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Review: Wonder Woman Earth One is the essence of the character

I was prepared to hate Wonder Woman: Earth One.

The early commentary online wasn’t kind. Grant Morrison seemed to be setting the bar awfully high for himself in his interviews, and Yanick Paquette is an artist whose work has always had a cheesecake element to it. How would they avoid the pitfalls of two men writing about an island full of beautiful lesbians? How does this not turn into a male fantasy when Morrison has been very clear about embracing Wonder Woman’s bondage past? I can’t imagine even attempting such a thing, particularly given how scrutinized it’s sure to be. We’re talking about two men attempting to tell a story of empowerment featuring the most famous female superhero in existence.

Early copies slipped into the world and we saw images of chains and women captured by men and an overweight character seemingly mocked for her appearance. It had all the makings of not just a train wreck, but an offensive train wreck.

Instead I read the best origin of Wonder Woman that I have ever seen.

First, a caveat of sorts: there are a few moments in this graphic novel that aren’t as clear as perhaps they could or should be, which then lend themselves to being what I would consider misread. I think there is textual support for my reading and I’ll get to that as I go through the book, but these moments are there and should be acknowledged.

But let’s start with a high level look, because I have a feeling that’s going to trip up a fair number of readers.

Traditional storytelling structure is based on the male orgasm: there’s the build-up, the climax, and the denouement. This is a simplified version of Freytag’s pyramid, which features five storytelling beats: exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, denouement. It’s perhaps easier to view as set up, action, climax, fallout, ending. Freytag’s theory was meant to be applied to Greek and Shakespearean drama more so than modern drama, which has simplified it to three parts, ala the three act play. The vast majority of stories follow this pattern, even if it’s modified a bit. It is the standard by which stories are judged by publishers, agents, movie studios, etc. In many cases, a lack of a three part structure automatically disqualifies a book or script.

This is a Wonder Woman story, and a story about the Amazons, so Morrison smartly denies the traditional structure. There is no real single climax to be found here. The focus isn’t on a specific, determined path from point A to point B. Instead, we have several moments that all seem equally as important. It makes for a completely different kind of reading experience, but one which carried me quickly through the book. This was less a single big story and more a series of connected events with one, overarching theme. It could be the most important decision Morrison made when writing Earth One, as it sets the tone of the entire book. It’s composition is at odds with traditional, patriarchal stories.

Along those same lines, there’s very little violence in Earth One. There are roughly ten pages of actual violence in this entire, 144 page comic, all of which happen at the beginning. Not surprisingly, that violence is the result of the actions of men. The fact that less than 10% of this comic features violence is staggering given the content you’ll find in a traditional superhero comic. But this is a Wonder Woman comic and she’s an ambassador of peace. That is her goal, even if she also happens to be the ultimate warrior. That’s part of what makes her so interesting: she’s a highly trained, very powerful warrior who is trying to inspire peace.

The structure of the story and the lack of violence are essential because they reflect the main character. Instead of trying to force the ultimate female hero through the prism of the male adventure story, we get something that is true to Wonder Woman, true to the environment that created her.

That male lens would also dictate that this story be filled with scantily clad supermodels in suggestive poses with other scantily clad supermodels. And it’s not unreasonable to expect at least some level of cheesecake given that Paquette draws attractive women. I think part of this reputation comes from his work on a books like Codename: Knockout, but that book featured both cheese and beef cake, and was specifically created to feature titilating poses of men and women. The ability to draw attractive people shouldn’t be an issue here, really, so much as whether or not they’re being drawn in way that seems unnatural for the sake of appeasing the male gaze.

But Paquette avoids that. Yes, his Amazons are beautiful, but they’re also Amazons: it’s part of the initial concept, that they’re subjectively perfect in every way. But at no point are they placed into positions or drawn from angles that would serve to exploit their attractiveness. There are no typical comic book panels of just the posterior and no one wears a skirt that happens to be a bit too short. Yes, Diana’s anatomical proportions seem to defy nature, but she and the Amazons wear clothes you would expect a group of active, trained warriors to wear. Their outfits aren’t just practical, they’re clearly informed by their Greco-Roman roots.

Paquette embraces those roots. He incorporates that cultural aesthetic into all aspects of the Amazons, going so far as to intersperse the initial scene with the types of images you’d find on the walls or on pottery in ancient Greece. The suggestion here is that the Amazons are, from the very start, immortalized in Greco-Roman history, something that would come up again later in this book.

