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Post by adamwarlock2099 on Nov 1, 2019 14:50:47 GMT -5
I finally read the famous we3 by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely. The art is absolutely gorgeous. The dog is a good boy. The rest is pretty Morrisonian. I was pleasantly surprised by the happy ending, although it kind of made the entire story nonsensical. If the three main protagonists could be changed from uncontrollable killing machines back into regular pets with nothing more than a homeless dude and a pair of pliers, then why was the army so adamant about heartlessly destroying them at the start of the story? I mean, unless it was not technically possible, I would have expected these animals to be allowed to retire gracefully once their implants were removed. Of course, once again the military and its scientists are depicted as grossly incompetent and sadistic, except for that niiiiice lady who talks to animals and who finds it acceptable to release highly dangerous living weapons in the community. I seriously doubt that grossly incompetent and sadistic people would go far in the military, and I know they’d get nowhere in science. And why is it our three heroes are not equipped with an off switch while their “bad” cyborg opponent is? Nobody had thought of it before the new model was designed? It was all in all an enjoyable tale in the Frankenstein tradition (and who doesn’t like stories about pets?), and I understand why it made such a splash given its beautiful art and the plight of the good doggy, the cranky cat and the nice bunny, but it did suffer from plot-mandated logical shortcuts. WE3 is pretty much my favorite mainstream comic of the past 20 years and I'm not at all objective, but... I thought the idea that the critters were viewed as weapons (to be decommissioned and discarded) as opposed to sentient animals was (at least) the most prominent theme of the story and (at most) the entire point of the mini-series. The most surface level take is that it's both a commentary on how the military industrial complex views soldiers and veterans and how - to pick one of many examples - the cosmetics industry views animals. While I don't disagree with RR on the plot points and reptisarus on his commentary; I personally think it was just Morrison's attempt at a tear jerking story in hopes for sales. He's not really know for happy endings and pleasant surprises. So I didn't really think too much into it. It's quite easy to make the military look bad while getting about bunch of emotional attached to the helpless animals. If anything, for me, it almost came off smug.
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Post by rberman on Nov 1, 2019 15:19:57 GMT -5
I finally read the famous we3 by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely. The art is absolutely gorgeous. The dog is a good boy. The rest is pretty Morrisonian. I was pleasantly surprised by the happy ending, although it kind of made the entire story nonsensical. If the three main protagonists could be changed from uncontrollable killing machines back into regular pets with nothing more than a homeless dude and a pair of pliers, then why was the army so adamant about heartlessly destroying them at the start of the story? I mean, unless it was not technically possible, I would have expected these animals to be allowed to retire gracefully once their implants were removed. Of course, once again the military and its scientists are depicted as grossly incompetent and sadistic, except for that niiiiice lady who talks to animals and who finds it acceptable to release highly dangerous living weapons in the community. I seriously doubt that grossly incompetent and sadistic people would go far in the military, and I know they’d get nowhere in science. And why is it our three heroes are not equipped with an off switch while their “bad” cyborg opponent is? Nobody had thought of it before the new model was designed? It was all in all an enjoyable tale in the Frankenstein tradition (and who doesn’t like stories about pets?), and I understand why it made such a splash given its beautiful art and the plight of the good doggy, the cranky cat and the nice bunny, but it did suffer from plot-mandated logical shortcuts. Here is our thread on this series from last year. Morrison's love for animals was a major plot point of Animal Man, and this story required some cruel/indifferent humans to get the ball rolling. The idea of encumbering animals with an metal exoskeleton for covert activities is absurd on the face of it. More likely, the poor critters would just be carriers for surgically implanted bombs.
