GOT YER A BIG PLATE OF ALAN

[NB: The following was originally a series of postings on the Ultron is My Elvis Facebook page, made to mark the birthday of Mr Alan Moore.]

With his clashes with other creators, disdain for cinema and disparaging of his fanbase, Alan Moore seems increasingly difficult curmudgeonly. And it's arguable that his work can sometimes be problematic in terms of gender politics. Nonetheless, this big ol' beardy wizard remains near the top of my all-time favourite comics writers list by virtue of his revolutionary approach to and undeniable impact upon the form. 

Below are five reasons to love Alan...

(Portrait by Frank Quitely)

#1: Promethea

Promethea's a really interesting book in Moore's canon – not only his most fantastical and experimental, but his most personal too. It's an exploration of his ideas about reality and magic and spirituality and storytelling, and the myriad points at which these things intersect, told via the medium of a Shazam/Wonder Woman analogue. Moore really gets to play with the possibilities of the medium here, and you can almost taste his glee in using comics to repeatedly do incredible, eye- and mind-boggling things that no other medium is capable of... like this double-page spread of infinite time-looped conversation.

J.H. Williams III, Promethea #15 (2001)

Of course, none of this would be possible without the unbelievable skills of J.H. Williams III – surely one of the most distinctive, gifted and innovative artists to grace comics since Kirby, Eisner or Sienkiewicz.

#2: Top 10

This and the Tom Strong line are perhaps Moore at his most light-hearted, and it's a real gem. Top 10 is essentially an old-school cop show set in a world populated almost entirely by super-heroes, aliens, gods, monsters, robots and intelligent dogs wearing exo-skeletons. Think Hill Street Blues or Brooklyn Nine-Nine only without the tiresome baseline humans. It's a magnificent, sprawling offering, with great, relatable, three-dimensional characters, sharp and funny dialogue, beautifully lush and detailed art by Gene Ha, thousands of references and sight gags aplenty. And while it's not afraid to be very, very silly, there are moments of incredibly effective drama, too.

My absolute favourite moment though, is a pretty ridiculous cliffhanger splash. A 7-foot lizard-like gang member, Ernesto Gograh, is being held in police custody when his dad turns up to get him out. Gograh Sr, it turns out, is a 100-foot-tall drunk hillbilly monster in an offensive T-shirt. Enjoyable enough in its own right, but even moreso if you realise that this is not, as it first appears, a Godzilla reference, but an homage to the 1961 British movie Gorgo. This film sees a monster captured, imprisoned and taken to a major Metropolitan area, only to be later rescued by his much, much larger mother, who spends the latter half of the film stomping on a model London and pleasing me greatly.

Gene Ha, Top 10 #3 (1999)

#3. Watchmen

It seems to have become a bit fashionable to knock Watchmen in some geeky circles. There are several reasons for this. It's one of the two or three comics read by people who generally don't read comics, therefore seen as the dilettante's choice. Its mystique was ruptured somewhat by a loud and garish (though still pretty good) movie and some needless (though sometimes pretty good) prequels. It's generally considered at least partly responsible for crushing the innocence of superhero comics and ushering in a new dark age of grim and gritty stories. And, alongside Maus and The Dark Knight Returns, it is tediously omnipresent at the top of any list of the greatest comics ever made – but on this point at least, I'll defend it to the death. It more than deserves its acclaim.

While it can be read on one level as a great murder mystery/conspiracy story, Watchmen is breathtakingly rich, literary and allegorical, full of symbolism, recurring motifs, hidden detail and powerful imagery. The amount of work and attention to detail that went into these twelve issues beggars belief – Moore's script for the first issue alone was 101 pages of tiny type. However, all of this does not result in some chaotic splurge of information and flights of insane imagination, but a incredibly tightly interwoven and brilliantly coherent tale, beautifully and vividly rendered. This is Moore and Dave Gibbons using word and image as one, using the medium of comics to its fullest potential, and few who followed in its wake have come close to its ambition or realisation.

Dave Gibbons, Watchmen #5 (1987)

If you think Watchmen is overrated, then fair enough – but I'd implore you to revisit it. Every time you read it, the more you see, the more you realise you've missed. I've read it half a dozen times, but I'm nowhere near close to unpacking it. To read it is to see yourself as a comics reader, to realise what the medium can do for you – appropriately enough, it's its own Rorschach test.

#4. This interview with Stewart Lee

This was the first time I'd ever heard Moore speak. I remember listening to this on Radio 4, absent-mindedly wandering the streets of Clerkenwell. Far from an eccentric, irascible wizard-cum-hermit, he came across as an affable and surprisingly down-to-earth human being, AND introduced me to the wonder of the Super Moby Dick of Space.

#5. Captain Britain

I'm generally averse to flag-wearing characters, but Moore's work on Captain Britain makes for a very odd and underrated read. Unlike most superheroes, the Captain is almost a supporting character in his own book – and not particularly effective, smart, admirable, interesting or charismatic, though not comedically inept, either. For all his (relatively low-key) powers, he's a slightly dull and irritable everyman figure rather than a walking demigod, a guy who tries to do the right thing, even though he's not always sure what that is or how to go about it, and takes far more dives and bruises than his similarly ranked compatriots America, Marvel and Atom.

Like us, he exists in a chaotic world that he barely understands, only his is amplified to an absurd degree, full of peculiarly eccentric weirdness, pan-dimemsional beings, myths and fairytales brought to life, homicidal assassins, insane politicians-turned-gods, unstoppable artificial beings and squabbling aliens. It's his futile attempt to get to grips with the ridiculous theatre of his life that makes Captain Britain compelling.

As an added bonus, these tales are illustrated by probably my favourite artist of all time – Alan Davis (*insert celestial choir sound effect here*). His work is not quite fully formed here, but it clearly has incredible potential, and the slight roughness of it is pleasing in its own right.

Alan Davis, The Daredevils #11 (1979)