Just read Robin and Batman. It…uh. Am I going crazy, or does it have All Star: Batman & Robin vibes? It even hits some of the same emotional beats. Actually, hits a lot of the same emotional beats…and language…and even scenes.
So, Batman is. Not a very good parent in this. In fact, I'm pretty sure Alfred is doing all the parenting here. He's much better than ASBaR, although that is...a low bar to clear. But he treats Dick as a soldier in a way I have seen no other version of Bruce but Crazy Steve do, and this is the comic I was searching for a while ago about Bruce reading Dick's diary.
Unlike the flaming dumpster fire of ASBaR, the storyline of R&B does make sense, and in many ways, it's a good comic (if you’re fine with Batman being a pretty bad parent/mentor). It had very tight themes and storyline, the art fit the story, etc. It's interesting and has a good story! Yeah, I don't love how they portrayed the Dynamic Duo, but I liked Alfred and Dick, and it certainly has plenty of fanfic fodder.
But why does it so closely mirror the most laughably horrible comic miniseries I have ever had the displeasure of reading?
"What are you even talking about?" Well, I present my evidence:
“Yes, sir.” This isn’t even a one-time thing. Dick consistently calls Bruce “sir” throughout R&B. Like a soldier. Which Bruce thinks he needs to be, by the way.
Yeah. Alfred tries to intervene and is moderately successful in both cases. In addition to making Robin a soldier—whether willing (B&R) or “drafted” (ASBaR), Bruce uses Robin against the Justice League, having him fight Green Lantern in ASBaR and spy on the sidekicks in B&R. So there’s also Robin as a proxy in Batman vs. the Justice League between the two.
Moving on, Dick, with his 11-12-year-old emotional regulation, can’t cope with being a soldier. Shocking, I know. So he beats up an enemy so badly that Batman has to intervene. Which comic am I talking about? Why, both, of course!
Near the end of the arc, Dick goes to a location associated with his parents (the derelict circus in B&R vs. their grave in ASBaR) and Batman hugs them there, which somehow resolves all their issues and the blatant child abuse.
“Corporate needs you to find the difference between these two pictures.”
“They’re the same picture.”
Down to the positioning of the two. They’re a little bit closer on the left, but like. Come on. Seriously?
Also, both comics have Batman consistently calling Robin “boy,” which is such a strange alignment of what I think is an uncommon turn of speech that it feels like there has got to be some sort of crossreferencing or sharing of creators or something. And then there’s the fact that Bruce is constantly using the word “damn,” especially when yelling at Dick. Robin & Batman’s Bruce talks like the Goddamn Batman.
Oh, and they have really similar stubble for some reason? I noticed the mini beard hairs immediately and somehow knew the comic was going to be disturbingly similar to ASBaR.
I need to know how this happened.
(For those wondering if you should read Robin & Batman, I still say go ahead. It’s only 3 comics, and at the very least, it's good for research purposes/seeing where ideas have come from.)
This ask is referring to the fairly-obscure 2010 zombie apocalypse Elseworld Marvel Universe Vs The Punisher by Jonathan Maberry, as well as the two prequels following Wolverine and Hawkeye at different points in the same timeline. I've been meaning to do a more comprehensive write-up on this for quite some time, as it was a series distinct from but very visibly in conversation with Marvel Zombies, which Maberry was also peripherally involved with. The elevator pitch is that a fuckup by the Punisher during a hit on the Russian Mob results in a cold war bioweapon getting into the biosphere, eventually turning almost the entire human population, and most of the superheroes, into adrenaline-fueled 28-days-later style rage zombies. Content Warning under the cut for discussions of racism
Despite its many, many flaws, there was a lot I enjoyed about this series, and alongside Marvel Zombies it had a not-insubstantial impact on my own aesthetic sensibilities, which I think probably comes through in a lot of my zombie artwork. The first mini, Marvel Universe Vs The Punisher, is a pastiche of I am Legend, with Frank Castle in the role of Robert Neville, an infected Deadpool in the role of Neville's abnormally sentient neighbor Ben Cortman, and with a zombified Spider-Man the white whale that he's spent five years hunting through the remains of Manhattan. Before I get into the rancid shit, I'm going to talk about what I enjoyed:
While the series succumbs to all-too-common Punisher Wank in terms of his efficacy in taking down a number of the A-list infected heroes, it ultimately comes out the other side as a pretty competent piece of character work for Frank; the series is grimly aware that a virus turning most of the human population into a shooting gallery of sadistic cannibal maniacs would be something like Valhalla for Frank, regardless of his pretensions to the contrary. Moreover, it's subtly implied that Frank's belief that he's immune is incorrect, and what's actually happening is that a virus that turns you into a vindictive, dogmatic maniac with a hardwired us-or-them mindset had no effect on him because he was already like that. There are ultimately revealed to be thousands of other survivors in New York, all of whom have spent five years studiously avoiding him because they think he's batshit insane. Even zombie Spider-Man, played up as the Biggest Bad, is ultimately revealed to have retained enough humanity to protect his uninfected family the entire time, whereas Frank is ultimately painted as unrelenting genocide machine whose psychological inability to give quarter ultimately makes him worse than the infected.
