Essential Silver Surfer, v. 2

Collects: Silver Surfer (v. 2) # 1 and (v. 3) #1-18, Silver Surfer Annual #1, Epic Illustrated #1, and Marvel Fanfare #51 (1980, 1982, 1987-8, 1990)

Released: June 2007 (Marvel)

Format: 600 pages / black and white / $16.99 / ISBN: 9780785127000

What is this?: The Silver Surfer slips the surly bonds of earth and gets involved in interstellar war.

The culprits: Writers Stan Lee and Steve Englehart and artists Marshall Rogers, Joe Staton, Ron Lim, and others

I’m not a fan of the Silver Surfer. It’s not that I dislike the character, it’s just that I have the same problem with him that many people have with Superman: he’s dull, nigh indestructible (without raising the stakes ridiculously high), and a bit too much of a goody two-shoes.⁵⁸

So why did I buy Essential Silver Surfer, v. 2? Mostly because I picked it up for $3 or $4. But also partially because it was an unusual choice to be made into an Essential in the first place. It’s not a legendary run. The issues included aren’t from the Silver Age, nor are they some Bronze Age genre mashup or weirdness. It isn’t yet another volume of a title that started in the Silver Age. It doesn’t feature a female lead. And it doesn’t star mutants, which accounts for most of the more modern series. There just aren’t that many Essentials that don’t meet those standards: Punisher, Moon Knight, Nova … Power Man, if you don’t consider Blaxploitation a genre, plus the reference books.

Is Silver Surfer something different, though? The Surfer is a Silver Age construct, and arguably by the mid-‘80s, he was the least changed from his Silver Age roots of any of Marvel’s major characters, given his inflexible personality and his status as the near-exclusive domain of Stan Lee.

Stan is the writer for the first two stories in this book. The first, a rather forgettable short from Epic Illustrated #1, has the Surfer confronting the concept that there are some answers beyond himself and his master, Galactus. The second, a 1982 one-shot drawn by John Byrne, pits the Silver Surfer against his incongruous archenemy, Mephisto — because what’s a more appropriate opposite for a cosmic-powered servitor of a planet predator than the Devil? It advances the Surfer’s story somewhat, but in the end, Lee puts all the pieces back where they started.

And then Steve Englehart takes over for the ongoing series, and everything changes. The Surfer is freed of Earth in a way that reads like Englehart wanted it done as quickly as possible so he and Marshall Rogers could go on to the space stuff. Then Shalla-Bal and Zenn-La are dealt with, zip zoom. Suddenly, Silver Surfer becomes Marvel’s first cosmic title in a long time, dealing with the Kree, the Skrulls, Galactus and his herald Nova, and the Elders of the Universe.

Once the book stops being about the Silver Surfer, it gets a lot more interesting. Or, I suppose I should say, it gets more interesting when the book stops being solely about the Silver Surfer and concentrates on the opportunities outer space gives the book. There is a large part of the Marvel Universe that can be settings for interesting stories, and whether that’s San Francisco, Sydney, or Kree-Lar, any book that can take advantage of those creative vacuums is worth supporting.

Englehart picks up several loose threads and characters, from the disintegration of the Skrull Empire and the loss of the Skrulls’ shapeshifting powers to what the various Elders of the Universe, Celestial Madonnas, and Soul Gems are up to. The machinations of the Kree and Skrulls in the new Kree-Skrull war are interesting, and the war is allowed to escalate in background scenes that are nice cutaways from the main plot. The Elders of the Universe’s plan to kill Galactus is what drives most of the book, and while I can’t say I’m greatly interested in the Elders, I can’t deny they are a great set of adversaries for the Silver Surfer and are an interesting part of the cosmic side of the Marvel Universe. (Such high-power characters do lead to a lot of “not really dead” moments, but that’s comics, I suppose.)

As for the Silver Surfer, he becomes a completely different person once Shalla-Bal is written out of his love life. In his previous quarter century, he had shown little desire for romantic attachments, but in the space of a few issues, he manages to pick up two “loves”: Mantis and Nova (Galactus’s herald, not Richard Ryder). It seems so alien for him to be portrayed as amorous — I suppose it’s Englehart trying to grow the character from the spotless, emotionless paragon he previously was, but the change is a little swift. The Surfer seems surprisingly weak, as well; he’s captured and helpless three times, and none of those captors are beings who should have the power to capture him. (I mean, Cap’n Reptyl? Honestly.)

The final issue in Essential Silver Surfer, v. 2, Marvel Fanfare #51, is not in continuity; it’s the original #1 for Silver Surfer v. 3, with beautiful art from v. 1 artist John Buscema. It’s an interesting look at what Englehart originally had planned for the character; the escape from Earth in Silver Surfer v. 3 #1 seems even more last-minute than I expected, and the interaction with Mantis makes more sense after we see Englehart’s original plans.

