Scott William Foley

Though the series concluded several years ago, Starman will forever burn bright as one of the industry’s great accomplishments.

Set firmly within the DC Universe alongside Superman and Batman, Jack Knight is the son of Ted Knight, otherwise known as the retired superhero Starman.  Ted has grown far too old to wear the red and green tights any longer, so his oldest son, David, is more than willing to carry on the family legacy.  Jack openly mocks his brother and finds the capes and tights crowd too ridiculous to stomach.  However, after David is killed soon after his unveiling, Jack finds himself in a race to save his father’s life.  Though he refuses to wear the gaudy costume, Jack masters the Cosmic Rod, his father’s invention that grants them their powers.  Their home, Opal City, dubs Jack the new Starman and he begrudgingly becomes the city’s plainclothes protector and even comes to relish the title.

The series ran for almost one hundred issues and was entirely written by James Robinson.  In Jack Knight, Robinson created one of the best-rounded characters you’ll find in not just comic books, but any form of literature.  Jack has as many nuances as do we all, and Robinson isn’t afraid to explore even those that don’t make him the most heroic of protagonists.  However, while a master of characterization, Robinson also knew how to bring the adventure.  Jack finds himself from the alleys of Opal City to the furthest reaches of time and space. 

Consequently, the title isn’t Jack’s alone.  Robinson made a point to include any and all who bore the name “Starman” over the years, and he developed a cast of characters so interesting that they almost stole the spotlight from Jack.  In reality, Ted Knight had been Starman in the comic books since World War II, and Robinson made ample use of such a rich and diverse history.  He even took a laughable Flash villain called The Shade and turned him into one of the most charismatic accomplices you’ll ever have the pleasure to meet.

Robinson specifically delivers wonderful interactions between father and son-Ted and Jack.  Initially the two could not be more different, but in the end, they both realize they had far more in common than they could have possibly imagined.  Jack must also balance a complicated love life as well as a rather unconventional role as a father himself.  And all the while, he’s trying to run an antique store.  As you can see, this is not your normal comic book. 

The primary artist for the series was the incredibly talented Tony Harris who can currently be found working on Ex Machina.  Harris worked his tail off at giving us a setting unlike any other, and so Opal City became an instant classic, far more visually recognizable than Metropolis or Gotham.  And like Jack, Harris seems to have little interest in conventional appearances.  His renderings are truly artistic, and he pays special attention to anatomy, lighting, and architecture.  The mere shapes and styles he uses to border and embellish his drawings are astoundingly detailed and aesthetically alluring.

Starman is a comic book for all connoisseurs of literature.  It tells a complete story from the first issue to the last with such panache, such style, and such uniformity that it will boggle your mind.  And best of all, it avoids all the comic book clichés and offers authentically identifiable and appealing characters that will remain in your heart long after you’ve read their adventures.

Best of all-it’s just flat-out cool.  When all is said and done, it’s just a cool piece of art that everyone will benefit from having experienced.

Now is the perfect time to get acquainted with Starman as DC has given it a terrific honor and released it as an omnibus collection.  You can find the first installment here:

http://www.amazon.com/Starman-Omnibus-Vol-1/dp/1401216994/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1212018565&sr=1-1

The Kindly Ones encompasses the direct consequences of the earlier volume, Brief Lives.  In Brief Lives, Lord Morpheus (Dream) changes, for better or for worse.  The actions that lead to such change must have ramifications, and The Kindly Ones details such repercussions.

In The Kindly Ones, Lyta Hall, a character who has made sporadic appearances throughout The Sandman series, is convinced that Dream has stolen her baby, Daniel.  She goes to the women known as the Kindly Ones for vengeance, and even she couldn’t predict the outcome.

Making use of virtually every character in The Sandman mythos, The Kindly Ones is a truly epic tale that brings us to a point in Dream’s existence that would seem, based upon Brief Lives, inevitable.  At times The Kindly Ones gets a bit muddled and verbose, but in the end, it was all worth it.    

I’ve had the privilege of reading The Sandman series in completion and for the first time in the last few months, and The Kindly Ones is testament to the genius of Neil Gaiman.  I don’t know if it was on purpose or a happy accident, but The Kindly Ones makes use of virtually every storyline preceding it and concludes such a mammoth story … it’s nearly unimaginable someone could dream up such a story.

My only suggestion: skip the introduction and read it after you finish The Kindly Ones.  It does reveal a fairly major plot point, which, upon retrospect seems obvious, but even so, I would have liked to have avoided the introduction’s cataclysmic revelation.

I need to say this from the outset:  I’ve been a huge Batman fan since the age of three.  In 1980, my mom brought out my Batman birthday cake and I’ve been a bat-fan ever since.  Nothing will ever change that.

However, even I must admit, when looking at Batman from a motivational standpoint, some inherent problems arise.

