January 2005 – Nicolas Demers

Comic Book Review: Ghost Rider 2099

This series was part of Marvel 2099, a short-lived line of comics started in the mid-90’s which featured familiar-looking heroes in a gritty, futuristic, extremely cyberpunk setting. They all take place in—yep, you guessed it—the year 2099, and the world is a very different place. The Age of Heroes is long over, and costumed crime fighters only a distant memory. But now a new Age of Heroes is dawning; new legends are being born, in a world sadly lacking in legends.

I also looked at Spiderman 2099, Punisher 2099, Doom 2099 and X-Men 2099, but Ghost Rider 2099 is the only one I followed for more than three or four issues. These series—at least initially—were actually very good. The protagonists could easily have been cheap rehashes of 20th century heroes, or something corny like their great-great-grandchildren. Instead they were highly original, three-dimensional people living in a complex and interesting world.

Ghost Rider 2099 took place in Transverse City, a huge urban sprawl stretching between Chicago and Detroit. Originally designed as the starting point of a transcontinental superhighway, most of Transverse City is a construct ten storeys high and twenty lanes wide. Due to massive unforeseen costs and corporate corruption, the project was never finished. The only section actually completed was the Detroit–Chicago axis, which was nonetheless pressed into service. Since there was no way to even approach the construct’s enormous capacity, various levels and sections were parceled out to secondary developers. Now Transverse City is a nightmare urban jungle with no official central government. The most powerful corporation is D/MONIX (Data Manipulation and Organization Networks), which has sunk its hooks into almost every other company.

Kenshiro “Zero” Cochrane was a cyberhacker—able to connect his nervous system directly to the Net—living on the streets of Transverse City, who got murdered while plugged into cyberspace. Mysterious artificial intelligences living in an area of the Net they called “the Ghostworks” preserved his consciousness and implanted it into a powerful robot. Their plan (as explained to Zero) was to use him as a living symbol to counteract the greed, stupidity and corruption infecting human civilization. “They’d kinked an automated factory complex, made those assemblers dance… They clothed me in silicon and carbon steel, fiber optics and superdense metatasking nanoprocessors, and enough integrated hardware to make payback by the ton. Then they turned me loose.”

When I heard that the Ghost Rider of 2099 would be a technological instead of a supernatural creature, I wasn’t exactly thrilled. Even though I realized the Ghost Rider wouldn’t fit in very well in such a cyberpunkish setting, there was no reason why he shouldn’t last until the 21^st century. After all, what’s a hundred years for a being that’s existed for millenia? But upon reading Ghost Rider 2099 #1, all my doubts vanished. This was an amazing issue! Len Kaminski’s dialog was sharp and vibrant, while the exquisite art of Chris Bachalo and Mark Buckingham truly made readers feel like we were walking the grimy streets of Transverse City.

The central character himself (as befits this setting) is definitely not your average hero. In fact, he’s not even a very nice guy. He’s self-centered, violent, callous towards his girlfriend, and hateful of authority. (Mind you, all the authority figures he’s had to deal with deserve to be hated.) Now that he has the power to express his “rage against the machine,” Transverse City will never be the same again.

Some of the other players in this little drama are: Kylie Gagarin, Zero’s girlfriend (actually, ex-girlfriend); Jimmy Alhazred, “a.k.a. The Dreaded Doctor Neon,” a young cyberhacker low in experience but high in enthusiasm; the cool and professional Anesthesia Jones, an acquaintance of Zero’s with connections to the city’s underworld; Dyson Kellerman, D/MONIX’s holographic CEO; and last but not least, Harrison Cochrane: Zero’s father and a D/MONIX bureaucrat, he was the one who arranged his son’s death.

