Manhattan Projects 1-7

Manhattan Projects:

Scientific Myths

Secrets for building an atom bomb in your basement, won’t be found in this comic book, nor will schematics for inter-dimensional gateways, rocket propulsion, nor do reliable biographies of scientists turn up in these pages of Jonathan Hickman and Nick Pitarra’s tales. Keep grinding through mathematics and physics textbooks if you desire such information (but read Manhattan Projects when taking a break from your studies).

Yet, a mythos of early 20^th century science ferments and is cultured in these Manhattan Projects.

Οὐκ οἶδ᾽ ὄττι θέω,

δύο μοι τὰ νοήματα.

I do not know what I think

The minds are two for me

(Sappho, my translation)

Sappho’s words isolate an element Hickman and Pitarra infused within the first seven issues of the Manhattan Projects. Dual simultaneous existence pads through this comic like Schrödinger’s live/dead kitten…a similar mental dance implicit within the above words of Sappho.

While an entertaining comic book and a great story (of which many reviewers already attest to here, here, and here amongst other places), these seven issues scratch at something beyond mere escapism and mundane entertainment. MP both inspires a study of science and horrifies the study of science; two contradictory simultaneously existing states.

Horrification first.

Destruction radiates within the panels of MP. In the first issue, the death of an Oppenheimer along with a high body count of soldiers and Japanese robots could overflow small cemeteries. The death scale increases with the construction and dropping of the atomic bomb (without the consent of the USA president in this version of the tale); an act of destruction wrought by scientists[1]. Hickman expands thanatotic fabrications to include the genocide of an alien race. The unabashed attitude with which General Leslie Groves regards this pogrom comes through a quip used to persuade the Russian scientists to join q scientific alliance, “We killed an entire race of aliens on a Wednesday…who’s going to call our bluff?”

The scientists themselves (in the story, not in “real life,”) get transformed into depraved and monstrous doppelgängers of their actual counterparts. An “evil” Oppenheimer slays his “good” brother and exponentially manifests new personalities while gaining knowledge by devouring (literally) the minds of others. Harry Daghlian metamorphoses into a fleshless radiation monster (the instrument of genocide that razed the alien race with radiation). Einstein (an evil twin from another dimension of our Einstein) devotedly imbibes alcohol with nefarious connotations, while Wernher Von Braun, (in addition to the Nazism) encamps few qualms of sacrificing others for the advancement of science[2], plus he sports a creepy robotic arm. Enrico Fermi embodies an inhuman form (with green skin, sharp teeth, and an aptitude for violence). If monsters “represent fears held by society, fears associated with danger perceived in the surrounding world[3],” then the social apprehension towards scientists and their creations and use of these creations seems difficult to miss.  If such acts and characters don’t horrify and solicit pause for contemplation about the effect of uninhibited scientific research utterly controlled[4] by uninhibited genius madmen, then the back cover of the collection conveys this message with less subtlety than Von Braun threatening to slap an atomic bomb into a Russian research laboratory through an inter-dimensional gate:

And yet, even with such horror, there is the other mind…the box where the kitten still purrs and licks its paws and disregards the flask of poison. This book rouses inspiration and awe for science and scientists.

Ok, sure, readers won’t learn sound scientific principles, or accurate biographies of their favorite scientists, but conveying factual historically documented information is not the strength of fiction, of stories, of myth (whose Ancient Greek cognate μuθοσ can simply mean "story"), but myths, stories, fictions do inspire and shape the events and characters that will become history.

Issue four opens with a quote from Albert Einstein, “Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited, whereas imagination embraces the entire world, stimulating progress, giving birth to evolution.” These stories serve as crucibles for the imagination, the imagination that, “embraces the entire world” and stimulates progress, and gives birth to evolution.”

These stories rouse the curiosity and prompt one to go beyond what rests on the page. Was Von Braun really that callous, did Einstein have a drinking problem, could Oppenheimer possess multiple personalities, was Truman a Mason?