The following is strictly meant for fun.  I am a firm believer in the suspension of disbelief when it comes to entertainment, and I’ll take my Batman any way I can get him.  Nevertheless, it’s always stimulating to dissect the icons of the comic book world, and Batman is certainly laden with controversy.

The whole idea of what “motivates” a super hero, or any character for that matter, can be a tricky one.  Superman is motivated simply because he was taught to do the right thing.  Spider-Man’s motivation comes from a healthy mixture of guilt and the lesson “with great power comes great responsibility.”  Batman’s motivation, though, is far more complicated.

As a child, Bruce Wayne’s parents were gunned down before his eyes.  For the average child, this would be a terrible occurrence, but the impact of the event likely would have lessened over time if the child required posttraumatic care.  Certainly, depending on several variables, such a child would go on to live an adult life of relative normalcy.  Lifelong counseling would perhaps be necessary, perhaps not.

In Bruce Wayne’s case, he inherited more money than most of us can imagine.  He probably would have had all of his father’s medical friends checking up on him emotionally and psychologically.  He probably would have been sent to the best schools in the world and, in time, the pain of his parents’ murder would have faded just a little.  Perhaps his sense of injustice would have driven him to become a lawyer, or a police officer, or a missionary.  What happened in Bruce Wayne’s case is instead disturbing.

At some point during his childhood, relatively soon after he lost his parents, Bruce Wayne embarked upon a quest to learn from all of the greatest minds and fighters the world had to offer.  Some versions of the Batman mythos have him doing this because he already knew he wanted to combat crime on a personal level, some have him doing it simply to deal with his pain.  When he returned, he found his city corrupt.  And so, when deciding how to combat the hell his city had become, a bat inspired him to become a vigilante and do one of two things, depending on your outlook: take revenge on the criminal element that resulted in his parent’s death, or make sure no one else lost loved ones to crime as he did.

In literature—and I’ve sincerely considered comic books literature for twenty-eight years—such character motivation is dramatic, potent, charismatic, and wildly engaging.

I think it’s necessary to look at this from another angle.  Bruce Wayne has no real adult friends.  Alfred is more of a care provider, so he doesn’t count.  He may hang out with the JLA and Outsiders, but he has files on how to take them all down, and they know it, so how true of friends are they?  Jim Gordon is Batman’s ally, but not Bruce Wayne’s friend.  Tim Drake and Dick Grayson are more like his little brothers or soldiers than friends.

My point is, Bruce Wayne seems to be in a state of arrested development.  Sure, he may very well be one of the world’s greatest thinkers and martial artists, but he’s devoted his entire life to a moment from his childhood.  Yes, admittedly a terrible, significant moment, but a day from his childhood nonetheless.

If I’m Superman or Green Lantern (pick any GL you want), and I look over at a dude dressed as a bat who can’t get over the death of his parents from over twenty-five years ago, I’m asking some serious questions.  They know he’s Bruce Wayne, according to current continuity.  They have to wonder, if crime is so terrible in Gotham City, why doesn’t Bruce use his millions to better equip the GCPD.  Why doesn’t he open rehabilitation centers and after school programs?  Why doesn’t he run for office and make changes happen internally?  Bruce Wayne, with his fame and fortune, could very well combat all the crime he hates in a variety of ways, all of which would have greater impact than what he does on a street level.

This can only lead me to believe that Bruce’s guilt or his selfishness won’t allow him to move beyond that night from his childhood.  He must deal with crime on a face-to-face basis, though his fortune and social standing would surely accomplish much more.  For that to happen, consequently, he would have to act the adult.  He would have to interact, as a genuine adult, as Bruce Wayne with real people his own age.  No masks.  No costumes.

The only “friends” he has are taken on when they’re very young and given the mantle of Robin, which leads me to once again determine Bruce is in a state of arrested development.  His adult friends wear masks themselves, or he refuses to remove his own mask, or Batman persona, before them.  At what point does Bruce Wayne become a genuine human being capable of healing?

The age-old question with Batman is, which is the real identity—Bruce Wayne or Batman?  Either answer is a disturbing one when looked upon realistically.

But, comic books are not the real world—for better or for worse—and Batman will forever be one of my favorites.  Looked at from a strictly imaginative perspective, he is everything the human mind and body could hope to accomplish.  When I was little, I didn’t want to be Superman because I knew it was impossible.  But, as a child, I thought if I exercised enough and studied enough, I could actually become Batman.

As someone suspending his suspension of disbelief and looking at Bruce Wayne from a realistic, psychoanalytical perspective, Batman seemingly refuses to grow up.

I’ve heard much about The Sandman series for many years, and so last summer I finally decided to experience it for myself.  The first volume was adequate, but it didn’t “wow” me as much as I expected.  Probably because, by this point in time, Gaiman’s concepts had been copied and recopied so many times by so many other writers that the original held little distinction.

