Captain Marvel 9 & 10

 Visions of Captain Marvel 10…9…

Revealed through Jack Kerouac’s Essentials of Spontaneous Prose

Captain Marvel Captain Marvel Captain Marvel—Carol Danvers now the Marvel paragon of the sky—the bad-ass kind-hearted boot-wearin’ kicker of the Marvel sky of New York—what is this hold—this captivation—this mesmerism your story contains that escapes other hero books—especially ones with female protagonists—Because the double x chromosomes are integral to Captain Marvel being a great book—She is a super hero but not super in the sense of being too far beyond mundane humanity—Her powers and heroics give her extra abilities yet her mindset stands rooted in the everyday rather than saving the universe or waging Kree or Skrull wars or whatever other matter may occupy the minds of Medusa Sue Richards or Thor—Captain Marvel is one of us—If given super powers a normal human’s thought process and focus would proceed in a manner very similar to Carl Danvers—Yes YES YES this a core part to her appeal! She’s like the reader or rather the reader feels that he is like her in ways that don’t feel possible with the Hulk or Superman or John Prophet—She has a regular apartment neighbors friends appointments to-do lists and a job (flying an airplane…or all things for a superhero with flight powers to do…this one baffles me the most…why Kelly Sue WHY???!).

And what of the art? Artwork on Captain Marvel has always both attracts and deters (but man those covers by Terry Dodson and Rachel Dodson are attractive) and yet the lines and panels of Filipe Andrade have a very nontraditional superhero feel to them—Yet heroics lurk in his lines—When sitting at her table for breakfast the way Carol’s head is propped in her hand—the tightness of the kitchen—the sparseness and tininess of the table makes the whole second panel of the first page seethes with tension—even the cat crouching on the counter looking ready to jump what appears to be a very long distance adds to the tension—and the paradox because at the right end of the panel everything (Carol—the table—the pictures on the wall—the chairs—the vase—coffee—plate and phone on the table seem cramped—yet the left side of the panel seems incredibly open and spacious and accommodating—This juxtaposition in the creation of the paradox holds throughout the book—This paradox (AHH this is the reason Carol flies planes AND can fly with her powers!?) holds part of that fascination—Aspects that shouldn’t go together—and yet they do—and they work (cosmic powers—regular mindset—superhero Avenger—has a job flying airplane—these  things should not be working together and yet they are—Kudos to Kelly Sue for pulling this one off.

Dinosaurs running amok in New York (more paradox and odd juxtapositions…the Jurassic world occurring in the modern world) adds to this fascination—Plus dinosaurs are simply just cool.

Yet the artwork of Andrade seems such an odd fit—Looking at the work with expectations of realism—the proportions of the figures are wrong…legs far too skinny to support the body weight—the space between the eyes seems wide enough that you could land a plane between the sockets—stretching bodies are elongated far past the stretching point of the spine—yet realistic expectations are the WRONG sort of expectations to bring to this book—all expectations are the WRONG expectations to bring to this book—or any book—as a reader just relax and take the art and the story for what they are—Andrade doesn’t put realistic expectations in his panels but the impression—feeling—sense—aura—that does fill the panels  fits with the story and tale and character of Captain Marvel herself—Andrade’s lines MOVE—They move faster than Jack Kerouac on the road with Neal Cassady—Andrade’s stances give the figures an aura of confidence of power of immediacy of AUTHORITY that lends a swiftness and fascination to even some of the more mundane scenes (like when Captain Marvel stands around and talks with Jessica Drew) The hard extreme foreshortened views from a worm’s view visually and instantly depict the grandeur that Kelly Sue has written into this character—A grandeur that is respected—admired—and relateable—The loose lively free suggestive lines of Andrade stimulate rather than stifle the scene—These suggestions—these imperfections I originally called them when taking my numbskull prejudice expecting-realism first glances at the pages—are the very factors that add to the energy and fascination of this book—Andrade’s  style—I’m not sure what you’d call it—impressionistic—European—loose—modern—take whatever label you want—but it doesn’t seem to fit with photographic realism—and yet this none realistic style conveys the realism that can’t be captured with realism—that paradox that haunts the character of Captain Marvel and the tales in this book also haunt the lines and panels and layouts in the artwork—I can’t say as if I understand Captain Marvel or the character or the story or what’s going to happen any better since the beginning of this review—but as far as what hooks and fascinates me with the book—what factor keeps me mesmerized as I gaze and gaze and gaze through the pages wondering why do I like this——lies within the harmony of the paradoxes that spill out upon the page.