I swear, apart from the conspicuous absence of four-letter words, I could almost forget I was reading a Marvel comic. This series was just so fierce and iconoclastic, nothing like I’d ever read from that company. Three scenes, in particular, stand out:

In the very first issue, a terrified Zero Cochrane is running from his killers. Delirious from a poison they had shot him with, he happens upon an electronics store window filled with TV’s. All the commercials seem to merge together crazily:

“Two out of three clinical studies agree! Nothing stops the searing pain and itch of existential angst and unfulfilled ambition faster than MEGAVIL! It’s proven two hundred times more effective than the leading brand! Now with activated polydimorphine!”
“—denies charges of widespread corruption and—”
“—embarrassing foot odor? New garden-fresh scented—”
“—officials dismissed as negligible the possible carcinogenic effects of—”
“—hot chewy brownies, anytime!”

Zero goes crazy. Shouting “It’s all lies! All of it! Shut up! SHUT UP!” he picks up a stick and starts smashing the store window. Then the fit stops, and he mumbles, “Oh, man. This… civilization… sucks.” The very last image on the page is a closeup of the sign that used to be in the store window. It says: “EVERYTHING MUST GO.”

(No description can do this scene justice. Even ten years later, I still think it was damn powerful.)

In issue #5, Zero (in his brand-new robotic body) finally confronts his father, who says: “You were nothing but a common gutter criminal… I did what any law-abiding corporate employee would’ve done. I had a duty to society!” Ghost Rider replies: “Screw your society! It’s nothing but a con game rigged so you and the rest of the suits can keep making a profit! The only duty anyone with even a shred of humanity left has is to tear is down!”

And finally, one hilarious little scene. In issue #7, Ghost Rider is forced to visit New York City incognito. While wandering the streets, he is accosted by a religious fanatic who starts his spiel: “Excuse me, citizen. Do you know what causes all the wars and misery in the world?” Replies our hero: “Yeah. Bit-heads like you.” Heh. Who says you don’t learn anything from comic books?

Ghost Rider 2099 was a breathtaking series from the word go, and kept up the pace for nine red-hot issues. But then, in issues #10–11, the writer forced Ghost Rider into a completely pointless slugfest with half a dozen ugly bad guys. I admit it was kind of fun while it lasted, but come on! Zero had better things to do and more interesting enemies to kill. In issue #12, Zero went up against his toughest adversary yet: a vigilante called Coda, “the last word in law enforcement.” The fight ended with Ghost Rider being vaporized by the vigilante.

And that’s when things really went downhill. The next issue was the start of Ghost Rider’s involvement in a huge crossover—spanning all 2099 titles and lasting for several months—entitled “2099 A.D.” In it, Doctor Doom (a villain in the 20th century who has his own series in the 21st) took over the USA. Which wasn’t too hard, since there was no longer any central government or defence force. He then enlisted the aid of Ghost Rider (who, in the meantime, had regenerated himself) to control Transverse City. Zero, of course, refused, but Doom had previously made a bargain with the Ghostwork AI’s. By using access codes they had given him, he rewrote portions of Ghost Rider’s operating system, and so forced him to change his mind. Just like that, Zero Cochrane became a law enforcement officer.

I was sickened and shocked. How dare they do this? What the hell were they thinking? Ghost Rider isn’t a cop. He kills cops! He was the ultimate anti-authoritarian nightmare, and they did the worst thing they could: they took away his rage against the machine, and made him a part of that machine. Once again, Marvel management has shown us they’re not afraid to screw around with a story’s basic themes and characters, destroying its heart and soul. (Yeah, I blame the management. I’ve got a hard time imagining Len Kaminski wanted this to happen. After all, he’s been writing the series since the first issue. Zero Cochrane must be like his very own kill-the-pigs, burn-the-establishment-to-the-ground-and-dance-on-the-ashes baby. Then again, maybe I’m projecting too much of the character on the writer).

Just to add insult to injury, the artwork in issues #13–14 sucked big time, making me pine for Bachalo and Buckingham. Or, really, any half-decent artist.

