Captain America 293 “Field of Vision!” Publisher: Marvel Published: January 1984 Writer: J.M. DeMatteis Pencils: Paul Neary Inks: Eduardo Barreto Letters: Diana Albers Colors: Bob Sharen Editor: Mark Gruenwald
Editor’s note: It’s been a while since I did one of these, so as a refresher: In So Random! posts, I pick a comic more or at less at random from my collection to re-read and analyze.
Synopsis
As Captain America tries to reconcile Bernie Rosenthal’s marriage proposal with his feelings for former love interest Sharon Carter, the villains Mother Superior, Baron Zemo and the Red Skull conspire to get their revenge on Cap. They transform Cap’s pacifist friend Dave Cox into the Slayer, who ambushes Cap and his sidekick, Nomad.
What’s going on here?
Captain America 293 came out pretty early in my collecting days, and about the time of the first Secret Wars series. J. M. DeMatteis was still writing the book and his plots were dark and intricate, particularly compared to his successor, Mark Gruenwald (RIP), who had a much more light-hearted take on Cap.
This would be a tough comic for a new reader to jump into, since so much of the story involves the back stories of Baron Zemo and Dave Cox (and Sharon Carter), but the plot moves along, and there’s plenty of action to go along with the introspection. The art by Neary and Barreto is serviceable, although it never really soars.
What I liked
I liked this scene of Cap dropping into to visit an old friend out of the blue, and disrupting his domestic life. We then get some revealing panels about Cap discussing his love life with Dave, and (oddly) skipping stones from his knees.
In group books like the Avengers, Cap tends to take on a larger-than-life quality, as he serves not just as a leader but a symbol of the American Way. But successfully written, in his own book at least, Steve Rogers is very much a human who is wrestling with his personal life. (Batman suffers from similar problems as a character who can be more symbol than person).
What I didn’t like
DeMatteis’s writing tends toward the purple and overwraught, particularly in the sequences with Zemo and Mother Superior. Consider this elaborate double page splash that attempts to sum up the history of human evil, for example:
Also, the Slayer concept feels vaguely ridiculous, and continues a longtime comic trope of taking civilian characters and making them heroes or villains. I much prefer it when ordinary people remain ordinary.
Anything else?
I always enjoyed these Q & As they ran in the letter pages of the books Gruenwald edited. This one was inspired by a recent Cap arc where he wound up in a post-apocalyptic future with Deathlok.
Fantastic Four 130 “Battleground: The Baxter Building!” Published Oct. 1972 Writer: Roy Thomas Pencils: John Buscema Inks: Joe Sinnott Letters: Artie Simek Colors: Petra Goldberg Editor: Thomas Cover: Jim Steranko and Sinnott
Synopsis
After subduing the Thing and Meduasa, the Frightful Four—reconstituted with Thundra—take on the rest of the Fantastic Four, minus the Human Torch, in the Baxter Building and are saved only by the awakening of Franklin’s powers. In the aftermath, Sue declares she is leaving the team. Meanwhile, in the Himalayas, the Torch confronts the Inhumans, where a secret concerning Crystal is revealed to him.
What’s going on here?
This is a jam-packed issue, with big developments in the story, and some smaller ones outside it. From an amateur-comic-historian’s perspective, it’s notable for being the first Fantastic Four issue to credit a colorist, in this case, Petra Goldberg.
The history of comic book coloring is complicated, and the technology evolves dramatically over time. But my understanding is that in the 60s, 70s and 80s, the colorist would identify what colors were needed (always a combination of cyan, magenta, yellow and black) and where they would go. They would make notes on the art (or actually color copies of the pages) that would then be used by a color separator at the printer as a guide. Because of the limitations of the process—at most, only 64 possible colors are available—and because the colorist didn’t directly work on the art like a penciler and inker, it seems they were viewed less like artists and more like technicians. Hence, they were not credited. (A pretty good explanation of all this can be found in this Comic Tropes video).
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this changed soon after Roy Thomas became editor. Thomas also instituted an “editor” credit—here used for himself—and seemed more interested than Stan Lee in assigning proper credit where it was due (a longtime issue with Stan that we know came to haunt him).
Recall, the first issues of the Fantastic Four had no credits all, just the signatures of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby. And when credits first appeared, they were very scant and presented almost as an after thought (this is FF 10):
By FF 130, the credits for all the main creators were in place and they pretty much remained this way for decades. Note Stan Lee’s presenting credit is now his signature. That began with the previous month’s issues, and I neglected to mention it.