From there the series extrapolated some hilarious commentary on the genre as a whole; the zombie outbreak was going on for months before reaching critical mass, and nobody noticed because the baseline levels of random street violence and superpowered brawls are already so high in these settings that nobody realized a lot of the fights were occurring for rage-virus reasons until Spider-Man killed and ate a supervillain on live television. The whole series can be viewed through the lens of the usual spectacle-bait crisis-crossover contrived-battle-between-heroes routine, distilled to its purest form and escalated to the point of Ragnarök; the art frequently deliberately obfuscates which combatants are infected and which are uninfected people fighting for their lives. In this way it's playing with the pre-existing logic of the superhero genre in a way that Marvel Zombies didn't.
Maberry knows how to use Deadpool in a supporting character role without having him eat the entire goddamn thing. It's a fun dynamic!
Unlike Marvel Zombies, which was deliberately unconcerned with logistics as part of the gonzo fever-dream aesthetic, Maberry put some actual thought into a semi-plausible model by which a zombie virus could overrun a superhero setting. The responsible mutagen is air-and-waterborne, causing people to start turning at random months after being infected rather than through bites or fluid contact, and sneaks around healing factors because the mutations it causes are parsed as improvements rather than disease symptoms. Mass swarms of infected, unpowered civilians are as relevant, if not more relevant, than the superhumans are in spreading the infection, leading in turn to a lot of Left 4 dead styled set piece co-op fights like the one depicted above, and leading to the failure state that a superhero might be able to mince human wave attacks all day but at a certain point they'll have chewed through everyone they were ostensibly protecting by doing so, even if they themselves survive. This is a dynamic that, ultimately, only Frank Castle is really capable of thriving within, because with him it was never about protecting people, just hurting "bad" ones.
Which leads to another major positive points- the series is also a lot more concerned with rendering the setting's downward spiral. Eight prequel issues depicting the superhero community going down fighting over the course of months, rather than folding like a dixie cup in a trash compactor for horror value. Dead Days is the closest that Marvel Zombies ever got to rendering that same process, and while that was a very good oneshot it was still a deliberately compact one-shot. Here you get tableau after tableau of survivors throwing down with zombies. Unlikely alliances, second-string deep-cut z-listers crawling out of the woodwork- all interspersed with the growing realization among the protagonists that this is not business as usual, the status quo is not going to hold this time, it's just the actual apocalypse.
Here's Punisher, Hawkeye, Iron Fist and Black Cat trying to hold the Holland tunnel. Here's Dr. Bong, Howard the Duck Ruby Tuesday and Hit Monkey making a last stand in Central Park. This shit unironically kicks ass! This is what I think a lot of people are gesturing at when they say that they want to see a superheroes vs zombies story.
And, on that note, if you're going to tell this kind of story, Punisher, Wolverine and Hawkeye are objectively three of the best characters to have as the viewpoint characters- precisely the right level of competence and street-level scrappiness to survive without having a prayer of turning the tables outright. "Shit, Man, this superhero war is fucked-" the comic.
