Uncanny X-Men #236

[Jason Powell continues his issue by issue look at Claremont's X-Men. This is a particularly good entry.]

“Busting Loose”

Silvestri and Green return for the second part of the Genoshan storyline (which, because of its bi-weekly release schedule, required penciller Rick Leonardi and guest-inkers to pitch in on both odd-numbered chapters). Silvestri and Green open strong, producing the finest of all their X-Men covers, a dramatic “photograph” of Wolverine and Rogue strung up by their feet and flanked my smirking Genoshan magistrates. It’s an emblem for one of the running motifs of the story – the smug complacency of evil. (Note the way the soldier on the right casually and cavalierly lets his gun rest atop folded hands.)
The intensity is ramped up entirely in Part 2, Claremont possibly having been emboldened by Silvestri and Green’s more grittily intense style (versus Leonardi’s cartoonishness). Once again, as in Uncanny X-Men #s 229 and 232, the title characters have an almost alienating coolness to them. Note that the bulk of the team only appear on four pages out of a total 22, and in that time make a disconcerting impression, as they interrogate the magistrates caught by Crocodile Dundee in the previous issue. Inflamed by the unabashed racism of their antagonists, the X-Men are merciless in dealing with then:

Magistrate: “You here to finish us off, genejoke?”
Storm: “Do not tempt me. That word – ‘genejoke’ – I not like it.”
Magistrate: “Makes us even. I don’t like you!”
Storm: “Good. That will make this more ... pleasant. I require information about our missing friends.”
Magistrate: “I won’t talk!”
Storm: “You will not have to. Psylocke, he is yours.”

Silvestri has given Ororo a shit-eating grin -- as she faces the officer with steely, supernal calm -- making the moment that much more frightening. Later, after Betsy has picked their brains (in a sequence eerily saturated in Pyslocke’s trademark pinks and violets by guest colorist Petra Scotese), she begins to psychically torture them. In contrast to Storm’s icy resolve, Elizabeth is maniacally incensed:

Pyslocke: “May you rot for what you’ve done!”
Magistrate: “NO!”
Psylocke: “May you burn!”
Magistrate: “MERCY--!”
Psylocke: “And what have you shown, magistrate – you so-called upholder of the law – to the mutants you’ve enslaved and tortured and slain?!”
Colossus: “Psylocke – stop – for pity’s sake – would you kill these men?”
Psylocke: “No, Colossus. That would be too quick. Too easy.”

These X-Men are murderous, scary, righteously enraged. This was new in 1988; the first time that the “oppressed minority” aspect of the X-Men premise is being genuinely, deeply felt. For all that there have been a few dozen examples over the last 25 years of the X-Men fighting for “mutant rights,” they have never been so horrified as now by an oppressing entity (in this case, the government of Genosha) and its treatment of their kind. The series has been a long time waiting for this, but the pay-off has proven worth it. Never before this moment have the X-Men (either the team nor the series) felt so simultaneously powerful and indignant. The effect upon the narrative is utterly electrifying. As the title suggests, the X-Men are indeed “Busting Loose”: Free of the complacency of the conservative politics that derived them; free from their inability to connect in any visceral way the civil rights struggle – the Xavier “dream” -- that they supposedly embody; free from their privileged perch nested above the fray. They are truly in it now, and the series has never felt more right.

The formidability of the lead characters is also supported via third-party accounts, most particularly the Chief Magistrate’s report to the Genegineer. The scene is marvelously economical, conveying information about the relationship between these two new characters, even as they share data about the X-Men. Claremont even executes a nod to very old continuity, reminding readers of the computer virus that Kitty Pryde and the Starjammers created all the way back in Uncanny #158. In what is perhaps deliberate synchronicity by Claremont, issue 158 was also the first appearance of Rogue in an Uncanny issue, and the first on-panel encounter between her and Carol Danvers. Much of the Danvers/Rogue material first inaugurated there comes into play in “Busting Loose” as well. The use of the series’ long-term continuity here is brilliant.

Meanwhile, in one of the darkest turns the X-Men has yet taken, Rogue becomes deeply traumatized by molestation at the hands of the magistrates. The dialogue makes vague allusions to “liberties” being taken, and the narration clarifies that “All they did was touch her” ... but Claremont’s intent lies only a tiny bit below the Comics Code-approved surface. We cannot help but think that whatever happened to Rogue was very close to rape. Silvestri’s images of the character crouched in the corner of her jail cell, arms and legs wrapped tightly, are heartbreaking, and the parallels with this story’s overarching theme are devastating.

