Uncanny X-Men 272

[Jason Powell keeps this blog afloat with a look at every issue of Claremont's X-Men run. You know. The 17 year one. Seriously.]

“Capital Crimes”

Avoiding foolish consistency, Claremont’s third and final contribution to “X-Tinction Agenda” eliminates the “dramatis personae” from Page 1, instead opting for a “man on the street” segment that gives a taste of how the rest of the mainstream Marvel Universe are reacting to reports of the Genoshan war. It’s a fun little bit, featuring cameos by Mr. Fantastic, She-Hulk, and – surprisingly – The Punisher. (That single panel is the only instance I can call to mind of Claremont writing Frank Castle, by the way. I love that he actually seems to be on Genosha’s side.)

Again, although this issue is mainly just advancing “X-Tinction Agenda” along, it is significant in the larger context of Claremont’s full run, in a number of ways: The X-Men are now a team again, enough members having reunited at this point to constitute a full cast of characters. This thereby marks an end to the “Dissolution” saga begun all the way back in Uncanny 251. Also, since this story makes use of the media – explicitly telling us that these events are being broadcast on American television – we are also looking at the end of an even longer arc: The “X-Men believed dead” conceit begun all the way back in issue 229. Finally, this is the point at which the (somewhat arbitrary) walls separating the three core mutant series – Uncanny X-Men, New Mutants and X-Factor – are dissolved completely. At this point, the X-universe becomes a much more amorphous place, with the X-Men essentially one large team whose story happens to be told in several different series. That’s still pretty much the case today, from what I can tell.

One would expect that such momentous moments in the narrative would have a larger sense of grandeur and glory. Instead, it’s all rather ignominious: The world learns the X-Men are alive by seeing on the news that they’ve been captured; the team is reunited because their separate attacks on the enemy failed. It would be tempting to suggest that this is Claremont subverting reader expectation for a grand finale, but it seems more likely that he is simply following an editorially mandated over-plot (albeit one which he probably had some hand in shaping).

Indeed, Claremont seems a bit annoyed at some of the creative wheel-spinning required of the plot in order to stretch it out to nine issues – hence the commentary from Rictor when he, Boom Boom and Jubilee are finally woven in: “Way to go! ‘Bout time we had something useful to do.”

Although issue 272 is only one link in the chain, Claremont does – whether by luck of the draw or by design – get to write the most exciting part of the crossover’s final act, i.e. the triumphant turnaround that puts the heroes back on top. Granted, the Storm macguffin is a bit pat – apparently the Genegineer programmed no less than THREE deus ex machinas into her “matrix” at the end of Uncanny 271, all in the space of what appears to be roughly 15 seconds or so. Still, the execution is fun, and Claremont gives several other characters some beautifully choreographed cheer-worthy moments as well: Psylocke’s rescue of Anderson and Cyclops’ return to power, for example, are both magnificently handled. (Jim Lee and Scott Williams deserve their share of the credit for the coolness of those moments, of course.)

This issue also contains a fantastically over-the-top bit in which Gambit saves the day through a series of impossible moves. It must be seen to be appreciated; to describe the sequence in cold, hard text does it no justice – which is why even Claremont lets the panels run without any text (a rarity for him at any time, and this era especially). Jim Lee’s choreography truly does speak for itself. Indeed, the Gambit sequence may have been Lee’s invention entirely, although we surely have Claremont to thank for putting the “miraculous-lock-pick” scenario in perspective, as the Beast reminds us that it is a reprise of a sequence from the John Byrne era. (This may have been protestation on Claremont’s part, as he was avowedly against the franchise looking backwards; if so, it backfired, as the nod to continuity simply felt like a reward for longtime readers.)

At this point in the run, each issue of Uncanny takes us farther away from the immensely complicated tapestry that characterized Claremont at his peak. The storytelling here is much less complicated -- more set-‘em-up/knock-‘em-down. Nonetheless, Claremont proves – in all three of his entries in the “X-Tinction” saga – that he can deliver straightforward excitement as well as anyone. What’s more, for people who had been “following the tangled skein” (as Peter David once put it) of the X-Men narrative for years, the adrenalized thrill of these big action-sequences felt hard-earned indeed, and were all the more satisfying because of it.

Uncanny X-Men 271

[Jason Powell continues to look at every issue of Claremont's major X-Men run. Some very good points about Havok here, I think.]

“Flashpoint”

Act Two, scene 1 of “X-Tinction Agenda” begins here, as – quite excitingly -- the Wolverine/Psylocke/Jubilee triad arrive in Genosha. The first page duplicates the structure of the previous issue’s opening: The “Dramatis Personae” on the top and bottom tiers, bracketing an expository news report. In a nice bit of economy, the news report serves a double-purpose dramatically, explaining how Logan et al knew to come to Genosha in the first place.

As noted last week, “X-Tinction Agenda” feels a lot like “Secret Wars” – basically just a big fight between a score of superheroes and a bunch of villains, with the story’s length stretched mainly through clever manipulation of individual factions. There is a lot of “let’s split up into smaller teams” maneuvering. In that sense, “Flashpoint” (part 4 of a nine-part arc) is not terribly remarkable, in that it mainly serves just to add three new pieces to the chessboard.