One additional minor thing I enjoyed about the series, aesthetically, is that while Marvel Zombies was a deliberately anachronistic mish-mash where every character was depicted in their most visually iconic outfits from across decades of publication, This series was very specifically working with the Marvel Universe status quo circa 2010 when it was published- The X-Men in San Francisco, Red Hulk on the Avengers, now-long-forgotten Avengers Academy kids in crowd shots. It grounds the narrative in a way Marvel Zombies was deliberately avoiding, acting as a snapshot and a time capsule in a neat way.
Now onto the two big things I didn't like about this series, the latter of which sinks it really really badly:
One: Caption Cancer. Maberry is one of those authors who I like on balance but who also often lapses into Talking Just To Talk. How many times does the navel-gazey running commentary in the above excerpts double back on itself, and how much is it actually saying- particularly when contrasted with the story told by the art and dialogue alone? Either he felt a need to fill the space (bad) or worse, he thought that these were some kind of deep and compelling rumination on the human condition. In general the balance of exposition to action in this thing were.... all over the place, not always integrated gracefully. The best sequences in the book are the ones where the captions just shut the fuck up so we can watch these people clobber each other. This is not a problem the original Marvel Zombies had- one thing I like about Kirkman is that he's usually a caption minimalist, letting the art and the dialogue do the heavy lifting. You don't get a page as quiet and decompressed as the following in the entire 12 issue run of Marvel Universe Vs.
Two: It's Racist. Like, really really racist. The comic continuously lapses into extremely racist imagery with the infected, using the visual language of "primitive savage tribes" with seemingly zero awareness of the real-life groups that those tropes were used to propagandize against and dehumanize. It's one thing to have zombies that take human body parts as trophies- that's kind of a cool motif- it's quite another to have a zombified Hulk who braids his hair in an obvious caricature of Native Americans, complete with feathers. What the fuck, Maberry!
Moreover it's a comically unforced error- everything compelling happens outside of that imagery, it's adding basically nothing but an attack surface to the premise. 28 days later did this basic premise without the racism, Left 4 Dead did this basic premise without the racism, The Crazies did this basic premise without the racism, Fucking Crossed did this basic premise without using the same racist visual language, at least until after Ennis left the book. Congratulations- you found a way to make the zombies more on-the-face racially insensitive than Garth Ennis. Round of Applause, everyone. This specific issue is why I don't think I've ever brought this book up in depth unprompted, it's genuinely really gross.
Anyway, those are my unified thoughts on the Marvel Universe Vs. trilogy, hope you enjoyed.
Peanuts Every Sunday is a collection of Schulz’s Sunday strips in color. It’s an incredibly pleasant way to read the strips, especially on my new iPad, and I really enjoyed this volume. It’s got some early Peanuts funk, and less charm because I’d already seen many of the strips in the Complete collections, but still!
The Sunday strips are often the most memorable, for obvious reasons. Having more space means having more room for comedic maneuvers, more progression, more pay-off. If I had to list my favorite Peanuts strip so far, they would be almost exclusively Lucy-focused Sundays. Her early years as a spunky young child are comedic gold. “I’m frustrated and inhibited and nobody understands me” is my quote of the year. You simply don’t get this kind of punchline joy in the regular dailies.
You thought this post was about the added value of color for Peanuts Sunday strips, but really it’s about how Lucy Van Pelt is iconic and is the 50s MVP of the strip, even more than Charlie Brown or Snoopy. I’ve tricked you!
Foggy obviously couldn't pass up the opportunity for a romance.
He makes certain that no one sees him with Debbie, though, because she is an ex-convict, and being seen with her would jeopardize his chances of becoming district attorney.
What happens next is that Debbie runs into Daredevil on the street and pleads with the hero to convince Foggy that she has changed, that she has turned over a new leaf. But it is not Mike, as everyone believes, it's Doctor Doom inside Daredevil's body. Naturally, he doesn't recognize her and shoves her aside, which infuriates Foggy.