Paquette also makes every single character in this book look unique. It’s a stunning accomplishment, really, if you just consider the overwhelming number of Amazons he has to draw. But all of them, from their faces to their hair to their attire, are distinct from each other. I can’t even fathom the amount of time that had to have been spent on even background characters in order to pull this off; it’s unbelievable. It makes Themyscira seem like a place where everyone is free to express herself however she may choose. It emphasizes the fact that this culture is far more advanced than our own.

For all the credit that Morrison is going to get for this book, it’s just as much Paquette’s. This is career elevating work for him; it might be for Morrison, too, if that’s possible.

If Morrison owes much of the success of this story to Paquette, then Paquette owes much of the success of the art to colorist Nathan Fairbairn.

There’s a very clear, very obvious trap lurking in WW: Earth One with regards to the colors: the book is split between two worlds, that of the utopia of Themyscira and that of our modern day real world. This is a trap because it would be very easy for any colorist to simply portray the former in bright, positive colors and the latter in dark, dreary colors. But Fairbairn has made a career on telling stories with his colors. Neither world is as simple as being all light and all dark. There are degrees at work, degrees which make these worlds fully realized, even beyond the words and the line art.

While Themyscira contains darkness, there’s a subtle difference. The colors are softer and more distinct; even the hunt that takes place at night has a playfulness and calmness that underscores the Amazonian society. This is a place where everyone is treated fairly, a virtual utopia, where the night is dark, but not scary. The colors during the day are bold and bright, but complimentary, both creating a sense of individual freedom while embracing unity. There’s a thematic cohesion to Paquette’s designs and Fairbairn takes that to the next level with his colors.

On the other hand, our modern day world isn’t just starkly dark and depressing. Yes, it’s not as bright as the world of the Amazons, but this isn’t the Sin City movie, for example. Man’s world has variation, but unified by a roughness, as if it hasn’t completely fallen into darkness. And that, of course, is the point: man’s world can be saved, it just needs someone to save it. And while Wonder Woman is painted in relatively muted tones when she initially arrives, when she returns at the end of the book she is as bright and bold as we would expect. She’s here to save the day.

That isn’t to say that WW:E1 is perfect. There are two problems in particular that, to their credit, stem from an overreach on the part of Morrison and Paquette.

The first is Steve Trevor. While changing his ethnicity raised many eyebrows, there’s a very clear reason for it within the story. Wonder Woman goes to America and finds a country that has marginalized all but the straight, white men. To prevent Trevor from being a part of the very institution that WW would be facing off against, he could no longer be white. His gender and orientation are somewhat essential to is role (as he is a man setting foot on Themyscira and he is attracted to Wonder Woman), but his race makes no difference. This new iteration changes that and to good effect.

The problem, then, is in making Trevor African American. The only goal is to make him something other than white. The choice to make him black is loaded with problems, if only due to the imagery involved. On Themyscira, submission to another is considered a form of trust, of love, but to ask the sole black character in this book to wear bondage gear seems tone deaf. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it offensive, but the idea is never really addressed or fleshed out, so we simply have Diana trying to convince Steve to wear clothing meant to evoke images of slavery. On one hand it speaks to Diana’s ignorance of this new world and Steve’s place in it, but that’s as far as it goes. And given that Steve could be any ethnicity other than white for his new role to work, it’s hard to understand why Morrison decided he should be black.

At the very least, it kicks you out of the narrative, just like the introduction of Etta.

Etta is, compared to every other female in this book, overweight. And while her introduction to the story is when she gives her testimony at the trial of Wonder Woman, chronologically her first appearance comes on a bus ride with her sorority sisters to South Beach for spring break. It comes with one of her sisters suggesting that she ate the food they had gathered to feed the less fortunate. In other words, it feels like she’s being body shamed.

Fortunately, Morrison quickly undercuts this. Etta isn’t fat, not in her eyes, and those are the eyes that matter. In fact, she isn’t shy about how perfect she thinks her appearance is; she is full of self-confidence, even when one of her sorority sisters is insulting her. It doesn’t matter to her. Etta is above it. She knows herself and she’s happy with who she is. This initial introduction wasn’t an indictment on her, but on the other women, on how they treat those who don’t conform to society’s ridiculous notions of beauty.