Also notable is that Jim Steranko penciled the cover for this issue (which is probably why the Sandman looks so much like Nick Fury). I’m not sure it’s a particularly great cover, but anything by Steranko is worth paying attention to. This is the first of three covers he did for the Fantastic Four, and are the only things he ever did with the FF during his short career.
What I liked
A big—but not the biggest—in-comic event in FF 130 is Sue’s decision to leave the team. This has been brewing for a few issues, and through Thomas’s writing she has voiced her displeasure with Reed and his constant demands that she be sidelined to look after Franklin.
Here, she again raises those objections and he again tries to shut her down:
It finally boils over in the last page, featuring more jerk-like behavior from Reed:
Obviously, this doesn’t stick and she eventually returns. But her departure feels like a significant milestone in the development of Sue’s character, and, perhaps, in Thomas’s repudiation of the status quo he inherited from Stan. Thomas has been writing Reed pretty much the same way Stan and Jack did for a decade, but only under Thomas did Sue finally say, enough.
Speaking of gender dynamics, I also liked how Thomas played with cliches and stereotypes through Thundra, the Femizon from another dimension where women dominate men. Here, she picks up Ben like a doll:
Or here, where she refers to “men and children:”
Thomas also created an interesting and suspenseful sidebar with the Human Torch and Crystal. I legitimately have no idea what he sees here (we have to wait until next issue):
The Inhuman subplot is another example of Thomas’s skill as a storyteller. There’s an awful lot going in in the main plot, yet he’s able to jump out and devote a few meaningful pages to the Johnny/Crystal dynamic that builds character and sets up future arcs, all without distracting from the bigger story. Further evidence that the FF is in very good hands.
Oh, and I would remiss if I didn’t point out this jaw-dropping splash page from Big John. It doesn’t have a big impact on the plot, but it seems like it’s a fun opportunity for him to flex his Kirby muscles.
What I didn’t like
The biggest in-story development in FF 130 is the awakening of Franklin’s powers. Although hinted at a few issues ago, this is the first real manifestation of them.
In the bounds of this issue, it’s fine and I imagine for readers at the time, it must have been pretty cool. But it opened the door for decades of stories about Franklin’s powers that, on the whole, have been unsatisfying, confusing and distracting. No two writers seem to agree what to do with Franklin, and while some have embraced him as a mutant with god-like powers—Jonathan Hickman had him creating whole universes—others would be happier if he was just a kid. Dan Slott depowered him and Ryan North has a goofy retcon that has him using his powers one day a year.
I am sure Thomas didn’t know the can of worms he was opening up here, but the does-he -or doesn’t-he nature of Franklin’s powers been a perennially frustrating aspect of the Fantastic Four
Also, thumbs down for the story title—”Battleground: Baxter Building”—a combination of words which has been used probably a dozen times.
Fantastic Four 114 “But Who Shall Stop the Over-Mind?” Published: June 1971 Writer: Stan Lee Pencils: John Buscema Inks: Frank Giacoia Letters: Sam Rosen Cover: Buscema and Giacoia
Synopsis
Out on bail from their arrest by the NYPD and facing eviction, the Fantastic Four confront the Over-Mind, only to have the fight erased from their memories by his mental powers. To help provide answers, Agatha Harkness contacts the Watcher.
What’s going on here?
This is a much more satisfying issue than the last, as the Over-Mind developed into a formidable foe with an interesting backstory. There are some plot holes, but overall the story moves briskly, the fight is well designed, and the sequence with Agatha Harkness is appropriately creepy.
What I liked
It’s the best issue from John Buscema to date, and maybe not a coincidence that it’s the first not inked by Joe Sinnott: Frank Giacoia inked this issue, presumably filling in. There’s no arguing Sinnott’s power and style, but Giacoia has a lighter touch, which perhaps lets Buscema’s style emerge more clearly. Here’s a panel I really liked:
And this sequence:
What I didn’t like
As mentioned, there are some plot holes. In this issue, the Over-Mind apparently encounters the FF for the first time, yet at the close of last issue we saw him manipulating the mayor to have the FF arrested. Also, there’s an oddly discordant note, when, in the midst of their eviction drama, Ben gets a package with a stink bomb from the Yancy Street Gang. Rather than lighten the mood, it just seems like an annoying distraction.
There’s also the continuing nonsense of the FF’s eviction. Comics and stories about business rarely mix well, and this is no exception. There’s a dozen reasons why the landlord’s actions don’t make sense, and while maybe the average FF reader of 1971 didn’t know them, this sub-plot all seems farfetched. (Yes, I know it’s a comic based on far-fetched events, which is why real-world subjects like commercial real estate law are better left outside its pages).
Anything else?
