I have a “junk pile” of comics. These are, mostly, made up of comics that I owned before I began “collecting” comics; a motley assortment of random drug-store purchases and hand-me-downs from who-knows-where. They used to sit in the bottom drawer of the desk in my old room in my parents house. When I began collecting, these comics were kept separate, from what I was buying and bagging in protective sleeves. If you asked me about these comics when I was a teenager, I’d probably say they were comics in either very poor condition (a few are missing their covers outright) or that they were so corny that I would be embarrassed to include them in my “real” collection. (This junk pile included, among other things: a half dozen random Marvel Tales, Marvel’s three-issue A-Team mini-series, and about twenty semi-random issues of Marvel’s Star Wars comic.) And yet these comics stuck around, because my collecting-mentality couldn’t bear to discard even the comics I had essentially already discarded. When my wife and I bought our house three years ago, my mother unceremoniously handed over four or five boxes of my old crap that she had been wanting to get rid of, and among those boxes was my “junk pile”. I weeded through those comics and ended up pulling out a few dozen issues that, as an adult, I had a nostalgic attachment to. I now have a “not-really-junk pile” and a “junkier pile”; the whereabouts of the latter is unknown, either donated to some Goodwill store, or buried in a basement closet, while the “not really junk pile” sits, unbagged, on a shelf; part of my comic collection but, still, not really part of my comic collection.
I mention all this for two reasons: to explain why I own issue 34 of DC Comics Presents and the why it is not counted as one of the comics in the 5,600+ that are part of this project. This comic is from 1981, featuring a team-up between Superman, Captain Marvel, and the rest of the Marvel family, as they battle Mr. Mxyzptlk , Mr. Mind, and King Kull. Among other things, it also included Supes and Marvel being transported to an alternate dimension populated by talking bunnies, one of whom was, of course, Bunny Marvel. (A serendipitous bonus: the “next issue” blurb promised a Superman/Man-Bat team up! Man, now I need to track that sucker down!) It’s all played straight—even Marvel Bunny—and clearly meant for a young audience. But I got to tell you: I enjoyed reading this issue more than I did these four Adventures of Superman comics.
Perhaps I’m being overly harsh, but the truth is, for all the silliness of that DC Comics Presents story, there was a joy to it, and not a self-conscious/hipster/ironically knowing joy, but a pure, innocent joy in telling a fun story that these other issues—these issues that I deemed “important” enough to be part of my “real” collection—are utterly lacking.
Take the first one, #444. This issue is the middle-chapter of “The Supergirl Saga”, which brought the titular character back into the DC Comics Universe after having been wiped out of continuity thanks to Crisis. And as I type that sentence I realize that for the two of you reading this that don’t know comics, some explanation may be in order. I’ve talked before about how DC rebooted their continuity back in 1985. Among one of the editorial decisions made during this period was the idea that Superman would be the only survivor of Krypton, which meant a whole host of supporting cast members who had been around for decades could longer exist. The biggest of these cast-members was Supergirl, who, during the Crisis mini-series, died in one of the best “hero sacrifices self to save others” stories you’ll ever read. When the Byrne-led reboot of Superman hit the shelves, Supergirl technically, never existed in the first place. Which made it all the more noteworthy when someone showed up wearing a Supergirl costume.
See, the biggest failure of Crisis—and we’ll get into this more down the road—is that while it may have removed stories and characters from the “in universe” continuity, it clearly could not remove them from the minds of the readers who very much enjoyed them. Almost as soon as they were “wiped out”, DC Comics writers were figuring out ways to bring them back. Post-Crisis, Supergirl was not Kal-El’s cousin, nor a Kryptonian who survived the planet’s destruction. Instead she was a being from an alternate dimension, and an artificial life-form to boot. (So: pre-Crisis Supergirl = Superman’s Kryptonian cousin. Post-Crisis Supergirl = protoplasmic lifeform from an alternate reality. Everybody with me so far?)
Though touted as “Part II” of “The Supergirl Saga”, this comic has very little to do with Supergirl. In fact, the whole issue is really one giant info-dump, explaining the world Supergirl comes from and why Superman is getting involved in it. Aside from the irony in needing an alternate Earth to re-introduce a character that was killed off in a storyline meant to get rid of all alternate realities, even more striking to me was how horrifically bleak the story was. Basically: this alternate universe had a Superboy, who disappeared (which was either a plotline Byrne never got to finish off, or was explained to the readers some other time; the way everybody mentions how Superboy “disappeared” felt like a huge implication that Byrne planned on bringing Superboy back at some point). Once he disappeared, Lex Luther, a good guy in this universe, hopes to find Superboy but instead ends up unleashing evil Kryptonians General Zod, Quex-UI, and Zaora (like Supergirl, these were post-Crisis versions of pre-Crisis characters) from the Phantom Zone. Zod and his cronies then attack the Earth. They eventually decide that the best way to subjugate the planet is to dive down to the Earth’s core and let the seawater from the oceans flood the planet’s core, turning into super-hot steam which boiled away earth’s atmosphere leaving the planet a charred, lifeless rock.