Such questions nag readers and fictional works replete with twisted facts have fired creativity in scientists and others alike. Issue three contains the quote (attributed to Feynman by the fictional Clavis Aurea) “What am I guilty of? An intimate familiarity with the necessity of fiction. Truth is my wife, but lies are my mistress.” Such “lies,” in the guise of fiction, contain truths that influence how people live their lives and the futures they pursue. The MP, in showing the raw power and potential, and sexier possibilities of science and engineering holds such possibility. According to interviews, it wasn’t amiss at the real Los Alamos to find copies of Astounding Science Fiction amidst those working on slicing atoms and assembling rockets, stories that kept minds and dreams in the stars and hands and eyes on calculations and bolts…another dual state of the mind.

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[1] Ftting enough, this mood may be captured by the words of the real Oppenheimer upon seeing the explosion of the first atomic bomb…the words he uttered before much more eloquent ones from the Bhagavad Gita, words from the engineer who spent years constructing a project…”It worked.” Then the more poetic, “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” Oppenheimer, too, it seems possessed two minds and can relate to the sentiments of Sappho.

[2] The first issue contains the quote from (the fictional) Clavis Aurea’s The Recorded Fenyman

  “I was surrounded by those willing to sacrifice all of mankind if doing so achieved their goals. Evil deeds by evil men that only I could prevent. Mourn then the passing of the world. For when the time came, I could find no good in myself, only mischief.”

[3] As  Matt Kaplan writes on page 4 of his book Medusa’s Gaze and Vampire’s Bite: The Science of Monsters

[4] Von Braun in issue seven works at creating an agency of scientists free from all government control.
Gratitude equivalent to the half-life of Harry Daghlian goes forth to my rocket-scientist cousin for loaning me his collection of MP to read during break. May you always remain beyond the clutches of Von Braun's robotic arm. 

FF #2

Fantastic Finger-Flippin’ Good Fun

The hesitant endorsements of the initial issue of FF metamorphosed into strong confirmations with the installment. Why read comic books recurs as a query from others as well as myself with common frequency; FF #2 contains a partial answer to this question.

While different comics are read for different reasons, an aura of serious whimsical super-hero fantasy remains a realm that comic books handle better than the medium of the novel, poems, films, or television shows. FF #2 provides laughs and superhero antics that shape lips into smiles instead of sneers all while continuing an intriguing story without taking itself too seriously. It offers a fun escape that blends fantasy and laughs to relax the reader yet still excite the imagination.

Kids in comics, while more are needed, can dull a tale when handled ineptly and crash a plot faster than Icarus’s plummet. Yet in FF#2, kids know their place, or rather Fraction knows where to place the kids, and Allred how to draw them. On page two, the Mole children Mik, Korr, Turg, and Tong become the first to realize for sure (and which every reader and character in the comic [with the exception of Scott Lang] also knew) that the Fantastic Four aren’t coming back in forecasted four minutes. Perceptive, and unhesitatingly voicing the obvious, the simple “uh-oh” from Turg wilts the antennas of hope on Ant-Man’s helmet.

Page three contains the moment that confirmed my continued pulling of this issue. A six panel page shows the media reaction to the FF taking over for the Fantastic Four. Panel three depicts Onome reading a newspaper and querying “What is an ex-con?” to Scott Lang as he’s walking across the floor in the background eating cereal. Panel four gives a close up of Lang, helmet off, munching cereal attempting to explain his criminal past to a child. The halting speech; the puffed cheek full of cereal; the tousled hair; the desperate, tired, and conflicted expression of Scott Lang (wanting to be honest and not honest simultaneously) remains a great melding of art and text. The panel captures a true moment of an adult trying to explain a complex and unpleasant idea to a child, while simultaneously dealing with larger world issues. The balance between serious, true, and amusing moments, and super-heroics coalesce on this page, and Fraction and Allred maintain the precarious balance throughout the entire issue. 

Pairing adults unused to dealing with children forever promises a reservoir of laughs (unless you’re the adult). Page seven has She-Hulk giving a law lecture to children. A touching character-defining moment of Darla with Leech and Artie Maddicks follows.

Mole-Man’s attack (just like in Fantastic Four #1) provides some Marvel comics continuity, or at least a reverential homage to Kirby and Lee and we get to  see the FF in action for the first time in the series, complete with fisticuffs and witty banter (“This was supposed to be my day off!” the giant green monster says (the editor kindly translates the “NYARGH*” for readers who haven’t kept their studies of Gigantes) while having Ant-Man knock about in his eye socket and getting strangled by Medusa in a negligee. The only other place (I imagine) one can find such combinations are in magazines better left hidden under the mattress.