This issue kind-of, sort-of introduced the Eternals to the Marvel universe, as the Over-Mind discusses that he is following their commands. Initially these Eternals were not connected to the Eternals later introduced by Jack Kirby in his 1976 return to Marvel (these were instead supposed to be the “Eternals of Eyung”) but they were later retconned to be another branch of the Eternals, also created by the Celestials. It’s all deeply confusing, and had no real impact on this story.
Also, some fun ads in this issue, including one with a muscle-man who looks suspiciously like a former governor of California:
For anyone paying attention, yes, it’s been a very long time since I posted on this blog. Sorry.
I was moved to pick it up again after seeing Black Panther, and leaving the multiplex with some thoughts that seemed bigger than just a Facebook post. Warning: there will be spoilers
It’s hard to separate Black Panther, the movie, from Black Panther, the cultural event. Much has rightly been made of its historic significance, a big-budget popcorn movie with a black director and mostly black cast. The New York Times had no less than 10 articles about the movie in the week before its opening, touching on everything from its hair styling decisions, to the appropriateness of white children donning Black Panther masks. When Marvel first announced the movie four years ago, it had no way of knowing it would land at such a fraught moment for race relations in the US, and for the US’s relations with the rest of the world (and particularly with “shit hole” countries). Timing in movie marketing, as in all things, is everything, and Black Panther—a declaration of African American creativity, political significance and, yes, buying power—has arrived just when we needed it most.
Also welcome is the movie’s African-ness, which makes it refreshingly distinct, and it’s one big reason to recommend the movie. Under director Ryan Coogler, fictional Wakanda isn’t merely the backdrop to the story, but virtually a leading character. Every scene reveals a new wonderment, from its interpretation of African tradition, such as T’Challa’s coronation beneath a waterfall festooned with hundreds of his countrymen in traditional attire, to a dizzying plunge into the nation’s African-influenced technological heart. Coogler’s vision of Wakanda is different from that of Jack Kirby’s, its inventor, who drew it as mechanical jungle in 1966, but it’s faithful to the spirit of Kirby’s vivid imagination. Others are more qualified than me to judge how much of its depiction of African culture is authentic and how much is Hollywood pastiche, but its world-building ambition is dazzling.
Black Panther’s challenge is presenting characters and a story to match the wonderment of Wakanda, and unfortunately that’s where it falls short. The plot hinges on the machinations of Killmonger, an exiled prince of Wakanda who returns to usurp the throne, but it takes far too long to build momentum. It’s almost derailed by a detour to Korea, and a pointless melee in a casino (maybe it’s a trend: The Last Jedi had a similarly unnecessary casino scene), before ending with a confusing and implausible fight scene for the future of a nation that seems to involve only about two dozen combatants. There’s also a distracting and pointless plot point involving a CIA agent, played by Martin Freeman, shooting down cargo planes. Very little seems urgent, and it’s telling that one of the moments of real drama comes when Killmonger orders the burning of a few plants.
Killmonger is at least a compelling villain, with a backstory and motivations more complex and nuanced than those of 99% of comic book bad guys. As played by Michael B. Jordan, he’s easily the most charismatic character on the screen, and that’s a big part of the movie’s problem, because T’Challa, the Black Panther, never is. It’s strange for the protagonist of an action movie to fade into the background, and yet T’Challa never feels essential to his own movie. Part of the issue is the producers’ inclination to turn what should be a solo story into a team movie, and many of the qualities that make Black Panther a great comic book character are farmed off to the supporting cast: Killmonger is more assertive; his sister, Shuri, is more tech savvy; his mother, Ramonda, his more regal, Okoye, his general, is more skilled in battle; M’Baku, a rival king, is more powerful.
Chadwick Boseman plays T’Challa with a soft-spoken grace, but while that works when he’s in suit and tie, it fails him in superhero garb. He’s passive, almost indifferent, and recedes as other actors step forward. The story doesn’t serve him well, either, as it’s a catalog of his humiliations and defeats: He is tongue tied into incompetence around his love interest Nakia; he barely fends off M’baku’s challenge; he fails to capture Klaue on his ill-advised mission to Korea; he foolishly agree to fight Killmonger in ritual combat before he is soundly beaten and left for dead. He then disappears from his own movie, only to be rescued by his M’baku. And in the climactic battle, he is all but irrelevant before finally defeating Killmonger. With that record, it’s no wonder his council of elders challenges his authority at every turn.
It’s a shame T’Challa’s character is so under developed, because Black Panther has so much else going for it. The good news is, as with all superhero blockbusters, there will be a Black Panther sequel, and another chance to spin a story befitting a king.
