Welcome to the opening round of the Longbox Graveyard March Madness Supervillain Tournament of Evil!
Last week we asked you to select one villain from a cast of thousands to join our contest as the #16 seed. After a bloody, seven-day struggle that saw hundreds of votes cast … THANOS emerged the winner, narrowly defeating Ultron. For his prize, Thanos draws an opening round match-up with top seed Magneto!
celebrate while you can, Thanos …!
Here are the top ten results of our “play-in” game …
But enough with the preliminaries — it is time for the full tournament to begin!
You are to vote for ONE bad guy in each match-up below. The terms of the vote are deliberately vague. Are you voting for your favorite villain? The villain who would win in a fight? Maybe the villain that has made the greatest mark on comics? It’s up to you … vote based on the color of their costumes if you like, just so long as you vote!
Here’s the full field for the MARCH MADNESS SUPERVILLAIN TOURNAMENT OF EVIL!
This opening round will last about a week … now get voting!
ONLY THE MOST INFAMOUS WILL SURVIVE!
#1 MAGNETO vs. #16 THANOS
The most deadly 16-seed in history!
#8 LOKI vs. #9 DARK PHOENIX
Old Gods vs. New!
#4 LEX LUTHOR vs. #13 GREEN GOBLIN
#5 GALACTUS vs. #12 TWO-FACE
The Face Of Injustice vs. The Face Of Fate!
#2 JOKER vs. #15 SINESTRO
#7 RA’S AL GHUL vs. #10 KINGPIN
Mob Boss Match-Up!
#3 DOCTOR DOOM vs. #14 RED SKULL
Super-Villain Team-Up … gone wrong!
#6 DARKSEID vs. #11 CATWOMAN
Fighting Like Cats And Gods!
The deadline for voting is a deliberately vague hour on Sunday, March 27th (basically whenever I can be bothered to write up the next blog!). So vote early, and vote often — and tell your friends!
(And sound off about your vote in the comments section, below!)
My reading isn’t confined to funnybooks. I also read regular books … about funnybooks! In the past I’ve confined my Longbox Graveyard reviews to comic books, but setting up the bookshelf in my Secret Headquarters reminded me that I have several comics-related tomes that I’d never read.
These are all “coffee table books,” and I haven’t afforded them the depth of review I offered books like Supergods or Marvel Comics: The Untold Story, but they will still be of interest to genre fans. So, without further ado (and inspired by the book reviews at Professor Allen’s Eyes & Ears blog — thanks Prof!), here are capsule reviews of three books of interest to comics fans that I found on the … Longbox Bookshelf!
Conan the Phenomenon by Paul M. Sammon, Dark Horse Books, 2007.
Hurriedly written, and by the author’s own admission less a detailed account of Conan than a “detailed outline,” Conan the Phenomenon is nonetheless a handsome volume recounting Conan’s appearance in film, print, comics, and other media through the book’s date of publication in 2007. Author Paul M. Sammon is a Robert E. Howard geek who enjoyed the Conan series as a youth and was involved as a journalist in the making of the Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. The chapters on the film, Marvel Comics, and (especially) literary Conan eras are strong, and particular attention is paid to the tortured path the Conan franchise has taken as it passed through many hands (and many lawsuits). Sammon considers the L. Sprague deCamp pastiches (and dismisses them) as well as the early Marvel Comics (and approves of them), and also offers a survey of more modern and obscure appearances by the Barbarian in television, animation, video games, and role playing games. The Dark Horse comics reboot also receives attention. While not a deep dive into scholarly criticism of Robert E. Howard or Conan, Sammon’s book offers more than enough details and information for casual fans (and even devoted Hyborians such as myself). As only the failed 2011 Conan movie is omitted (as it was not yet announced at time of the book’s publication), this volume may be considered comprehensive.
I most enjoyed the first chapters looking at Robert E. Howard’s life, as a young man out-of-step with his remote and conservative Texas town, and smiled when I saw photos of Howard and his friends posing for the camera like their blood and thunder pulp heroes. Sammon makes a case that the prevailing theory of Howard’s suicide — that he could not bear to live without his mother — might be too pat, instead suggesting that Howard may have long contemplated his own death, and felt he could permit himself to die once his mother no longer needed him to care for her. Perhaps most useful are the Robert E. Howard bibliographical pieces scattered through the book, cataloguing the various print editions of Howard’s work (including comics). Nicely illustrated, with a cover from Frank Frazetta, Conan The Phenomenon will make a fine coffee table book for any self-respecting barbarian, and the insightful foreword by British fantasist Michael Moorcock — advancing the case that Conan is a quintessential American hero — adds a touch of class.
