Confessions of a Comic Book Guy is a weekly column by retailer Steve Bennett of Mary Alice Wilson's Dark Star Comics in
I like to think because I'm writing this in a forum for retailers that I don't have to issue a *SPOILER* warning before going any further, but I will. Before reading any further, please read this week's issue of DC's Secret Six #1; in it Catman, who's seeking a criminal mastermind to counter Dr. Psycho, criminal mastermind of The Society, finds one on the final page. He's revealed to be...
The Mad Hatter.
You know, little guy, hat fetish, mind control gimmicks that appeared in a couple of episodes of Batman: The Animated Series that focused on the character's pathos. Not really someone I'd put on the top of the short list if I were trying to hire a criminal mastermind.
But of course this is the New DC Universe so it's a new Mad Hatter, a naked one who's seen straddling a pole studded with human skulls (obviously here the emphasis is going to be on the 'Mad'). Here he's been reimagined as a (forgive the vulgarity) 'bad-ass;' you know, a 'big bad,' a rogue, someone who's supposed to be really scary.
Heaven knows DC doesn't have enough characters like that now.
DC just seems to love the modern trope of taking fairly preposterous characters and repositioning them as something altogether more 'realistic' than a costumed thief--a homicidal maniac. Could it be only six months or so ago in the pages of Green Arrow that The Riddler was stripped of costume, mask, original origin and gimmicks and became just another brutal, catty sociopath?
Of course Paul Dini plans to completely reinvent the character again in the upcoming pages of Detective Comics, proving that this weird deviation of the character isn't necessarily irreversible. I generally like Gail Simone's writing but found this gratuitous change both grotesque and ridiculous, once again finding myself asking whose idea of fun is this?
Speaking of DC, it's clear after reading 52 #1-3 it's definitely not a comic conducive for casual readers. Yet (so far) #3 hasn't proved impenetrable to our customers who've (yet) to buy #1 or #2; they seem to be able to follow what's going on just fine and get enough story for their money to want to come back for more.
Which brings me to the question, what happens if 52 is the success DC hopes it will be? It's way too early to be making predictions about its long term success, but the issues to date have been strong sellers at Dark Star; a high number of our file customers have signed up to get it and it's been selling just fine right off the stand. Which makes me wonder if after mastering the intricacies of publishing a weekly comic and finding it profitable to do so, will DC just...stop when it reaches #52 of 52? Or will it be strong enough to change both corporate culture and consumer buying habits?
For those scoring at home, according to 52 #3 the death count for Crisis is in and it's remarkably exact -- five million, seventy-nine thousand, four hundred and thirty-two -- though you could hardly tell that from the reactions of the average citizen (and things are looking amazing neat and tidy, considering the carnage). So far we've no memorials for the dead (except for Superboy's) or anyone reflecting on the dead, no depression or survivor's guilt for the survivors (well, except for the poor Elongated Man).
Maybe in the DC Universe these kinds of casualties occur so frequently it's considered just the price you pay for living in a world with super-heroes, kind of like the way the villain Cheshire dropped a bomb on a Middle Eastern country killing millions -- and it doesn't even come up in conversation any more. Or maybe it's because those who died aren't considered important.
I'm reminded of a story from the Golden Age that goes something like this: month after month in one of the first continued stories Captain Marvel fought the mysterious Mr. Mind (nobody knew he was a worm until after the fact), who, it was established, killed as many people as Hitler or Stalin. And so when Captain Marvel finally caught him, the writers put him on trial, convicted and executed him -- they didn't want too; he was too good of a character.
But they had to. They had written the character into a corner and there was no other way out -- he had to be punished. But today Cheshire (whose principal 'power' is poisonous fingernails) somehow manages to continuously avoid capture or imprisonment, let alone final justice.
There's nothing wrong with stories where our heroes chase today's second highest ranking boogeyman, the serial killer, but I find it intriguing that in every other medium where the conflict plays out (books, movies, TV, etc.) the audience usually receives the satisfaction of seeing the bad guy caught and punished.
Except in contemporary super-hero comic books. In the past I've suggested it's because villains are considered too valuable a commodity to be summarily executed (as plot devices and intellectual property; can you imagine how much revenue Time-Warner would have been cheated out of if The Joker had actually stayed dead after his first appearance?); or because recurring villains gave writers the equivalent of 'fiction helper' instead of being forced to try something new, and fans the (ever diminishing) thrill of seeing 'the good part' (hero and villain fighting) over and over again, infinitum ad nausea.
Or is it more 'meta' than that? Is it somehow connected to 9/11; the fact that in real life we're unable to confront or capture the terrorists who constantly threaten us somehow renders our analogs, super-heroes, somehow impotent as well?
I know I've ridden this particular hobby horse a time too often, but I've got one more thing to say on the subject; I promise. I'll say it next week.