Even Wonder Woman herself gets in on the act: “Oh, what has man’s world done to your bodies…” But in the panel before that we don’t just see Etta, we see the typical comic book (typical magazine) female form: beyond petite and not at all healthy. Wonder Woman isn’t commenting on Etta alone, but all of the sorority girls.

But commenting on female beauty standards is going to be a tricky situation even when not written and drawn by men. There’s just too much to unpack to adequately address in a entire graphic novel, let alone a few pages. The fact that Morrison and Paquette don’t shy away from the issue is commendable, but they were never going to really be able to do it justice. On the other hand, ignoring the issue would have been equally as problematic, so they were painted into a bit of a corner no matter what. This is the price you pay for deciding to tell a story about the most recognizable female super hero in the world.

Ultimately, though, Wonder Woman: Earth One is an ambitious retelling of the origin of one of the world’s greatest superheroes. It succeeds far more than it fails, and even when it does falter, you can appreciate the attempt. I appreciate the fact that Morrison and Paquette took chances on this book and it’s clear from the work that those chance energized them.

Let’s hope we get a second volume so they can do more.

The New Legion Isn’t Working

I love the Legion of Superheroes.

I could — and probably will — write endless posts about how much the Legion has meant to me over the years. I could write about how fascinated I was when I first read about them, how hunting down back issues was so much fun, how fan fic filled my head with the release of each new issue.

I can’t even begin to describe how much the Five Years Later era meant to me.

I read 5YL before I got around to The Dark Night Returns or Watchmen. The Legion was dense, mature storytelling to me. It was the standard.

I loved the years that led up to 5YL. I loved the Levitz era. For all his flaws, Levitz told complex. layered stories. Every issue featured an a, b, c, d, and e plot. He knew when to go big and he knew when to go small. He was able to write about the Legion in the scope that they deserved.

Yes, like an episode of Pokemon, Levitz made sure every character in a scene said something, even if it wasn’t necessary. And yes, maybe of the characters remained rather two dimensional. But he fleshed out as many as he could, even if he had to use personality short hand for a few.

I was onboard for the first reboot, when the so-called Archie Legion was born. I loved it. I’ve never been the kind of fanboy who holds on to his beloved characters so hard that he refuses to see them any other way.

Seriously, if you’re going to jump into the Legion, the reboot version is actually a great place to start. It’s like this amazing distillation of what made the Legion great. It was also planned out incredibly well, the kind of long term planning that you just don’t see in comics anymore.

The characters were fleshed out, although the creators used their previous incarnations as a kind of shortcut to make them fully formed characters in a hurry. And why not?

Look at it this way: any new iteration of the Legion is going to bring a fair amount of long time fans. One of the easiest ways to get them enthusiastic about a new version of a team they love is by at least keeping the broad strokes of the characters. The intricacies can change, but why completely bulldoze over something that was working?

Plus, given the Legion’s extensive history, it’s possible that new fans will go digging into the back issue bins and/or digital stores to learn more. Why would creators not take advantage of that if the characters weren’t horribly offensive?

I suppose if I were to make a checklist of what’s essential in a version of the Legion, it would look something like this:

3 dimensional characters
a lot of them
multiple story lines at one time
complicated interpersonal relationships
hope

That’s not a lot, is it? I don’t think I’m too demanding.

The New Legion

So far this new Legion series has accomplished exactly one of those things: there are definitely a lot of characters.

And as of yet, those characters are ill defined. Not a single one has displayed enough personality to stand out. Hell, even the current version of Jon Kent has been something of a generic teen superhero.

What makes this all the more baffling to me is that a fair number of the characters come with personality short cuts. They were so clearly defined in the past that it would be easy, with just a sentence or two, to establish who they are. There’s no need for years of exploration, you can cut right to the chase.

And yet, for some reason, these personalities have been thrown out the window. I don’t need Ultra Boy to be exactly like he was, but he should be similar. The character running around the new Legion series is not him — he’s wholly brand new, or at least that’s how he’s behaving.

And I have no idea why. Jo Nah was a great character. You could claim that a number of Legion characters were two dimensional and lacked complexity, but Ultra Boy wasn’t one of them. He had a background that was unique to the team and a personality that had been fully developed.

Jo’s not the only one gets the short shrift, but he’s the worst case.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to talk about the diversity issue with the Legion. They’ve never been the most diverse team, although there have been very minor in roads made over the year.