Issue #14 (April ’95) was the last one I bought, but Ghost Rider 2099 went on for at least a year before being canceled. Before I completely lost interest I could see signs that it might be picking up steam (a new artist, with a very weird but oddly catchy style, and a gradual shift of Zero’s attitudes back to his old ways), but by then it was too little too late. I decided I could never trust the Marvel powers that be not to interfere with good stories and characters, and so swore off picking up any new Marvel titles. Ten years later I’m having a very easy time keeping that resolution.

Comic Book Review: Deathlok

Michael Collins was a pacifist and cybernetics expert, who believed his work was being used to develop advanced prostheses for handicapped people. When he discovered that his employers were really building a superpowered killer cyborg code-named “Deathlok,” Collins was murdered and his brain placed inside Deathlok. His mind was thought to have been destroyed; the brain was simply to serve as “wetware” support for the cyborg’s operating system. But Michael Collins was still there, inside, and eventually he regained control of Deathlok. Vowing never to use his powers to kill another living being, he set off to make a new life for himself.

The first issue of Deathlok I read was #16 (October ’92), and I was immediately fascinated. The mind of a pacifist stuck inside a killer machine? Neat! Sure was a nice break from all those other heroes who willingly went fighting crime and actually liked punching it up with villains.

The series’ uniqueness didn’t end there, though. You see, Michael Collins was a Black man, and proud of it; So was one of the writers, Dwayne McDuffie. Black people (characters or writers) are rare enough in comics, let alone Black people who actually make points about racism and other forms of prejudice. However, those points were only irregularly made. The problem was that Deathlok had two writers who took turns scripting: McDuffie, and one Gregory Wright. The stories written by McDuffie (especially the “Souls of Cyber-Folk” storyline, issues #2–5, and Deathlok’s stay in the country of Wakanda, issues #22–25) were more interesting, original, and made the political points. (“The Souls of Cyber-Folk” is a reference to The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois, from which Deathlok quotes in issue #2; the story itself draws parallels between racism and the prejudice experienced by cyborgs and artificial beings.) On the other hand, storylines written by Wright were not so interesting or memorable, with shallow plots heavy on mindless action scenes.

It was a constant struggle throughout the series’ short life: for every reader who loved Michael Collins as a Black hero, as a pacifist hero, there was another reader who thought he was a sissy wimp, and hungered for Deathlok to get back to its roots. See, way back in the 70’s, there was apparently a series called Deathlok the Demolisher, set in a lawless and violent post-apocalyptic future; the title character used to be a US Marine Colonel named Luther Manning who was augmented against his will after being critically injured, and went on to become an ultraviolent anti-hero. More recently (in 1990), Marvel published the adventures of another Deathlok cyborg with the organics and brain of a ruthless and bloodthirsty beat cop and former marine named John Kelly. Taken in that context, a pacifist Deathlok was even more startling. In issue #17, readers learned that Collins’ Deathlok body used to be Kelly’s; his brain had been fried by the onboard computer and replaced by Collins’. At the same time, a backup of Kelly’s personality was reactivated; for a couple of issues it served as Deathlok’s anti-conscience, railing against his pacifistic ways, urging him to be more ruthless, and generally annoying the hell out of Collins and any reader who agreed with him. Kelly’s personality later transferred itself into another cyborg, code-named “Siege,” who made occasional appearances throughout the rest of the series.

The beginning of the end came in issue #31, the start of the 4-part “Cyberstrike” storyline. This weird, confusing story, involving parallel timelines and time paradoxes by the dozen, pitted Michael Collins and Siege against the Luther Manning Deathlok (who never existed in Collins’ timeline) and the Demolisher (i.e.: Manning’s future self) in a crazy and headache-inducing battle royale as they tried to prevent their realities from being destroyed by a power-hungry time-skipping meddler… And that was it. The series ended with this storyline that tried to resolve the paradoxes about all these past, present, alternate-present, and possible-future Deathloks. Not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with a “What the hell?”

