Hey, it’s one of those column things all the kids are so crazy about these days.  This one was actually written ages ago, but never made it into the series of tubes on account of Val being all manner of crazy-busy.  In an effort to lighten her load (and feed my insatiable need to see my words forced on to the screens of you, the teeming masses), I’ve opted to post it here.  Not sure when the next one will arrive, though signs point to next Friday.  Here’s hoping, yeah?

And now, on with the show.

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I can’t imagine how hard it is to write Superman. Where do you even start? He’s stronger than anything, capable of leaping tall buildings in a single bound or chucking them in to the sun without breaking a sweat. His only weaknesses are green rocks, magic, catching him under a red sun, and feisty girl reporters. He’s an alien raised by the nicest, most pure-hearted Kansas farmers imaginable, instilled from childhood with a steady diet of only the noblest American values. He can fly, has heat and x-ray vision, freeze breath, and the ability to hit things ridiculously hard. His best friend is Batman. To write Superman is to write a god amongst men, a benevolent savior who’s mere presence in a situation overrules all feelings of panic or despair with the sense that hey, everything’s gonna be okay. Sure, his powers and personality made for some fertile ground for storytelling in the early days, but after eighty-odd years of adventures, where could a writer possibly take the man of steel?

As it turns out, all manner of places. Since around the time of, oh, say, the One Year Later jump following Infinite Crisis, DC have come to realize that maybe it would be a good idea to treat one of the most recognizable and beloved characters of the last century with a bit of care. Placed in the steady hands of Kurt Busiek, Geoff Johns, Grant Morrison, and now James Robinson (among others), the last few years have been some of the best of the characters existence. For the first time since I started reading comics, Superman feels fresh and new, an important, vital character worth caring about rather than the stuff-shirted Boy Scout or angsty, occasionally living impaired bore of old. It’s a nice feeling to be excited by the arrival of new Superman comics, as if something has been set right that was wrong for a very long time.

If you haven’t sussed out where this is all going yet, this week’s column – and maybe the next couple of columns, for that matter – is a look at what makes Superman tick. I want to spend some time taking apart three recent titles starring the last son of Krypton, namely Final Crisis: Superman Beyond 3D, Superman and the Legion of Superheroes, and the final issue of All-Star Superman. While I’m aware that two of those books are from the same writer, I think each manages to explore a different facet of the character that, when combined with the others, helps flush out what it is about him that works so well in spite of all the challenges inherent to his nature. Besides, I think I’ve done a rather good job of restraining my desperate want to gush about Morrison at you, and I deserve a break. So there.

Spoilers, as is their wont, potentially lurk ahead.

FINAL CRISIS: SUPERMAN BEYOND 3D
WRITER: Grant Morrison
ARTIST: Doug Mahnke

Of all the great and many things Finalizing and Crisising during DC’s Final Crisis event, one of the more notable aspects of this latest universe-wide rejiggering is how its spin-offs are handled. Using mini-series to fill in certain gaps in the main story or give side characters more time on the stage is a time-honored tradition of epic events in comics, as is the tendency of publishers to field out the job of cranking them out to creators who aren’t nearly up to the task. Not so with Final Crisis – with Greg Rucka on Revelations, Geoff Johns on Legion of Three Worlds and Rogue’s Revenge, and Morrison handling Superman Beyond and the forthcoming Submit in addition to the core book, DC seem to be going to the necessary lengths to ensure each major component of their big event maintains a certain level of quality. While there’s no telling how long the ramifications of this latest bout of Things Never Being The Same will last in the DCU, here’s hoping this idea sticks around for a while.