And there is yet more that Uncanny #235 accomplishes, as much of the issue is given over to sketching out the layered complexity of Genosha itself. Chris Claremont’s work has long been pigeon-holed, too often torn to shreds by those quick to point out the “Claremont clichés.” One such cliché is the team of generically nasty bad-guys, each identified by some appropriately hard-edged appellation. (See, for example, the recent Brood story, and its team comprised of Brickbat, Lockup, Tension, Whiphand, etc.) Yet here Claremont proves just as capable of creating subtler antagonists, whose relationships are not so prosaic and one-sided.

With the Genegineer, for example, Claremont primes readers for a one-dimensional conception, naming the character David Moreau (thus, a “Dr. Moreau” whose field is genetic mutation, living on an “island” nation). But instead of an outré lunatic, the character’s first appearance has him studiously at work in his own back garden, dressed in a sweater and bantering with his teenage son. (He even quotes Stan Lee!) This may be Claremont’s riposte to Louise Simonson’s “Island of Dr. Moreau” riff in issues 59-61 of New Mutants, replacing Simonson’s maniacal gene-splicer with something more insidiously evil. Indeed, the Genegineer actually seems somewhat sympathetic in his early scenes -- most notably his chastisement of the Chief Magistrate for allowing Rogue’s molestation:

Chief: “Those responsible have been disciplined. It won’t happen again.”
Genegineer: “If it does, Chief Anderson, you’ll answer for it. I thought your people were professionals.”
Chief: “They’re human. They’re fallible.”

Moreau is painted with at least some modicum of compassion, while Anderson seems incredibly heartless, rationalizing rape as the result of mere human fallibility in order to sweep her officers’ transgressions under the table.

Yet during Moreau’s later confrontation with his son, Phillip, the former’s true colors become obvious. The Genegineer heartlessly describes the process to which he plans to subject Phillip’s mutant girlfriend, Jennifer, changing her natural mutant power – a healing ability – into an ability more useful to Genoshan industry. Claremont creates more harsh imagery (in an issue already packed full with it), as David explains that “instead of bending flesh to her will, [Jennifer will] cut through rock, shape stone and steel ...” Just as Jennifer’s seemingly benign ability is to be warped for something hard and brutal, so are we slowly shown that David’s seemingly soft exterior disguises a dark, evil core – he is as heartless as the Chief Magistrate he reprimanded. And of course, this is also emblematic of the entire country, which disguises its cruel system of slavery and apartheid behind bright, shiny “Green and Pleasant” slogans.

Phillip, meanwhile, is clearly marked to be the main character of this entire piece – the character who will truly change over the course of the rest of the story. When we first meet him, Phillip seems genial and well intentioned, yet is surprisingly and sickeningly numb to the grotesque sight of a large, bald mutant – his syntax as labored and stilted as the mutant killed early in the previous chapter – decked out in a rainbow-hued skintight costume. When the Genegineer’s garden is charred by a magistrate vehicle’s afterburners, Phillip casually commands the brightly colored (or “Coloured,” as it would be put in South Africa) mutant servant to “Fix it, willya, boy?” and departs the scene.

Phillip is as numb as anyone else to his country’s amorality, and his eyes are not opened until his girlfriend and her family become targets. Claremont is as horrifying here as in every other scene of the comic: Phillip’s terror is tangible as he is nearly beaten by a magistrate, and then the terror becomes sheer awfulness when the magistrate – having realized Phillip’s identity – instead becomes almost sexually cajoling in his desperation not be reported to the Genegineer. The sequence gives a true and visceral sense of the profound moral rot that exists on every tier of Genoshan society.

Amidst all this, Claremont also weaves in the threads of Madelyne’s seduction by S’ym from issue 234. We are introduced to another demon, N’astirh, who appears on a computer screen in the X-Men’s Outback fortress, claiming to be a messenger from S’ym. N’astirh will turn out to be a major player during the “Inferno” crossover; he’s not important here, and Claremont could have kept his appearances in this issue limited to the single one in the Outback. Instead, he complicates the story and increases the density of information found in “Busting Loose,” having the demon show up again, this time in Genosha! It’s yet another discordant element contributing to issue 236’s overall eerie tone.