It was a tragic waste. A wonderful idea had been lost, probably never to return. Maybe it was doomed from the start, but I don’t feel it was ever given a proper chance. I only wish Marvel’s powers that be had established Dwayne McDuffie as a full-time writer and let him do his own thing, free of constraints. As for those whining losers who only wanted high body counts, they should have been told them to fuck off and go read Spawn or The Punisher.

Comic Book Review: Alpha Flight

What originally got me interested in Alpha Flight was the fact that (a) it was a Canadian superhero group (in fact, the only Canadian superhero group in the Marvel Universe), and (b) it was the only series I knew of then to have an openly gay main character. Being gay myself, I was naturally curious to see how a superpowered queer would be treated. I got into the series only a few months before it folded in early 1994 and, over the next couple of years, collected most back issues, the two annuals, and a couple of team-ups with the X-Men.

The story begins in X-Men #121 (May 1979), when the X-Men travelled to Canada and tussled with Canada’s Official Super-Hero Group, Alpha Flight. These six Canadians had been invented solely to give the X-Men someone to fight but apparently struck a chord with the public and so, four years later, they received their own ongoing monthly series.

All things considered, the series was off to a promising start. John Byrne—the writer and artist for the first 28 issues—did a pretty good job of creating personalities and histories for characters that were nothing more than powers, code names and nifty costumes. He introduced us to the distant and mysterious Snowbird, shapeshifting daughter of northern gods; Sasquatch (Walter Langkowski), a scientist who could transform into a monster; Shaman (Michael Twoyoungmen), a Native man who studied to be a medical doctor and rediscovered the magic of his ancestors late in life; the mutant twin speedsters Northstar and Aurora (Jean-Paul and Jeanne-Marie Beaubier), her with dual conflicting personalities, him a sarcastic and obnoxious loner; finally, Vindicator (James Hudson), founder and leader of Alpha Flight, wearing a special suit that allowed him to fly and project beams of energy. To this original core of six were added two in issue #1: Puck (Eugene Judd), a midget with excellent fighting skills and a Mysterious Past, and Marrina, an amphibian humanoid with a Mysterious Origin.

The stories weren’t exactly inspired, or even terribly original. Some of the characters were annoying knockoffs: for example, Sasquatch was a gamma-powered shifter like the Hulk, and in fact his origin story has him reproducing Dr. Banner’s experiments with gamma energy. Also, Puck was in my opinion too reminiscent of Wolverine, with the short stature, hairy body, Mysterious Past and unrequited love for a redhead (in this case it was Heather Hudson, Vindicator’s wife and later widow). The dialogue tended to be painfully artificial and expository, as you’d expect from mainstream superhero comics of that era, and the plots contained the usual tired shenanigans of “shocking” twists and retcons… but on the whole I thought they were mostly serviceable, and entertaining enough.

It seems that Northstar had been written as a gay character right from the start, and that his abrasiveness was just a way to hide his feelings and keep others at a distance. But that clue, and others in his personal history, were only there if you knew what you were looking for. In issue #41 (December ’86), there came a huge, not-at-all subtle hint about Northstar’s gayness. More hints followed, about one per issue. “Aha!” I thought. “They”re going to make him come out for sure!” Imagine my surprise when, in issue #50 (September ’87), Northstar’s nature was retconned as being part Elf, and he, Aurora and Puck were suddenly yanked out of the story. If I had to guess, I’d say that the execs at Marvel got a little nervous about this costumed faggot and wanted him gone. Plus, Elf, get it? It’s like, fairy. Yeah, my sides are still splitting.

