I used to love this comic. In fact, I would probably say that Adam Strange was one of the unsung favorites of my collection; a handful of comics that were never particularly popular with the comicbook community but that I felt were immeasurably well-done and immensely satisfying stories. When Adam Strange first came out in 1990 I was floored by it. Here was an imperfect man whose world was falling apart around him. Partly duped by people he (perhaps foolishly) trusted, partly done-in by his own weaknesses, this mini-series saw Adam Strange reduced to almost nothing, losing everything he held dear. Yet the series ended on a hopeful note that implied what made Adam a hero before would help him become one again. My one complaint at the time was that the ending was far too abrupt, the story seeming to end in the middle. I wanted to see what happened next to Adam, Eve, Sardath and the rest, and it seemed unfairly cruel that after that third issue, DC never bothered to continue the story. But in reading Adam Strange twenty-two years later, though I found the story to have its moments, it was also very, very flawed, and those flaws make it all to clear why the story told in these three issues never went any further.
First a little history for the uninitiated: Adam Strange has been around for over 50 years, first introduced in 1957 in DC Comic’s Showcase anthology, and soon after headlining the science-fiction themed Mystery in Space. Adam’s story was incredibly simple: Adam Strange was an archeologist who was accidentally transported from Earth to the planet Rann and its capitol city, Ranagar. There he became the planet’s sole hero, more in the style of Flash Gordon than Superman. Armed with a ray gun, jetpack, and a helmet with a fin that came off a ’57 Chevy, Adam allied himself with the scientist Sardath (who invented the Zeta Beam, the communications beam that accidentally brought Adam to Rann in the first place) and romanced Sardath’s daughter, Alanna. Part of Strange’s shtick was that the Zeta Beam was only a temporary and Adam would always leave Rann and reappear on Earth, having to wait for the next beam t o come and wisk him away to the planet and woman he loved.
So went Adam’s adventures for the better part of 40 years. Never popular enough to sustain his own series (Mystery in Space went the way of most comicbook anthologies by the 70’s, leaving Adam without a regular title to appear in), Adam popped up in various DC Comics titles for years, before finally landing a mini-series of his own. When that happened, I was aware of Adam Strange as a character (I think due to his role in DC’s 1989 crossover event, Invasion!) but I really didn’t know much about him. I’m pretty sure the only reason I bought the comic was because it was plugged in Direct Currents, DC’s marketing ‘zine from the late 80/s/early 90’s that promoted upcoming releases. (In fact, here’s that issue of Direct Currents that plugged the mini-series.)
In re-reading the first issue, it’s easy to see the appeal this comic had on my younger self. For one thing, it’s beautifully drawn by Andy and Adam Kubert. The two brothers would become hugely popular artists in their own right, but in 1990 their biggest claim to fame was being the sons of the legendary Joe Kubert. This comic was their big break and they don’t disappoint. Though their art more clearly reflects their father’s style than what would eventually become their own, there is no denying their knack for facial expressions and beautiful scenery. Rann is the quintessential exotic alien planet, and some of the most beautiful art in Adam Strange occurs when the Kubert’s need to draw some sumptuous landscape filled with battered desert mountains or lush jungle-like canyons.
Secondly, writer Richard Bruning’s story resonated with me at the time. Beyond Adam Strange being the hero who got the girl, this series delves into his lonely, unhappy childhood was, spurring him to leave home (and eventually the planet) for something better. When this comic came out in 1990, I was still fourteen and battling a severe depression; Adam’s sad childhood was easily identifiable in my then-current state. And to watch Adam lose everything he held dear probably appealed to me, given how pessimistic my outlook on life was at the time. Dark and gritty stories were cathartic for me, although that’s something I recognize now in hindsight. At the time I probably would’ve said I loved the melodrama involved in Strange’s world falling apart.
Reading the story as an adult, I still see some appeal in those story elements. While I understand Bruning’s desire to question some of the assumptions of Strange’s situation—How could a “communications beam” physically transport someone? Why is Adam the only hero on Rann? How would a populace react to the first child being born in generation being half-alien?—Bruning doesn’t just explore those ideas and stop there. Instead, Bruning destroys the concept completely, getting rid of everything that made Adam Strange an appealing character. It isn’t enough to have the populace resent the Sardath-controlled high council; that council has to turn against each other, with members going insane and killing one another. It isn’t enough that the Zeta beam is revealed to have purposely brought a human to Rann, it has to be shown to have poisoned Adam with radiation, driving him temporarily insane to the point that he beats Sardath in to a coma. It isn’t enough to have Alanna doubt wither Adam will want to stay on Rann with her, Adam has to cheat on Alanna while on Earth, and then she has to die in childbirth.
All of that is bad enough but to top it all off, Bruning denies Adam the chance to be a hero when it counts the most. For all the sadistic pain Bruning heaps on Adam and his supporting cast, readers would probably be able to forgive it if Adam was able to save some part of the day. Instead, Adam is completely useless in the final issue. At the climactic moment of the story, when the city of Ranagar is attacked by the enemy city-state Zared, Adam actually runs away. It’s Sardath who actually saves everyone, magically turning Ranagar into a flying city in space, while Adam high-tails it back to Alanna where he’d rather wait to die along with her instead of fighting. Is it any wonder fans of Adam Strange weren’t looking to see what happens next?
In Bruning’s introduction to the collected edition of this story, he defends himself by stating his childhood love of the character, and that he was trying to apply the same approach to storytelling that that Alan Moore applied in Watchmen and Swamp Thing or that Frank Miller did with The Dark Knight Returns. But in his zeal to tell a more “mature” Adam Strange story, Bruning loses track of what made the character appealing in the first place. That opinion was clearly the one that prevailed, given what happened next. After this mini-series, Adam Strange dropped out of the DC Universe completely; his next appearance was a few years later in a supporting role in Green Lantern #75, when Kyle Rayner moved the floating city of Ranagar back to the planet. In 1998, in Mark Waid hit the reset button by bringing Alanna back to life in two-issue story in JLA. Aside from Adam’s daughter, everything of consequence from Adam Strange had been undone.
At the time Waid's story was released, I was saddened to see such a “great” story be effectively erased from continuity. Now feel a sense of conflict, remembering how much I enjoyed this story when I first read it but understanding now why people were so happy to disregard it. Perhaps, if the focus had been on an ensemble cast trying to rebuild their world, and just one of those characters happened to be a hero who lost everything and was trying to find his way back, perhaps this story could have been a much more successful. And even if Adam Strange's name stayed on the marquee, if more of his heroism could have come through, I might have gotten my wish to see what happened next. But rather than being a defining moment for Adam Strange, it’s a missed opportunity, and a reminder for me how some stories just don’t survive the test of time.
Next Issue: Hey, remember that great line of Dungeons & Dragon-inspired comics? Yeah, neither do I. But apparently I bought some of those title's first issues, so next week we trade science for sorcery and try to figure out what I was thinking when I bought Advanced Dungeons & Dragons #1 in 1988. And if I don’t have much to say about that, we’ll shift genres again and ruminate on why Garth Ennis thinks World War II and scatology make for a good story in Adventures of the Rifle Brigade #1.
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