drama of Ivan Reis or J.G. Jones. On the other hand, it sometimes looks weirdly awkward or hurried… in particular, the perspective of J’onn’s sizeable noggin appears to present almost insurmountable challenges when in three-quarter view. Story-wise, it’s an engaging enough mystery, even if the supposed twist in the tale is both predictable and extremely tired. And there are some great scenes – despite a tense build-up, a confrontation between J’onn, his friends and some leaguers (Green Lantern, Zatanna, Green Arrow, Vixen, Black Canary) is all over extremely, derisively quickly, and off-panel to boot, the crushing of puny pink humans a foregone conclusion.   

However, J’onn’s characterisation and his inner struggle – do his loyalties lie with Earth or Mars? – don’t quite ring true. He’s suffered far worse tragedies than any of his peers can imagine, yet has for the most part remained a gentle, noble soul whose strength is his compassion. He’s always been a lonely, isolated figure, but has often made the hard choice to side with his adopted home, rather than accept easy and familiar companionship. Here, however, weakened by fresh tragedies (such as the Infinite Crisis-era deaths of Blue Beetle and Maxwell Lord), the pull of his race is stronger than ever, and his essential empathy with humanity dwindles. This is why the new, bad-ass, leather-clad, pointy-headed J’onn who breaks the rules to get the job done, goddammit, though superficially cool, just doesn’t feel like the Martian Manhunter. Rather than a fresh direction, it comes across like a phase, a mid-life crisis. It’s the last-son-of-Mars equivalent of a Harley Davidson and a toupée. 

And indeed, it wouldn’t last long. The events implied at the end of series go absolutely nowhere, and this incarnation of the Alien Atlas would soon meet an untimely and brutal end in the first issue of Final Crisis. As upsetting as this was at the time for fans of the Manhunter, it now seems like a kindness. It’s almost as if this act of aliencide was Grant Morrison – whose portrayal of J’onn in JLA is pretty damn definitive – killing off the grim conehead story and providing the opportunity for a purifying rebirth (which would, of course, be provided by DC’s arch-necromancer Geoff Johns a few years later).

However, in a further twist, the New 52 incarnation of J’onn appears to be a reversion to this short-lived detached, angry, clandestine outsider with suspect motives. Which, y’know, is fine… but he’s not really the big guy I know and love.

Thank you for reading, and for your patience while I’ve indulged my love of all things green and Martianful.

Next time: SOMETHING ELSE. 

(originally published on The Big Glasgow Comic Page)