I took solace in the fact that Volume III of the series was to be the one that set The Sandman beyond anything else in the comic book medium that came before or after.  Sadly—for me—it didn’t electrify.  Good?  Certainly.  Great?  No.

So, believing the opinions of several friends can’t be wrong, I still pressed on.  Volume IV, Season of Mists, proved to be the one.  This is the volume that completely and utterly “wowed” me.  From the beginning to the end, this was a tightly woven story packing emotional, philosophical, intellectual, and conceptual punches that did not fail to capture both my imagination and respect.  The character of Morpheus is visually interesting, but it was not until this volume that he began to fascinate me as a well-rounded character.

The premise is simple in Season of Mists.  Morpheus realizes he long ago made a mistake for which he must atone.  It is how he deals with coming to this decision and the ramifications of going about executing it that astonished me.  Gaiman’s imagination is limitless in Season of Mists, pulling from established myths and legends as well as creating his own.

The art, like all of the volumes, is rather hit or miss.  Luckily, the image of Morpheus is so striking and the stories so good that the art is easy to overlook.

Finally, I wouldn’t consider myself a fan of Harlan Ellison by any stretch of the imagination, but his introduction to this volume is delightful and is alone worth the price of the entire book.

Superman is a conundrum for me.  What I love about his character is also what I hate about his character.  When I look at him, I see an icon of truth and justice.  I see a symbol of fair play and selflessness.  I know that in his world, in his stories, he will never turn his back on the innocent; he will forever strive to save you, me, and the world.

And, because he’s Superman, he will prove victorious.

Which is also why I hate him.  From a characterization standpoint, what can you do with him?  The man is invulnerable.  He is among the most powerful entities on Earth and in most of the universe (depending).  And, beyond the anatomical augmentations, he is also a good man with a good heart who always wants to do the right thing.

So, in small doses, Superman is a joy!  He is everything the ideological hero-worshipper in me wants.  However, in long doses, as in any serialized format, Superman quickly becomes boring.  He feels stale because there is no real sense of danger surrounding his physical adventures, and, for the most part, his character is squeaky clean, thus reducing the potential for nonviolent interpersonal or psychological conflict. 

As I said, what I like about him is also what I hate about him.  For example, when they tried to give him a little edge in Superman Returns, it just felt wrong.  I had a horrendous time accepting Superman as an illegitimate father and, furthermore, a deadbeat dad.

But, I believe they were sort of on the right track with that.  Since we cannot relate to Superman on a physiological level, we could potentially relate to him on a psychological one.  For example, we can all relate to notions of guilt.  However, most of us have strong opinions on absentee parenting, and so they went wrong with that particular plotline involving Superman’s guilt over his son.

However, I like the idea of Superman struggling with inner conflict.  I absolutely do not want to see him as a brooding avenger driven by overwhelming guilt—that is not who he is.  I have to admit though, when I (over)think about what it would be like to be Superman, the first idea I have is, “How would I sleep at night?”

I mean, how could I get in my solid eight hours of snooze knowing that somewhere out there someone needed saving?  For a man who can traverse the planet in mere heartbeats, he must realize he is constantly needed as a savior.  I would love to see a storyline fleshing out this dilemma.  I think it would be fascinating to experience Superman rationalizing time spent outside of the Superman identity.  Somehow I have a hard time envisioning Superman saying, “Sorry peeps, I needs some me time.”

After all, it’s difficult to imagine how can he hang with the JLA and JSA at Thanksgiving, gobbling up turkey, when a village burns hundreds of miles away with people suffering.  How can he justify staring at a table of photographs debating the merits of potential team members when a wildfire threatens the longevity of an entire civilization? 

That is the hardship when thinking too deeply about Superman, because you then begin feeling resentment towards him when he’s having coffee with Lois or working on a news story for Perry.  Suddenly, when I think of my niece in danger, and I can’t get to her in time, and Superman is working on a story about possible political corruption, I can’t help but get angry with him.  Keep the tights on, dude!  We need you 24/7!  We have Brian Williams for what you’re doing at the Daily Planet!

Alas, I realize this is a fictional character and I am utterly overanalyzing him, but these are the sorts of issues that would interest me.  Of course, I’m not sure how many people want to read a comic book with panel after panel of Superman contemplating his obligations to the world, or watch a movie showing nothing but rescue after rescue after rescue.  Most of us want Superman fighting giant monkeys or aliens from outer space, or maybe even other super heroes.  Something dynamic and catchy.  But we also want a little bit of Clark Kent pretending to be just like us.  That way we can sort of relate to him.  But don’t give us too much of that.  Just a little bit.  Otherwise we’d just be reading a comic book or watching a television show about ourselves. 

So, for me, that is the ongoing saga of my love/hate relationship with Superman.  Everything I love about him is exactly what makes him so boring.