KILL RAVENS, SMUGGLE BUDGIES

Greetings, largely agreeable human-shaped entities, and welcome once again to a weekly showcase of the eminently affordable floppy treasures lurking in the BARGAIN BASEMENT OF DOOOOOM. I’ve recently been dangerously revelling in the new Savage Hulk series from one of my all-time favourite comics artists, Mr Alan Davis. Which is as sufficiently flimsy an excuse as any to explore one of his lesser-known titles: KILLRAVEN.

Now, the character of Killraven and the world he inhabits do not stem from Davis, nor from this 2002 six-issue mini-series. He originally appeared back in Amazing Adventures #18, in 1973, brought into being by the extremely adept hands and minds of Roy Thomas and Neal Adams. However, his origins and inspirations are actually much, much older. Killraven – real name: Jonathan Raven – lives in a world that has been taken over by Martians. Not the benevolent and thoughtful seven-foot beetle-browed children of Mars presented by DC, but the old-school, Earth-invading, tripod-piloting, human-slaying aliens conceived by H.G. Wells in his pioneering 19th-century novel The War of the Worlds.

In Wells’ story, the seemingly unstoppable Martian onslaught ends [SPOILER ALERT] in ignoble failure, as the invading forces are wiped out by common or garden Earth germs. In Marvel’s take on the story, the Martians return in 2001, presumably armed with Lemsip and hand sanitiser, and succeed in slaughtering or enslaving the entire planet. Only a scant few stand against the ravaging hordes – most notably, the freedom fighter Killraven. A former gladiator in the Martian arenas, Killraven is an exceptional fighter, who, due to unforeseen side-effects of alien experimentation, is immune to his tormentors’ psychic abilities and invisible to their scanners.

While the original Killraven series was set in a possible future for the Marvel Universe (he encounters the Guardians of the Galaxy and is a member of a future version of the Avengers), Alan Davis’s 2003 version is set in a parallel world-slash-alternate timeline. Yes, it’s variant version of a possible future that may or may not come to pass in a fictional multiverse. Take into account that Wells’ Martians also turned up in Alan Moore’s League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and you could end up in all kinds of cross-company, pan-universal, inter-dimensional knots. We’re several large steps removed from reality here, so let’s just roll with it. And let’s not even mention the version of Killraven that placed him in the Planet of the Apes continuity and named him Apeslayer. No, really.

The basic plot is this: A young boy called John and his mother are scavenging for food among the rubble of a New York City largely populated by crumbling skeletons. They narrowly evade a Martian patrol only to encounter human bounty hunters, who murder John’s mother in cold blood. It’s then that Killraven and his band of Freemen (M’Shulla, Camilla, Hawk and Skull) arrive and dish out cold, hard justice, in the form of slashy-slashy ultraviolence. The group take young John under their wing, and then essentially charge headlong from one grim-but-weird post-apocalyptic scenario to another, along the way meeting the pyrokinetic Volcana Ash; part-plant bounty hunter Mint Julep; the monster Grok; would-be despot Lucifer; genetically engineered Moreau-style creatures; and a whole host of other bizarre characters – including, of course, those pesky Martians.

To be honest, the story itself is somewhat thin, but it’s nonetheless oddly satisfying, taking in themes of freedom and escape, rising above your destiny, living a life with meaning and dignity in an oppressive world. In an age of decompressed, drawn-out storytelling, it really stands out as a homage to the old school – Davis draws heavily on the 1970s source material in tone as well as content. It’s dense, melodramatic, high-concept stuff, yet for all its speechifyin’ and endless flashbacks and somewhat stodgy wordiness, it really rattles along at an incredible, rollicking pace. And as for the art… oh my.

If you’re not familiar with the work of Alan Davis, a) where have you been? and b) stop reading this and go to a comic shop. A legendary British comics creator, he’s been in the business for over 30 years, and is rightly celebrated for his work on some titles you might have heard of: Miracleman, Captain Britain, X-Men, Excalibur, Wolverine, New Mutants, Captain America, Avengers, Fantastic Four, JLA, Legion of Super-Heroes, some guy called Batman… He’s been in demand for a long time, and to my mind, seemingly gets better and better with age. He’s one of a handful of artists whose name on a book pretty much guarantees that I will buy it – especially when Davis is inked by artistic soulmate Mark Farmer, as he is here. 

One of Davis’s lifelong dream projects was John Carter, Warlord of Mars. When he pitched it to Marvel, they said no, but instead offered him Killraven (which is more or less the same thing). Davis’s passion for the concept is palpable, and the resulting artwork is absolutely, utterly phenomenal. As epic and widescreen as it gets, with incredible, dynamic compositions, explosive action and sumptuously imaginative visual design. Davis even manages to sell the skimpy PVC mankinis worn by Killraven and his fellow Freemen, making them seem like basic, functional battle garb instead of middle-management weekend-gimp fetishwear from Argos. 

There are countless jaw-dropping moments over these six issues, including numerous extended, beautifully choreographed hand-to-hand combat sequences; horrific images of Martian atrocities; the incredible splash when we first see Mint Julep’s eccentric mode of transportation. This is a world in which Davis can – and does – really let rip. It’s an Earth in the future, but one devastated in the present day by forces from beyond, who have perverted this world beyond imagining. He is therefore able to meld together post-Apocalyptic scenes of ruined landmarks and recontextualised 20th-century artefacts; alien beings and technology; weird, misshapen monsters; psychic warfare, bordering on magic; and a load of sinewy gladiators running around with blades. Like Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples’ Saga, it’s a book that’s halfway between sci-fi and sword and sorcery, and revels in its hinterland status. 

Highly recommended for aficionados of gorgeously vivid renderings of near-naked barbarian-type people struggling for emancipation in an endless war against concepts stemming from Victorian literature. You know the type.

(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)