Finally, Claremont also brings a surprising new wrinkle to Rogue’s characterization, as we learn that Carol Danvers’ personality is not only still present in Rogue’s psyche, but also entirely self-sufficient. She is, furthermore, eager and willing to take over for Rogue while the latter nurses her own psychological wounds. Danvers’ entrance during the astral-plane sequence is incredibly striking – she look as sexy as any Silvestri woman, yet simultaneously classy in her Dave Cockrum-designed costume. Claremont clearly always had an affinity for the Ms. Marvel character, one of his most confidently conceived feminist superheroes. Her appearance here reflects Claremont’s idealization – from her first moment on-panel she stands as beacon of purity and strength amidst internal corruption. More than any individual X-Man, Carol is the superhero of the story, the one who – after “busting loose” from her prison inside Rogue’s head – arrives just in time to come to the rescue, to save the day. And she does so with style and panache, inviting the readers to stand up and cheer for her. (Note, too, Scotese’s clever touch on Rogue’s eyes: In the first few pages, they’re brown, but later, once Danvers has taken control, they become bright blue.)

Ultimately then, “Busting Loose” has all the trappings of a conventional superhero story: There are evil masterminds, people in trouble, a city buried under moral corruption – and a bright, primary colored superhero who emerges toward the end to take care of everything. Claremont’s genius is in both complicating and enhancing all of these story beats, making the danger harsher, the morality murkier, the heroes more troubled – then clothing it all in a real-world allegory.

With its powerfully realized antagonists, morally outraged heroes, breathtakingly designed setting, superbly complex character dynamics and surprising political astuteness, issue 236 is a true triumph on the part of Claremont and company. In some ways, “Busting Loose” is the apex of Claremont’s creativity and expression on the Uncanny X-Men series, a peak blend of intelligence, action and drama that few X-Men issues before or after would match.

Pocoyo: Whale's Birthday (and Sara's Too)

In honor of Sara's birthday: one of our favorite cartoons, which we used to get up at 630am just to watch in England (and then go back to bed). Narrated by Stephen Fry, and designed by geniuses.

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Uncanny X-Men #235

[Jason Powell continues his issue by issue look at Claremont's X-Men run.]

“Welcome to Genosha ... A Green and Pleasant Land ...”

Illustrated by guest artists Rick Leonardi and P. Craig Russell, Uncanny #235 inaugurates the four-part Genosha storyline, Claremont’s hugely ambitious attempt to apply the mutant metaphor to South African apartheid. In June of 1988, when the issue was published, apartheid had been in place in South Africa for 40 years.

The story is one of Claremont’s all-time finest, applying its analogies deftly and carefully – and keeping them implicit throughout. There is no garish use of vile, real-life pejoratives (as in “God Loves, Man Kills”), nor any attempt to make a fetish out of another culture’s seeming exoticisms (as in “LifeDeath II: Heart of Darkness”). Instead, Claremont places the world of Genosha squarely inside the fictional bounds of the Marvel Universe – or more specifically, his own corner of it – allowing it to be read entirely inside those artificial lines if one is so inclined. However, the signifiers to the story’s larger context are all right there, for anyone with eyes to see. Claremont’s ability to write toward both perspectives throughout all four installments of this saga is one of his most impressive achievements.

In service of this dual-minded approach, Claremont constructs each chapter of the “Welcome to Genosha” epic to contain at least one sequence of wrenching brutality and tragedy (always set in the titular African nation), juxtaposed against at least one containing straightforward superhero action. It’s an altogether unsubtle example of using spoonfuls of four-color fun to make the commentary go down, and Claremont is even kind enough to signal us that the action bits – as well-executed as they are – exist more to fulfill genre requirements than because the story requires them. “C’mon, Havok,” says Psylocke, just before the X-Men take down a squad of Genoshan magistrates. “Time for some gratuitous heroics.”

The action is indeed gratuitous; what’s more important in the present issue is all the evidence of Claremont’s universe-building. The world of Genosha is rigorously illustrated right from the opening page: an obnoxious propaganda billboard, whose text doubles as the issue’s title, and whose final word, “freedom,” is obstructed by a fleeing mutant fugitive clutching a baby in his arms. Claremont is offering us a witty mutation of the traditional opening splash page -- which so often presents a big, bold image of characters in violent battle (e.g., the opening splashes of Uncanny 222 or 234). Claremont replaces those bold images with giant, uppercase text, which then in turn is fought, or contradicted, by the image set against it. We don’t yet know what Genosha is or why an X-Men story is beginning there, but our attention is immediately snapped in by the simple and direct irony of a disenfranchised fugitive (who, we know thanks to the shorthand of the baby, is innocent) stumbling past the word “FREEDOM!” The story has now been firmly framed in an instance of visual irony, which is appropriate.

