Catwoman, v. 1: The Dark End of the Street

Collects: Catwoman (v. 3) #1-4, backups from Detective Comics #759-62 (2001-2)

Released: August 2002 (DC)

Format: 136 pages / color / $14.99 / ISBN: 9781563899089

What is this?: Catwoman returns from the dead to rediscover a purpose to her costumed antics — in this case, that’s investigating the murder of prostitutes.

The culprits: Writer Ed Brubaker and artist Darwyn Cooke

Today, writer Ed Brubaker and artist Darwyn Cooke would be seen as a crime comic dream team. Almost a decade ago, that pairing wouldn’t quite seem so auspicious, but readers got a peak at what the pair could do in one of DC’s most crime-centered books, Catwoman.

Catwoman, v. 1: The Dark End of the Street reprints Brubaker and Cooke’s first arc in the revived Catwoman title along with a series of backups the pair had done in Detective Comics. In Dark End, Selina Kyle / Catwoman has returned from hiding after the world thinks her dead. She has a new, sleeker, better costume, she’s in therapy, and she’s ready to figure out who she is.

I frequently assign the artist’s work secondary importance to the writer’s, but that’s not the case here: Darwyn Cooke is the book’s main attraction. His art is sleek, beautiful, and never confusing. Dark End has a slightly retro look, one that fits the image the Gotham City has had ever since Batman: The Animated Series — appropriate, since Cooke as an artist for the show. Selina looks like a woman from another time while still maintaining a modern appearance; her new costume — a nearly unbelievable improvement on the purple Jim Balent model — is a retro futuristic design, with stylish modern goggles, a catsuit that is classic while also managing to seem contemporary, and charmingly clunky buckles and zipper pull. He even manages to pull off dark, noir scenes and bright settings with equal ease.

It almost makes me want to go out and buy a copy of his adaptation of Richard Stark’s Parker: The Hunter. Almost.

The plot is thin, as most of the book focuses on Selina’s character. For the most part, Brubaker writes Selina as a standard soul-searching hero spurred into action, although he does give her a few moments of verve and wit that elevate some of the character moments. But there’s not much room for lightheartedness in Dark End; there’s a murder plot, and of course, since it involves Catwoman and was written after Batman: Year One, the victims are prostitutes. I can understand why Brubaker would choose a serial killer targeting prostitutes as part of his plot — it makes sense for the character, the tone, and a Gotham City protected by Batman and corrupt police — but it feels a bit too predictable. Brubaker and Cooke give the murdered girls a bit of personality before they’re shuffled off the stage, so at least they aren’t faceless victims.

As a casual DC reader, I have to wonder, does it matter the villain is just a throwaway despite using a more established villain’s shtick? The murderer looks like a Clayface and acts like a Clayface, but no one — not even Selina or Batman — mentions the name “Clayface.” Is that an attempt to make the storymore reader friendly for those who aren’t immersed in the DC Universe, or does it kinda look shoddy? I can’t decide; I see both points. The more pressing concern is that the villain isn’t all that impressive or interesting.

But the villain and the investigation isn’t what’s important in the story. The whole point of Dark End is to set up Catwoman’s new status quo: dealing with her past, helping those without hope, etc. I’ve had my problems with Captain Retcon in the past, but Brubaker does do a good job of working through the mess that previous creators left them. He touches lightly on what comes before, mainly to let the reader know the setup he’s presenting is new — and from the hints he lays down, what came before was pretty dire.

Brubaker also works hard to show how Catwoman fits into Gotham and the Bat-Family. She’s confiding in Dr. Leslie Thompkins — who now evidently fits psychoanalysis into her little medical clinic — and trying to fit into the rules the Dark Knight has set for her and Gotham. Not having access to Bat Computers or Oracle, Catwoman has to go through intermediaries to get her information. And since Gotham cops are as honest as Batman is lazy, there’s always room for another crimefighter to help the underclass — if Catwoman wants to fight crime and not commit them.

The backup strips at the beginning of the book are a setup for the new Catwoman; Brubaker and Cooke revive Golden Age character Slam Bradley, who is hired to look for the supposedly dead Catwoman. I remember reading strips in the original issues of Detective Comics and being entertained, but in collected form, they don’t work as well. The art and story are compressed to fit into a smaller page count, with each suffering as a result. Slam Bradley’s investigation involves getting beat up and beating up a lot of people in pointless fights until he’s given a resolution he hasn’t discovered; Cooke’s art is frequently compressed into a 3x3 grid, which gives the art a claustrophobic feel. The murky coloring doesn’t help matters either.

I went back and forth on a final evaluation of Dark End. Although I wasn’t impressed by the plot and I didn’t particularly care about what the character of Catwoman had to be rehabilitated from, I couldn’t give a book with such excellent art and a competent plot a dead middle-of-the-road score. So I have to recommend Dark End, but keep in mind the recommendation is mostly for Darwyn Cooke’s art.

Rating: (3.5 of 5)

Essential Dr. Strange, v. 4

Collects: Dr. Strange (v. 2) #30-56 (1978-82)

Released: June 2009 (Marvel)

Format: 584 pages / black and white / $19.99 / ISBN: 9780785130628

What is this?: Dr. Strange battles foes old and new and deals with Clea actually getting a personality

The culprits: Writers Roger Stern, Chris Claremont, and others; artists Gene Colan, Marshall Rogers, and others

I expected to be underwhelmed by Essential Doctor Strange, v. 4. I usually am underwhelmed by Dr. Strange stories, despite being a fan of the character. I think most Marvel fans are underwhelmed by Strange; it’s why everyone thinks a Dr. Strange series is a good idea but no one buys them .

