Fantastic Four: The Beginning of the End

Collects: Fantastic Four #525-6 and 551-3 (2005, 2008)

Released: April 2008 (Marvel)

Format: 120 pages / color / $12.99 / ISBN: 9780785125549

What is this?: Dr. Doom comes back from the future to tell Reed he’s screwed up the future; Diablo annoys the team with alchemy and dreams.

The culprits: Writers Dwayne McDuffie and Karl Kesel and artists Paul Pelletier and Tom Grummett

Fantastic Four: The Beginning of the End is a substantial improvement on Fantastic Four: The New Fantastic Four. Well, at least writer Dwayne McDuffie’s contribution to the TPB is.

Whereas New Fantastic Four is full of unneeded bombast and incessant events of cosmic import, McDuffie chooses a more quiet plot for the finale of his short run on Fantastic Four. Dr. Doom travels back in time to escape a Reed Richards-dominated future. Of course his objective is to avert that future, but are the things he’s saying about Reed true? Is he really a monster who loses sight of the human costs in his efforts to improve the world?

At the time Beginning was written, that wasn’t such a far-fetched idea. After the nonsense of Civil War and the Superhuman Registration Act, Reed looked like a borderline Fascist (and we know how much regard Fascists generally have for borders) who believed he had all the answers. His arrogance had split the team, and The New Fantastic Four had only begun the healing. And of course, if a Doom from the future was looking for a time to prey upon the other members’ uncertainty, this was it. It’s a fantastic, intriguing idea for a story, and McDuffie exploits it to its fullest.

Unfortunately, there are a few flaws to the story. The story takes three issues for an argument with occasional punches, and it feels padded. The arrival of the Fantastic Four from the future, while a logical part of the story, puts the kibosh on the story before it has ended; when they arrive, you know all debate is truly finished. I also did not need more dickering about the nature of time travel. A recap would be fine, but I never need to hear that the generally held model of Marvel temporal mechanics is wrong or even more than mildly flawed.

None of these objections take away from my enjoyment of the story, though. That might have been influenced by my desire to believe Doom was correct and Reed was so incredibly wrong.

Writer Karl Kesel’s two-issue “Dream Fever” story from #525-6, which features Diablo as the villain, seems an odd fit here. It’s included, presumably, because they had extra room to fill at the end of McDuffie’s run and it had been collected nowhere else (it originally fit between Mark Waid’s three-year run, ending with #524, and J. Michael Straczynski’s year and a half, which lasted from #527 to Civil War). “It has to fit somewhere” and “We have extra space” makes sense if you’re collecting the issues, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. It doesn’t fit with McDuffie’s work in tone or continuity; where “The Beginning of the End” is a story that can only take place after the events of Civil War, “Dream Fever” is set well before, with a cheerier team in a story that actually follows up on character development from the Waid run (which I suspect we’ll never hear about again).

“Dream Fever” is a fill-in story that never claims to be more than a fill-in story. It tries to get some mileage out of using dreams to reveal character elements that were rarely or never discussed, and to be fair, Kesel does have some success there. But using dreams in that manner is a frequent prop for real character development, and worse, saying that all the team’s dreams are nightmares, and that having other people’s nightmares rather than your own will kill you … it seems a bit silly. Again, it’s a fill-in two-parter, so wasting effort trying to convince the reader of something that could be glossed over wouldn’t be a wise use of space, but it took away from the peril of the story. Diablo as the villain … well, in this story, he seems more like an opportunist than a credible threat or someone with a strong plan.

What is unusual is that the two essentially randomly packaged together stories both have excellent art. I praised Paul Pelletier’s work from The New Fantastic Four, and his work on “Beginning of the End” is every bit as good. His depiction of Reed’s secret workroom, with notes and equations on every surface, is my favorite visual of the book. Pelletier also gets to design future versions of the team, the Black Panther, and Namor, and although I’m not exactly fond of the changes in facial hair and / or hair length school of aging, I did like his Ben Grimm. Tom Grummett gives the fill-in art for “Dream Fever” and does a likewise impressive job. Although there’s nothing as visually arresting in his work as what Pelletier is given, his artwork is clear and bright, with a good grasp of storytelling.

I find it strange that I would prefer this hodgepodge Fantastic Four book to one that McDuffie wrote by himself. Still, it’s true. I also find it interesting that a Dr. Doom / time travel story would feel less an assertion of self-importance than The New Fantastic Four, but again — true. In any event, it allows McDuffie to end his short run on a high note.