In particular, Fabian Nicieza and Pete Woods put together a great team for the New 52 Legion Lost series, which was sadly undone the way that most New 52 books were undone (if they were even good to begin with): editorial interference. Still, the line-up was probably the first great example we’ve seen of a Legion team that’s connected to original yet pointed at the future.

It wasn’t surprising when Bendis and Sook revealed their version of the Legion and some familiar characters had been changed to diversify the team.

It was hard, however, to not immediately think about this column on the trope of black superheroes and electric powers.

It’s also hard not to notice that the effort to diversify the Legion for some reason involved getting rid of all the (albeit few) diverse characters that had been Legionnaires in their history.

Why keep say, Matter Eater Lad but not include XS? Or Kid Quantum II, who was a stand out character from the Archie Legion. What about one of my favorite Legionnaires, Invisible Kid II? Hell, Nicieza and Woods had already made Tyroc cool.

I am all for diversifying the Legion, but doing so at the the expensive of the actual non-white characters is a really weird choice. And it’s not an either or. Give me black Lightning Lad, yes, but give me XS, too.

The XS thing is particularly egregious given that, like every other writer, Bendis appears determined to connect the Legion to the 21st century DCU. XS is the perfect connection.

It’s also strange to me that this new iteration of the Legion doesn’t have any non-humanoid members. You would think, since this is no longer the 50’s, we’d see some creativity what a Legionnaire looks like.

Again, that’s not something the previous versions of the Legion were particularly good at, but there were a few strides. Gates, in particular, has a fair number of fans. I’ve always loved Quislet. And who didn’t love Tellus?

Who Are the Legion?

The concept of the Legion doesn’t fare particularly well in this reboot.

The beauty of the Legion’s origin is that three teenagers who have never met before suddenly step up and save someone from being assassinated. They weren’t called to service. They acted out of selflessness and responsibility. They acted as a team right from the start — three kids from very different planets acting as one to save someone they’d never met.

It’s simple and wonderful and where you go from there doesn’t really matter. How the team is officially formed and grows doesn’t need to be set in stone. But that initial origin story matters. It sets the tone for the entire idea of the Legion.

And for some reason that’s been discarded.

I guess you could make the argument that it’s to tie the team to the United Planets more closely than they were before, as the UP seem to be just as important to this series as the Legion. But that feels wrong, too.

Consider this: the last Legion reboot (the threeboot) was build on the premise that the Legion existed at odds with the UP. This new version was build on the premise that the Legion exists because of the UP. Neither interpretation is great. At least the Archie Legion, drafted and expanded by the UP, ultimately threw off those shackles. The original Legion didn’t really work for anyone but themselves.

Making the UP so important also takes some of the focus away from the Legion itself, as does including Rose, a character from the 21st century. We’re seven issues in and I couldn’t tell you how any member feels about any other member, but that makes sense given that I couldn’t tell you anything about any of them.

And everything so far seems to be funneled through the lens of the UP. Each story so far has been connected to the UP. I could say that it’s all one big story, but it’s not really that big. There are bad guys with Aquaman’s trident and the Legion are fighting them. Ultra Boy’s dad is mad.

There’s your 140 pages of story so far.

The Legion CAN’T Be Decompressed

To a certain extent, none of this should be surprising. Multiple stories and large casts aren’t really in Bendis’ wheelhouse. Perhaps interpersonal relationships are, but the cast is so large that I don’t know when he’s going to find the time to actually develop any of that. The fact that Bendis writes every character the same exact way is going to make it that much harder to make a number of different relationships seem unique.

I suppose the idea was that Bendis loves Superman and Superman conveys hope and Bendis wrote Ultimate Spider-man who was a teenager, so you combine those two and presto! You have the Legion of Super-heroes.

The problem is that there’s more to the Legion than that.

The problem is that DC has spent a long time now trying to figure out what the essence of the Legion is and it just isn’t what it was to begin with.

That’s not to say that the Legion no longer represents hope, because they do, at their core that is what they were and what they ever will be.

But hope doesn’t mean simple, and this Legion series so far has been as simple as they come. It’s not even shallow popcorn movie simple. There’s just nothing there. There’s no meat on that bone.

And it’s not even doing a good job of making the team and the book about hope, which is theoretically what it’s supposed to be doing. Nothing about the book so far would indicate that hope is in short supply somehow.

