Battling Boy - Paul Pope

To say that with Battling Boy Paul Pope owes a debt to Jack Kirby would be to understate things drastically. By Pope’s own account the seed of the idea that eventually became this book was when an attempt to pitch DC Comics a revival of Kirby’s 1970s teen-in-a-post-apocalyptic-world, Kamandi, was met with the response that DC didn’t make comics for kids any more, but “45-year-olds”.

It’s hardly surprising then that the influence of Jack Kirby is all over this book, from a floating technological fortress filled with gods, to the look of the characters (Battling Boy’s dad looks like the halfway point between the Silver Age Thor and Kirby’s Fourth World character Orion, another character looks suspiciously like Big Barda). The style is all his own though, Pope’s manga-infused frenetic inks as distinctive as ever.

For a self-styled “comics destroyer”, Pope is nothing if not a contrarian, setting out thoughtfully to create a kid-friendly comic that captures the joy of coming across fragments of these grand mythologies as a child - a character here, a huge, never-to-be-explained machine there. It stops at tribute though - Pope’s own inventiveness doesn’t allow it to descend into magpied pieces of someone else’s work.

Arcopolis is a city under siege from monsters. The city’s champion, Haggard West, and his daughter Aurora protect the city as best they can, but when Haggard is killed Arcopolis is left broadly defenseless. Meanwhile, Battling Boy’s parents must select somewhere for him to prove himself as a hero - something traditional for his people when they are turning 13. And so a city full of monsters has a teenage demigod - dressed like a normal kid, save for a huge red cape - thrown into it, and Battling Boy needs to find his place in a world he doesn’t understand. It’s rich stuff, but it’s hardly the “chosen one” mythology so prevalent in modern children’s literature.

Battling Boy’s main concern is living up to his parents’ legacy (they’re a lot more impressive than they are supportive, it has to be said), and his unworldliness leading to the adults of Arcopolis (or more realistically, the government - this is Paul Pope, after all) trying to exploit him as both their protector and something they can take credit for. It’s far more coming-of-age story than epic sweep, and the story stops somewhat abruptly - to be picked up again in a follow-up volume and at least one spin-off, The Rise of Aurora West (to be drawn by the fantastic David Rubin - hopefully this will lead to an English translation of his mythological / superhero comic, Le héros). There’s also a preview comic, The Death of Haggard West, but all of that is included in this volume, so it’s not necessary to track it down separately to read or enjoy Battling Boy.

I've praised Pope's artwork before, and it's just as good as ever in Battling Boy. His line seems a little finer and neater than usual - this could just be the reproduction; the book is quite small. Whatever the cause, it suits the bright and clear world of Arcopolis. In the monster underworld, more of the inky squiggles and sound as texture that have been prevalent in his work creep in - and it works, given these scenes a slightly grubbier, more B-movie feel (a chainsaw in a guitar case helps with that) next to the much more straightforward overworld.

Special praise should be given to Hilary Sycamore’s colouring. Pope’s work to my mind usually looks better in black and white - his freehand inks don’t really suit colouring in the standard line / ink / colour process. Just look at something like Batman: Year 100 for an example of where colouring genuinely detracts from his art (or compare the recoloured reissue of The One-Trick Rip-Off to the original black and white version). In Battling Boy, though, Sycamore has chosen a limited, mostly-flat palette that works well with Pope’s kinetic linework. That the backgrounds are less packed with detail than is often the case with his work helps. I also didn't realise the book was lettered digitally until seeing the credits page - digital lettering usually makes my brain itch, so I'm chalking that up as impressive.

There's a trailer that gives a surprisingly decent feel for the comic here:

[embed]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xK2AR9z4j5Y[/embed]

Battling Boy is excellent and, much as it feels strange to recommend Paul Pope for kids, I wholeheartedly do. Adults too, and in particular Silver Age aficionados. First: Second, who published this, are still on track to publish another of his kid-friendly works in the near future - the long-hibernating THB. When it finally reappears, I'd recommend that too.

