The Emperor Morrison

I'd like to have something meaningful to say about Batman #681, but then I'd also like to have something meaningful about which to say it.

And, as the cliche goes, I'd also like a pony.

Of course, I don't really want a pony. I never understood the attraction of ponies or horses. But I want lots of things that in a real, normal world I'm not going to get. Apparently, a comic book story that actually ends is now one of those things.

"Batman R.I.P." doesn't have a conclusion. Serialized life goes on.

I challenge anyone who liked this story to reread Batman #156, "Robin Dies at Dawn", and explain to me in what way this story improves upon it.

Everybody wants to have an artistically-worded review, but nobody wants to be the first to state the obvious fact. Okay. I'll throw myself on the grenade.

The emperor is naked.

This is a better Batman story:



LATER: Ah, I see. Didio says "Batman R.I.P." was always intended to conclude in Final Crisis #6. Well, that makes perfect sense.

Avengers vs Avengers

Mighty Avengers 2

Strangely, in both Mighty Avengers and Marvel Adventures Avengers, one member of the team has been turned against the rest. Well, I suppose it isn't all that strange, since it's one of the time-tested tropes of the Marvel universe. Nor, with all the shape-shifters wandering around, is it all that unusual to discover that everything is not what it seems. Everything old, as they say, is new again.

But I'll bet that the average reader who hasn't been following the Avengers (difficult as that is, since there are three, or is it four, different groups traveling under that name) would never guess that the person on the cover of Mighty Avengers #2 is actually Tony Stark.

There's something that hasn't been done before.

Well, it's actually the latest iteration of Ultron, an artificial intelligence created by Hank Pym, which has taken over the body and armor of Iron Man and, through unknown / buzzword means, has transformed the organic and electronic source material into a shape of its choosing -- and since it "loves" Hank, the shape it has chosen is that of a stark (so to speak) naked Janet van Dyne. I wonder what its reaction will be when it discovers that, literally at this very same moment, Hank is in bed with Tigra the Were-Woman.

Whatever "at this same moment" means in an arc that has stretched across three issues so far with no real time having passed and no sign of a conclusion on the horizon.

But then, I guess the point of the book is to provide an excuse for Frank Cho to do what he does best: Draw women as close to naked as the market will allow. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

(Kind of makes you wonder why he's not drawing Marvel's version of "Birds of Prey", Heroes for Hire, doesn't it?)

Marvel Adventures Avengers 13

At least, in Marvel Adventures Avengers 13, I know what's going on. In this all-ages continuity, Janet is Giant-Girl, whose costume Hank designed to make it possible to communicate with ants. (She can shrink to ant-size as well, she just doesn't, because she doesn't see any point in being ant-sized.) This facility also makes it possible for the insectoid PsyClops to exploit a flaw in the suit's operating system and take mental control of her.

Hence, the Attack of the 50-Foot Superhero scene on the cover, which actually does occur in the book.

I have to say that, in my advancing age, what I want in a comic book is (a) a story, that has (b) a beginning, (c) a middle, and (d) an end. The mainstream Marvel universe (see above) is an infinite middle. The "Marvel Adventures" universe consists of mostly self-contained stories. I like that.

“Ever had the feeling you’ve been cheated?”

That's how the Fortress Keeper at Fortress of Fortitude opens this week's comics overview. Good question. Let me think.

Many years ago, back when I first started reading comics, they contained up to three separate stories each. With rare exceptions, it didn't matter in what order you read them: Each stood alone, and told you the essentials you needed to know about each character involved (even the regular characters like Superman, whom one would think the average comic reader knew about).

At the time, a title was in trouble if it sold less than a hundred thousand copies per issue. And since each comic contained a fine-print Statement of Ownership from its publisher once each year, we could tell how well it was selling.

Soon readers became sufficiently sophisticated to understand the concept of an "inventory story". It became necessary to explain this when storylines began to sprawl across months or years of a title's life. Occasionally a story would appear that ignored the ongoing threads, often by a different artist's hand. Marvel, as usual, made a joke of this and let the readers in on it, via references to the "Dreaded Deadline Doom."

The underlying assumption that made the joke work was that the Schedule Is The Schedule, and on the third Tuesday of the month, by God and Mort Weisinger there was going to be a new issue of Action Comics on the stands. That comic not being there simply wasn't an option. Those hundred-thousand readers would buy something else, perhaps some other publisher's product, and that was unacceptable.

Flash forward to the 21st century. Thirty thousand circulation is a top-of-the-line title. All-Star Batman's publication frequency has become a joke, as Superman-Batman's and Supergirl's were before it. Marvel has delayed the publication of its entire line, including an anniversary issue of its first flagship title, Fantastic Four, because Civil War is running late.

But inventory stories cannot be used because all stories (with rare exceptions) are now serialized. Instead we have situations like Action Comics and Wonder Woman (and Ultimate Wolverine vs Hulk), where hopelessly-late story arcs are simply abandoned. Maybe we'll get back to them: Maybe we won't.

Complete story in 1967: four to six cents. Sometimes twelve.
Complete story in 2007: eighteen dollars. If they finish it.

Stories that begin and end. That's what I miss.