Is There Hope?

I’m honestly at a loss for how to turn this book around. The obvious answer would be to have a story that requires them to break into smaller teams and give each team its own dynamics and its own mission. Give us the Espionage Squad. Give us five pages an issue on two or three teams for an arc.

Have them struggle against something big with real stakes. Give us time to see how each of them reacts — how any of them reacts.

Stop using Superboy as the way into the Legion because this particularly Superboy has been around for like 10 minutes and no one is any more invested in him than any of the other characters.

Give us some idea of how the Legion is organized. Show us what they do every day. Show us the cliques in the team, the grudges. A throwaway line every now and again isn’t that.

Just do some of the things.

Because I love the Legion.

But what we’ve gotten so far is not living up to the name.

Aging Jon Kent Was a Mistake

Let me start with three opinions:

1. Super Sons (Jon Kent and Damian Wayne) was fantastic and I miss both the series and the relationship that those two characters had. I loved that imaginary stories from decades earlier suddenly became real in the DCU.

2. The actual story that aged Jon was bad. It made no sense that Clark and Lois would let him go off with Jor-El even if Lois was going with him (which made no sense, either) and Lois certainly wouldn’t have left Jon with Jor-El by himself. The whole thing made no sense, but that’s often how Bendis writers: he has a point A and a point B and he forces a line in from one to the other, even if it doesn’t work.

3. I love the Legion of Superheroes, so if points 1 and 2 were necessary for 3, I figured I could get over it.

The problem is that it’s become clear that 1 and 2 weren’t remotely necessary for 3. And, honestly, 1 and 2 have made 3 worse.

Who Is Jon Kent?

Part of the problem is that teenage Jon Kent hasn’t been developed at all. The extent of his development has been that he’s less childish than he was before, I guess?

The idea that Jon is responsible for the United Planets is a bit of a stretch and completely unearned. Superman doing it? Yes, totally makes sense. It makes so much sense, in fact, that the story of the UP forming had to eventually focus on Superman. Scores of other alien races would ultimately ignore Jon’s involvement when they tell the story, because who the hell is Jon? But everyone knows Superman.

But somehow the story of Jon inspiring the UP lasts until the far future, so the Legion comes to get him. Jon goes to the future and…does nothing. So far in the Legion series he has done nothing at all, other than break a rule by going to get Damian and bringing him to the future.

Jon is there for exposition, for backstory. But even that has taken forever. And, again, it’s unnecessary. He’s not acting as a POV character because he’s freaking Superboy. And hundreds if not thousands of comics have managed to give the backstory of superhero teams without a supposed POV character.

Honestly, the series would probably be covering more ground if it weren’t for Jon’s involvement.

Superboy and the Legion of Super-heroes

When Geoff Johns brought the “original” Legion back in 2008, he made a few changes to limit some of the elements of the team that required fixing every few years. The biggest and best change he made was how Superboy was a member.

When the Legion first appeared, Superboy was, well, Superboy. Clark Kent flew around Smallville having adventures as the Boy of Steel. When he grew up, he’d be Superman and fly around Metropolis as the Man of Steel and somehow no one put the two together and figured out who he was.

That’s not really the kind of thing that would have worked in modern comics, so post-Crisis Superboy went away and Superman never put the tights on until he was in Metropolis.

This was a problem for the Legion, given that their history was so intertwined with Superboy, their inspiration. The Superboy they knew wasn’t the real Superboy, or at least not the Clark Kent who would grow up to the Superman in the main DCU reality. It’s a story that the Legion would revisit multiple times in order to provide more clarity and make it more urgent.

Reboots would point to the adult Superman as inspiration for the team, but it didn’t have the same feeling. Whether it made sense or not, Legion is and will always be connected to Superboy.

So when Johns brought back the “original” team, he made some changes (thus putting “original” in quotes). One of those changes was to address the Superboy issue. He did so in a surprisingly simply and poignant way.

Clark Kent had met them when he was a teenager, just as the original story went. But he wasn’t Superboy at the time. He went with them into the future and had adventures, but did none of that in our time. This allowed him to maintain his secret identity.

Honestly, you could make the case that he used the Superboy costume in the future and just kept it hidden in the present until he was an adult. It wouldn’t be that much of a stretch.

