Omega the Unknown

Collects: Omega the Unknown v. 2 #1-10 (2008)

Released: September 2008 (Marvel)

Format: 256 pages / color / $29.99 / ISBN: 9780785130529

What is this?: A remake of the ‘70s series, complete with the same mysterious robot-fighting alien, orphan boy raised by robots, and weird images.
The culprits: Writers Jonathan Lethem and Karl Rusnak and artist Farel Dalrymple

I have no idea what to make of Omega the Unknown. I really don’t.

The original Omega the Unknown from the ‘70s lasted for ten issues. The concept was co-created by Steve Gerber, and Gerber in the ‘70s was one of the more manic and impressive idea men comics had to offer. Really, when it came to creativity, Gerber picked up where Jack Kirby left off. Both men, when they were at their peak, were wildly inventive; unfortunately for Gerber, his ideas never caught on the way Kirby’s did.

Howard the Duck is of course Gerber’s most famous creation, but Omega is probably (a distant) second to Howard and his supporting cast. Omega is known for being a riddle, a series with a lot of intriguing mysteries and clues but no resolution; the story was completed by another writer in the pages of the Defenders, and man, I don’t know any more disappointing way for a story to fizzle out. In short, there was a mute alien who fought crime on earth while wearing an omega-shaped headband and firing blasts that left omega-shaped scars on his hands; he had some undefined connection to a young boy, also able to fire blasts from his hands, who had been homeschooled by his robot parents until they died while taking him to live in the city. Looking back on my review of the original series, Gerber and co-writer Mary Skrenes (and artist Jim Mooney) created a series that combined Gerber’s stark, bleak worldview with the Marvel Universe. Jonathan Lethem, writer of the newer Omega, says in an afterword that Gerber’s Omega was a “metatextual self-deconstruction of the super-hero genre,” a sort of precursor to Watchmen. Perhaps so, but the Marvel Universe intrusions shot the effect Gerber was aiming for to hell and gone.

In Lethem and co-writer Karl Rusnak’s Omega, the story begins much the same; Lethem admits to “slavishly” following some elements of the first issue, such as the scene with the young protagonist (renamed “Alex”) talking to the head of his robot mother after the car crash. In fact, other than substituting a corrupt, publicity-seeking “hero” called the Mink for the Marvel Universe trappings, the first three or so issues don’t significantly change Gerber and Skrenes’s story. When things start deviating from the 30-year-old tale, it’s to make Omega into a story about villainous nanotechnology vs. dysfunctional heroes. It’s hard to see how Omega and Alex are supposed to stop this robotic conspiracy, although of course they are successful. They just don’t seem to put in as much work on it as the villains do.

Omega distinguishes itself from its predecessor by its odd touches: the amputated hand that grows legs and becomes human sized, sneaking around the city; Omega’s gustatory predilection for birds, be they chickens or eagles; the Mink’s entire persona, corrupt and cowardly and vainglorious and amoral; Verth the Overthinker, a cut-rate Watcher. There are dozens of these ideas, and most of them deserve better than serving as ornaments for a rehash of an interesting but terrifically flawed Bronze Age series. They could have been intriguing parts of a new series. Instead, they’re bolted onto a remake that is part ‘70s Gerber, part 21st century Lethem. They’re both modernist takes on superheroics, but they’re miles apart on the details, and when the stories are put together like this, it’s like watching a half Ford Taurus, half Mercedes M class drive down the road. Both are popular cars, but no one wants a Forcedes Maurus.

The modern Omega is a better story because it is allowed to be its own story; it doesn’t have cameos by the Hulk or Electro, and it won’t be finished up years later in the Defenders by another writer. That said, what made the original Omega an interesting — and occasionally maddeningly fascinating — story was the newness and originality of the ideas. Remaking Omega to give coherence to the entire story is like unto remaking the TV series Lost just because you didn’t like the last two seasons. It’s not like the new Omega gives all the answers either: neither Alex’s robotic parents nor Omega’s power outages are ever explained, and Omega gives his origin in a wordless, crudely drawn comic that leaves considerable latitude for interpretation. The story is left open at the end as well; whereas the original Omegas, young and old, were killed in the Defenders, this story ends with them out of the conflict, while the nano-robots haven’t stopped. The struggle continues, with the heroes seemingly disinterested or unable to help humanity.

Art comes from Farel Dalrymple, whose style is more indy than Marvel or DC. Dalrymple eschews the slick look of modern comics (or even Silver or Bronze Age comics) art for a sketchy style that homes in on the necessary details. Despite the art’s lack of polish, Dalrymple is a better storyteller than most, and he does a better job with facial expressions than many artists who will be considered for Amazing Spider-Man or Superman. He shows some range, too: the crude comic Omega draws to show his own origin is a different style than the Silver-Agey Mink comic Omega is forced to read or the rest of the book.

Should you read this? I really don’t know. I think most comics readers should read an Omega story, and I feel bad recommending Gerber and Skrenes’s messy, discombobulated, all-mystery-and-no-resulution Omega to Lethem and Rusnak’s streamlined and coherent Omega. But creation is a messy process, and with all its flaws, the original is still a more remarkable accomplishment.