Sadly, that smitten version of Deb didn't last long. If you already know the story, you're aware of just how much that relationship gradually deteriorates.
For many years, it was a repetitive and predictable plot to use as a huge foil to the hero, the chubby, clumsy, and goofy sidekick, who has low self-esteem and almost always performs poorly in all areas of life. Who would want to be a sidekick when there was a strong, attractive, and successful hero right there, one who easily gets all the beautiful women he wants? Fortunately, societal progress and shifting mindsets have led to changes. And over time, Foggy had a few other relationships—at least five that I recall—thanks to the writers changing their approach and his growing popularity.
Things improved somewhat for Foggy, and not just in terms of romantic relationships, though it would still take some time for us to see a Foggy with a more engaging and confident personality, one who was less petty and truly relatable enough to be as beloved as the hero.
Daredevil Vol. 1 #38 - "The Living Prison!"
Stan Lee
Gene Colan
Frank Giacoia
Sam Rosen
Aliens: Mondo Pest was originally serialized in Dark Horse Comics (hereafter to be shortened to DHC) the 1992-1994 full color anthology meant to effectively silo off the licensed properties from flagship anthology Dark Horse Presents (popularly known as DHP). Previous to that, your Aliens or Predator comic serials would by necessity sit with fully creator-owned properties like Concrete or Bacchus, creating a frisson from the juxtaposition that defined early Dark Horse Comics (the company) releases—a charming sort of "I've got a barn, let's put on a show" energy defined them from the very beginning and up to this point. But as the harsh comics industry landscape 90's began, the need for line-go-up style growth meant more licensed properties and attempts at home-grown superhero universes.
So, Dark Horse Comics (the anthology) was born. This is a time when DHP was particularly fertile though—the first Sin City serial, Bacchus, Paleolove, Madwoman Of The Sacred Heart, An Accidental Death, and Hellboy: The Wolves of Saint August all ran in DHP during this period, among other things—so I for one am glad they had the more corporate venue of DHC to off-gas Comics Greatest World tie-ins and Robocop serials.
Eventually, the licensed comics would return to DHP and you'd have to endure Buffy tie-ins next to creator owned comics, but by that point the creator owned comics were less personal as well. DHP's content kind of reached a grim homogeny of "product" in those last couple years—for every NEVERMEN there was IP slop and self-dealing problematic editors pushing their attempts at superheroes into the mix.
DHC only lasted two years, and Dark Horse Presents managed to hobble into the year 2000, so apparently the market wasn't clambering for the type of material that DHC was focused on. That isn't to say that there was nothing of value published under that banner—far from it, many excellent creators did work there. Case in point, Aliens: Mondo Pest was originally a serial that ran in issues 22-24. It was well enough regarded that they then repackaged it to feed the hunger for Aliens comics in 1995.
Written and drawn by two animation industry stalwarts who weren't big names at the time but would go on to much success in their field—Gilroy is a co-author of the Clone Wars series and Del Carmen wrote and co-directed the hit Pixar film Inside Out, among many other credits of note. But at the time they were jobbers working on stuff like Where's Waldo and 2 Stupid Dogs and who shared credits on Batman: The Animated Series. Mondo Pest has an economy of story that suggests TV experience. It gets in, gets out and signposts everything that you need to know with visual storytelling and the occasional bit of chicken fat.
Mondo Pest (the character) is a LOBO-type—big shoulder pads, cigar chomping and backwards baseball cap all working like neon signposts to communicate a shorthand about the type of story you're reading. It's a bit of 90's comics fluff, but effectively told. The real reason to pick it up is to soak in Del Carmen's art and panel to panel storytelling. Pest himself may be an exercise in stereotype, but the other characters are all appealingly and smartly designed. His inks appear to be built mostly from luxurious brushstrokes but will occasionally scrawl into a sparser pen stroke. Hollingsworth's colors are effective but like most comics in this early 90s era of computer coloring, there's an almost oppressive level of saturation here...ironically causing me to wish they'd commissioned the comic for DHP, where it would have run in glorious black and white.
This is probably sacrilegious but I think Mark Millar's run on The Authority is just as good as the Warren Ellis run—maybe even better!