Wonder Woman The Complete History by Les Daniels, Chronicle Books, 2000.
I don’t know a lot about Wonder Woman. I snubbed her in my Top Ten List of DC Heroes, and I confess the closest attachment I’ve formed to the character came through her television series theme song. Les Daniels’ picture-book history of Wonder Woman filled gaps in my knowledge, and reinforced my decision to not read Wonder Woman’s comics, as sorting through her tortured print history is definitely above my pay grade. Daniels devotes most of his text to Wonder Woman’s comic book incarnations, covering the memorable Lynda Carter television series out of respect for its ubiquity, but also to demonstrate how that show helped crystalize the interpretation of a comic book character that was still unsettled four decades after first publication. That the television show had such an outsized impact (it aired for only three seasons, and switched networks after being cancelled after its debut season on ABC) also speaks to Wonder Woman’s iconic status, and the fact that her most ardent fans and defenders sometimes didn’t read comics at all (including Gloria Steinem, who appropriated the character as the mascot for her Ms. magazine in 1972).
Daniels does his best to disentangle Wonder Woman’s comic book heritage, spending substantial print on the character’s Golden and Silver Age incarnations (as well as then-more recent interpretations by George Perez and John Byrne), but the book’s most memorable character is Wonder Woman’s creator, Dr. William Moulton Marston. A strange combination of science and snake oil, Dr. Marston was a Harvard-trained psychologist with a law degree and a Ph.D; he also had an obsession with bondage fantasies (on display in seemingly every issue of Golden Age Wonder Woman), and through Wonder Woman’s comic book adventures hoped to demonstrate a utopian vision of a world rendered peaceful through the benevolent sexual domination of men by an enlightened female ruling class. A fascinating cat, our Dr. Marston, made only moreso by his invention of lie detection technology and national celebrity in places like the pages of Look magazine, which ran a photo spread showing Dr. Marston strapping lovely young women into lie detecting machines and then measuring their response to being kissed. There needs to be a screenplay about this guy right now … and you need to have this book in your library (if you can find it) for this and other tidbits, as well as lavish illustration including moments from key issues of Wonder Woman’s past; funky toys, dolls, and other merchandise (Wonder Woman macaroni and cheese!); and a couple publicity photos of the stunning Lynda Carter, who remains the definitive popular conception of the character, almost four decades after she first donned Wonder Woman’s red, white, and blues.
The Joker by Daniel Wallace, Universe Publishing, 2011
The most cursory work of the three books reviewed in this column, Daniel Wallace’s text for The Joker is little more than liner notes for the book’s copious illustration, but the author makes the most of his column inches with a near-total laser focus on the comic book incarnations of Batman’s arch-nemesis. Video games and toys earn passing mention, and the film appearances of the Joker just a page or two, in a book otherwise devoted to the four-color appearances of the Joker (excepting only a chapter or so for the Joker’s animated appearances; after all, the book’s introduction is by Mark Hamill, the voice of the animated Joker).
Wallace offers a survey of the Joker’s various eras, from his homicidal, mad clown introduction in the pages of Batman #1, through his campy Silver Age era, to his reinvention with the rest of the Batman mythos in the late 1970s and 80s, and his more nuanced persona of recent years. Spotlight sections call out the work of key Batman creators like Bill Finger, Frank Miller, Paul Dini, Bruce Timm, and others, and there is some examination of the origins and psychological roots of the character, but for the most part, you will thumb this book for the art, which is drawn from all eras, with clear and frequently oversized reproductions.
I particularly enjoyed the big Dick Sprang page showing the Joker digging sand castles on the beach while an incredulous Batman and Robin look on, while glimpses of the Neal Adams/Denny O’Neal version of the character reminded me I need to revisit their run sometime soon. The chapter on Harley Quinn, tracing her evolution from animated character to comic book mainstay, was also especially welcome. You’ll read it in a single sitting but will likely return to the art time and again — this title seems a good candidate for the remaindered aisle at your local Barnes & Noble, and would be well worth your deep discount purchase!
NEXT WEDNESDAY: #109 Spider-Man’s Bottom Ten Bronze Age Bums
A trilogy of titanic mini-reviews in this week’s Longbox Shortbox!
