ON COMICS: 'Before Watchmen' Ozymandias #1

Ozymandias #1, as written by Len Wein and drawn by Jae Lee, is so far the best book in DC's 'Before Watchmen' launch; and when I say the best, it is by far the best. 

There is not a single thing about it which is not completely satisfying. This book is a masterclass in how to take the mundane elements of an origin story--those plot and character points which must inevitably get checked off in our hero's journey from schoolboy to superhero--and lay them out on the page in such a way that the elegance of the visual storytelling overcomes any apprehensions of familiar plotting.

And, really, this is what every good comic should do; but in a medium so entrenched in re-telling its origins and re-working its myths, a medium so reliant on a recognizable, standardized length and format, that to deviate to the extreme in form or content risks marginalizing its core readership--a good superhero origin story is about as elusive as a unicorn in a field of four-leaf clovers.

And perhaps it is especially rare to see just intelligence, rigor and attentive design to a project which has been almost universally decried--as intellectual theft, as actual theft, as crass commercialism, or just pure bad taste. But I feel like, in the five issues of 'Before Watchmen' released, Ozymandias #1 is the first to actually touch on the potential greatness--the sheer creative excitement--of revisiting the world of Watchmen: that is, is a self-contained, self-sufficient, singular entity. As far as I can tell, Ozymandias #1 does nothing to tarnish what Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons did in Watchmen, but it does a helluva job of tapping into what made that seminal work so spectacular. 

Just look at this asshole.

What I like about Wein's structure for the first issue is that he starts big; right off the bat we have a famous Watchmen splash page. Everyone knows Ozymandias is the villain. There's no reason to pussyfoot around the realities of Adrian Veidt: he's a zillionaire, he's a genius, he's a martial arts expert and world-class gymnast, he genetically engineered a giant pet cat named Bubastis, he lives in a goddamn ice fortress in Antarctic. Adrian Veidt is not subtle. Adrian Veidt is an asshole who knows everything and may or may not be a completely justified mass murder. Len Wein perfectly captures that sort of charming dickishness inherent in Veidt's character; he's such a little prick but we can't help admiring him at least a little bit because he's also right. Ozymandias at least has the courage of his (crazy, maniacal) convictions; like Lex Luthor, he's a compelling megalomaniac. 

Baby Adrian is, of course, the same. Wein absolutely nails Veidt's infuriatingly precise, logical, almost Spock-like reasoning. This one page of background pretty much gives you everything you need to know about Veidt. And check out that final panel! That's the kind of too-obvious in-joke that might have turned me off if this issue weren't otherwise so beautifully written and drawn. 

I mean. C'mon, right? No, but it's fantastic.

As much as Len Wein's characterization is spot-on, I honestly think the VIP of this issue, and probably the entire 'Before Watchmen' series so far, is artist Jae Lee. Let me level with you: I have no idea who Jae Lee is, but goddamn if he is not the perfect person to draw Ozymandias. Just look at the way he draws Veidt's face throughout the book: the eyebrows raised in superciliousness, the impetuous little curl in his inhumanly golden hair--just the way Adrian always looks as though he's thinking about everything in the world except the other human being in the room with him. It's a far-off look; it's a look of Alexandrian conquest. 

The story follows Veidt through everything Ozymandias told us in Watchmen--that his parents died, he gave away his family fortune and went on a "vision quest" to the Far East, ate some hash, fucked some dudes (you're surprised? c'mon), and practiced his kung fu for future crime-fighting and world-conquering purposes. 

Wein & Lee have crafted a book that doesn't ape the look or feel of Watchmen, but one that has--what can I say?--a vibe, a certain rhythmic similarity; it strikes a tone on the page. Colorist June Chung does a stellar job of washing the book in constant--yet almost subliminal--sunshine; the entire thing seems dipped in gold, as if the color were emanating from Veidt himself and staining every page. One notable exception is the very first page, which recreates the famous "shot" of Veidt standing in front of his wall of television monitors in his Antarctic fortress, poised to unleash devastation across the globe. This glorious splash page is ice cold.

Much has been made of Watchmen's visual rigor, the nine-panel format and frequent use of recurring imagery, mirrored panels, and of course, that famous symmetrical chapter. That kind of discipline, planning and precision would be daunting to anyone taking up the Watchmen mantle, and it seems like most writers & artists of 'Before Watchmen' have chosen to go their own way in constructing their comics. Fair enough. 