But v. 4 surprised me, after a rough start. The book certainly has the pedigree to succeed; Roger Stern, who was at his peak with early ‘80s Marvel, writes most of the book, while Chris Claremont writes eight stories (#38-45) and the included Man-Thing story. Stern feels like the better fit. He’s remembered for writing Spider-Man, who’s a solo hero, like Strange. Claremont is known for his legendary X-Men run, which doesn’t seem to have much in common with Dr. Strange at all. But it’s Claremont, who wrote #38-45, who really gets things going in v. 4.

It’s through a typical Claremontian concern for female characters. Under Claremont’s pen, Clea, Strange’s lover and disciple, realizes she has learned somewhere between jack and squat from Strange, despite being raised in a more magical dimension. She draws the wrong conclusion from this — that she’s a bad student, rather than Strange being an indifferent-to-incompetent teacher — but at least it breaks the status quo and gives us a reason for Clea’s relative insignificance in magical battles. Claremont also develops Wong a little — well, mainly his forebears, but it’s something.

Claremont also introduces new magical enemies who look like Native Americans and gives Strange a business manager, Sara Wolfe, who’s both a woman AND a Native American. This reminds us that even when Claremont was at the height of his powers, not all his ideas were winners.

Stern gets the beginning (#30-7) and end (#47-56) of the book. His first run is a running battle between Strange and the Dweller in Darkness’s goons, and Strange never does figure out who is behind his assailants. The story ends abruptly, with the Dweller making a unilateral declaration of a nebulous, non-physical victory, as Stern leaves. His exit was probably the reason for the sudden stop — Stern had already switched to plotter (Ralph Macchio scripts) with #33 — but frankly, it had become dull even before then. Stern’s exit was a mercy killing. The only interesting bit is Stern reusing a character from a minor story from an issue of Chamber of Chills, but even that was done haphazardly.

When Stern returns, though, he picks up with Claremont’s disaffected Clea (and drops almost everything else). He introduces a romantic rival for Clea, which finally gives movement to Strange’s static personal life. He also brings back Mordo, one of the go-to villains for strange. Really, Mordo’s just there for credibility; the magician could have been anyone. But Mordo (and eventually Dormammu) lead Strange back through time on a great series of stories (#50-3) that brings in Sgt. Fury and his commandos, Nazis, the Fantastic Four, and Rama-Tut and ends with Clea leaving Strange. Another story has D’Spayre trying to convince Strange he’s a fictional character, even introducing him to Stan Lee and Steve Ditko analogues. In the final issue, Strange plays with former minions of Mordo who thought they were being clever. It’s a strong finish to the book, and it makes me eager for v. 5.

On the other hand, having such expectations of consistent quality is a recipe for disappointment. On the other other hand, the Unofficial Handbook of the Marvel Universe says the next 20 or so issues are Stern teamed up with artists Paul Smith (who did a great job on #54 and 56) and Dan Green with a few others.

Adding even more to the plus side, Stern also has Strange and Clea engage in a rather suggestive “tantric exercise,” which Clea describes as “wonderful” and one she wants to try “more often.” So points to Stern for that. On the other hand, Stern kills a cat. So no perfect score for him either.

The pencils are primarily from Gene Colan and Marshall Rogers. Both are excellent choices. Few artists in Marvel’s stable did shadowy and spooky like Colan, who excelled at it on Tomb of Dracula and Daredevil. (To be fair, Marvel’s bright spandex world didn’t need it so often.) But he does an excellent job here (#36-45, 47), atmospheric and moody and occasionally frightening. His Strange frequently looks a bit too much like his Dracula for my tastes, but they don’t cross over so there’s no confusion, and they’re both imposing, handsome figures, so that’s OK. He uses darkness effectively, so that the reader always suspects something horrible is about to come from the shadows. That expectation is frequently greater than any actual horror inspired by the creatures on the page, but I blame that on the rather plain demons and adversaries Stern and Claremont give him. The black-and-white reproduction doesn’t help him either; with no color to help the shading, his work occasionally looks blotchy.

I am shocked that I enjoy Rogers’s pencils, given how unimpressed I was with his work in Batman: Strange Apparitions. His run (#48-53) is shorter than Colan’s, which is a shame. His style is completely different than Colan’s; while Colan eschews clear lines and his characters look like they can find shadow in a desert at noon, Rogers’s work is clear and bright, even in black and white. His art looks more modern than his contemporaries’, and some of the panels in this look like something that could have been created in the ‘90s, except Marshall has a command of anatomy and exaggerates physical attributes only slightly. Rogers’s Mordo is impressive, full of menace. His work in #53, in which Strange breaks down after Clea announces she’s leaving, is heartbreaking.

I didn’t expect to enjoy Essential Dr. Strange, v. 4. After the first ten issues, I really didn’t, despite the beginning of Colan’s run. But the story grew on me, and the art, more than the writing, won me over. By the end, though, Stern was putting together an impressive run, and I’m looking forward to finding out if he continued it.

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