Rating: (2.5 of 5)

Incredible Hercules, v. 1: Against the World

Collects: Incredible Hulk #112, Incredible Hercules #113-5, and Hulk vs. Hercules: When Titans Collide (2008)

Released: September 2008 (Marvel)

Format: 136 pages / color / $14.99 / ISBN: 9780785125334

What is this?: After helping Hulk during World War Hulk, Hercules and his genius sidekick Amadeus Cho go on the lam from Ares and SHIELD.

The culprits: Writers Greg Pak and Fred van Lente and penciler Khoi Pham

Incredible Hercules is an Internet darling — the kind that reviewers love, but comic book buyers do not. A large measure of credit has to go to the co-writers: Greg Pak and Fred van Lente also pop up in very positive reviews for their work other than Hercules. I myself certainly enjoyed Pak’s Planet Hulk, a sweeping, emotional comic-book epic about the Hulk as a gladiator. I had mixed feelings about the only non-Herc work I’d seen from van Lente, Super-Villain Team-Up: MODOK’s 11, but I have not read his most praised work on Marvel’s all-ages lines.

Although I was unimpressed by the first TPB in this series starring Hercules, Incredible Hercules: World War Hulk, I gave it a pass because it was part of a massive crossover and because van Lente wasn’t involved. I figured Incredible Hercules, v. 1: Against the World was the book I should base my opinion of the series on.

The good news is there is nothing about Against the World that is as forgettable or regrettable as World War Hulk. Pak and van Lente make Hercules and his sidekick Amadeus Cho into memorable and fun characters. There is a lightness to their dialogue and interaction occasionally cut by the darkness of the characters, giving them some depth. Hercules’s history, both classical and Marvel, are mined to help the story along; Wonder Man and Black Widow get a few good lines as well. And the villain, Ares, got the only laugh-out-loud lines in the book, ranting at and doggedly pursuing Hercules and his sidekick (but mainly Hercules).

Despite the humor, despite the somewhat standard superheroics, Against the World is more morally complicated that standard superhero fare. (Especially if you take it for granted that Iron Man in Civil War was a cryptofascist trampling on basic American rights.) Hercules is a Greek god who doesn’t share exactly the same ethos as modern Americans — or at least he didn’t when he was in the business of myth making. He is, as Ares calls him, the god of bad decisions. He drinks, he sleeps around, and he has a proclivity to rampage blindly. He makes a poor role model, to say the least; if there is a more competent hero to play watchdog, then he can at least be aimed in the right direction. But Herc’s sidekick is Amadeus Cho, the seventh-smartest person on the planet and a teenager. Frequently he’s too smart for his own good, blind to his own irrationalities, such as his unstinting admiration for the Hulk and Hercules and his own vengeful side.

Van Lente and Pak play with Hercules’s classical mindset, using his “mythological” exploits as the basis for Hercules’s hallucinations or as parallels to his modern adventures. I appreciate not only using those stories to fill out the character of Hercules — generally portrayed in the past as a two-dimensional, good-natured brawler — and to give a reason why he uses that name rather than his Greek name, Herakles. But changing the reasoning and chronology of Herakles’s twelfth labor makes me uneasy … yes, it helps make Hercules more morally ambiguous, but if a writer uses the myths selectively (and has Herc equivocate about whether the story he tells is true), then it weakens the totality of the myths. That is, if the reasoning behind why Hercules engages in his labors is flawed, then can we trust the stories of the labors themselves? I don’t like classical literature undermined in this way.

I’m not sold on the art by Khoi Pham, who draws the first four issues. I wanted to say positive things about his work, and I like his overall style. But at some moments in the story, he seems to focus in too far — on a face, on a certain character — and loses the overall storytelling of the scene. The final issue, Hulk vs. Hercules: When Titans Collide, has art from four different pencilers: Pham, Eric Nguyen, Reilly Brown, and Bob Layton. Pham’s work is a brief framing sequence. Nguyen does a five-page sequence that gives the background to the story and looks nothing like the rest of the book; it definitely is reminiscent of Bill Sienkiewicz, although the colors are washed out. Layton’s two pages are of Hercules wrestling the Thing and other Unlimited Class Wrestling Federation contenders in a charity match; I didn’t realize Layton was so closely associated with the UCWF, but perhaps I just wasn’t paying enough attention. The bulk of the issue is by Brown, who draws in a clear, dynamic style.

I wanted to like Against the World more than I did. It has a few jokes, but it’s not often laugh-out-loud funny; it succeeds at amusing. The characters are endearing, except when they show their dark sides. The myths are nicely integrated into the story, except when they hold up a sign that directs the readers’ attention to how they aren’t supposed to be integrated into the story. It’s better than serviceable, better than average. It is frequently, but not always, entertaining. But it if I hadn’t had two other volumes of the series waiting on my bookshelf, I don’t know if I would be reading more.

Rating: (3.5 of 5)