All these antics conclude with a genre-demanding cliff hanger ending…some dark form of Johnny Storm flying through a space warp declaring “The Fantastic Four are DEAD! And no one can ever go through that gateway again…”

Fraction and Allred created and delivered a fun comic, a welcome edition to a host of books that are good in a different way (more serious, more experimental, more satirical ) than FF, but FF#2 generates and holds and offers an amusing light-hearted competent romp through the world of super- heroics.

Conan the Barbarian #11: The Death Part 2

Conan the Barbarian #11

The Death: Part 2

Script: Brian Wood

Art: Declan Shalvey

Colors: Dave Stewart

Letters: Richard Starkings & Comicraft

The story so far: Controlling an enriching oceanic campaign of plunder ad terror, Bêlit and Conan enjoy a piratical life with their crew aboard the Tigress. Their reputation conveys such power that the mere sight of the Tigress causes other ships to instantly surrender and transfer their cargo to the raiders. A prisoner secured by the Tigress spreads a life-sapping fever amongst the crew. All aboard the Tigress suffer, with the exception of Conan. In issue 11, Conan attempts to find a healer for the crew, experiences a dream vision, and wrestles with the moral choice of whether he should abandon Bêlit.

Barbarian Ethics

Conan has always been a love ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy. A profession of “sword-wielding barbarian mercenary/adventurer” lifestyle doesn’t offer much stability or  promise for an exclusive and devoted domestic life. Conan never pretends otherwise, and at least from the Conan stories I’ve read, his paramours understand the situation and willing lock arms around the barbarian.

Bêlit changes the situation.

While Dave Stewart’s need for blood-red ink remains minimal (which is good since Luther Strode has returned to the shelves and Tradd Moore will monopolize the crimson solution for each page of each issue…) yet Conan’s ethical battle proves greater and far more interesting than any physical foes he’s faced so far in Brian Wood’s manipulation of the barbarian’s tale.

Fever flaunts the question of whether Conan should jettison Bêlit or remain by her side and accept whatever consequences this attachment churns forth. Normally, such a situation would carry a simple answer if some formal ceremony of bonding was present (“in sickness and in health” for “richer or poorer” and so forth) yet, Wood makes Conan’s choice more complex by never having Conan and Bêlit formally and ceremoniously setting forth the conditions of their relationship, and Bêlit states (after saving Conan from a tavern tussle by her mere appearance)

“Conan, my love…carry me back to the ship, back to my Tigress. Make me my tea, and put me to bed. And then you should go.” Bêlit clarifies when Conan asks if he should return to the healer, “No. Go. Leave, leave us. This is a dead end for you. By morning we will all be dead, no doubt.”

Conan’s initial responds by accusing Bêlit of fever madness and exclaims “I cannot. I won’t. I won’t!”

But he can.

Bêlit’s words spiral into Conan’s conscience where he ponders the validity of her predicted demise and command to go, to leave. He struggles with his choice, a choice not based on duty, or obligation, but what seems a pure choice revelatory of Conan’s character and his values and ideals and the man he is and will be.

If ever a Socratic dialogue could take place within a Conan comic, this moment seems an appropriate place to debate and churn the mind for the meaning of “love” and “commitment,” “devotion,” “freedom.”

Robert E. Howard frequently used Conan (as well as other characters) to examine the dark side of civilization and contrast it with a natural state of existence that remains superior to civilization.

This natural state versus civilization works with Conan’s current choice.  When considering whether to return to the Tigress and her ill captain and crew, Conan thinks “What of his promise to Bêlit? For whatever reason, he cannot recall ever making any.” A promise, some vow, some ritual, would obligate Conan and have him shackled to duty to return to Bêlit. Such a move, a binding of words, contains the stain of civilization; a human-crafted device to clarify a desired course of action, a set of choices made in advance. When thinking at night while overlooking the harbor where the Tigress rests at anchor, Conan continues to consider his relation to Bêlit, “Theirs was—is—a romance very much about the present, the simple pleasure of the day to day.” While reveling in each moment, Conan and Bêlit’s romance supersedes a mere groin-grinding dalliance. The first issue makes clear some powerful and unknown might has united Conan and Bêlit.