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Post by Roquefort Raider on Nov 1, 2019 19:01:03 GMT -5
I finally read the famous we3 by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely. The art is absolutely gorgeous. The dog is a good boy. The rest is pretty Morrisonian. I was pleasantly surprised by the happy ending, although it kind of made the entire story nonsensical. If the three main protagonists could be changed from uncontrollable killing machines back into regular pets with nothing more than a homeless dude and a pair of pliers, then why was the army so adamant about heartlessly destroying them at the start of the story? I mean, unless it was not technically possible, I would have expected these animals to be allowed to retire gracefully once their implants were removed. Of course, once again the military and its scientists are depicted as grossly incompetent and sadistic, except for that niiiiice lady who talks to animals and who finds it acceptable to release highly dangerous living weapons in the community. I seriously doubt that grossly incompetent and sadistic people would go far in the military, and I know they’d get nowhere in science. And why is it our three heroes are not equipped with an off switch while their “bad” cyborg opponent is? Nobody had thought of it before the new model was designed? It was all in all an enjoyable tale in the Frankenstein tradition (and who doesn’t like stories about pets?), and I understand why it made such a splash given its beautiful art and the plight of the good doggy, the cranky cat and the nice bunny, but it did suffer from plot-mandated logical shortcuts. Here is our thread on this series from last year. Morrison's love for animals was a major plot point of Animal Man, and this story required some cruel/indifferent humans to get the ball rolling. The idea of encumbering animals with an metal exoskeleton for covert activities is absurd on the face of it. More likely, the poor critters would just be carriers for surgically implanted bombs. The thing is, I believe the story would have worked just as well had the humans been coldly dismissive of the animals without being outright mwah-ha a moustache-twirling evil. As Repstisaurus put it, acting as if the animals were simply disposable tools. If the implants had not been removable, then it would have made perfect sense for the military to terminate the animals once their mission was over, because they were dangerous, and our sympathy for the hapless trio would not have been diminished. (The happy ending would have been compromised, but there we are). That being said, and even if I think the story suffered for it, I’m glad Bandit and Tinker made it!
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Post by profh0011 on Nov 1, 2019 22:48:01 GMT -5
While waiting at my doctor's office today, I read some more of Alex Raymond's FLASH GORDON. The first of the 5 books Nostalgia Press did in the mid-70s, sadly, had HORRIFICALLY-bad stats, and the endpapers looked 100 times better than the rest of the book.
The part I got thru today was when Flash rescued Azura Queen of Magic from a murderous army of dwarfs, and in return, she decided that from that moment, HE was her king, and she would follow his commands. She ordered to army to do likewise. They found that in her absence, one of her generals decided to seize her throne, and on learning she was still alive, he raved he would never give it up! Seeing it as an act of treason, one of is own men EXECUTED him!
The one really annoying bit of this was, at the moment that Azura thought she & Flash were going to die, she decided to KISS him... and that was the exactly moment that Zarkov and Dale arrived to save them. So, for what looked like DAYS, Dale became COMPLETELY unreasonable and refused to talk to Flash, INSISTING he really loved "that hussy". (Azura was dressed far more skimpy in the comics than in the 2nd movie serial.) GEEZ. Dale was never like this in the Universal serials. She was better-written in those films than she ever was in the 1930s comics.
Flash then contacted Ming The Merciless, but instead of acknowledging that Flash had indeed "won" his kingdom, and the "right" to marry Dale, Ming brushed it aside unless Flash could prove Azura was dead! In response to this open defiance of his own law, Flash had the Cave Kingdom declare WAR on Ming! Ming ordered the kings of all other kingdoms loyal to him to attack the Cave Kingdom army, but both Vultan (king of the Hawkmen) and Barin (king of the forest kingdom) REFUSED on the grounds that Flash was their friend. Barin's wife Aura objected, since Ming, after all, was her father...
I sometimes wonder if anyone could ever possibly adapt this to film in any fashion. It certainly could keep a weekly sci-fi soap-opera (in the manner of BABYLON 5 or DEEP SPACE NINE) going for quite a few years, with all the situations and material covered in this thing.
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Confessor
CCF Mod Squad
Not Bucky O'Hare!