But perhaps the most impressive aspect of Ozymandias #1 is the way in which the entire book is constructed of circles and squares (well, rectangles). Not only do the circles echo the recurring image of the snow globe/perfume bottle in the original Watchmen series (and included by Darwyn Cooke & Amanda Connor in Silk Spectre #1--nice!), here they serve the very economical function of divvying up each page and getting as much story in as possible. There is a lot to this book; a lot of words, a lot of art, and an awful lot of Veidt's background. Wein & Lee cover twenty years in thirty pages, and not a single beat seems out of place. Some of the other 'Before Watchmen' have had some major pacing issues, but this one seems perfectly calibrated. Not an inch of the frame is wasted, partially due to the contrasting circle-within-rectangle, frame-within-frame structure. 

This thing is elegant as fuck. It's smooth, controlled, powerful and yet quiet...much like Adrian Veidt himself? I may be overreaching a bit here, but Ozymandias #1 does project a quiet confidence and self-assuredness. It's certainly the first 'Before Watchmen' title I've wanted to read the next issue of right away. It's completely fulfilling yet leaves you wanting much, much more. If you've been skeptical about the merits of this whole 'Before Watchmen' business, Ozymandias #1 might be the title to change your mind.

ON COMICS: 'Before Watchmen' NITE OWL #1

 Nite Owl #1 by J. Michael Straczynski, Andy Kubert & Joe Kubert 

One of the major storylines in Watchmen is Nite Owl coming out of retirement to embrace his inner superhero, get the girl and save the world, aka how Dan Dreiberg got his groove back. 

So, if any character has a good backstory to mine, it's Nite Owl. At his height, he and Rorschach were crime-fighting badasses; Dan was the Batman of the Watchmen universe. He was cool. To wit: the Kuberts' gorgeous cover to Nite Owl #1. A triumphant, commanding pose, a ripped Nite Owl surveying his dominion. Now, don't get me wrong--I love fat, nerdy, impotent Dan Dreiberg. I mean, I really love fat Dan. But as much as I love the extremes of the character, what I'm interested in is how shy, nerdy Dan can co-exist with skull-crushing, vigilante Dan. How did he get to be that way?

Luckily for me, it seems that's the exact question Straczynski is asking in this series. When you think about, in a lot of ways, Dan is the most human character in the Watchmen universe. He doesn't have any superpowers, he wears glasses, he eats bad food; he's fallible, the quintessential "regular guy."So one of the best aspects of the series is watching Nite Owl play off of all the other personalities in Watchmen: sociopaths (The Comedian), extremists (Rorschach), and god-like, giant blue naked dudes (Dr. Manhattan). Dan is also an interesting link between the old guard (The Minutemen) and the new. And this is exactly where Straczynski begins in Nite Owl #1.

It's 1962. Dan is still a teenager living with his parents. His room is plastered with Nite Owl (aka Hollis Mason) memorabilia. One night he bugs Nite Owl's Owl Car (yes, really) and tracks him back to his underground Owl Cave (yes, really). There he finds a note from Mason to meet him in the park the next day. Dan pushes hard to become Hollis' partner (the Robin to his Batman, if you will). Mason says he'll think about it.

And here is where the book lost a lot of points for me. When Dan gets home, he learns his father has burned all of his Nite Owl memorabilia and sees his father viciously beating his mother. Only a few panels later we learn his father has had a heart attack and a few more panels later Mrs. Dreiberg is spitting on her husband's lifeless corpse at the funeral. I mean...what? Why couldn't Dan's father just have died? Dan mentions in Watchmen that he was gifted a large inheritance when his father died, but why the need to include domestic violence in the equation? It seems like a very sudden and unnecessary narrative crutch to fall back on. Considering Dan's chivalry towards women and general good-guy-ness, wouldn't he have mentioned his father's violence to Laurie (who certainly has plenty of daddy issues herself)? I mean, it's kind of a huge event smack dab in the middle of the book that only seems to get us from point A (Dan living with his parents) to point B (Dan living with Hollis Mason and training to become the new Nite Owl). I guess Mrs. Dreiberg moved to Mexico or something IDK.