Northstar stayed gone for two and a half years, returning in issue #81, his gayness forgotten for the moment. It was in issue #106 (March ’92) that he officially came out of the closet. I used to think I’d have a hard time finding that issue since it had to be a valuable collector’s item, but it turns out Alpha Flight was never that popular. I think I eventually got my hands on it for about $10 (Canadian!). “So” you might be thinking, “this is great! It’s a major step forward for gays and lesbians, right? An openly gay superhero is bound to open people’s eyes, make them rethink their positions, right?” Sure, but…

Let’s not beat around the bush: Northstar’s coming out was a joke. Yes, I thought it was done pretty well (a bit preachy, maybe, and it had to happen in the middle of a big fight scene, but there you go). Yes, it caused a reaction. Yes, gay readers loved it. But then Northstar went right back into the closet as fast as he’d come. The words “gay” or “homosexual” weren’t even mentioned once throughout the series’ remaining run. Northstar’s coming out was vaguely mentioned a couple of times, but never using those words: it was just his “revelation.”

If I had to pick a moment, I’d say that’s when Alpha Flight jumped the shark. In retrospect the creative team—never stellar to begin with—had been running on autopilot for a while now, and the last two years of the series’ life were filled with dull, pointless and/or derivative storylines, padded with mindless action scenes or focussing on new and completely uninteresting minor characters.

The 4-part Northstar miniseries, beginning immediately after Alpha Flight‘s last issue, only added insult to injury. I thought now they’d address his gayness. No such luck. It was just a mindless action-oriented plot, with the coming-out obliquely mentioned only once. We did see a former love interest of Northstar’s, but guess what? She was a woman!

Northstar’s brief coming out wasn’t Alpha Flight‘s only opportunity for really interesting and potentially groundbreaking stories, but the writers and management lacked either the balls or the imagination to do more than scratch the surface. There was Sasquatch, who at one point (through a very strange sequence of events) was temporarily transformed into a woman. There was the ongoing issue of Aurora’s multiple personalities, which merged and split and changed at the writers’ whims. There was Kara Kilgrave, an adolescent mutant with purple skin and the power to control minds introduced in issue #41: she left Alpha Flight for a short time to try to have a normal life, but failed miserably. The writers had a golden opportunity to explore what it means to be an outcast and freak.

One thing that doesn’t so much disappoint as piss me right off is the mangled Canadiana. Readers were reminded in almost every issue that John Byrne is an expatriate Canuck… but so what? The stories—even the exposition on Canadian landmarks and history—still all felt written from an outsider’s (ie: U.S.) perspective. I don’t know what a Canadian perspective or sensibility would look like in a superhero comic (or maybe I do?) but I’m sure Alpha Flight didn’t have it. This was not a comic written by us or for us. The geography and history could have been taken out of any high school textbook, what French there was was usually very bad or not real Québecois, and there were even several instances of the writers and artists disrespecting our national heritage with their sloppy work. Look, I’m no flag-waving nationalist, and I realize they didn’t want to make too much of an effort since most of the audience didn’t read French and probably couldn’t find Canada on a map, all tucked away down there. Really, I’m not asking for much: Maybe get the national motto right. Or at least learn to draw the flag correctly. Jesus.

I’m still missing a couple of issues, but have lost interest in searching for them. Neither am I interested in collecting the latest volumes (Alpha Flight was restarted twice; first in 1997, lasting about 30 issues, then in 2004). I hear Northstar temporarily rejoined the Flight in their second incarnation, has been with the X-Men for the last couple of years, and is a lot more out. Well, good for him, but I won’t be following his adventures anymore. If I knew then what I know now, I probably wouldn’t even have started. Alpha Flight never reached much beyond “okay,” and many other comic books have done a better job of portraying queer characters without wimping out.

Odd Skeptic Out

Last night I was over at a friend’s house (we’ll call her “S”) for dinner. At some point (I forget how) the conversation wandered over to Edgar Cayce. S told a brief story in which Cayce was about to enter a crowded elevator but, seeing that all the occupants’ auras were dead or dim or something, decided to wait for the next one. The story concludes with the elevator falling, and everyone inside dying horribly. But Cayce was safe, ’cos of his second sight.

