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thomasindc 's review for:
Kingdom Come
by Mark Waid
fast-paced
Obligatory “I don’t really read comics much” prelude, then: this might be my favorite comic? Aside from The Dark Knight Returns (Frank Miller; I have a panel of this comic blown up and framed in my living room, Batman snapping a shotgun in half, declaring: “THIS is the weapon of the ENEMY. We do not NEED it. We will not USE it.”), this is the one that I’ve read the most.
Usually I read a comic or two a year, but in the aftermath of Gunn’s SUPERMAN, I find myself wanting to either experience for the first time, or revisit, some of the most notable Superman stories. Superman has never been my hero, it’s always been Bats. Yet, at this point in my life, I find a lot in the more complex Superman stories to engage with. Superman is godlike. He can fly, he is essentially invulnerable, he can shoot lasers from his eyes, ice from his lungs, and is, of course, faster than a speeding bullet. And, to top it off, he is Good.
I grew up in rural Illinois, and a few times when I was young we’d drive down to a dinky little town called METROPOLIS. As you might imagine, there’s a little Superman museum and a pretty big Superman Statue, classic red trunks, cape, on a pedestal proclaiming TRUTH—JUSTICE—THE AMERICAN WAY. There’s a picture of me as a little kid under that statue.
There’s really never been a moment where I’ve been <i>inspired</i> by Superman, though. I always found him a little boring. Over the years, Kingdom Come has chipped away at that. At the beginning of the comic, Superman has been absent for a decade, having abdicated and disappeared. Meanwhile, a wave of new metahumans, progeny of the old, escalate and terrorize. One fight involves the nuclear destruction of Kansas (famed second home to Supes). It is here, in the opening pages, that the inspiration starts to land. McCay, our POV character, shouts out of terror, “WE NEED HOPE!” The following pages are an incredible way to bring Superman back, show his new costume, his aged face, and communicate so much about what the character means both to us, to the comicworld he’s in, and as a broader symbol.
It’s also a good depiction of Superman’s weakness, which goes beyond kryptonite, into his worldview. Superman simply does not understand <i>why</i> people would be evil. He cannot fathom death. Even when everyone in the room knows that Peace’s ship has sailed, Superman can’t contemplate starting a war. In one panel, as the League is preparing to stop a metahuman riot, Wonder Woman is preparing to kill people, but Superman can’t see it. He <i>sees</i> it, but can’t quite believe it. He doesn’t accept it when she dons the armor, doesn’t accept it when her atom-carving magical sword slices his thumb. Doesn’t see it until he belts out, in front of everyone, “But you can’t have a war without people dying!” The whole room just stares, some (particularly Wonder Woman) in visible disgust at his denial. It’s a great panel.
I suppose I like it because it doesn’t matter that Superman has all of these powers, he is in fact hugely vulnerable to his simple view of Goodness. And he is not, in fact, all powerful. Eventually, a character describes Superman to himself, in a passage that I love:
Usually I read a comic or two a year, but in the aftermath of Gunn’s SUPERMAN, I find myself wanting to either experience for the first time, or revisit, some of the most notable Superman stories. Superman has never been my hero, it’s always been Bats. Yet, at this point in my life, I find a lot in the more complex Superman stories to engage with. Superman is godlike. He can fly, he is essentially invulnerable, he can shoot lasers from his eyes, ice from his lungs, and is, of course, faster than a speeding bullet. And, to top it off, he is Good.
I grew up in rural Illinois, and a few times when I was young we’d drive down to a dinky little town called METROPOLIS. As you might imagine, there’s a little Superman museum and a pretty big Superman Statue, classic red trunks, cape, on a pedestal proclaiming TRUTH—JUSTICE—THE AMERICAN WAY. There’s a picture of me as a little kid under that statue.
There’s really never been a moment where I’ve been <i>inspired</i> by Superman, though. I always found him a little boring. Over the years, Kingdom Come has chipped away at that. At the beginning of the comic, Superman has been absent for a decade, having abdicated and disappeared. Meanwhile, a wave of new metahumans, progeny of the old, escalate and terrorize. One fight involves the nuclear destruction of Kansas (famed second home to Supes). It is here, in the opening pages, that the inspiration starts to land. McCay, our POV character, shouts out of terror, “WE NEED HOPE!” The following pages are an incredible way to bring Superman back, show his new costume, his aged face, and communicate so much about what the character means both to us, to the comicworld he’s in, and as a broader symbol.
It’s also a good depiction of Superman’s weakness, which goes beyond kryptonite, into his worldview. Superman simply does not understand <i>why</i> people would be evil. He cannot fathom death. Even when everyone in the room knows that Peace’s ship has sailed, Superman can’t contemplate starting a war. In one panel, as the League is preparing to stop a metahuman riot, Wonder Woman is preparing to kill people, but Superman can’t see it. He <i>sees</i> it, but can’t quite believe it. He doesn’t accept it when she dons the armor, doesn’t accept it when her atom-carving magical sword slices his thumb. Doesn’t see it until he belts out, in front of everyone, “But you can’t have a war without people dying!” The whole room just stares, some (particularly Wonder Woman) in visible disgust at his denial. It’s a great panel.
I suppose I like it because it doesn’t matter that Superman has all of these powers, he is in fact hugely vulnerable to his simple view of Goodness. And he is not, in fact, all powerful. Eventually, a character describes Superman to himself, in a passage that I love:
Listen to me, Clark. Of all the things you can do… all your powers… the **greatest** has always been your **instinctive knowledge of right and wrong.** It was a gift of your own humanity. **You never had to question your choices in any situation… any crisis… You *knew* what to do**. But the minute you made the **super** more important than the **man**… The day you decided to turn your back on Mankind… that completely cost you your instinct. That took your judgement away.
Historically, I’ve thought of Superman as a goody-two-shoes, uncomplicated, black-and-white figure. I don’t know how fair that is, though I think framing it as an “instinctive knowledge of right and wrong,” is quite a bit better than as black-and-white. Especially when the having the knowledge of right and wrong has very little to do with having the capacity to implement, maintain, instill, or inspire. Maybe that’s why I have loved Batman, the great detective, with all of his moral greys that, ultimately, resolve to just as strong a moral code. What I’ve come to appreciate is that both characters have to struggle with morality and their role in their worlds, albeit in different ways.
So, yeah, I really like this book! I decided to buy a physical copy, after years of reading PDFs online. It was a joy to read. Alex Ross might be my favorite illustrator of comics. It is such a specific style that he has, this sort of high-realism. On the back, this quotes Publishers Weekly as saying Ross’s work is like a hybrid of Norman Rockwell and Jack Kirby, which I like. This version of The Green Lantern looks, to use a term of art, sick. Batman being Bruce Wayne so often, in this mechanized support frame, is very cool. I will say, most of them looking like Old Men is kind of strange sometimes. Bruce looks like the worst asshole you’ve ever seen at a golf club. Thankfully, he is great in this book, and the Batsuit looks awesome, too.
Really, really, good comic. I’ll never write about comics this much again, but I like this one!