Elektra #4

To pick up where we left off in yesterday's post, which was October 1982, I was walking home down Telegraph Avenue one sunny afternoon (it might have even been the same day that I sat near Ron Rivera and heard him sing "Should I Stay or Should I Go") when I stopped at 7/11 and perused the comic-book rack. The title I picked up was Daredevil by Frank Miller.

It sort of blew me away. I had stopped reading comic books in high school, a period of time which coincided with the controversial ascent of Jim Shooter as Editor-in-Chief at Marvel. To me Marvel comic books had become flat, shiny, corporate, reflecting the swing to the Right that was underway in the country as Reaganism locked in. (Briefly, during the summer between my junior and senior year in high school I collected Moon Knight. I was not drawn to the title because of its creative potency; rather, as a onetime avid reader of Werewolf By Night, I was intrigued that a villain from its pages would get his own comic book.)

What was stunning about the Daredevil that I held in my hands that sunny afternoon in a 7/11 on Telegraph was how alive and edgy and real it seemed to me, the complete opposite of the cereal box splashiness that had taken hold since the Bicentennial.

Finally, the woman manning the register ran me off by saying, "Excuse me. This is not a library."

One of the hallmarks of Frank Miller's historic run on Daredevil (#158, May 1979 to #191, February 1983) is the introduction of the character Elektra, a female ninja. Her death, hoisted on her own sai, at the hand's of Daredevil villain Bullseye is one of those key Marvel moments in the collective consciousness of its readership.

Since Elektra appeared after I had stopped reading comic books, I am not fully briefed on her backstory. She strikes me as a female version of The Punisher: a baleful, slightly unhinged assassin; or, a darker Black Widow, one without the security clearance or national security state credentials.

Last Saturday I finished the first five issues of the All-New Marvel NOW! Elektra. It was a real treat. The story by W. Haden Blackman of Elektra on the trail of super-assassin Cape Crow who happens to be hunted by a bevy of other super-assassins, one of whom is the psychopath serial killer cannibal Bloody Lips, is economical and compelling, like a classic Doc Savage pulp serial.

The art of Michael Del Mundo is a revelation, a comic book Gustav Klimt. To see what I mean, check out the scans below from Elektra #4. Elektra and Bloody Lips battle underwater while tripping out because unbeknownst to them a precog empath is fiddling with their minds:

Iron Patriot #2

Marvel has a slew of new titles, nearly all of which are impressive. They are being published under the heading "All-New Marvel NOW!" These are tremendous, fresh comic books. The new titles include, to name a few, Charles Soule's She-Hulk, The Punisher by Nathan Edmondson and Mitch Gerads and the gorgeous, stunning Iron Fist: The Living Weapon by Kaare Andrews.

Another standout is Iron Patriot, Marvel's reclamation of the baleful Norman Osborn superhero persona from the Dark Reign cycle (which, if you ask me, is the high point for Marvel of the last six years, an appropriate cap to the Civil War and Secret Invasion crossover events). James Rhodes, a.k.a., Rhodey, Tony Stark's Friday, dons the Iron Patriot armor at the behest of S.H.I.E.L.D.

I have never followed a title that Rhodey appeared in other as a cut-out character, part of a larger super-group. James Rhodes was introduced after I had for the most part given up on reading comic books. He is a manifestation of the late Bronze Age, and one of the defining achievements for Marvel at the time -- his association with Iron Man while Tony Stark struggled with alcoholism, I mean -- along with Frank Miller's rejuvenation of the Daredevil title. Rhodey is most commonly known as War Machine, a more military-oriented Iron Man; he is now played by Don Cheadle in the movies, though I much preferred Terrence Howard in the role.

In any event, Iron Patriot is ably written by the energetic Ales Kot, whose work on Secret Avengers I was impressed with. But the real eye-opener of Iron Patriot is Garry Brown's art and Jim Charalampidis's colors. Below you will find ten scans from Iron Patriot #2. To me, this is fine art. It reminds us of the lesson that art is supposed to impart: "You are free."

Freedom is not a political construct. Freedom is in the mind. Or, put another way, "Prison's in your mind ... Can't you see I'm free?" That's from Charles Manson's statement to the court during the Tate-LaBianca murder trial. Art reminds, or should remind, must aspire to this reminiscence of primordial freedom. In order for civilization to remain vital, to avoid stasis, there must be art. Comic books provide visual art on a mass scale better than any other medium. That is what I am saying.