While Ellis' run excelled at scale, with three bombastic world-saving plots, the characters always felt undercooked and the consequences of The Authority's actions were always left unaddressed—at one point the elimination of an entire country of innocents to save the world is literally just ignored and left unaddressed.
Beyond that, what's very noticeable almost 3 decades on is how badly Ellis' run has aged from a political point of view, being terminally liberal, with a constant 'The UN are the good guys and really are trying their best' attitude that must have felt naive and idealistic even in 1999.
On the flipside, Mark Millar's run immediately establishes strong characterisation for the entire cast*, and both explores the consequences of The Authority's actions and has them resolve things in more interesting ways that just killing people/aliens—though they also do a lot of that. It's also surprisingly politically savvy compared to Ellis' more naive approach.
Publishing before, during, and after 9/11, Millar's run is suffused in a knowledge of conspiracy theories and, as a result, is surprisingly anti-American in a way that still feels radical 25 years on. Even the stories written after 9/11 don't soften their critiques of the US government, and instead show a distinct awareness of how America constantly exploits crises to establish a permanent state of exception to justify the increasing use of its military resources against its own citizens.
It's crazy reading a mainstream comic from 2002 where characters specifically talk about how the US government uses both the threat and actuality of domestic terrorism to increase the reach of the domestic security state and further disenfranchise citizenry—something which virtually no other comics writer had the foresight or bravery to do in the immediate wake of the 9/11 attacks—in fact, even as late as 2011, Frank Miller had his reputation destroyed for even attempting to seriously critique American propaganda surrounding 9/11 and the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan.
Millar also much more effectively sells The Authority as what they are: bad people trying to do good things and engaging in a kind of benevolent global totalitarianism to do it—contrast this with Warren Ellis who had a tendency to just make them Justice League analogues who ignored collateral damage and swore a lot.
In the same issue Midnighter will be explicitly racist toward a group of refugees, while also defending the dignity of the individual against harm and oppression. Characters can be casually homophobic, then later show a profound understanding and respect for love in all its forms. Self destructive urges and a striving toward enlightenment are present in the same character. These don't feel like contradictions, so much as characters who have genuine complexity—The Authority are troubled, broken, disturbed people earnestly trying to make the world a better place and not always doing it in the cleanest way.
The book's dynamic actually feels very reminiscent of real life revolutionary groups which tore themselves apart before managing to achieve anything due to these same kinds of deep-seated personality flaws—maybe they could have been more successful if they had a dimension-hopping spaceship and superpowers.
I'm generally very critical of Mark Millar's writing. He has written some great books, but he also misses more than he hits, and a lot of his misses are real misses. Despite this, his run on The Authority is incredibly well constructed and feels something close to a masterpiece—on par with (if not better than) Superman: Red Son.
And yet, for some reason, this run has a reputation for 'ruining' The Authority, and being bad across the board with no redeeming factors other than Frank Quitely's art.
I can only imagine this is due to the negative reviews at the time setting the tone for how people have discussed the run in the years since. Radical challenges to the post-9/11 neoliberal way of looking at the world were not welcomed at the time, and, even now, the UN is such a sacred cow that criticising it as a corrupt and malicious entity remains contentious on all sides of the political aisle—despite multiple independent studies and investigations implicating the UN in people-trafficking and correlating UN intervention in a state with a rise in child prostitution.
While Ellis's run on the Authority was undeniably more influential, I think the case could be made that Millar's run is more refined—Ellis seems to share this opinion, being very positive on Millar's tenure.
I think anyone going into the run with an open mind and willingness to engage with the material on its own terms will find that, despite its reputation, it's a surprisingly savvy and well written superhero story with strong characterisation and a venomous political bite. It's a run in need of a serious reappraisal.
*No matter how much people want to insist this isn't the case, the Midnighter everyone loves today is Mark Millar's Midnighter, not Warren Ellis's. In the Ellis run he's interesting but ultimately just an anti-Batman cipher and a gay joke; in the Millar run he's a fully formed character with genuine depth.