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Post by Confessor on Nov 3, 2019 13:03:34 GMT -5
My read through of Neil Gaiman's The Sandman continues with Volume 4: Season of Mists... I actually finished this a few weeks ago, before I went on holiday to the U.S., but I'm only just now getting around to putting my thoughts on it down. I really enjoyed volume 3, Dream Country, and felt that that was the point where Gaiman's reach equalled his grasp, and where The Sandman finally justified its reputation. Season of Mists continues that winning streak, initially setting up a fairly straightforward plot, in which Lucifer abdicates the throne of Hell, sends all the lost, damned souls that were residing there back to earth, and gives the keys to our hero Morpheus (a.k.a. Dream). Of course, this is a classic "gift as curse" move on Lucifer's part, since Dream doesn't want the huge responsibilities associated with ruling Hell (he has more than enough hassles just being the Lord of Dream). However, plenty of other gods, demons, fairies, angels etc do want to rule Hell, and that's the crux of this story. The narrative centrepiece is a grand banquet held in the house of Dream, where the assembled creatures and demigods present their bids, petitions and bribes to Morpheus in the hope that he will pick them to give the keys of Hell to. I must say that I think Gaiman does a great job of giving the various mythological figures and demigods distinct personalities – my favourite being the personification of chaos, who is depicted as a mischievous little girl dressed up like a clown. Running in parallel with this main narrative is Morpheus's reckoning with the fate of his old love, Queen Nada. Back in volume 2, The Doll's House, Gaiman showed us Nada's tragic love story: she was the ruler of an ancient African kingdom who lost her heart to Dream, with rather predictable problems arising from the love between a mortal human and one of the Endless. Morpheus capriciously condemned Nada to Hell for having spurned him, and I like that Gaiman doesn't shy away from portraying his central "hero" in a very unflattering light. Yes, Morpheus may be a supernatural, God-like personification of Dream, but he can also be a stubborn-headed, cruel arsehole. During a memorable scene, involving a reunion of all the members of the Endless, Dream's sister, Death, doesn't hesitate to tell him that he's done something very wrong and that he needs to make it right. In addition, as a result of Lucifer having closed the gates of Hell, all the damned souls that resided there have been sent away, with some of them beginning to appear on Earth again. As a result, we get an excellent story-within-a-story sequence about a private British boarding school that now has a problem with pupils and schoolmasters returning from the dead. This, for me, was one of the most enjoyable parts of Season of Mists, although I wonder if the chapter might be a little too "English" for American audiences. Certainly I have no doubt that it will resonate with anyone who went to either a private or public British school at any time between the 1950s and the 1980s (as I did). I'd also bet that this sequence is at least partly autobiographical on Gaiman's part. At the book's conclusion, things have more or less been put back as they were, with all the damned souls returned to Hell, which is now run by two former members of the angelic heavenly host. If I was to pick out one minor criticism of the book, it would be that this "illusion of change"-style ending felt a little lazy, but that would be a nitpicky criticism because, actually, the ending is nevertheless very satisfying. Gaiman's writing in the book is of a very high quality, and the artwork of Kelley Jones (who illustrates most of the story) serves the story well, while looking great with a number of different inkers embellishing his work. The previous volume of The Sandman showed what the series was capable of, but it was also made up of four filler issues that, while excellent, didn't really advance the overarching plot. Season of Mists, on the other hand, certainly does move the narrative forward and, for this reader, is the point where The Sandman crystallises into what it always promised to be.
