THE LETTER ON HIS HEAD STANDS FOR 'ASS KICKED BY BATROC'

Good morning starshine… the Earth says hello. And it also bids you welcome to the cheap but chafing environs of the BARGAIN BASEMENT OF DOOOOOM. Inspired by the eye-scorching splendiferousness of last year’s best comic-book movie without a Yondu, The Winter Soldier, I’m keen to revisit a relatively unsung (and crucially, most bargainous) period of CAPTAIN AMERICA.

Must admit, Cap is a character I’ve often struggled with. As a brightly coloured, morally upright paragon of virtue, he seems too virtuous to be interesting, too confident to allow for drama, too sanctimonious to be sympathetic. And as a patriotic character draped in a flag, he rankles me intensely on a political, symbolic level too. Yet there’s something about this guy that I find fascinating… Maybe it’s precisely because on the surface he’s the most whitebread, tedious, mom-and-apple-pie North American superheroic power-fantasy cliché imaginable, that he inspires writers to excavate further and deeper, to explore what makes this flag-wearing relic tick. Not only is Captain America a man out of time, he’s also a fictional character out of time – this two-fisted patriotic icon was created in the 1940s, and arguably that’s where he belongs. On the other hand, as a living anachronism, he’s both a useful tool with which to reflect on our era and a periscope to the past.

In recent years, Brubaker and Millar and Hickman and Remender have done fantastic things with this character. And with the release of Avengers and his two solo films, he’s been elevated to an A-list cinematic protagonist too. But prior to his current super-cool espionage/sci-fi-based renaissance, he spent many years being pretty square. One of my personal favourite Cap runs sits squarely in this era, from #332–#350 (1987–1989). Here, Steve Rogers is forced by the US government to give up his alter-ego and is replaced by John Walker – who turns out to be a stronger, meaner, murderier Captain America. Penned by Mark Gruenwald, this storyline emerged in response to fans asking why Captain America couldn’t kill (a precursor to a similar exercise in Batman).

Walker was at first arguably even more patriotic and morally resolute than Rogers, but less psychologically stable. Over his 18-month stint behind the shield, he increasingly went off the rails, his trail of bodies dotted with members of the Watchdogs, Ultimatum and the Resistants, as well as Professor Power, and his old colleagues Left-Winger and Right-Winger (no, really). 

At the same time, Rogers established a new, red-white-and-black identity (simply ‘The Captain’) and assembled a small band of allies, exploring ways of fulfilling and defining his purpose without the backing of official status or nationalist symbolism.

As celebrated as this arc is, with some issues fetching quite a few pennies, the less lauded period preceding it is equally enjoyable. Mostly penned by Mark Gruenwald, with a few early issues by Mike Carlin, the run from #302 to #331 is full of gems. Here we get Cap entering into a then-final, most-definitely-ultimate-and-no-backsies showdown with the Red Skull; taking on my favourite pesky but ultimately honourable foot-fighting Frenchman Batroc, as well as his partners Zaran and Machete, as they succeed in stealing his shield; going up against the monstrous but tragic Armadillo; teaming up with Captain Britain to fight Mordru the Mystic; encountering the mischievous Madcap; and a undergoing a four-issue showdown with the super-soldier-creating Power Broker. Throughout this period, Cap is a slightly lost figure, often itinerant and struggling to hold down a job as artist for the Captain America comic – an awkwardly circular concept that has quite staggering potential for establishing a regrettable trajectory towards a storytelling dead-end.

There are four particularly notable highlights of this run. The first is the introduction and ongoing development of the Serpent Society as viable foes for Captain America. These snake-themed villains may be a little hokey in a post-Brubaker milieu, but I always dug ’em – they were a motley assortment, ranging from avaricious but basically benign thieves to merciless killers, united only by their belly-crawlin’ inspiration and a leader whose teleportation powers promised that they need never again fear incarceration. They bickered, they squabbled, gained and lost members, butchered MODOK, tried to turn Reagan into more of a reptile than he actually was, and remained a slithery, venomous thorn in Cap’s side for years. And when Kevin Feige recently announced that the third Cap film would focus on these slithering snakes, I was thrilled – after that, the real announcement, Civil War, was frankly anticlimatic. 

Secondly, the Scourge storyline, which had been threading through the Marvel universe for a while, came to a head in #319 and #320. Scourge of the Underworld, a nameless, faceless assassin, had been popping up in a whole range of titles, executing minor criminals deemed surplus to Marvel requirements and/or hugely embarrassing. In #319 he thins the herd by a dozen-and-a-half in the space of a couple of panels – and lo, the universe did weep for the unimaginable loss of Commander Kraken, Rapier, Megatak and Turner D. Century. 

Third, in #321 and #322, Cap comes into conflict with his polar opposite – the fairly self-explanatorily-named Flag-Smasher. This is a man who believes in the dissolution of all nations and is sworn to destroy their symbols – so guess who’s no. 1 on his list (after Captain Canuck, Shamrock and Ursa Major)? What’s interesting about this tale is that it leads to Cap being forced to kill for the first time in his history (although considering he was a soldier who fought Nazis in WWII, this always seemed like a faintly ludicrous conceit), and the ramifications would haunt him for years.

Fourthly, issues #323 and #327 introduce us to the Super-Patriot, a more reactionary, less nuanced take on the flag-draped hero concept, a younger, more powerful upstart keen to take over Cap’s place as the USA’s foremost star-spangled icon. And this is exactly what he does, though not in the way he anticipates – eventually taking over from Rogers after he’s forced to step down, kicking off the excellent Cap No More! arc alluded to above.

So what’s the point of all this? There was once a time when Cap wasn’t a cool, bad-ass violence-vendor tailor-made for high-octane action and deep espionage, but a somewhat stuffy and wholesome figure, slightly lost and bewildered in a world not his own, trying to maintain his firm, old-timey grasp of right and wrong in a more complex era. They’re compelling and entertaining, well written and solidly drawn (courtesy of Paul Neary, mostly), embodying a curious mix of the philosophical musings and encroaching grimness of the modern age with old-fashioned four-colour hokum. For every political metaphor, moral dilemma or massacre, there’s a lady with snakes for arms. Or a man who looks like an armadillo. Or a human pinball bouncing across a giant typewriter. Or, most importantly, a Batroc.

And everything with a Batroc is good.

(originally published on The Big Glasgow Comic Page)