Okay. There are several questions to ask at this point. At the top of the list, of course, are “Did this really happen?” and “How do you know?” And also, “So Cayce just saved his own ass and let everybody else die? Well, good for him, I guess.” But I didn’t say anything. Part of me didn’t want to offend (S is a dear friend, and I was a guest in her home). Part of me figured I probably wouldn’t be changing any minds (there were a couple of people nodding along, though I don’t know if they were just being polite) and it’d just be wasted energy. And, well, I’m just not that quick on my feet. By the time I got beyond raising a skeptical eyebrow, the conversation had moved on. I do a lot better when I get urban legends in my email. Then I can take a minute or two to gather my thoughts, check my favourite debunking sites (Skeptic’s Dictionary and The Urban Legends Reference Pages, if you’re curious) and carefully craft a reply.

A little thing, maybe, but it’s not the first time it happened to me. It soured the rest of the evening a little, and it’s been bugging me all day. Should I have said something? Or not? In a way, it feels like being in the closet, and gathering the energy to come out as a skeptic. (And, funny thing, everybody at the party knows I’m gay, but I don’t know how much they know about my nonbelief). Sigh. So, I’m venting here. Isn’t that what personal sites are for? At least I’ll be better prepared next time.

Grins Are Not Enough

I had a couple of interesting dreams over the holidays. In the first, I was biking home (from work, I think) on Broadway through East Vancouver (which in reality would be out of my way). The sky to the north, over the mountains, was a gorgeous sunset gold, so I decided to take a picture. I turned north and biked a few more blocks looking for the perfect view. The street where I stopped was also the inside of a house (or large building) in the process of being renovated. There was a roof overhead but somehow the mountains were still visible.

One of the people there (worker? owner?) and I started talking. Apparently the place was going to be turned into low-income housing. The guy somehow knew what I did for a living, exactly how much I made and where I lived, and made me feel guilty about how relatively privileged I was. Also, I think I was trespassing. And I never got to take a picture of the northern sunset.

In the second dream, I was in a school—possibly a high school, possibly a university. There were bits of Ottawa U, at least. A friend of mine, a nice-looking FTM transsexual guy (blond, short, a bit chunky, with a wispy soul patch; nobody I knew in real life, but probably a composite of a bunch of people) was dealing with harassment and bullying, and had set up a meeting with the school administration. I went with him, mostly for moral support. The meeting took place in an empty classroom, with spectators and guests sitting in those little schoolkid desks. My friend’s issues were never actually discussed, because there were a lot of invited speakers from a bunch of big corporations including McDonald’s. While the McD spokeswoman did her spiel, my friend stood up and started an anticorporate protest chant. A few people joined in, but I didn’t. I just sat there, grinning silently, enjoying the show.

Okay, I get it already. I know what my subconscious is trying to tell me, and it’s nothing I haven’t known since the US elections last November: I need to get political again, to be better informed and more active. It’s a fact that I’ve grown pretty (well, hugely) apathetic in the last few years, what with my burnout, followed by a touch of introspection that today seems a little self-indulgent… followed by graduation, and work. I don’t think my politics have really changed—though I’m on the sidelines, I’m still grinning with the activists—but my angry activist self is gone, maybe forever. Which isn’t such a bad thing: I don’t need anger anyways, just compassion and a sense of fairness. And the will to use my privilege for the greater good. Which maybe sounds really trite, but I don’t care since right now The Incredibles is my most favourite movie of all time.

I don’t think I’ve got the time to volunteer anywhere, but I can make monetary contributions. The only question is, to whom? Well, there’s the UNICEF Indian Ocean Earthquake Appeal—a no-brainer, really (plus, all donations received before January 11 will be matched by the Canadian Government). The James Randi Educational Foundation: another great cause, and I’ve enjoyed Randi’s weekly commentaries for the last couple of years. Some donations to User Friendly and Fametracker, two excellent sites I’ve loved for a while. They’re not out saving lives or changing the world, but damn do they brighten my day. The Vancouver Independent Media Centre? Yeah, I think freedom of speech is worth some of my money. And… other groups. I’ve got time to think about it, the year’s still young. The point is to do something.