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Post by Slam_Bradley on Nov 3, 2019 15:30:00 GMT -5
My read through of Neil Gaiman's The Sandman continues with Volume 4: Season of Mists... I actually finished this a few weeks ago, before I went on holiday to the U.S., but I'm only just now getting around to putting my thoughts on it down. I really enjoyed volume 3, Dream Country, and felt that that was the point where Gaiman's reach equalled his grasp, and where The Sandman finally justified its reputation. Season of Mists continues that winning streak, initially setting up a fairly straightforward plot, in which Lucifer abdicates the throne of Hell, sends all the lost, damned souls that were residing there back to earth, and gives the keys to our hero Morpheus (a.k.a. Dream). Of course, this is a classic "gift as curse" move on Lucifer's part, since Dream doesn't want the huge responsibilities associated with ruling Hell (he has more than enough hassles just being the Lord of Dream). However, plenty of other gods, demons, fairies, angels etc do want to rule Hell, and that's the crux of this story. The narrative centrepiece is a grand banquet held in the house of Dream, where the assembled creatures and demigods present their bids, petitions and bribes to Morpheus in the hope that he will pick them to give the keys of Hell to. I must say that I think Gaiman does a great job of giving the various mythological figures and demigods distinct personalities – my favourite being the personification of chaos, who is depicted as a mischievous little girl dressed up like a clown. Running in parallel with this main narrative is Morpheus's reckoning with the fate of his old love, Queen Nada. Back in volume 2, The Doll's House, Gaiman showed us Nada's tragic love story: she was the ruler of an ancient African kingdom who lost her heart to Dream, with rather predictable problems arising from the love between a mortal human and one of the Endless. Morpheus capriciously condemned Nada to Hell for having spurned him, and I like that Gaiman doesn't shy away from portraying his central "hero" in a very unflattering light. Yes, Morpheus may be a supernatural, God-like personification of Dream, but he can also be a stubborn-headed, cruel arsehole. During a memorable scene, involving a reunion of all the members of the Endless, Dream's sister, Death, doesn't hesitate to tell him that he's done something very wrong and that he needs to make it right. In addition, as a result of Lucifer having closed the gates of Hell, all the damned souls that resided there have been sent away, with some of them beginning to appear on Earth again. As a result, we get an excellent story-within-a-story sequence about a private British boarding school that now has a problem with pupils and schoolmasters returning from the dead. This, for me, was one of the most enjoyable parts of Season of Mists, although I wonder if the chapter might be a little too "English" for American audiences. Certainly I have no doubt that it will resonate with anyone who went to either a private or public British school at any time between the 1950s and the 1980s (as I did). I'd also bet that this sequence is at least partly autobiographical on Gaiman's part. At the book's conclusion, things have more or less been put back as they were, with all the damned souls returned to Hell, which is now run by two former members of the angelic heavenly host. If I was to pick out one minor criticism of the book, it would be that this "illusion of change"-style ending felt a little lazy, but that would be a nitpicky criticism because, actually, the ending is nevertheless very satisfying. Gaiman's writing in the book is of a very high quality, and the artwork of Kelley Jones (who illustrates most of the story) serves the story well, while looking great with a number of different inkers embellishing his work. The previous volume of The Sandman showed what the series was capable of, but it was also made up of four filler issues that, while excellent, didn't really advance the overarching plot. Season of Mists, on the other hand, certainly does move the narrative forward and, for this reader, is the point where The Sandman crystallises into what it always promised to be. It really is a great story and The Dead Boys will show up again...and get their own mini-series (or two) as the Dead Boy Detectives. I would take slight umbrage (but not burnt umbrage) at the bolded part. There is nothing filler about the single issues of the book. Ultimately Gaiman is writing a book about stories and the effect of stories. As an author he very much comes out of the traditions of short story authors and he grew up on the likes of Bradbury and Wodehouse and others who were largely short story writers. They single issues build on the over-arching themes of the book and have a habit of coming back up later on in the narrative.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 3, 2019 17:47:44 GMT -5
I have been re-reading the old annual JLA/JSA crossovers. My favorites involve a third team like the Freedom Fighters. Earth S heroes. The Legion.
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Confessor
CCF Mod Squad
Not Bucky O'Hare!
Posts: 10,069
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Post by Confessor on Nov 3, 2019 18:24:30 GMT -5
...The Dead Boys will show up again...and get their own mini-series (or two) as the Dead Boy Detectives. Oh, OK...good to know. I liked that particular sequence of the book a whole lot. I would take slight umbrage (but not burnt umbrage) at the bolded part. There is nothing filler about the single issues of the book. Yeah, that's fair. Perhaps "filler" is the wrong word, since it implies a) something sub-standard, and b) something that is inessential. Neither of which is the case with the stories in Dream Country, which, up to that point, were among the very best issues that Gaiman had given us in the series. I just meant that these four stories didn't move the overarching narrative of the series forward in the way that volumes 1, 2 and 4 did.