Art from this book comes mainly from Marshall Rogers, who drew #1-10 and #12. I’m more familiar with his art from his run on Detective Comics in the ‘70s, so it’s a little jarring seeing Rogers’ work here. (He collaborated with Englehart on that run as well.) His Surfer is more rounded and streamlined than most artists’, reminding me of Kevin Maguire’s Surfer in Defenders: Indefensible. I’m also not a fan of his design of some of the lesser-known Elders — there’s little distinctive about the Runner, and the Obliterator looks more mentally handicapped than murderous or alien. There are also a few storytelling lapses where it’s difficult to distinguish what’s happening. On the other hand, Rogers does have a flair for Marvel’s more established aliens — his Celestials are imposing, if not quite Kirby-esque (the same goes for some of the huge alien machines), and I like his Skrulls, as Rogers is able to both vary the Skrull template and show emotion on Skrull faces.

Joe Staton does a few issues as well, excelling when the action is on Cap’n Reptyl’s ship: Reptyl is intimidating, and the background aliens in his crew are suitably alien. Ron Lim, in some of his first Marvel work, drew #15-8; it looks like Ron Lim work — especially the Elder called the Possessor, who seems the most Lim character in the book, even before Lim starts drawing him — and you probably already know how you feel about Lim’s art.

I didn’t especially expect to enjoy Essential Silver Surfer, v. 2, but I was pleasantly surprised. If you’ve ever been interested in what was happening in outer space beyond those ‘80s Fantastic Four and Avengers stories you’ve probably read, then you really should read this book.

Rating: (3 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.

Rating:

Batman: Strange Apparitions

Collects: Detective Comics #469-79 (1977-8)

Released: November 1999 (DC)

Format: 176 pages / color / $12.95 / ISBN: 9781563895005

What is this?: A memorable — or so they say — Batman run of the ‘70s.

The culprits: Writers Steven Englehart and Len Wein and pencilers Marshall Rogers and Walt Simonson

Batman: Strange Apparitions is a seemingly random slice of late ‘70s Batman stories — more than a year’s worth of Detective Comics in one volume.

Ostensibly, it’s a showcase of writer Steve Englehart’s Detective run. According to the book’s introduction by Englehart, after he was hired away from Marvel, Englehart had planned to make this run his comics swan song. With penciler Walt Simonson, Englehart planned to tell a story involving Dr. Hugo Strange, Boss Rupert Thorne, and Silver St. Cloud. Simonson bowed out after two issues, so Marshall Rogers was brought in.

Englehart thinks pretty highly of his work, which he says formed a bit of the basis of the first Batman movie. (I don’t see it, even if Vicky Vale is supposed to be a proxy for Silver St. Cloud, but I’ll take his word for it.) But is it really that good?

There are definitely some iconic Batman stories here. The Joker’s battle to patent his Joker Fish (fish chemically treated to have the Joker’s grotesque smile) is one of the great Batman stories, rightly reprinted in “Best of” anthologies and the origin of one of the best Batman: The Animated Series episodes. The battle with Hugo Strange is nothing special, but its aftermath is exciting: Strange, who has discovered Batman’s secret identity, dies rather than give it to Rupert Thorne, then haunts Thorne until he confesses his crimes.

But the Penguin and Dr. Phosphorus stories are Silver Age stories with Bronze Age trappings, and Len Wein’s Clayface III story, which wraps up the collection, could have come a Spider-Man book, with its tragic villain, self-pitying hero, and near empathy for the villain’s plight. Batman’s battle with Deadshot is fun, involving a giant electric typewriter (no manual typewriter in the ‘70s, no no), but most of the story is given over to Bruce Wayne’s romance with Silver St. Cloud.

That romance is the thread that ties the entire volume together. Its believability and impact is what could transform the book from tripe to treasure. Unfortunately, I’m not sure where I stand on the matter. Bruce quickly falls for Silver, and vice versa; her dedication to him helps save him from Hugo Strange. Fine; that makes sense. But in a moment that truly does link Strange Apparitions to Tim Burton’s Batman, Bruce reveals his secret identity after Silver has figured it out. And immediately after, she’s written out. No consequences! No romance! I don’t know if this sort of storyline was common back then, but it’s not the type plotting I expect from a premier title like Detective Comics, although it’s common in consequence-free, continuity-light mini series and annuals.

I’m not entirely convinced by the art, either. Both Rogers and Simonson draw certain characters as dynamic, important, beautiful — Batman and the Joker, for example. They seem almost to be drawn in a house style. The other characters … are not. They seem to be appearing in another book, by other artists. The rest of the art almost seems locked in an even older style. Sometimes everything comes together, atmospheric and beautiful. Other times it looks like a mishmash. There are more of the former than latter, but it doesn’t take many of the latter to spoil the whole bunch.

Also: Why aren’t there any covers? I find this a major problem. At least when the Dark Horse Chronicles of Conan lacked the covers, you know it was probably because of rights issues. Is it some sort of artists’ compensation difficulty that prevented DC from showing the original covers? Did they just run out of room? There are worse sins when reprinting old comics, but this is a quite noticeable one.

I’m not as impressed by this volume as I think I should be. However, there are too few trade paperbacks covering this interesting period, after Batman starts being taken seriously and before Crisis. For that reason, I’m giving Strange Apparitions a bit of a bump on the rating.

Rating: (2.5 of 5)