Dan trying on Hollis Mason's Nite Owl cowl

ANYWAY...the next part of the book is actually really, really cool, which is why I'm having a hard time not liking it. It's now 1965, Dan is officially Nite Owl, he's got Archie and he's partnered with Rorschach. (Rorschach!) In one brilliant splash page, we get the summation of their thug-busting partnership with not one, but two "Hurm" jokes! Blatant fan service, but, c'mon, you know when Rorschach shows up, the "Hurm" jokes aren't far behind. 

What follows is the famous scene of the first meeting of the Crimebuster. Joe & Andy Kubert very wisely don't try to re-invent the wheel here. They replicate the characters' blocking exactly, we just get everything from a different angle. Check it out.

I really dig this. We get a new perspective on the meeting that started it all. We're privy to Dan's thoughts about Laurie, all the while we know that she's looking at Dr. Manhattan. Now, just because I liked the Crimebusters retread, it's still just that: a retread. As much fun as it is to watch Dan interacting with Hollis, Rorschach and Laurie--the key figures in his life as Nite Owl--there is a strong sense of deja vu with this issue. We've seen it all before. And maybe JSM is just getting the introductions over with (and rather quickly--this book moves at lightning speed) so he can start building a really epic Nite Owl/Rorschach crime-fighting arc. I would like to see JSM slow down a bit and give real time to the important relationships in Dan's life. He basically has the entire 1960s to do so. There's so much to be mined here; it would be a real shame to just treat the Nite Owl title as a sub-par Batman team-up book.

In addition, we do run into some timeframe issues here. Silk Spectre #1 ends in 1966 with Laurie hitching a ride with her boyfriend and some hippies to San Francisco, and here in 1966 he's attending the Crimebusters meeting in New York. It will be a real challenge to get these books to coordinate with each other and stay true to the complex and detailed Watchmen timeline. Will they pull it off? Hurm, indeed. 

ON COMICS: 'Before Watchmen'

Watchmen got me into comics, so when I heard about DC's plan to launch 'Before Watchmen,' unlike a lot of comics fans, I was pretty psyched. I mean, I love the characters, I love the universe, and because Watchmen was what opened up the entire medium to me, I feel a sentimental attachment to the property.

Of course, I have my reservations. Isn't part of the brilliance of Moore & Gibbons' Watchmen its narrative singularity, the fact that the six-issue series stands apart as a comment on superhero comics as much as it is a total story in and of itself? Yes, but unlike some purists (I would say, killjoys), at the same time as I entered into the realm of reading and collecting comic books, I entered into the bizarro alternate universe of comics fandom. Watchmen fandom to be exact. In this world, the characters belong to us--the fans--and we may tinker with them as we wish, rewrite their deaths, fill in gaps in the canon, write about before and after the official beginning and ending of the series.

And isn't that what's happening here? Sure, it's on a terrible, soul-crushing, DC-sanctified corporate level and not a cool, underground, indie slashfic level, but what's the difference? Anyone who knows comics knows writers, artists and companies reinvent, retcon and otherwise draw and quarter their own creations in a ouroborosistic orgy of cannibalism on a regular basis. At least DC hired some cool people to honor/destroy/do absolutely nothing drastic or permanent to the legacy of the greatest comic book of all-time.

Yadda, yadda, let's get to the books.


Minutemen #1 by Darwyn Cooke

Okay, so maybe I'm not to be entrusted with objectivity here, but in my mind, Darwyn Cooke is the perfect man to handle the Minutemen, who were the Watchmen before 'Before Watchmen.' Meta-meta-meta, woah. In my opinion, Cooke's epic DC: The New Frontier is second only to Watchmen in its thorough, enthusiastic, gorgeous, heartbreaking de- and re-construction of the origin and myth of the American superhero.

As an artist, Cooke's commitment to mid-century retro aesthetics is a welcome asset to the story of Golden Age crime fighters. Indeed, I think Cooke's attention to fabrics, shading and the overall tactile quality of the character's costumes actually adds a new dimension to Dave Gibbons' original artwork.

Watchmen itself was full of extra-textual pieces on the Minutemen that were not, strictly speaking, part of its linear storytelling. You could certainly read #1--6 of Watchmen without reading the supplementary excerpts from 'Under the Hood' and get along just fine. In this regard, Minutemen #1 is sort of a supplement to a supplement, with 'Under the Hood' author Hollis Mason (aka Nite Owl) walking the reader through the history of the Minutemen.