The Subtle Art of the Reboot

Long-term comic readers, at least those who read the superhero output from Marvel and DC, will be used to the ground shifting under their feet. New readers are vital to the industry, bringing in new money, but the long-term readers reliably provide cash as well, and have huge emotional and financial investments in the characters and universes they enjoy. Surely there must be a way to satisfy these new readers, with a cursory notion of the characters and a need for a gentle introduction to a complex, long-running storyline, and still keep those older fans and their prolonged engagement with those characters, stories, and creators? Not really. But there are reboots. Some better than others. In the tussle between art and commerce, art doesn’t often come off well.

In the 80s, Marvel’s then-editor Jim Shooter decide to introduce the New Universe, an entirely separate continuity and set of stories. It was never great, and it was cancelled after 170 issues across a range of titles. In the 90s they decided to reboot their main characters into a bubble universe called ‘Heroes Reborn’ in a bit of narrative wrangling designed to get former Marvel stalwarts (and highly popular artists) Rob Liefeld and Jim Lee back onboard. This continued from where the stories were at the time, but reset everything to a new beginning via some genuinely torturous logic. It ran for a few years, but then everything quietly got shuffled back into the main continuity again via the same hand-wavey non-logic that started it in the first place (that Lee and Liefeld were as late with their art as they had been as full-time Marvel employees probably played a part). Possibly the most egregious attempt to reboot a character was the Spider-Man story The Clone Saga, a story designed to wipe out Spider-Man’s marriage by revealing that a clone from a storyline in the 70s was the real Spider-Man, meaning that he was still single, carefree, and far more commercially viable. And if that makes your skin crawl it’s not your Spider-Sense tingling. That this attempted reboot and simplification was just overwhelmingly complicated and long-winded was the final insult (until the One More Day storyline wiped out Spidey's marriage again a few years ago).

In the early 80s, Alan Moore effectively rebooted the third-tier character Swamp Thing when it was handed to him to write. He took what was a character born out of the horror movie culture of the 70s and 80s and made it something far more interesting, converting the character from a confused monster into an avatar of all plant life on the planet. He kept a lot of the horror tropes, but introduced philosophical and psychedelic elements that broadened the series from a story about monsters punching each other into something much more interesting. It told the sort of dark, smart stories that formed the foundation of the DC’s Vertigo imprint. A few years later Grant Morrison pulled the same trick with Animal Man, taking a character that had never really been popular and creating a critically and commercially-successful comic by rewriting a goofy superhero story into a weird metatextual story in which the author and main character frequently interacted, even argued. Neither of these takes was the original, but they were huge improvements on how the characters had been used before, and both proved more commercially successful as well.

Since then there have been various Crises and other cataclysmic events bringing changes and refreshing the publishing lines of the big two publishers, but 2012 was notable for bringing two big relaunches near-simultaneously, with DC’s complete line revamp, The New 52 and Marvel’s Marvel Now! comics designed to bring in new readers.

Now both Swamp Thing and Animal Man have been re-rebooted as part of The New 52. These titles used to be second-or-third stringers, but now they're beloved representatives of what mainstream comics can be, and the early works of two of comics' most-lauded creators. And yet both reboots have been (great) critical and (moderate) sales successes. Swamp Thing is handled by Scott Snyder, a proven horror writer who knows how to get to the Southern Gothic notes that work so well for the character. Yanick Paquette brings a more mainstream illustration style than normally used with the character, but it works.

Animal Man takes a character that was never as well thought-of after Grant Morrison's run ended, and turns it into something it had never really approached before - Cronenbergian body-horror. Jeff Lemire has plenty of experience with weird horror in titles like Sweet Tooth, and this was well matched in ghoulish illustration by initial artist Travel Foreman.

