A colleague from work, Jemiah Jefferson, turned to me at a party on Thursday and said, “A friend of mine has a beef with you.” That was a new experience, as I’ve been fairly lucky that, despite having strong feelings about comics and being foolish enough to share them on the Internet, I don’t think I’ve ever had a negative interaction with anyone because of anything I’ve posted to the blog.
I like to think that, for the most part, I get along with everyone I know in comics, regardless of our differing opinions or my feelings about their work. It’s a small business, and one simply can’t afford to be a jerk. I nearly shut down the blog entirely when I started at Dark Horse, since I wasn’t sure how much of a conflict of interest it was to write about the work of people I might encounter through my new job. It wasn’t long before I was assigned to projects with people whose work I had reviewed. I got a few thanks from people whose work I wrote up positively, but thankfully I never received any hard feelings from people whose work I had reviewed negatively. Either they were unaware of the blog (the most likely answer), or they didn’t mind a little criticism backed up with reason and directed solely at a book and not at them personally (also possible, as they were all nice people).
Over time I got more comfortable, redirected my focus to broader comics topics, event reporting and interviews, with only occasional reviews mixed in. My bosses were also very helpful in pointing out which topics and people were completely off limits, and with only one exception never objected to anything I alerted them that I planned to post.
So, the party. I’ve been relatively vocal about my support for the Stephen Bissette–instigated Marvel boycott (“relatively” meaning that I’ve used my microphone as best I can, but it’s not a very loud one) over the company’s continued refusal of proper credit or compensation to Jack Kirby’s family. I skipped this summer’s Marvel movies, all three of which were based on Kirby cocreations, vowed to no longer buy any Marvel comics that featured Kirby-derived characters, wrote a lengthy post in this space about the boycott, and for a couple months made “Boycott Marvel” my Facebook icon. I gather that what happened is I commented on something on Jemiah’s page, where my icon was seen by her friend, a penciler at Marvel, who clicked through and found the blog post, taking it personally. So let me tell him, and the Internet, what I told Jemiah:
I am boycotting Marvel. I am not boycotting you. I do not begrudge you your work for the publisher. Because a) making a living penciling comic books was my dream when I was a kid, and you are awesome for accomplishing that, and b) you’re not exactly getting rich off of Jack Kirby. Like everything else in America, there is a class issue at play here, and I don’t have a right to tell you that you should ignore the fact that you gotta eat. You probably make about as much as I do, and I don’t need anyone to tell me how hard it is to get by on what I make.
It’s the people who have gotten rich from Kirby’s work while denying his contribution that I am angry at. The people who through ignorance or dishonestly initially put a title card crediting Stan Lee, rather than Joe Simon and Jack Kirby, with Captain America’s creation in the first Captain America film. The people who put Stan Lee but not Joe Simon in the new Captain America film. Who could afford to pay royalties to Kirby’s family for reprints of his work or the use of characters he created or cocreated in Marvel’s films but choose not to. The, as Tom Spurgeon put it, “random lawyer sitting on Marvel’s board in 2000s [who] probably made more in bonuses over a two-year period off of Kirby’s creations than Kirby made in his lifetime.” Those are the people this boycott is aimed at.
It’s a tough thing in any kind of action against a corporation: how do you get its attention and hopefully affect it financially without hurting the people who work for it? I confess that I’ve been able to sidestep this a bit, because I don’t actually buy many single-issue comics anymore, so for better or worse I’m not affecting the royalties of writers and artists currently working for Marvel. Where my money goes to Marvel is the movies and collections like the Essential and Omnibus editions, often of Jack Kirby’s actual work. The last one I bought, which until things change is the last one I will buy, was the $75 Captain America by Jack Kirby hardcover (what can I say; you can afford stuff like that when you save by skipping monthly comics). In retrospect, a book like that is among the biggest offenders, as it not only stars a Kirby-cocreated character, but was actually written and drawn by the King himself, sold in large part on the basis of his name and rereleased in an expensive edition in time to coincide with a blockbuster film, all without any royalties going to his family. I confess that Marvel is not losing my business on a weekly basis, but they have lost a reliable customer of several of these $75–$125 books a year.
However, were I a regular buyer of Marvel’s monthly comics, I would stop that as well (as I have done with DC’s Superman comics as a result of that company’s shabby treatment of the Siegels and Shusters, despite my love of Grant Morrison’s writing). Then I possibly would affect royalties, and all I can say to that is that I wouldn’t feel good about buying the comics, but I do not begrudge the people making a living by writing and drawing them. You, Marvel penciler, and all the working-class people like you who are trying to make a name in this business, are not the people who have done this moral wrong. And it’s not my place to tell you that you shouldn’t work for Marvel. If you didn’t work for Marvel, someone else would, and the people listed two paragraphs back wouldn’t notice. So why would I attack you? I’m not upset at the people who need the penciling paycheck to live, I’m upset at the people who can’t live without reading the next issue of Invincible Iron Man.
I do wish the people with louder voices than either yours or mine would use them. Imagine if Brian Bendis, Matt Fraction, Jeph Loeb or another writer or artist of their stature at Marvel spoke out. That’s what got much of Kirby’s artwork returned to him when Marvel was holding it hostage in the 1980s. The top people in the business, including those who had made their names at Marvel, publicly stood with him because it was right and because them doing so was impossible to ignore. Where are the 2011 equivalents of those creators, with their much better compensation and treatment that is the direct result of the kind of agitation that was more common in the ’80s? Why are they silent on this issue at the same time as they praise the filmmakers they work with for capturing the feel of Kirby’s work?
I’m usually the last guy to complain about the fragmentation of media, but I wonder if the small field of comics, which took to the Internet so early and so completely, simply no longer has an outlet with the kind of audience or authority to draw the attention this issue deserves. During the fight over Kirby’s artwork The Comics Journal was a central institution, reporting on each development, providing a soapbox for the writers and artists who backed Kirby, and publishing the names of those who had signed the petition. Who can do that today?
The answer, as best as I can tell, is that we all have to do what we think is right and what we can do. Ultimately I realize that I am doing very little, but I wouldn’t feel good about myself spending my money that way and so I choose not to. People I work with and respect feel differently, but that doesn’t make them bad people, and I engage with them about this but don’t vilify their choice. Other people need that paycheck from Marvel and if they want to make it in this business then the boycott is not feasible for them. I’m okay with that. Some people directly and hugely benefit from the ill treatment of Kirby’s heirs, and I don’t know what their motives are, but I hope that by many people continuing to talk about this, those who benefit come to decide that it might not be worth it.
And ultimately that’s all we’re talking about. Sorry to anyone I offended last time out. I’m on your side.
“Even Gods Must Die” and The Hunger Dogs, both reprinted in Jack Kirby’s Fourth World Omnibus vol. 4, are nothing short of astounding. Together, they represent a very different ending to the Fourth World saga than one might expect. Kirby’s interests were clearly different so many years later, and his growing physical frailty shows in his linework, but his inventiveness is as strong as ever. The pages look and read unlike anything I’ve seen before. Compositional elements that used to be part of costumes or machinery now hold entire pages together. Kirby plays with reading direction and panel shapes like never before, and he never runs out of new ways to make characters look like they’re leaping from the page.
The series is also notable in that it continues some of the trends of previous Fourth World revivals. The first chapter features an image of Highfather recounting the origins of the Fourth World, as the page quotes both the words and pictures of Kirby’s The New Gods #1. On the next few pages, writer-artist Jim Starlin does his best Kirby impression. It might just be because this is meant to be their final outing, but virtually every character from the Fourth World puts in an appearance. When doing their version of the Fourth World, writers and artists seem unusually compelled to try and use everything, to directly homage the source material, as if they are extra aware that it is the creation of a personal, singular vision by an artist at the top of his game. By the same token, DC Comics has seemed conscious of trying to recapture that feel by giving the characters to single writer-artists more often than they do other series, most recently with John Byrne on Jack Kirby’s Fourth World and 
Once the Source is brought in, the story drifts further off-course. The New Gods are a pantheon, so when the Source’s actions cause Mister Miracle to question his beliefs, it’s a reminder of what an awkward place a story featuring polytheism is for working through questions of monotheism. Allowing the Source a single sentient entity––and it’s amazing how quickly characters begin referring to a floating sphere as “He”––diminishes it from thing of mystery to run-of-the-mill (lowercase “g”) god. Its place in a hierarchy above the New Gods diminishes them as well, making them just slightly more powerful superheroes. The addition of so many new elements also requires voluminous exposition, making the whole story, including the final battle, incredibly talky. This talkiness forces Starlin to shoehorn in action where he can in scenes like an early fight between Superman and Orion, which is outed as unnecessary by Mister Miracle’s narration in a way that draws attention to it, rather than adding levity.