#469-479, May 1977-October 1978
Batman is one of the most malleable characters in comics. The Christopher Nolan interpretation dominates the contemporary imagination, but Batman began as a grim, murderous pulp character, and served time as a whacky Silver Age science hero and as a sometimes cartoonish gothic screen vigilante before morphing into the current Dark Knight that audiences know and love.
While the flashpoint for Batman’s current incarnation was clearly Frank Miller’s seminal 1986 series Batman: The Dark Knight, the transformation from “Batman” to “The Batman” arguably started a decade earlier in this late-1970s run in Batman’s companion comic, Detective. This is a stylish series of Bat tales from several creators, including Len Wein and Walter Simonson, but the most lasting impression was formed by the team of Steve Englehart and Marshall Rogers, knocking over the first domino leading to the Batman of today.
Like many successful writers, Steve Englehart doesn’t shy away from claiming credit where it is due. Over on Englehart’s page you can read about how he feels this series reinvented Batman for modern audiences, shedding the image of the Biff-Bam Adam West/TV era and leading the charater into the Dark Knight era, later popularized by Tim Burton’s Batman (which Englehart notes is based on his run). I’m not enough of a Batman scholar to verify these claims, but reading these books in the late 1970s, they felt like a breath of fresh, gritty Gotham air.
Marshall Rogers’ pencils are thin, tight, and detailed, with a solid sense of draftsmanship that made the cars and buildings of Gotham City seem real. In an era where Marvel and DC really cranked them out, the work of detail-oriented artists like Rogers and George Perez popped off the page.
The look of the series is more modern than Englehart’s scripting, which on review seem more rooted in tradition than that author would allow. His Penguin story, in particular — with it’s museum exhibit robbery and wordplay clues left by the villain — feels very much a Silver Age story. But there are also emerging elements of the a more grim and gritty Batman, who runs afoul of Professor Hugo Strange, sending Batman on a bad trip and compromising his identity as Bruce Wayne.
The series is also notable for Bruce’s adult relationship with Silver St. Cloud, who intelligently recognizes Bruce beneath Batman’s cowl the first time she sees Batman in the wild.
It is the Joker story that is best remembered from this run — and the imagery is vibrant, with Joker-faced fishes showing up as the herald of the Joker’s crazy plan, and the Joker himself deftly cast as a deranged, murderous lunatic obsessed with his impossible, insane crusade to secure royalties on every fish in the sea (!).
But despite Englehart’s superior work, it was the two-part Clayface story by Len Wein and Marshall Rogers that most stuck with me when re-reading this series, with Clayface cast as a victim more than a villain, hiding like the Phantom of the Opera in an abandoned wax museum, and confessing his longing to a wax dummy. The fire at the end of the tale was an inevitable cliche, but it was a tragic turn and I still felt for poor Clayface.
This run of Detective presents stories that are solid and worth experiencing in their own right, whatever you may think of Englehart’s claims to framing the modern milieu of Batman. Rogers’ pencils are still a delight and the Joker story ranks among the best in breed.
Read The Reprints: Shadow of the Batman.
#1-15, January 1977-November 1978
Jack Kirby originally brought us the Black Panther in issue #52 of Fantastic Four, and this was one of the characters where he was handed the keys upon his return to Marvel in 1976. If you’re looking for the wordy and introspective Black Panther of Don McGregor’s Jungle Action, or the noble and intriguing supporting character from the Roy Thomas’ Avengers run, then look elsewhere. Kirby’s Black Panther is a costumed adventurer caught up in cosmic happenings from page one of this short-lived series, as wonderfully out-of-step with the rest of Marvel’s line as was Kirby’s equivalently bizarre Bicentennial run on Captain America.
Kirby’s later work is an acquired taste — and it is a taste that took me decades to acquire. Reading his books in the 1970s, I was attracted to the energy, and the action, and the familiar heroes, but put off by stories that didn’t follow the usual rules and certainly didn’t seem to reside in the same Marvel Universe as the other books of the time. This Black Panther run is no different — from the first page, we are through the looking glass, as the Panther and the comical “Mr. Little” encounter a victim of “The Brass Frog,” a time-travel device much esteemed by a mysterious society of collectors with which the Panther has somehow come to be involved.