The idea of lonely teenage Clark Kent finally finding some friends who all had superpowers is fantastic. Emo Superman is a characterization that writers go back to again and again and it always feels at odds with who Clark Kent is. So why not explain why the lone survivor of another planet who could barely touch people without hurting them didn’t become an anti-social outcast?

What About the Story?

What does a teenage Jon Kent do for the comics? What doors does he open up, what stories does he introduce that could not have existed before?

As noted above, he wasn’t necessary for the Legion and he shouldn’t have been necessary for the formation of the United Planets.

What about all those stories about Lois and Clark dealing with a teenage son? That’s easy: what stories? Not long after aging Jon up, he was sent to the future and for some reason hasn’t returned, even though it’s time travel and he could literally return the moment after he left.

I suppose we needed a POV character to meet the Legion of Superheroes, but has that even mattered so far? Did we need Jon Kent for exposition? Origin stories are revealed all the time over the course of a story without the need for a single character to be taught everything.

But the Super Sons? The Super Sons are unique. The concept itself was formerly set in the “imaginary story” reality of the DCU. But it was suddenly real! Or, as real as they can be in a fictional universe.

Robin was Batman’s actual son! Superboy was Superman’s actual son! And they were both crazy dangerous kids and even more extreme opposites than their dads! It’s such an awesome concept and it actually happened.

I would say that Lois and Clark would never let their pre-teen son run off to the future alone, but the awful story which sent Jon off with Jor-El proved that wrong. I mean, logically they would never let that happen, but what do I know? I actually think everyone should have different speech patterns, too.

So what, exactly, did we get out of aging Jon Kent up? A teenage Superboy? Here’s the funny thing: Kon-El is back. So there are now two teenaged Superboys, so aging Jon makes even less sense.

Legacy?

Apparently, Jon is supposed to be the next Superman at some point and will surpass his father as the Superman. There is nothing about any of that that I like.

But it’s not really a big deal since it will never happen. This is comics we’re talking about. More specifically, this is corporately owned superhero comics we’re talking about.

This couldn’t have been done for Jon to take over his father’s role, then, even if that was some kind of a vague plan before Dan Didio left DC. I don’t care how much upheaval there is at Warner Brothers these days, no way they start their own streaming service and ax their most popular IPs at the same time.

The Super Sons are a great IP themselves, although Warner Brothers still owns that, of course. There are so many things they could do with that comic and those characters.

Even better, Superman and Batman being fathers created one of the best dynamics DC Comics has seen in years. There was so much potential there and we got to see so little of it.

Aging Jon Kent up on its own has meant very little, but when you add in the fact that it ended the Super Sons it makes the decision all the more unfortunate.

Superman: The Triangle Years, Part 2 – Out of the Closet

More from the Triangle Years:
Part One: Embrace Continuity

A month before the Triangle Years begins, Clark Kent proposes to Lois Lane.

She still doesn’t know he’s Superman.

This is, of course, a total dick move on Superman’s part, but it’s something that’s rectified just a few months into the Triangle Years. The Triangle Years start off with a fairly important change to the Superman mythology.

When DC decided to reboot their entire universe with the New 52 and eliminate Lois and Clark as a couple, they had been either engaged or married for over TWENTY YEARS. And yet apparently there are no stories to tell about married people. It’s also interesting to note that how quickly the relationship between Lois and Clark had progressed in just four years after Crisis. Can you imagine anything like that happening today?

Fortunately, the New 52 mistake has been rectified, and right now DC are publishing some fantastic stories featuring not just a married Lois and Clark, but Lois and Clark as parents, too.

The Triangle Years officially begin with Superman v2 #51, which features the first appearance of Mr. Z. If you’ve never heard of him, don’t worry, because he’s not what you would call a classic villain in the making, but his appearance right off the bat establishes the new world order pretty quickly, as Mr. Z’s storyline will play an important roll not just throughout the first year, but for years to come. There was clearly a Superman summit back before creative summits were all the rage.

The Creators

This is a good spot to talk about the creative teams on each Superman title. When the Triangle Years begin, Superman is being written and penciled by Jerry Ordway, with inks by Dennis Janke. The two of them would eventually jump over to Adventures of Superman when they’re joined by penciler Tom Grummet. Dan Jurgens, who was writing and penciling Adventures of Superman, completes the swap and moves over to Superman. By this point, Brett Breeding has joined Jurgens on finished art, which suggests he was doing more than the average inker. While it looks good, I thought Jurgens work with previous finisher Art Thibert was better, but Thibert was already being called on to start penciling, as his style fit with the trend going on during the 90s. The three books were rounded out by the Action Comics creative team of Roger Stern, Bob McLeod, and Dennis Rodier.