What makes Superman Beyond stand out from the others, however, is more than just it coming with neat 3D glasses – while the other mini-series tend to wear their purpose on their sleeves (Revelations looks to be about defining Crispus Allen in his new role as the Spectre, Legion is here to provide yet another reboot for the main book and introduce the future to Superboy Prime’s impression of message board trolls, etc.), Beyond is a bit more cagey with its intentions. Is it a chance to bring the Bleed – and with it, the Wildstorm universe – in to the DCU proper? Is it an exploration of the origin of the Monitors? With the sheer level of insanity stirred up in just the first issue, the answer could be any number of things – and really, that’s just fine. With so many of the other minis broadcasting their purpose from the start, Beyond opens with the most traditional scene imaginable – Lois is in trouble, and Superman has to save her – and in so doing lays the groundwork for a story that can go anywhere. Cue adventures.

And lord, what adventures. Boarding a ship looking like the Beatles’ own yellow submarine and setting off through the multiverse with a crew made up of the Supermen of other worlds, I think it’s safe to say this is the last thing anybody expected to come out of Final Crisis. And yet, when you really think about it, it’s right at home. While the main Final Crisis book is Morrison retooling his usual style into a sparser, more layered approach that feels reminiscent of The Wire, Beyond arrives with all the mad, tightly packed joy of his usual work, cramming each page with dozens of little details demanding your attention. Both are shot through the same filter of creeping dread, giving each story the sense that something somewhere just isn’t quite right for our heroes, but here it feels so much more immediate and tangible, like the moment in Alien just before it turned out to be a horror movie all along. When it works, it works wonderfully. The manic, pace, the rapid fire of moments both goofy (“4D vision upgrade”) and beautiful (Superman wrestling the Destroyer through the skies of parallel worlds over the course of four pages), the sheer sense of scale as the Monitor’s ship breaks through the arterial wall of one universe en route to another – it all adds up to create the sort of dazzling and berserk situation that Superman shines in.

After years of being strictly a Marvel reader, it was a friend of mine loaning me a couple of trades of the early part of Morrison’s JLA run that started to pull me in. What won me over the most, beyond even the League having legitimate, world-ending threats to face each arc and Batman beating up Professor Stephen Hawking (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) was his portray of Superman as completely unflappable, a steady presence to inspire those around him no matter what the situation. It’s something Morrison has talked about in at least one or two interviews as the cornerstone of his take on the character: when it’s nearly impossible for you to be killed or hurt in any way, what on Earth would you have to worry about? Here, with the multiverse crumbling around him, his wife a heartbeat away from dying on the other side of existence, and trapped in Limbo with a man in a jester’s costume, that same cool confidence positions him as the perfect counterpoint to the surrounding madness. While he may have started the book at the edge of helplessness over Lois’ condition, all it takes is the suggestion of a solution to put him back in the game. He’s Superman. This is what he does. Reality will just have to kark it some other day.

Of course, it doesn’t always work. The story and 3D fanciness found on about a third of the pages often trip over each other, making a confusing muddle out of the gorgeous Doug Mahnke art, and that just shouldn’t be allowed. This can be especially problematic considering how dense the book is – like much of Morrison’s work, you’ll probably need to read it at least twice to work out even most of what’s going on, something that the cardboard glasses included don’t exactly help with. Between the sheer number of characters involved both new and old and the mad piling up of one event on top of another, Beyond can very quickly overwhelm even the most dedicated reader, causing the book to feel less like a series of beats and more like a drum roll. It’s a shame, really – while not exactly failing at its intended goal, the mash up of sights to see and ideas to wrap your head around presented here never quite gels in the way Morrison is typically known for, leaving a work that, while rewarding for those willing to come along for the ride, will most likely bounce of more casual readers.

It’s hard to shake the feeling that, once all is said and done, Superman Beyond will be considered the weakest of Final Crisis’ minis. In terms of structure and fitting comfortably with the overall tone of the series, they’ll probably be right. Personally, however, I’m just happy it exists, and will happily take its gimmicky glasses and occasionally messy din of a story over a more traditional tale any day, especially when it features Superman casually doing the impossible at the frequency he does here. The DC Universe might be an increasingly dark place to live, and evil may very well have won before the good guys ever got out of bed, but how bad can it be? Superman’s here, and we’re lucky enough to get to watch.

Filed under: Bam Biff Pow, Comics Are Expensive