This segues into a fast and brutal sequence (given added poignancy by Glynis Oliver’s violent swaths of color) wherein a mutant father – whose syntax is mangled and awkward, inexplicably at this point in the story – dies in battle against racist antagonists calling themselves “magistrates.” The magistrates are armed with tech that, thanks to Leonardi, has a subtly futuristic sci-fi look to it, and their vernacular includes a new epithet for mutants besides the long-familiar Stan-Lee-ism “mutie.” They call the fugitive a “genejoke” – a particularly strong linguistic invention by Claremont, containing a certain sci-fi exotica as well as a surprising phonetic harshness.

The hypocrisy upon which Genosha is predicated – pointed out in the blatant opening splash – is implicit here as well, though it won’t be explained until later chapters: The Genoshan tech used to take down the mutant by bigots is, in fact, made possible by the country’s mutant population. Possibly influenced by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’ world-building in Watchmen (which suggested that 1980s America would look like an exotic sci-fi metropolis if it truly contained superhumans), Claremont has fashioned Genosha as a place whose superhuman resources – i.e., its mutant population – have been rigorously exploited in order to put the country at the technological forefront, especially in terms of its military. That technology is in turn used to keep its mutants oppressed, which is a brutal irony.

Much of this is not spelled out in the opening chapter, of course. Still, the hints of the nightmarish world of Genosha (basically an iteration of a classic sci-fi trope, the utopia with a dark secret at the core) are rather disquieting right from the start. The repeated mentions of someone called “the Genegineer” (a lovely portmanteau from Claremont), the alien-ness of the Press Gang (whose modem-centric member, Pipeline, is one of comics’ first Information-Age super villains), the magistrates’ fascistic resolve, the political intrigues, the kidnapping of a baby ... it all conspires to be something quite chilling and disquieting.

Even Claremont’s one-page denouement is exciting in its way -- with its incorporation (as in X-Men Annual #12) of the X-Men’s new eight-point-star logo and its somewhat wacky inclusion of an Australian police inspector called Mick Dundee -- and constitutes another example of leavening the dark allegory of the overarching plot with more playfully “comic-booky” bits.

Comment Pull Quotes: Retelling Classics, and Line in the Sand Movies

[Two very good comments that got buried this week that I want to draw attention to again (I never should have lost track of comment pull quotes: that was a great feature, and exactly what this place is all about)].

Streebo wrote

Since there are no free form comments as yet - I thought I would pose this question to the blog. What is your opinion on the retelling or refashioning of classic stories?

I ask this because Rob Zombie's Halloween II was released this weekend. It is a follow up to his remake of the John Carpenter classic Halloween. Horror fans roundly criticized Zombie's Halloween remake before it was ever released - simply because it was a remake. They never gave it a chance to stand on it's own merits.

Most horror fans' arguments against Zombie's film started and ended with the fact that it was a remake of a classic - and it was not an exact copy of said classic. They were insulted by the fact that the film had an entirely different tone and aesthetic to it than John Carpenter's film. Terrence McKenna said it best, that the only obligation a work of art has is to be self-interesting.

I think perhaps I'm more accepting of remakes because of my training as a comic fan. We are used to our heroes being refashioned every three years. I think there was a question in there somewhere.

[A VERY good point. At least one difference is tradition: without a tradition people are just not willing to accept it. Once we get to the 5th Halloween reboot maybe people will be more forgiving, because there are good examples of good reboots in the past. Morrison's X-Men only makes sense if you also look back at Giant Size X-Men or whatever, but Rob Zombie has no reboot precursor or whatever.]

TelosandContext wrote

Inglorious Basterds is a new entry on my list of "line in the sand" films. If you don't like this movie, you stand on the other side of the line with THEM.

[What are the films a love for which creates a Us vs Them mentality? I have still not thought through this myself, but I like the idea that this is a category of film. (Although when I admitted I found Duck Soup to be not that funny many people called me a THEM and stopped reading this blog altogether after sending nasty notes so maybe it is not such a good idea: I repeat: MAYBE I WAS JUST HAVING A BAD DAY! THESE THINGS HAPPEN! MAYBE IF I WATCHED IT WITH YOU!).]