Rating: (3.5 of 5)

Fantastic Four, v. 3 (hardcover)

Collects: Fantastic Four #514-24 (2004-5)

Released: November 2005 (Marvel)

Format: 256 pages / color / $29.99 / ISBN: 9780785120117

What is this?: A pair of trade paperbacks — Disassembled and Rising Storm — showing the FF fighting villains and bad PR thrown together in one hardback.

The culprits: Writer Mark Waid and pencilers Mike Wieringo and Paco Medina

I swear I read Fantastic Four, v. 3 (hardcover), but looking through the book days later, not much is jogging the ol’ memory.

Something about Fantastic Four since John Byrne’s run makes all the major plot developments slide through the skull without making contact with more than a couple of synapses. Oh, there are plot developments that grab the attention briefly, but then they fade from the memory until they kill Sue again and you realize you haven’t thought much about what’s happening with Fantastic Four lately. (Or until Reed has an extended run as Mr. Fan-Fascist or the creative team brings back an extra kid or whatever shiny object grabs someone in editorial’s attention.) Other Marvel teams can have drastic roster changes, and the status quo can change for years at a time on titles like X-Men and Avengers. But the Fantastic Four are a family — a static, unchangeable family that won’t let anyone escape.

So that’s what writer Mark Waid is up against here. Poor Waid, I would think; but that’s sort of his strong point. He’s steady. Give him a superhero setup, and he’ll give you a half dozen stories on it. Sometimes they’ll be great, like his Captain America and Flash runs. He’ll rarely have a dud run. The worst that will happen is that he’ll play with the company’s toys in a largely humdrum way, then put them back where he found them. And frankly, comics will always need a lot of those guys, even though they’re not in fashion now.

Waid plays with the standard tropes of the Fantastic Four in a couple of ways. In the first arc, “Dysfunctional” (#514-6), the team fights the Wizard and his new — new, I say! — Frightful Four. New lineups haven’t worked for the Wizard in the past, and they won’t work in the future. It’s not really a spoiler to say they don’t work here, especially since the Frightful Four meets their downfall the way they often do: betrayed by a woman. Wizard does the evil mastermind thing and throws away a loyal minion for no reason. A girl Johnny is interested in has surprise powers (like Frankie Raye!). It all feels done before, which isn’t surprising. Waid and co-writer for the arc Karl Kesel’s big, most original idea seems to be to position the Frightful Four as a kind of family, a dark reflection of the Fantastic Four, but that just feels forced, with family dynamics worse than the original Brotherhood of Evil Mutants.

In “Fourtitude” (#517-9) and “Rising Storm” (#520-4), however, it gets better. Aliens show up to kill Sue, Johnny and Sue switch powers, and then Galactus shows up to use Johnny as a herald. A very crappy herald, but that’s not anyone’s fault. It’s actually kinda amusing, with general dimbulb Johnny trying to get a handle of Galactus, cosmic powers, and trying not to commit genocide. Waid even gets to work in Quasar, which is nice — it’s always pleasing to see a minor character used in an appropriate role, giving the Marvel Universe some coherency. It even leads to some interesting characterization for Sue and Johnny, although it’s the kind that can easily never be referenced again.

The pencils come from Paco Medina (“Dysfunctional”) and the late Mike Wieringo (“Rising Storm” and “Fourtitude”). I like Weiringo’s art; he certainly could draw some mean monsters and aliens, and his Galactus is sufficiently imposing, if conventional. His depictions of the alien incursion during “Rising Storm” is underwhelming, however; it looks more like someone built tall, fancy pilings than an alien ship wreaking havoc. I never really adjusted to Medina’s pencils, though; his faces and females seemed a little … geometrically off. The inking is strangely heavy at points in his last issue as well, giving it the look of bad reproductions in a few panels.

Still, there’s too much of a feeling of … inconsequentiality. These are relatively interesting stories — well, “Rising Storm” and “Fourtitude,” at least — but when the day is done, the toys are neatly back in their box, and the day’s fun is forgotten.

Rating: (3 of 5)

Harley Quinn: Preludes and Knock-Knock Jokes

Collects: Harley Quinn #1-7 (2000-1)

Released: January 2008 (DC)

Format: 192 pages (hardcover) / color / $24.99 / ISBN: 9781401216283

What is this?: Harley Quinn, the Joker’s devoted sidekick, gets her own series.