All three teams were more than capable of telling solid Superman stories. None of them were going to be accused of writing anything “extreme” or “dark.” At times, the writing could take a turn for the schmaltzy. But the storytelling was excellent. It was like a text book on how to produce a regular superhero comic book, which was a problem for comics in the 90s.

But Carlin didn’t just mix things up in the Triangle Years by moving Ordway and Jurgens. He also launched a 4th monthly Superman book and brought in a creative team from Marvel. Writer Louise Simonson was joined by long time Power Pack and X-Factor partner Jon Bogdanove for Man of Steel. While the other Superman books focused on the titular character, Simonson and Bogdanove expanded the view to include the people of Metropolis. They also introduced Keith, a young boy living at an orphanage. Keith makes an excellent “kid on the street” character, the kind of thing that we’ll see more of as the Triangle Years continue.

Luthor

Up until now, every subplot in a Superman book was in some way related to the main plot. The three books were careful not to introduce anything that seemed to be unrelated to the story at hand. That concern went out the window. The pretense of appeasing the casual or new reader went out the window. These books were numbered now, after all, and readers shouldn’t expect a book with a number 22 on it to be a jumping on point. It’s hard to imagine a comic from either of the Big Two trying something like this today. And I’m sure this would have made Jim Shooter’s head explode.

One of the more nuanced story lines running through the first year is the aftermath of the death of Lex Luthor. While Luthor may have been a villain all this time, he still owned a substantial portion of Metropolis, and his death and lack of an heir sends the city into economic ruin. People lose their jobs, crime goes up, unions go on strike, and Metropolis’ main criminal element, Intergang, tries to take advantage of the situation.

Superman’s response to all of this is perfectly naive; Luthor was a bad guy, so how is it that his absence is causing so many problems? The falling economy is an excellent gateway to focus on the rest of Superman’s world. Perry White takes a leave of absence; he and his wife go an a cruise and end up across the hall from Ma and Pa Kent (this was actually arranged by Clark, don’t worry). In his absence, Sam Foswell takes over and is forced to lay off much of the Daily Planet’s work force, including Jimmy Olsen.

Things eventually settle down with the arrival of Lex’s heretofore unknown son, Lex, Jr. Lex’s heir is actually Lex in a new, cloned body. He faked his death and had his brain transplanted into a new body because his old one was dying. Comics!

Supergirl

Besides Lois learning Clark’s big secret, there are two other important developments in the first two Triangle Years. The first is the return of Supergirl.

So let’s jump into it, because this is surely going to make your eyes roll. This, post-Crisis version of Supergirl is Matrix, a protoplasmic creation of Alexander Luthor, the good Lex Luthor from a pocket dimension. He creates Matrix in order to fend off Zod, who has escaped the Phantom Zone and is destroying the pocket dimension’s earth. When Supergirl is defeated, Alex sends her to the mainstream DCU for help. She finds Superman and he returns with her, but it’s too late, as her earth has been devastated. She comes back with Superman and goes to live with Ma and Pa Kent.

All of that happens in the second year of Superman stories after Crisis on Infinite Earths, the series that was meant to unify the DCU into a single universe. Why would they introduce another earth less than two years after destroying a whole bunch of them in an effort to streamline their continuity? I have on idea. They couldn’t say no to John Byrne, I guess.

Anyway, “Mae,” as they call her, starts doing weird things like impersonating Clark (not only does she have Superman’s powers, she can also shape shift and turn invisible. She decides the best thing to do would be to take off to outer space to figure some things out.

Matrix is eventually located by Brainiac, who involves her in his attempted invasion of Earth. In the end, she returns to Metropolis and ends up dating our Lex Luthor, who is young and attractive thanks to the aforementioned body swap.

The return of Supergirl is the first example of the expansion of the Superman brand, something we’d see a lot of in the coming years.

Beginning of the End

The second year of the Triangle Years closed out with the majority of the Death of Superman story line. Doomsday, the creature that would eventually kill Superman, first appears in Man of Steel #17 in November of 1992.