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Post by Hoosier X on Nov 3, 2019 23:00:22 GMT -5
My read through of Neil Gaiman's The Sandman continues with Volume 4: Season of Mists... I actually finished this a few weeks ago, before I went on holiday to the U.S., but I'm only just now getting around to putting my thoughts on it down. I really enjoyed volume 3, Dream Country, and felt that that was the point where Gaiman's reach equalled his grasp, and where The Sandman finally justified its reputation. Season of Mists continues that winning streak, initially setting up a fairly straightforward plot, in which Lucifer abdicates the throne of Hell, sends all the lost, damned souls that were residing there back to earth, and gives the keys to our hero Morpheus (a.k.a. Dream). Of course, this is a classic "gift as curse" move on Lucifer's part, since Dream doesn't want the huge responsibilities associated with ruling Hell (he has more than enough hassles just being the Lord of Dream). However, plenty of other gods, demons, fairies, angels etc do want to rule Hell, and that's the crux of this story. The narrative centrepiece is a grand banquet held in the house of Dream, where the assembled creatures and demigods present their bids, petitions and bribes to Morpheus in the hope that he will pick them to give the keys of Hell to. I must say that I think Gaiman does a great job of giving the various mythological figures and demigods distinct personalities – my favourite being the personification of chaos, who is depicted as a mischievous little girl dressed up like a clown. Running in parallel with this main narrative is Morpheus's reckoning with the fate of his old love, Queen Nada. Back in volume 2, The Doll's House, Gaiman showed us Nada's tragic love story: she was the ruler of an ancient African kingdom who lost her heart to Dream, with rather predictable problems arising from the love between a mortal human and one of the Endless. Morpheus capriciously condemned Nada to Hell for having spurned him, and I like that Gaiman doesn't shy away from portraying his central "hero" in a very unflattering light. Yes, Morpheus may be a supernatural, God-like personification of Dream, but he can also be a stubborn-headed, cruel arsehole. During a memorable scene, involving a reunion of all the members of the Endless, Dream's sister, Death, doesn't hesitate to tell him that he's done something very wrong and that he needs to make it right. In addition, as a result of Lucifer having closed the gates of Hell, all the damned souls that resided there have been sent away, with some of them beginning to appear on Earth again. As a result, we get an excellent story-within-a-story sequence about a private British boarding school that now has a problem with pupils and schoolmasters returning from the dead. This, for me, was one of the most enjoyable parts of Season of Mists, although I wonder if the chapter might be a little too "English" for American audiences. Certainly I have no doubt that it will resonate with anyone who went to either a private or public British school at any time between the 1950s and the 1980s (as I did). I'd also bet that this sequence is at least partly autobiographical on Gaiman's part. At the book's conclusion, things have more or less been put back as they were, with all the damned souls returned to Hell, which is now run by two former members of the angelic heavenly host. If I was to pick out one minor criticism of the book, it would be that this "illusion of change"-style ending felt a little lazy, but that would be a nitpicky criticism because, actually, the ending is nevertheless very satisfying. Gaiman's writing in the book is of a very high quality, and the artwork of Kelley Jones (who illustrates most of the story) serves the story well, while looking great with a number of different inkers embellishing his work. The previous volume of The Sandman showed what the series was capable of, but it was also made up of four filler issues that, while excellent, didn't really advance the overarching plot. Season of Mists, on the other hand, certainly does move the narrative forward and, for this reader, is the point where The Sandman crystallises into what it always promised to be. I can never decide between A Doll's House, Season of Mists and The Kindly Ones as my favorite Sandman storyline.
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Post by Hoosier X on Nov 3, 2019 23:28:34 GMT -5
I got All-Star Comics Archives, Volume Nine, from the library last week. It reprints All-Star Comics #39 to #43. I've read all the way to #42 already, but tonight I'm just going to talk about #39 and #40. All-Star Comics #39 is "The Invasion from Fairyland" and #40 is "The Plight of a Nation," where the JSA tackles … juvenile delinquency! I've not read either of these stories before, and I didn't think I'd like them too much. The JSA fighting FAIRIES? The JSA tackles juvenile delinquency? The first sounds like a very silly story and the second sounds like a desperate attempt at relevancy that's probably doomed to being preachy and unconvincing. But to tell the truth, I liked both these stories a lot better than I thought I would. Once I got done rolling my eyes and actually read the stories, I was pleasantly surprised. No, they're not Golden Age classics like the issues where they fight Solomon Grundy or the Wizard, but I found them entertaining and not the contrived or preachy disasters I was expecting. One of the things that helps these stories a lot is the change in format! The old format sent each JSA member off on a totally separate adventure before they all got back together at the end for a three or four page finale with the big bad. This wasn't always a disaster for the narrative, but when the premise was kind of weak, this format would often really showcase just how silly nd contrived these stories are. But in these stories, there are only three missions to tackle the greater menace, and the JSA splits into teams instead of everybody running off by himself. This makes a lot more sense. And, yeah, there's still a lot of dumb stuff and tortured contrivances and amazing coincidences, but they're a lot easier to swallow when the format makes more sense. Also … the Black Canary! I love her so much! She first appeared in All-Star in #38 (in Volume 8) and she appeared in all the rest of the issues, but they didn't make her a full member right away. She took Johnny Thunder's place. His last appearance is in #39. I think Johnny Thunder had a lot of potential but they weren't really doing anything with it. So I don't really miss him after #39. John Broome became the regular writer at this point and, so far, I'm really liking the change, even with some basic ideas that I wouldn't think would be very good. And next issue … the return of the Injustice Society of the World!
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Post by dbutler69 on Nov 4, 2019 10:01:32 GMT -5
I've been reading through the Legion of Super-Heroes and am up to #19 of the Baxter (1984) series, but I paused in that to read Legionnaires 3, the 1986 miniseries. It was actually quite good. I've never really read the full series before, somehow, even though I'm a huge Legion fan.
I'm also reading the New Teen Titans. I'm up to #33 of the 1980 series. Great stuff.
I read through the Chris Claremont issues of Marvel Team-Up, then decided to just keep reading through till the end of the series. I just finished #137, Assistant Editor's Month. That was a weird one, though kinda funny, with Aunt May becoming a herald of Galactus.
I'm slowly but surely making my way through all of the X-Men appearances during the time their series was a reprint series in the early 70's. I'm up to Incredible Hulk #161, which gets me about half way through. Along those same lines, I'd been reading X-Men: The Hidden Years but sort of forgot about it and stopped, so I ought to keep on going with that. The art is pretty to look it, but the story sure does move slowly. Is the whole series going to take place in the Savage Land?
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Post by dbutler69 on Nov 4, 2019 10:04:53 GMT -5
I got All-Star Comics Archives, Volume Nine, from the library last week. It reprints All-Star Comics #39 to #43. I've read all the way to #42 already, but tonight I'm just going to talk about #39 and #40. Wow, you're very lucky that your library has stuff like this!
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Confessor
CCF Mod Squad
Not Bucky O'Hare!
Posts: 10,069
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Post by Confessor on Nov 4, 2019 14:15:33 GMT -5
So, I recently read volumes 1 and 2 of Darwyn Cooke's The New Frontier for the first time... I've been wanting to read this mini-series for a long time, based entirely on the good things I've read folks here say about it. I'm very much a "Marvel guy" and, as a result, I'm really not particularly au fait with DC character history – especially any characters outside of Batman and Superman. In fact, I had little or no idea, until I had finished it and looked it up on Wikipedia, that this mini-series was set in an alternate version of the Silver Age DCU...kinda like an Elseworlds book or one of those old "imaginary stories". On the surface of things, this is a story about the formation of the Justice League of America in the early 1960s. However, The New Frontier's masterstroke is that, beneath this deceptively straightforward set up, there lies an examination of the real world social ills and Cold War politics of the era, which nevertheless manages to preserve the upbeat optimism of DC's late '50s and early '60s comics. By placing the superheroes within the cultural context of this era, in a way that DC's actual Silver Age comics never did, Darwyn Cooke serves up a fascinating blend of race politics, McCarthey-era paranoia, fantastical superhero elements, and a dinosaur-populated island, which manages to conjure the zeitgiest of John F. Kennedy's "Camelot" era unflinchingly, without ever sinking into Baby Boomer nostalgia -- and it all still works as a rip-snorting, fun adventure too! Cooke's artwork is excellent from a story-telling and "panel-to-panel flow" point of view, while its gloriously retro style fits the setting perfectly and is very satisfying in the action sequences and more character-driven moments. However, I'm not sure it really carries the story's weightier psychological concepts and darker moments all that well. I also question how much I'd enjoy his artwork outside of this '60s setting. I found Cooke's writing to be engaging and well paced, although I also felt that the first volume was rather disjointed and episodic. It held my interest, sure, but it took its damn sweet time setting things up before the story coalesced into a compelling narrative in the second volume. I also got the impression that there were plenty of "fan service-y" details and Easter Eggs that were soaring clean over my head as I read, but that's OK, since it didn't detract from my enjoyment at all. Even as a die-hard Marvel fan, Cooke made me care about DC's heroes in a way that I've seldom done in the past. In particular, The New Frontier represents the only time I think I've ever cared for J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter. Likewise, I don't think I've ever enjoyed reading about The Flash or Green Lantern as much as I did here. And Cooke's rationalisation for Batman's early '60s "new look" is an especially nifty and thought-provoking retcon. Overall, I enjoyed The New Frontier a lot. I'm guessing that, when this came out in the early 21st Century, it must've felt like a refreshing antidote to the grim & gritty trend in superhero comics, which had dominated in the late '80s and 1990s. Though I'm not a comics fan who particulary pines for the more innocent comics of the '60s and '70s -- I love darker superhero comics, as much as I enjoy the lighter tales -- The New Frontier certainly casts a powerfully upbeat spell. And while it's not a patch on Kurt Busiek's Marvels (a mini-series that, being set in the same era, is hard not to compare The New Frontier to), it is a DC mini-series that this die-hard Marvel fan really liked.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 4, 2019 14:41:09 GMT -5
I have been re-reading the old annual JLA/JSA crossovers. My favorites involve a third team like the Freedom Fighters. Earth S heroes. The Legion. Those are my favorites and I do read them from time to time. Confessor ... Cooke's JLA are pure gems.
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Post by rberman on Nov 4, 2019 15:55:14 GMT -5
So, I recently read volumes 1 and 2 of Darwyn Cooke's The New Frontier for the first time... Cooke's artwork is excellent from a story-telling and "panel-to-panel flow" point of view, while his gloriously retro art style is very satisfying in the action sequences and more character-driven moments. However, I'm not sure it really carries the story's weightier psychological concepts and darker moments all that well. I also question how much I'd enjoy his artwork outside of this '60s setting. Overall, I enjoyed The New Frontier a lot. I'm guessing that, when this came out in the early 21st Century, it must've felt like a refreshing antidote to the grim & gritty trend in superhero comics, which had dominated in the late '80s and 1990s. Though I'm not a comics fan who particularly pines for the more innocent comics of the '60s and '70s (I love darker superhero comics, as much as I enjoy the lighter tales), The New Frontier certainly casts a powerfully upbeat spell. And while it's not a patch on Kurt Busiek's Marvels (a mini-series that, being set in the same era, is hard not to compare The New Frontier to), it is a DC mini-series that this die-hard Marvel fan really enjoyed. I read this for the first time a couple of years ago and enjoyed it quite a bit. I had previously been repelled by Golden Age stories, so it was refreshing to have a work in that art style yet with the complex characterization of a modern story. I was also intrigued by his more aggressive take on Wonder Woman, and the interesting design choice of making her taller than Superman.
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