The culprits: Writer Karl Kesel, penciler Terry Dodson, and inker Rachel Dodson

Harley Quinn is an odd choice for a series lead. When DC launched her eponymous comic in 2000, she was a female sidekick who had slightly faded in prominence after the cancellation of Batman: The Animated Series, where she was created. But Karl Kesel was named the writer, and the Dodsons — Terry on pencils and Rachel on inks — were dispatched to create, create, create.

The series lasted 38 issues, but it took five years after its cancelation for the first collection, Harley Quinn: Preludes and Knock-Knock Jokes, to be released. I wondered if that delay was because of lack of confidence in the character or in the work itself.

The tone of Preludes is confusing. On one hand, you get the corny Silver-Age alliteration and exclamations that marks it as a silly throwback. On another, there’s Dodson’s eye candy, posing women in uncomfortable positions to accentuate the more salacious aspects of their bodies. And then, if you cover your eyes with both hands and look through the fingers, you occasionally get glimpses of panels that are reminiscent of the B:TAS style, reminding readers why they liked Harley in the first place. It makes it difficult to determine what Preludes is about.

Nominally, it’s about Harley gaining independence from the Joker. The first arc has her falling out with her “puddin’,” then she has her all-female slumber party, and finally she embarks on a solo criminal career with henchmen called “Quinntets.” The first few issues are rough. Kesel’s dialogue is atrocious, hearkening back unironically to the worst of the Silver Age, and the plot itself doesn’t make Harley all that likeable, enduring abuse from men who don’t have any regard for her: she’s more of a doormat than a character. Harley comes across less “mad” or “manic” than “deluded.” Kesel’s characterizations feel slightly off as well, although I have trouble putting my finger on why. All of this taken together caused me to consider putting this book aside a half dozen times within those first three issues.

The slumber party issue is painful to read. I’ve been harder on DC than Marvel for their T&A art — probably because I’ve read more of DC’s female books — but this is the reason I do so. I have no idea who thought it was a good idea; it’s as if someone in DC editorial (I don’t know who) thought an issue of Terry Dodson drawing females in various stages of undress (but almost uniform skin-tightness of their remaining clothes) was a necessity. And Dodson does not stint, not bowing to quaint concerns like “balance” or “weight distribution” to get his characters into poses that will appeal to a certain demographic. Not that the problems end there. There’s little humor and no fun in the issue; the characters grate, especially Harley’s mooning over the Joker and her subsequent declaration of independence. I also can’t fathom why President Luthor’s staffers Hope and Mercy would attend, given that, you know, it would look bad for their employer if they were seen with notorious criminals, and the invitation was something less than secure. The entire issue is a dud.

But after that issue, the book turns a corner. Harely working with her gang is more fun, Kesel’s horrible dialogue gets turned down a notch, and Preludes begins to have a purpose again. Issue #5 is a strangely affecting story of a thug who thinks he has a resemblance to the Joker and is shot in his futile attempt at living the life of a near double to the Joker. The final two issues, with Harley and the Riddler both trying to rob Wayne Manor with their gangs, is actually interesting, although I’m not sure about Big Barda’s characterization. The running gag about the gang continually losing their fifth member is also funny. It’s not an elite comic, by any means, but it is entertaining.

The more I see of the Dodsons’ work, the less I like it. The faces look more and more alike, the women’s figures are uniformly shapely, and I’m tired of hands that look like flippers. I understand why their work is popular, and the Dodsons can tell a story, but I’ve had enough of pencils and inks that seem to be primarily interested in women’s physiques rather than the story.

The penultimate issue also seemed to have a strange miscommunication, emblematic of Preludes’ inconsistent tone: Craig Rousseau does some fill-in work in a more cartoony style and draws an incapacitated character with smudges on the face and planets and punctuation circling her head — injured, but not seriously. On the next page, Dodson draws her with blood coming out her eyes, nose, and mouth and with broken glasses, a considerably more serious (probably fatal) injury.

Preludes is a frustrating book; its inconsistencies are too large to overlook. I want to reward the promise of the final arc, but I can’t ignore the tone-deaf writing in the first half. The Dodsons draw very pretty pictures, but I won’t look the other way when it comes to the cynicism of someone at DC in regards to audience taste. Good, bad, who knows? The faults are large enough that my inclination was to rate it very low, but I have to admit: Preludes and Knock-Knock Jokes is a perfect title for the first Harley Quinn collection, and that moves it closer to mediocrity.

Rating: