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A review by samsolariusleo
Superman: Year One by Frank Miller
1.0
If you're not a fan of Superman, this book isn't for you. If you're a fan of Superman, get the hell out of this book while you still can!
If there's one person in this world who can turn Clark Kent into a douchebag, it's Frank Miller. In "Superman: Year One", Miller somehow turns the sweet farmboy we know and love into a narcissistic playboy with no love or regard for human life. He practically scoffs at the fragility of earth beings as he plays the "white saviour" card and works to save humanity from themselves. He only wants to save people it's EASY to do so when you're bulletproof. And then he goes on to laugh at humans for being so weak and clumsy.
If you didn't think it could get any worse, you're in for a big surprise. Not only does Miller write Superman like a privileged douchebag, Superman is apparently an unapologetic playboy whom women fall all over themselves for. Every single woman he meets practically becomes his love interest as he declares his undying love for them on the page, then packs his bags and leaves for another adventure. Not even Wonder Woman is spared from being turned into a doormat as she cries over a man she's only met literally three pages ago. As Lois Lane would say, this book just set the women's movement back by at least five decades.
If I hadn't known this was written by the same man who wrote The Dark Knight Returns, I would have thought it was written by an amateur with no idea what the essence of Superman's character is all about. Perhaps Miller should just stick to characters who ooze toxic masculinity from their pores instead of dragging our poor Clark under the water (pun intended).
Needless to say, this book left a sour taste in my mouth, and I'm going to need some good 'ol Jurgens's and Gleason's Rebirth and Geoff Johns's Secret Origins to wash this all down.
If there's one person in this world who can turn Clark Kent into a douchebag, it's Frank Miller. In "Superman: Year One", Miller somehow turns the sweet farmboy we know and love into a narcissistic playboy with no love or regard for human life. He practically scoffs at the fragility of earth beings as he plays the "white saviour" card and works to save humanity from themselves. He only wants to save people it's EASY to do so when you're bulletproof. And then he goes on to laugh at humans for being so weak and clumsy.
If you didn't think it could get any worse, you're in for a big surprise. Not only does Miller write Superman like a privileged douchebag, Superman is apparently an unapologetic playboy whom women fall all over themselves for. Every single woman he meets practically becomes his love interest as he declares his undying love for them on the page, then packs his bags and leaves for another adventure. Not even Wonder Woman is spared from being turned into a doormat as she cries over a man she's only met literally three pages ago. As Lois Lane would say, this book just set the women's movement back by at least five decades.
If I hadn't known this was written by the same man who wrote The Dark Knight Returns, I would have thought it was written by an amateur with no idea what the essence of Superman's character is all about. Perhaps Miller should just stick to characters who ooze toxic masculinity from their pores instead of dragging our poor Clark under the water (pun intended).
Needless to say, this book left a sour taste in my mouth, and I'm going to need some good 'ol Jurgens's and Gleason's Rebirth and Geoff Johns's Secret Origins to wash this all down.