Thus, to bring Supergirl back into continuity, Byrne decided the best way to do it was to have her come from a planet where 5 billion people died. Now, you might say: “Well, Superman’s planet blew up killing millions if not billions of people, so there is symmetry to Supergirl still being the last surviving person of a planet, just like Superman.” Which is a fair point except Byrne didn’t just have the planet explode in a horrific natural disaster; he decided to have three psychopathic super-beings murder everyone. (This may possibly be the reason why this issue’s UPC box has the tag-line: “DC Comics aren’t just for kids!”) This is not to say that I would prefer it if Superman kept teaming up with Hoppy, the Marvel Bunny. Nor am I saying that a comic shouldn’t attempt to tackle serious themes. But why couldn’t the re-introduction of Supergirl have been a joyous occasion instead of being the by-product of a very bleak, almost depressing, story? What purpose does it serve? (There actually is an answer to that second question, but we won’t get to that until we get to Superman #22, and even then that answer opens up a whole ‘nother can of worms. But I digress….)
Things get nominally better with the other issues. By 1991, Byrne had left the Superman titles, leaving Adventures artist Jerry Ordway to take over the writing. (Ordway was the artist during Byrne’s writing tenure on the title. He was also the co-plotter and so probably shares at least some of the criticism I’ve leveled at Byrne above.) At this point all three Superman titles were heavily interconnected, so we’re back to the “Last Son of Krypton” storyline, which dealt with The Eradicator trying to remake Earth into a new Krypton. This part of the storyline is the one that precedes Action Comics #667, and like that issue, there’s something definitely lacking. There’s really no need to make this a double-sized issue; if you removed all the sub-plots involving Supes’s supporting cast, the “A” story—Superman fighting the Eradicator—would just about fill a normal 22-page comic.
Though not as depressing as #444, there's still a pervasive sense of grim seriousness. Cat Grant is struggling with her sexually harassing boss; Jimmy Olsen is struggling with being unemployed and broke; Jose “Gangbuster” Delgado gets kidnapped by a gang whose leader is bitter because he’s bitter about being stuck in a wheelchair. And then there’s the whole “Eradicator wants to turn the planet into Kyrpton” bit, which is exactly the sort of story you'd want in a Superman comic, except the one story in this comic that deserves to be taken seriously is actually played slightly for laughs: deciding that Earthlings must embrace all things Kryptonian, the Eradicator decides to start subjugating the planet by putting Kryptonian fashion on famous statues. Yes, because when taking over a planet, your first step is always remodeling the Lincoln Memorial so that Honest Abe can sport Kryptonian haute couture. It’s so horribly out of place; surely there are better ways of demonstrating the Eradicator’s attempt at turning Earth into New Krypton.
These issues make it clear that Ordway’s sense of humor isn’t his strong suit. His idea of witty banter during Adventures’s contribution to the “Panic in the Sky” storyline includes such bon mots as:
Guy Gardner: Saaaay, I thought you said you trashed this place!
Superman: I did—this ship seems to have an auto-repair function programmed into it.
Guy Gardner: I’ll remember that, next time I need my oil changed!
Captain Marvel: That’s so funny I forgot to laugh, Guy!
Yeah, it’s like that. While Ordway’s chapters of the “Panic in the Sky!” storyline are otherwise perfectly fine (I probably would be more praising of these chapters if I wasn't reading parts of the whole out of context), the horribly flat banter takes all the air our of the story..
Why is it Roy Thomas could write a talking bunny with more charm and appeal than Ordway could write DC’s most popular characters? Clearly, that issue of DC Comics Presents was not taking itself too seriously, and I think the greatest disappointment of Superman in the 1990’s was that everything was meant to be serious, just for the sake of being serious. The stakes had to be raised, the angst had to be palpable. As I said before, there isn’t wrong with taking things seriously, or injecting some relatable emotional turmoil. But, ideally, you’re trying to tell a story and not a treatise (well, Promethia being the exception to the rule, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves). Being weighty for weight’s sake doesn’t entertain, it only makes you heavy-handed.
Next Issue: Now that I’ve trashed Ordway as a writer, let’s see if I can say something nice about him as he handles his end of the whole “Death of Superman” story. It’s déjà vu all over again, but this time with art by Tom Grummett!
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