Archive for May 25th, 2007

FINALLY! Issue #13 in the series The Ultimates 2 is finally out.

Which, to someone who doesn’t know how long we Panelgeeks have been waiting means nothing. For those of us who have been waiting for months between issues, it means. . . Well, just a little bit more than nothing.

A little backstory: The Ultimates are the Ultimate Marvel version of The Avengers aka Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. The big shots. The guys that handle the big, international, cosmic, inter-galactic and often inter-dimensional baddies with the love and adoration of the public. The original Avengers consisted of Iron-Man, Wasp, Giant Man, The Hulk and Thor, with the newly discovered Captain America who had spent the late 40’s, 50′ and early ’60s in a block of ice.

Over time, most of the heroes of the Marvel Universe spent some time on the Avengers. and like most super-groups, they’ve had more than their share of troubles and trouble-makers on the team.

The Ultimates jumps on that flawed Supergroup idea and bends it on a massively politcal angle. The Ultimates, are the U.S. government’s first line of defense. Consisting of the six mentioned above, and adding expert marksman Clint Barton aka Hawkeye, Russian spy and assassin Natasha Roumanov aka The Black Widow, and Magneto’s twin children (who have a bizarre fixation on each other) Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch. All run by the one-eyed master of disaster, General Nick Fury, head of S.H.E.I.L.D. (oh, and he’s black in the Ultimate version.)

And one of the major points of The Ultimates is to see how the modern age of terror-awareness, pre-emptive striking, shoot-first-and-ask-questions-if-we-feel-like-it U.S. military tactics would work when a total of 11 people make up the majority of the U.S. defense network.

And what a rag-tag bunch of hopefuls they are!

In the first story-arc we learn that Hank Pym (Giant Man) is a wife-beater with severe inferiority issues (he makes himself bigger. Hmm, compensating maybe?) Tony Stark (Iron-Man) may be the most brilliant industrial billionaire in the world, but he also downs a quart of vodka every day before breakfast. (In classic marvel, Stark has been successfully in recovery for years) Steve Rogers (Captain America) has been in a block of ice for 57 years and likes to spend his evenings reading the paper and listening to Bing Crosby records while everyone else is at a dance club.

It’s chock full of pop-culture references and tongue in cheek humor, but not much depth to the dialogue; they sound like a bad Hollywood script. Which is something I think subversive Marvel super-scribe Mark Millar is trying to convey: The Ultimates have a budget of billions (taxpayer money) and get paid obscenely, but seem to get things wrong a lot more often than they do right.

Their first mission is to take down one of their own (Hulk) who goes on a homicidal rampage through Manhattan because his ex-wife is on a date with Freddy Prinze Jr. (I know. . . Freddy Who? . . Thats how long it takes for these freakin issues to come out!)

The most recent story-arc brought on the whole idea of a a modern World War Three, distilled into two teams of the Most Powerful Beings on Earth. Funny, it seemed to leave as much collateral damage as a regular war. Here’s the most bitterly funny part: The whole thing begins, turns around, and ends in a single day.

It starts with The Ultimates getting more clout and attitude through the world. They help create the European Union of Superhumans (Captain Italy, Captain Spain, Captain. . . oh you get the point.) and conduct various pre-emptive strikes against growing nuclear threats around the world. (Including an anonymous Middle-Eastern State.)

But two can play at this game. . .

We see a secret meeting between military leaders from China, Russia, North Korea, Syria, Iran and, get this: FRANCE to discuss their recent biological endeavors. Many of these endeavors are perfect counterparts to each of The Ultimates. Through the help of Loki, the God of Mischeif (who looks like a black-haired Cillain Murphy in this book) helps turn the various Ultimates on each other, establish a few traitors, and in a single hour, send in their forces to take down the U.S.

Here’s the irony: They call themselves The Liberators. They call the U.S. The Modern Roman Empire and consider their first act as the new leaders of America to give us “free elections”

Of course, the Ultimates turn it around at the crucial moment and save the day. The best part of the whole story arc was Hawkeye’s escape: At just the right moment, he flicks off each of his fingernails and flings them like precision aimed blades at each of his captors. Killed eight enemy soldiers with FINGERNAILS!! That was HOT!

And, after waiting months on end for each issue, was the finalinstalment of Millar’s run on The Ultimates worth the wait? . . .

NO!!!

Bottom line is this: The book had good storylines, EXCELLENT illustration, (especially the battle scenes with massive levels of destruction, done by the illustrious Bryan Hitch) and the dialouge was, honest to god, meant for a Michael Bay film! The most recent issue, however (#13) has a brilliant 8-page fold out of the final smash-’em-up battle scene between The Ultimates and a slew of norse mythical goblins. Nice.

It was fun. And now that its all collected in easy to find and purchase TPBs, I’d say its a good read for your money. I’m just regretting all the months i spent asking

“Is it in yet? Next week? Are you sure?”

*****COMIC TIPS******

Friend, are you ready to graduate from being a simple reader into a true collector? Of all the options, comic collecting is one of the least expensive regular expenditures of the collectors world, with a grand return: A bit of pulp fiction along with phenomenal artwork and bright colors with varying levels of replay value.

Well my friend, it’s simply. When you pick up your $3-5 dollar issue, tack on another 15 cents and say: “A Bag’n'a’board.” That’s a plastic mylar bag to protect your precious issue, and a thin white cardboard to keep it straight and flat.

They’ll last through the ages, and you’ll never know when you might want to pick up that old issue of Black Panter #57 where he pours out one ounce for his hommies.

Something about a cover charge can really generate a whole aura around a show.

$0- You get what you pay for. Sometimes you get a true gem for free, others, you get a piece of crap, but its okay! You have enough cash to get drunk and you enjoy the effort.

$5- They’re trying. There’s definetely effort, and some $5 shows have been the best shows I’ve ever been to. $5 at the door means that the performers are taking themselves seriously, and you should (try to) as well

$10- All right. The kids have grown up and they have a comprehensive performance that should captivate your attention for the time being, and even if it’s not great, should hold the gravitas that a double-digit door-charge should hold.

So if a Rock-Dance peformance called Fairytale Dreams, dreamed up by circus performer and neo-bohemian Jennifer Upchurch charges $15 at the door, you would expect it to be a real show. Intricate, talented, depthful and heavily choreographed dancers moving along a layered narrative, bringing us into a fantasy world that truly trancends us from the mortal realm.

Not a bunch of fairy-tale girls and flitty boys prancing about backed by a goof-ball drums-and-bass duo called Fat Free with some vague storyline of boys lost in the land of fairies.

The three major components of Fairytale Dreams were dance, trapeze and hula-hoops. The dance was pedestrian, an uninspired mix of spins, cartwheels and kicks, the type you can catch for a dime a dozen at the Prospect Park meadow any Sunday afternoon. The trapaze was, at best amature, and the hula-hoops with their detailed christmas light schemes were one of the minor pleasantries of the act.

Except that they can be found at any RUBULAD party or Burner fundraiser for enormously less money and attention expectation.

I can think of three things that would have made Fairytale Dreams a show worth going to:

1. More talent

2. More practice/rehersal

3. Less freakin’ money at the door.

If you’re going to charge $15 for a show, you have got to to earn it.