Neither can clarify the reason for their unification, but neither denies the connection. Some power of nature (always powerful and unknowable despite the best attempts of meteorologists) has united these two humans. Issue five revealed Conan’s prison-bound contemplations of Bêlit’s care and commitment for him (It’s interesting Wood keeps Conan’s mind away from this “debt”;  it certainly makes Conan’s moral conundrum far more fascinating). Conan stands at a threshold as difficult and influential as any hero has faced. The issue ends with Conan stating “I could run. I could be free of all of this. I could have a long life and see the world. It is what Bêlit asked of me. And who am I to refuse a Queen?”

Alas, readers are left to ponder whether the great melancholy expression adorning Conan’s face sprouts from his abandoning Bêlit or from his distaste at returning to the fever-filled hull of the Tigress. Wood masterfully has framed this situation in such a way that the reader’s interpretation of Conan’s expression reveals just as much (probably more) about the reader as it reveals about Conan.

FF #1

Foundation Flip for for Marvel's Fantastic First Family 

First-time formal introductions rarely generate thrilling moments, even amongst superheroes. FF #1 begins with talking kids, kids that have no immediate clear reason for filling six panels (although the final panel provides the rationale). The comic then paces the reader through each member of the Fantastic Four choosing his and her replacement for their proposed four-minute journey. Each recruitment scene separates with another interview with kids of the Future Foundation.

That’s it.

No villains.

No revealing character developments.

Limited tension in Ant-Man’s reluctance (his obliging answer already known from Marvel’s hype).

The plot exudes the feel of substituting values for the variables in the equation and then calculating the formula…“plug and chug” as the mathematicians say. 

Certainly Matt Fraction’s competence as a writer exceeds question  (his composition on Defender’s #1 still stands as a favorite (for me) first issue of all time), but the purpose for this mild introduction is elusive…for now. Two factors make the second issue worth pulling.

1. Faith. The bane of loving comics and reading monthly installments… “maybe the next issue will be better….”
2. Allreds.

Previous replacements for the Fantastic Four 

Mike Allred drawing this new weird team of FF has earned my subscription to this issue. Allred’s running lines for Medusa’s hair, the Kirby-esque Thing[1], and Ant-Man’s costume and  helmet that might be found in the fetish section of a dentist’s supply catalogue straddle the edge of cartoony and realism…a perfect tension to maintain for this FF book (which, despite the slow story, DOES clearly contain a goofy mood). Allred’s style harmonizes with this book, and I hope he stays on art duties for the full four minutes the Fantastic Four uses to walk down their inter-dimensional hallway. I also hope Marvel hires Shakey Kane and David Hine to fill in when Fraction and Allred need a break and to take over at the end of Fraction and Allred’s run…then Marvel universe really WOULD never be the same….

Laura Allred’s eyes are beautiful. Rarely, if ever, has the eye color of a character stood out, but in this issue of FF, the eyes consistently snag attention for an engaging factor of the art. Val and Franklin Richards have blue eyes as does Sue Richards, Mister Fantastic has brown eyes, Ant-Man blue, Medusa, green, Bently-23 brown, Crystal the Inhuman green, She-Hulk green (of course), Darla Deering brown, Johnny Storm hazel, The ever-lovin’ Blue-eyed Thing has…oh…you know…. These small dots of color animate faces far more than what seems possible and conveys a dynamic dynamism to make stunning art that much more stunning.

The first issue’s final page ends with Scott Lang asking:

“What is the FF? What does it mean to you, the young minds that make up the program?”

A good question, and one that kept echoing through my multiple readings and browsings of this issue. As for the bright future engineered by Allred and Fraction…let’s hold hope and keep a pair shades close by for the a possible future so bright.

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[1] Sorry Silva, while I know you (and many others) like the look of Allred’s She-Hulk, I just imagine a balloon animals every time she appears on the page with her bulbous muscles…and her shoulders (and breasts) keep changing size…it must make buying properly fitting shirts the height of frustration for She-Hulk…no wonder she gets so angry….).