Still, Claremont is quite shrewd in how he executes the beats, so that every maneuver feels significant beyond its place in the crossover’s logistics game. For one, the introduction of the Wolverine faction is given added weight by its position in terms of Claremont’s much larger “Dissolution” arc. I.e., Logan, Betsy and Jubilee are finally – after nearly two years – linking up with the other X-factions. That fact alone infuses this issue with a particularly explosive sense of energy.

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LOST: A Tale of Two Drafts

After days of conversations with everyone from internet people to people on the streets, this is where I stand on the subject of LOST.

The internet seems to have split into two camps about LOST: people who wanted to mysteries explained, and people who really liked the final message that it was the people who mattered so forget about all the mysteries. I think the camps are limited. One camp says that if you hated the end of LOST you will hate 2001 but love the Phantom Menace (because The Phantom Menace "explains" the force). But I do not think either of those are fair comparisons. I did not want the mysteries of Lost "explained" -- I wanted them unified, related to one another. Still mysterious, but connected. 2001 has some very mysterious scenes but it only asks me to accept one: the obelisk appears at moments of major cosmic evolution, and the movie shows us one from the distant past, and one from the near future. The willing suspension of disbelief works awesome for the obelisk, but when I am asked to accept many unconnected mysteries I find this harder to do, if you are claiming you are telling one story. One of the many mysteries on LOST was the ghosts, but even that "one" mystery turned out to be several: some ghosts were actual ghosts, some where a shapeshifter impersonating the dead, some were maybe psychic projections of the living or something like bi-location (Shannon seeing Walt covered in water on the island when he was captured by the others at the same time elsewhere), some were hallucinations (like Hurley seeing his friend from the institute), and some remain inscrutable ("taller Walt" meeting Locke and the end of season 3 -- can't be the Man in Black because he can only take the form of the dead, can't be a ghost because Walt is alive, it is hard to see how it could actually be Walt projecting himself psychically from far away or something, and to say it was a part of Locke's subconscious seems like a stretch).

The people who agree with the creators that the characters have to be the main thing are right; this is a principle of screenwriting. But equally important to screenwriting is the resolution of implicit promises to the audience (that, say, the statue had something to do with the weirdness elsewhere on the island). And frankly, it was actors like Terry O'Quinn and Michael Emerson that made the characters compelling. Juliet's sudden change of heart about the bomb at the end of season 5, very convenient for the writers but not especially compelling from her point of view, hardly suggests that they are taking character as seriously as they claim, though they are not without some tremendous ones. The characters are great at times, but no one is going to confuse this with The Wire, where everyone in the first four seasons is a fully realized human being, and never a device for a writer's agenda.

So how to make sense of LOST. Here is what I think happened. Not a ton of evidence, but it explains a lot of what I wanted explained.

LOST started out as a show about a plane that crashed. Everyone on the plane died.

X-Men Annual #14

[Jason Powell continues to look at every issue! ever! of Claremont's initial X-Men run! This one was supposed to be up last week, and last weeks was supposed to be up this week, but I screwed up the order, even though Jason Powell made it super clear. Sorry. ]

A-side: “You Must Remember This”
B-side: “The Fundamental Things”

In 1992, only a year or so after his departure from the X-books, Claremont was interviewed by The Comics Journal. Interviewer Kim Thompson notes at one point that, in order to prep, she had read the paperback collection of “Days of Future Present.” Claremont’s reply is sarcastic: “That was a good one.”

A story told over the course of four 1990 annuals, “Days of Future Present” is as bloated and horrible as a beached whale (thus, perhaps appropriate that it contains so many allusions to “Moby Dick”). When Kim Thompson notes that she couldn’t follow the storyline, Claremont agrees that it’s a clusterfuck, blaming the whole concept of the company crossover rather than the creative personnel involved. “That was done by three people who knew what we were doing,” he says, in reference to himself and the Simonsons.

It’s a charitable assessment. While Walt Simonson’s opening chapter in that year’s Fantastic Four annual is perfectly readable, the two middle episodes – both by Louise – are dreadfully written. Her New Mutants annual is a chaotic mess of characters and concepts without a single cohering element. The X-Factor annual is marginally more focused, but suffers from egregious characterization of the lead characters. The entire affair is so obnoxious, that Claremont’s conclusion in X-Men Annual #14 – while still suffering from the lingering logistical problems – feels like the window opening to let in a gentle spring breeze.

The opening pages contain some characteristically thoughtful narration, juxtaposed with a delightfully prosaic scene (illustrated by Art Adams, who drew all of Claremont’s best X-annuals) of Rachel Summers enjoying a burger and fries at a diner. The serene normalcy of the pictures, combined with the mellifluous poetry of the text, go a long way towards washing away the sheer, excruciating noise of the preceding chapters.

From there, Claremont does his level best to juggle a gigantic collection of characters (the entire casts of the previous three annuals, plus Gambit and Young Storm), and is more or less successful thanks to a sense of pacing and focus bred from years of experience. He also has the advantage of being the person who gets to answer the questions set up by the story’s premise (i.e., the Franklin Richards of the future appearing in the present). It’s refreshingly on the nose when Storm finally cuts through the chaos midway through to ask the question that should have been asked two chapters ago: How can Franklin have come from the “Days of Future Past” timeline when, in the original story, we saw him killed by a Sentinel? (It is emblematic of Louise Simonson’s work on the X-titles that this obvious question hadn’t come up already.)