Both series do something new, are well-written and play to the strengths of their respective writers and artists. "Take the characters, give them to good writers and artists, and let them take creative risks" might seem like an obvious bit of advice to give, but the execution is the hard part. Gail Simone turned an enormous backlash at the rebooted Batgirl into a massive outpouring of support when she was removed from the title. Conversely, Grant Morrison on Action Comics / Superman should have been a sure thing, but it fizzled out impressively. Still, the bold reinvention seems to be the closest thing to a formula for success when a character is absolutely going to be rewritten - Marvel have seen similar success with bold reboots of Hawkeye and Captain Marvel.

Much as it would be great for every writer and artist to be working on brand-new trailblazing ideas, an old character well-written is still an enjoyable and frequently interesting thing to read. And frankly, as long as Batman and chums get people into the comic shops, it's helping to keep the whole industry healthy.

All the Hawkeye That's Fit to Print

Okay... This Looks Bad.

A little-loved character, popularity buoyed by a recent highly-succesful film, suddenly granted his own series when traditionally he’s never engendered either sales or acclaim - it sounds like the absolute worst sort of cash-in. The signs to the contrary were there already  though - Marvel could have taken advantage of the huge popularity of Tom Hiddlestone’s take on Loki after Thor and The Avengers, but instead Kieron Gillen was allowed to do something far more interesting with the character in Journey into Mystery - something that doesn’t resemble the cinematic Loki in the slightest.

Hawkeye’s the same. Rather than go with something resembling Jeremy Renner’s pouting, dubiously-capable take on the character, Matt Fraction (writer), David Aja (main artist) and Matt Hollingsworth (colourist - an awesome one) are free to craft a freewheeling comic action caper that draws more on cop shows than on superhero comics for its tone.

And it works so well. So incredibly well.

There are two Hawkeyes now. Superheroes have an appalling capacity for death and resurrection, and during one of Clint’s periods of extended expiration the young, rich Kate Bishop took up the mantle. This new series sees them (both still called Hawkeye) working together as a dysfunctional team, Clint the older more experienced character who is still far, far too feckless to be an effective mentor, Kate someone who won’t make his life an easier if she can help it. This unexpected central dynamic is key to the book working so well. Clint is someone who tries to do the right thing no matter how outclassed and out-matched he is, doubly so when someone’s watching.

David Aja’s art looks simplistic at first glance, but behind the simple lines and Matt Hollingsworth’s minimalist colouring is a fantastic understanding of anatomy and motion. Here’s a look at a single page from thumbnail to final, coloured version.

Aja’s the main artist on the series, but some issues are being handled by others, like Javier Pulido on issues 4 - 5. Fill-in artists are rarely thought of kindly, especially popping up in the middle of an acclaimed run, but Pulido is an effective replacement for Aja, and the fact that he’s been used for a standalone mini-arc seems like a excellent use of a second artist when you need to keep a book on a monthly schedule.

The covers are as good as anything on the shelves right now - heavily stylised, minimally coloured, incredibly striking. They also reflect the colours in the book. Red has started to creep into the minimalist palette as of issue three, and the second volume - read “trade paperback” - has shifted from purple to red as its main defining colour. It’s a small thing, but it’s the sort of detail that makes Hawkeye both coherent and fun.

Basically, buy this comic. Even if you don’t like superhero stuff, buy this comic. I don’t even buy single issues, and I buy this comic. It’s fun, it’s smart, it’s made by people who clearly love and care about what they’re doing. In a time when almost all coverage of the big publishers is negative, it’s just great to see people doing good work and clearly enjoying doing it.

The Hawkeye Initiative

I shouldn’t mention Hawkeye without talking about his other bold reinvention - that as a tireless pointer-out of sexism in comics. The Hawkeye Initiative takes the worst, most spine-bending, ludicrously sexualised images of women in comics and replaces them with... well, Hawkeye. The results are as funny and unsettling as you’d expect. Despite broad coverage, it doesn’t seem to have triggered the usual ultradefensive reaction from those fans that feel any criticism of the comics field is a personal attack. Or worse, those that genuinely don’t recognise that this problem exists. There are the odd one or two people who don’t get it, of course, but they’re always there.

It’s good to see that the unlikeliest Avenger can be a force for good in the real world too.