I liked Doomsday, which I think puts me in the minority. At the time, I remember fans being turned off by the fact that a new character was responsible for killing Superman. We knew nothing about Doomsday. Many fans thought that if Superman was going to be killed off, one of his long time villains should do it. Luthor got mentioned a lot.

But the reason Doomsday works is because there is no explanation. That level of destruction can have no rational explanation, which is what makes it work. Doomsday doesn’t have some kind of vendetta against Superman, it’s just a mindless creature bent on destroying everything. Superman becomes involved not because he’s connected to the creature, but because he’s the only one who can stop it.

(Note that everything I just wrote would later be undone when Doomsday’s origin was revealed. To this day I have real issues with Doomsday’s shoe horned history.)

Besides, Superman’s regular villains can’t win. That’s the whole point. He doesn’t lose to them. Making any of them the cause of his death changes the dynamic completely.

This is how year two of the Triangle Years ended: the beginning of the end of Superman and the media firestorm that would come with it.

Superman: The Triangle Years, Part 1 – Embrace Continuity

Bold statement: Superman’s glory days happened during the Triangle Years in the ’90s.

I can understand if that sounds insane, particularly since I’m making the above statement as someone who loves the hell out of Silver Age Superman. If you’ve never read Superman stories from the Silver Age, you really should. They are bat shit insane. Seriously. They make absolutely no sense, and as a result are wonderfully creative. There’s not even a germ of characterization to be found, either.

But, like I said, the ’90s are where it all came together for the Man of Steel. Yes, it was a decade full of dark, gritty, extreme superheroes, but that’s part of the reason why Superman thrived; he was the antithesis to all of that, even when he was running around in a black suit armed with automatic weapons (that only happened in a few panels). The Triangle Years emphasized the things that made Superman a singular character, although it was a work in progress, one with its fair share of missteps.

Superman_v.2_51.jpg — Superman #51 cover by Jerry Ordway

The first “triangle” issue

Some context: the Triangle Years refers to the main Superman comics published from January 1991 to January 2002, all of which (as well as a few one shots) featured a triangle emblem on the cover. That emblem held a number which indicated the order in which the Superman family of titles should be read. There were only 3 Superman books when the Triangle Years began (Superman, Adventures of Superman, and Action Comics). Within the first year a fourth title, Man of Steel, would be added, and eventually Man of Tomorrow was introduced as a quarterly book to fill the 4 weeks a year that would have otherwise been Superman-less.

In the narrative sense, the Triangle Years were set up a year earlier, in 1990. The three Superman titles were becoming more and more interconnected. The last six months of Superman comics in 1990 featured 4 crossovers, so the average fan already had to read every title as it was. Superman editor Mike Carlin’s decision to add numbers to the covers to help readers follow along just made sense.

But the Triangle Years would become something more than just a simple numbering system. The narrative changed not long after it started. The focus evolved.

Much of this was a result of what the Superman titles had been doing over the previous few years. After DC’s big Crisis, Superman was relaunched by John Byrne, who set out Marvelizing — um, humanizing the Man of Steel. This is something of a reoccurring problem for Superman, as every few years someone decides they need to make him more relatable. More often than not, the outsider angle is the one that’s used, to varying degrees of success.

I’m not saying you can’t humanize Superman. I think, in small doses by talented creators, humanizing Superman can be great. But I think in many ways it misses the point of the character.

Superman is meant to be aspirational. What happens to Superman, what happens to Clark Kent, is only half the story. Equally as important is what happens to those who are influenced by him. Superman is and always will be just as much a presence as a person. He’s an icon, and bringing him down to our level removes a lot of what’s great about the concept.

Now, whether Carlin and his chosen teams of writers and artists just weren’t able to get a handle on Superman as a regular guy or whether they decided that was a bad direction to go in, I don’t know. But that’s ultimately how it worked out, and the Superman titles were the better for it.

The Superman offices were going to create (then) 88 pages of comics every month, 1,144 pages a year, not including specials and annuals. They were able to keep these stories interesting by exploring Superman’s supporting cast. This included paying special attention to the two most important people in his life: Lois Lane and Lex Luthor. Lois grew into a powerful force in her own right, while Luthor experienced perhaps more ups and downs over the course of the 90s than ever before.

The Triangle Years were just as much about the impact Superman had on those around him as they were about the man himself. In this respect underscored what makes Superman a singular character in all of comics.

NEXT: It begins.