Hollis recalls how, while still a New York policemen, he first encountered Hooded Justice. Cooke's reveal of the vigilante is terrifying and suspenseful, dousing the page in striking red (the first appearance of that color in the book). He goes on to introduce all the players: Sally Jupiter (aka Silk Spectre), Edward Blake (aka The Comedian), Byron Lewis (aka Mothman), patriotic superhero for hire Dollar Bill, and mostly touchingly, Ursula Zandt (aka The Silhouette). In Moore & Gibbons' Watchmen, Silhouette is alloted only a few panels and her intriguing and heartbreaking backstory is only alluded to by other characters. In Minutemen #1, Ursula gets four whole pages of introduction (as much as Cooke gives Nite Owl, his narrator), giving us a glimpse into the character's crime-fighting never seen before. 

This is the stuff of fandom heaven. This is the kind of thing I wanted to see from 'Before Watchmen': fan favorite characters actually being given stuff to do. I want to see Silhouette busting up a child pornography ring; I want to watch her take down bad guys; I want insight into her background in Nazi-occupied Austria. There's nothing in the first issue to suggest that isn't exactly the kind of storytelling we're going to get from Cooke's series.

But as much time as Cooke spends giving us the run-down on characters, he's crafting a larger portrait of how these disparate vigilantes came together as the Minutemen. Using minor characters like Sally Jupiter's manager/husband Larry Schnexnayder, Cooke begins to connect the dots between the 'before' and the 'after' events of the Watchmen universe. The book ends with the reveal of Nelson Gardner (aka Captain Metropolis), the former marine who founded the Minutemen. Like many of the minor characters from Watchmen, very little is known about Captain Metropolis and what little we can piece together of his background is mostly speculative. It's exciting to watch how Cooke weaves together all these characters, incorporating the history of Watchmen while setting future events in motion. But the first issue gives little indication on what kind of story Minutemen will tell. Will it be a retro action book? Will it flash forward to Hollis and Sally Jupiter's involvement in Watchmen's main story, or will it stay in the 1940s? I could even envision different issues having a different narrator. Whatever the future holds for the 'Before Watchmen' Minutemen series, I know I'm in good hands with Darwyn Cooke, and  that at the very least, each new issue will deliver the gorgeous, detailed artwork and lovingly crafted characterizations that are the Cooke's signature. 

Silk Spectre #1 by Darwyn Cooke & Amanda Conner


Silk Spectre is the hardest damned Watchmen character to write for, and just as hard to defend. Both Sally Jupiter (Silk Spectre I) and her daughter Laurie (Silk Spectre II) are burdened with being the only female characters of much importance in the Watchmen universe, and are therefore saddled with every expectation of women, ever. It was Alan Moore's intention to use Silk Spectre(s) to investigate, comment upon, and ultimately critique the issues surrounding female superheroes (their intense sexualization and fetishization for male audiences); but like most minority representations, those stereotypes were also enforced.

And, so, with all this baggage, I was still excited by the prospect of a Silk Spectre book drawn by Amanda Connor (goddess of lady superheroes and all around incredible artist) and written by my fav Darwyn Cooke, who's partly my fav because he's generally pretty fair-minded when it comes to giving female characters some depth and integrity.


But we seem to run into some issues right away because Watchmen already covers the time when Laurie is very young. How much 'Before Watchmen' could there possibly be? As a second generation superhero, Laurie was born into the business; in fact, her whole life is defined by Watchmen. Is it actually possible to sincerely explore her other facets without totally re-writing the character? After reading Silk Spectre #1, I still have my doubts. 

The story takes place in 1966, when Laurie is sixteen (the same age she was when she started dating Dr. Manhattan). It primarily concerns (and stop me if you've heard this one before) her strained relationship with Sally as mother/sensei/best friend/public embarrassment, her burgeoning attraction to A Cute Boy, and The Mean Popular Pretty Girls at school who are all about slut-shaming and being catty about Sally Jupiter's rather scandalous superhero past. The latter issue is the one I found most interesting because, really, being a teenager with an overbearing mom is enough without that mom having been the spread-eagled subject of a Tijuana Bible.





