Superman/Wonder Woman #10 – Review

By: Charles Soule (story), Pascal Alixe (art), Paulo Siqueira (pencils), Hi-Fi (colors)

The Story: Lois always did want to conquer the world.

The Review: A shared universe can be a headache in more ways than one. Every single time a major crisis happens in a single title, there’s this mental effort you have to make to keep from wondering why no other hero in the universe notices. This is especially the case when the hero or heroes in question don’t seem to be handling the situation particularly well. What? Everyone else is so busy handling their own problems that they can’t be bothered?

That’s what’s so puzzling about this whole Doomed storyline. Superman’s been turned into a killing machine, an entire metropolis has fallen unconscious, so why is the League and every other A-list hero not on deck, especially since Superman isn’t there? Why does it suddenly seem like the world has no other resource except Wonder Woman, Steel, and Lana Lang? This is a difficult logistical problem to ignore, but Soule clearly would prefer that you don’t think about it at all.

Action Comics #32 – Review

By: Greg Pak (story), Scott Kolins (art), Wil Quintana (colors)

The Story: Superman finds it hard to save others when he can’t save himself.

The Review: Now that Doomed has entered its second phase (“Enemy of the State”), I think it’s say that the arc is living up to all my worst fears about a Doomsday storyline, i.e., there really isn’t that much story to tell. Doomsday is a mindless killer, and it isn’t any less so in the form of Superman. In that kind of scenario, there’s really only one way for the plot to go: unbridled panic from the world at large, not unlike the chaos unleashed from a Godzilla attack or alien invasion.

As if a hybrid Superman-Doomsday isn’t perilous enough, this issue confirms that his very presence is murderous, setting trees ablaze and killing off “millions of living things…insects, protozoa, microbes,” turning Superman into a walking plague on top of everything else. Thus the story cycles through the same three beats over and over: Superman’s horror of himself, everyone else’s horror at what he’s becoming, and the competing loyalty from his most diehard supporters. The reactions are quite natural, but terribly monotonous; as in any disaster story, they serve only to kill time until the disaster inevitably escalates once more.

Action Comics #8 – Review

By: Grant Morrison (writer), Rags Morales, Brad Walker, Rick Bryant, Bob McLeod (artists), Brad Anderson & David Curiel (colorists)

The Story: Watch out, Brainiac—Superman’s gonna blow your mind.

The Review: Back in 2006, NBC premiered two new shows, both premised on the backstage activities of a sketch-comedy show.  One was Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, a powerhouse production created and written by the great Aaron Sorkin, with veterans of both big and small screen, Matthew Perry and Bradley Whitford, starring.  The other was 30 Rock, a frugal sitcom led by Alec Baldwin and SNL’s former Weekend Update co-anchor, Tina Fey.

I bring this up to illustrate the fact that you can never predict what creative projects will work out in the end.  Suffice to say, no one would’ve expected Studio 60 to get canned within a year, while 30 Rock years later (and still running—I won’t say “strong”) would bring on Sorkin as a guest to mock him for his costly failure.  It just goes to show that A-list producers and ideas don’t always translate to quality material.

Back in the comics world, we’ve seen this semi-paradoxical situation in Justice League, which, despite its tremendous sales numbers, will likely go down in history as a largely mediocre affair.  Lately, I’ve come to find a similar problem with this series.  You would think pairing Grant Morrision and Superman, with Rags Morales on art, would be a shoo-in for a sure win.  Yet somehow, for whatever reason, the talent hasn’t gelled with the story as much as anyone imagined, and the disappointment is all the greater since your expectations were so high.

Not to imply the story has been terrible, exactly—more like we’re getting just your garden-variety Superman origin story with some snazzy dialogue and a T-shirt thrown in.  Speaking of which, Morrison’s rapidfire style of speech has gotten a bit out of control.  Between Glenmorgan’s pill-laden breakdown (“It’s like one of those films where—those horrible films—they’re trapped in hell and the bartender is the devil…”) and Corben’s rage-induced malfunctions (“I read what she wrote about you.  About your eyes!  Search: ‘Faster than a speeding bullet!’  That’s Metropolis’ latest wonder of tomorrow…”), it gets a bit wearisome to read at times.