I think that by this time of his career, Kirby was bored with drawing the usual superhero fist operas, and he pretty much abandons the formula here — his Panther is more a witness to events, rather than a protagonist, and the world unravels around him in sort order. Before two issues are through we’ve seen a grim vision of man’s future and had a punch-out with a psychic slayer from the 66th century. It all barely makes sense but many pages swarm with Kirby dots and I personally find it irresistible.
Kirby’s run lasts twelve issues on the book (which would be cancelled after issue #15), and splits into two story arcs — the Panther and fortune-hunters seeking treasures of the past, and a Wakandan civil crisis brought about when T’Challa’s half-brother suffers a demonic transformation from Vibranium exposure. I found the treasure-hunting story more engaging, with an Indiana Jones-meets-Erich von Däniken vibe (about which more below). The civil war series has its moments, but spends too much time with the well-intentioned but embarrassing-in-retrospect “Black Musketeers” characters that Kirby created to flesh out the Wakandan royal family.
yes, this happened
This is not the Panther’s finest hour — mostly he reacts to events, rather than driving things forward, but he’s kept plenty busy smacking the robots, samurais, aliens, and tomb guardians let loose by his “Collector” companions, Mr. Little and Princess Zanda. As co-creator of the character, Kirby is due his idiosyncratic take on T’Challa, even if it conflicts with every impression of the character we formed before or since. There’s magic here if you don’t take things too seriously, and for all that the stories are bizarre, the King gives it his all.
LBG Letter Grade For This Run: C-Plus
Read The First Issue Online: Mars Will Send No More
Read The Reprints: Jack Kirby’s Black Panther
#1-19, July 1976-January 1978
If Kirby’s Black Panther dabbled in the cosmic, Jack Kirby’s original 1970s Marvel series, The Eternals, dove right into a cosmic Bermuda Triangle, leveraging the mid-70s fascination with ancient astronauts to spin a tale of space gods, demi-gods, mutants, and humans thrown together in a crucible of prophecies and end times. Even more clearly influenced by von Däniken’s Chariots of the Gods than was his contemporary work on Black Panther, Eternals is a masterclass in world building from an artist who had for decades made his bones by capturing the cosmic with pencil and paper.
Judging by the pace of the story, Kirby must have intended this tale to run a hundred issues or more. Unfortunately, the series was cancelled after a scant nineteen issues, leaving behind scattered artifacts and clues as inscrutable as Kirby’s space gods themselves. Mostly what we get is Kirby deploying his chess pieces — but what pieces they were! Kirby set out to tell a big story here, and even the generous full and double-page panels he uses in this series aren’t big enough to contain his vision.
The series revolves around the Celestials — ancient, gigantic space gods who mysteriously return to earth to judge the human race. It was the Celestials who were responsible for life on earth, mutating primitive life forms to give birth to earth’s three races — we humans, the now-revealed demi-god Eternals, and the demonic Deviants.
In many ways this series feels like an extension of Kirby’s work on DC’s New Gods. It is less overtly superheroic and gonzo than that earlier series (no escape artists or Jimmy Olsens here!), and is maybe a bit less fun, but the concepts are stronger for all that the series lacks memorable characters. Kirby contents himself with Eternals that are paradigms for mythic heroes like Mercury or Icarus, and for his bad guys co-opts ancient Lemuria. His human characters exist only as viewpoint characters for the cosmic goings on initiated by the return of the space gods to earth. None of the characters really resonate — it’s as if Kirby was too intrigued with his cosmic canvas to do more than rough in the characters on his stage — and the series suffers for it.
The book is at its best when he concentrates on the enigmatic Celestials, and the human reaction to the “Fourth Host” in their midst. For me the series high point is when the Soviets set out to nuke a space god, with predictable results.
We’ll never know where the series might have gone if Kirby had a full run of issues to explore his concepts. Later writers would bring the Eternals more firmly into the mainstream Marvel Universe, but for such a personal work as Eternals, those books are at best non-canonical, and at worst another example of the commercial exploitation of Jack Kirby’s world-building genius. I prefer to think that the world of the Eternals is still out there someplace, balanced on a knife-edge as Kirby was forced to leave it, with Arishem’s thumb hovering between earth’s salvation and condemnation.
Read The Reprints: The Eternals Omnibus
That brings us to the end of another Longbox Shortbox! Thanks for reading, and please give me your reactions in the comments section below. And for more Jack Kirby goodness, please check out my review of the first Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. story over in my Dollar Box column debuting today at StashMyComics.com!
NEXT WEDNESDAY: #52 Longbox Soapbox — Our One Year Anniversary!