Starlin’s characterization is strong both in the writing and art, but it’s hard to overcome the wobbly narrative it’s stuck in. Some details, like Dark Mister Miracle, just don’t work, his circus costume looking silly in black and purple (I felt that Barda mourning Miracle would have been more interesting, though it’s possible there wouldn’t be as much distinction between Orion and Barda as Orion and Miracle). Several of the mystery’s twists are poorly plotted as well, as when Superman suspects Orion, forgetting that the two were together during some of the murders.
The mythic tone is enhanced by the inclusion of backup “Tales of the New Gods,” most notably “Nativity,” depicting Orion’s birth and “Goodness and Mercy,” filling in Granny Goodness’s early years. Such stories could easily feel redundant, but Simonson and, in the case of “Nativity,” Frank Miller on art, bring the kind of big moments and epic proclamations that add weight to the main narrative. Once Orion is born, a midwife whispers, “Milady… your son. He is trembling… in fear.” “No,” Orion’s mother, Tigra, replies. “In fury.” It’s dialogue that would sound over-the-top coming from mortals, but the setting and characters are big enough to match them. Just as significant as Orion’s birth, “Nativity” reveals the origin of the prophesy pitting Orion against his father, as Tigra declares, “Thus will Darkseid forge the tool of his own destruction.” Miller’s intense, high contrast art is a perfect match for the material and his depiction of Orion’s birth through Tigra’s changing shadow against a wall is masterful.
Unlike Giffen and DeMatteis’ Mister Miracle #6, it doesn’t stand alone, incorporating plot threads from both JLI and Mister Miracle, and introducing new storylines to each.
But overall, it feels like a Kirby plot. The Fourth World Saga, for all its focus on raw power, was a product of the Vietnam era, and had a deep ethical concern with the view from the ground, splitting issues between the battles of gods and the dramas of the human characters caught in the crossfire, some of whom only appeared for an issue. It’s no different here, with Superman and The Guardian battling Darkseid’s attempts to devolve Metropolis into apes, while the human drama revolves around Jimmy and Daily Planet doorman, Bernie Sobel, who does his best to not get involved in other people’s problems, even as the building starts to come down around him. His arc has more stabs at comedy than I imagine Kirby injecting, but his discovery of courage under fire fits in with the other human characters of The Fourth World.
Steve Rude does an interesting job pulling off a tough challenge, homaging Kirby’s style while maintaining his own. For the most part, characters have Rude faces and Rude builds, but he pulls off some convincing Kirby-style panel compositions and extreme perspectives, and draws some pretty admirable Kirby-tech. Bill Reinhold’s inking is spot-on, melding Rude’s grace with some Kirby weight and textures, making those chunky lines sit comfortably on Rude’s figures. Together, they do a stellar job of homaging Kirby without aping him.
I’ll be honest: If it weren’t for the Kirby history and homage, I don’t know how interested I’d be in “The American Evolution!”’s somewhat boilerplate story (of all of Kirby’s Fourth World work, I’m not sure if fans were really screaming for more Jimmy and The Project). However, the obvious love Evanier et al have for the material shines through, and touches like Bernie’s transformation, parallels between the fear Darkseid and Edge’s underlings have for them, the many excellent monsters and machines, coupled with great art, push it beyond mere nostalgia artifact to genuinely enjoyable read.
No, the reason to own this DVD over the original release is the material on the second disc, specifically the documentary on Jack Kirby, entitled simply Jack Kirby: Storyteller. There’s also a documentary about the history of the Fantastic Four comic book called The World’s Greatest Comic Magazine, but it suffers from too strong a feeling of official history, highlighting the same eras and creators that any Marvel Comics history of the FF would. The amusing sequence in which it’s plainly apparent that John Byrne must have refused to cooperate and his run is described through captions uses nearly the same wording to describe his time on the series as the back covers of the Fantastic Four Visionaries: John Byrne series. The highlight is Walter Simonson describing some of his artistic choices from when he was FF’s writer/artist, but the film is largely skippable unless you’re new to the Four.
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