As much as Cooke's writing succeeds in capturing some of the genuine naivete and insecurities of teenage life, it's Amanda Conner's art that really makes this book. I especially loved the little fantasy inserts of Laurie's inner-thoughts (a compliment from her crush rings wedding bells and a tift with her mother conjures hellish caricatures). There are also many mirrored images of Laurie and Sally that visually signify their co-dependent yet adversarial relationship, and also serve as references to Dave Gibbons' constantly referential and recursive artwork in Watchmen. Silk Spectre #1 carries over the snow globe symbolism in Watchmen to this book, and all of the other visual in-jokes (Sally and Laurie both checking themselves out in the mirror, both dissatisfied by what they see) are excellent touches. Perhaps the greatest of these are two panels that reference key events in Laurie's life and in the Watchmen series as a whole: after sparring with her mother, Laurie is seen in close-up with a trickle of blood spilling from her nose; after receiving a chaste kiss from A Cute Boy, Laurie imagines herself jumping for joy on the moon. Oh, if only she knew how that one turned out.


 

As an interesting footnote: of all three 'Before Watchmen' books released so far, Silk Spectre #1 is the only one to stick to Watchmen's rigorous nine-panel format (see above). Even though the story of Silk Spectre #1 is one of teen angst, infatuation and rebellion (in Connor's signature expressive, cartoony style), in terms of how the panels look on the page (and within the individual panels themselves), this is the closest the 'Before Watchmen' comes to actually looking like Watchmen.

The story proper wraps up with Laurie running away with A Cute Boy and, since this is 1966, hitchhiking with some hippies to San Francisco. This seems like a cop-out. Hippies? Please. But maybe this title will take us to some weird and unexpected places. Will everyone's favorite hashish-tripping, vision quest-taking, vegetarian, utopian fascist Adrian Veidt show up? Fingers crossed.

Comedian #1 by Brian Azzarello and J.G. Jones

Azzarello is no stranger to high-profile investigations of the psychotic mind (see: Joker), so when it was announced he'd be penning Comedian, I think everyone's reaction was kind of a collective, "Well, duh." Eddie Blake is the biggest bastard of the Watchmen universe (well, I guess that's debatable). At any rate, he is, to outward appearances, the most repugnant anti-hero, a ruthless sociopath who views the world as a sadistic joke. Fun times, kids! The Comedian made a career out of violence, working for whatever government would pay him to assassinate whatever political obstacles needed to be erased. 

It is this side of Eddie Blake--the political mercenary--that Azzarello focuses on in Comedian #1. The issue courts controversy immediately with a scene that sees a youthful Eddie playing football with Teddy and John F. Kennedy at Martha's Vineyard. Why controversy? Well, because in Watchmen it is heavily implied that The Comedian assassinated JFK (the film version goes so far as to depict it). With this in mind, Azzarello spends the entire book toying with our expectations and preconceived notions of Blake's involvement, his political convictions, and even his influence in the U.S. government. 

Blake is all about machismo, gun-toting terror and skull-crushing thuggery. He fancies himself the big man on campus, and when that illusion is shattered, The Comedian's tearful disillusionment triggers Watchmen's famous first scene: the assassination of Edward Blake. Whereas Watchmen can, in some ways, be boiled down to a 'Who killed Eddie Blake?' murder mystery, 'Before Watchmen' seems to hint at an earlier moment of The Comedian's self-doubt. 

There is a lot of cool, alternative history going on in Comedian #1 (as there should be in the Watchmen universe), but I wonder if Azzarello isn't taking things a bit too far too early. Without giving everything away, at the end of this issue, Blake finds himself a pawn in a much larger game. It stuns him and leaves him wondering 'what next?' The last five pages of the book are absolutely haunting, giving us Blake as helpless bystander; we watch him watching a horrific historical event, instead of enacting one.  Something about that passivity is deeply disturbing. I don't know if this series will offer up a more empathetic Comedian (I sincerely hope not; Blake is a grade-A son of a bitch and I'd hate to see that image softened), but it does seem to hint at a more vulnerable one. 

J.G. Jones is is the artist for this series, and though I always like to see Azzarello commune with his go-to guy Eduardo Risso, I'm glad Jones was chosen for this project. Risso's art, all deep blacks and scratchy pencils, is often a paean to aestheticized ugliness, but in delving into Eddie Blake's history, I feel like we're drudging up enough ugliness already. Jones has a clean, realistic style (his Kennedy boys are dead-ringers) that lends the book a grounding in historical reality, even while writing concocts layer upon layer of metafiction. The tension between the storytelling and the art is something I really look forward to in future issues.