 

Keep me perplexed, keep it paradoxical and I’ll keep holding and following the sash of Captain Marvel.

Conan the Barbarian #12: The Death: Part 3

Conan faces foes like he’s never faced in the past 100 issues of Dark Horse’s Conan. Given the barbarian’s rogue gallery, such sinister villainy would seem to strain imaginations, yet Brian Wood takes familiar material in the barbarian's mythos and bends it in a new ways. He makes it look obvious and easy. This current issue evokes “I could have thought of and done that” from readers; except we can’t. Only Wood’s unique voice can sing this song of Conan; which is fine, because the rest of us get to listen.

Conan’s new challengers still lurk in the technological laden 21^st century; self-doubt, illness, helplessness at watching the suffering of a loved one. The creative team (Brian Wood, Declan Shalvey, and Dave Stewart on script, art, and colors, respectively) depicts this helpless inaction with some tension and spear throwing to propel the action of the issue.

The pace Wood sets in the 12^th issue of his 25 issue run in the port of Bakal sine curves from inaction, to violent action, to debilitated inaction again. In parts one and two of “The Death,” the crew of the Tigress contracted a deadly fever and Conan set out to find a cure. Bêlit numbered among the ill and instructed Conan to leave them while he still possessed his health. Issue 11 ended with Conan trying to decide whether he’d follow Bêlit’s orders. Issue 12 opens with Conan in a tavern, having decided to stay, drinking breakfast and finding some medical help for the crew.

Conan’s immobile brooding drinking soon leads to violent action that raises the apex of the sine curve with some distracting bloodletting as Conan and N’Gora defend their ship against a meager mob.

After the fight, N’gora informs Conan that Bêlit’s screams have been continuous throughout their entire battle on the dock. These howls Wood describes as “It was not the scream of a dying person, but rather the agonized despair of someone in pain with no hope of the release of death.” And having run to the threshold of Bêlit’s room, the narrator says of Conan “He would follow Bêlit to the ends of the earth…but he could not will himself to enter that room.”

This immobility of Conan depicts the helplessness one experiences during the suffering of loved ones. No matter the amount of love, skills, power, and prowess one possesses, it’s useless to the suffering one. Physical pain, perhaps all the more terrible for it, isolates and ultimately must be endured alone.

Wood and Shalvey’s tale captures and heightens this helplessness and isolation with the two-page spread of Conan sitting against Bêlit’s cabin door—all of the space and Conan is alone (except for a dead rat in the lover left hand corner) impotent and waiting. His sword is discarded, tossed on the deck for the useless item it is in this situation. The point of the bloodied blade (symbolic of the dire future for Bêlit?) points at the She-pirate’s door. Conan remains a diminutive slumped figure against a large background, again sitting immobile, waiting amidst Bêlit’s pain-filled shrieks.  No words are given—none are needed here. Both speech and action remain useless as balms for Bêlit.

Bêlit lives, but that doesn’t end the helplessness of Conan. After learning that Bêlit was two months pregnant and that she lost the baby, the captain of the Tigress doesn’t speak. Conan is unsure of the cause, and is again at a loss for how to aid and comfort his companion.

The final three pages of this issue greatly enhance the mood of helplessness. The colors are muted grays and oranges and blacks in depicting a lone ship upon the sea. In the seven panels on pages 20 and 21 where Conan sits in Bêlit’s bed chamber, four of the panels show only one of the couple, alone, which adds to the isolation. Conan’s head always tilts down, and contains heavy shadows. In the three panels where Conan and Bêlit share the space, they are not looking at one another. Bêlit has her head turned away from the barbarian, and after Conan speaks the words, “…Bêlit. Why will you not speak to me?,” Bêlit turns her back to the barbarian. Conan is left helpless and at a loss of how to remedy the situation. The suffering aftermath of the pain Bêlit endures alone, leaving Conan to battle silence, speculation, and doubt alone upon the deck of the Tigress.

Wood’s Conan continues as a fresh and inventive exploration of new possibilities of Conan’s character. While Conan’s adventures still contain high body counts, reading the confrontation of Conan considering the futility of the sword in various situations enlarges the scope and power contained within the character of a young man from harsh northern isolation exploring what the world and life offers.