When Matt Fraction took a stab at the Punisher and returned him to the Marvel universe with Punisher War Journal, despite his best efforts, I thought the series emphasized Castle’s limitations more than anything (this is something I’m finding again and again in Fraction’s Marvel work, a distinct coldness that doesn’t show in his creator owned work). So I’d be lying if I said I was thrilled to see Rick Remender take a shot at the character in yet another new Punisher monthly.

Remender, however, appears to be embracing the ridiculousness of Frank Castle in a world full of superheroes while finding new ways to remind readers of the fundamental horror of his haunted origins. And it…works. The first issue’s confrontation between the Punisher and the Sentry amounts to one long chase scene that does an excellent job in showing readers how he can hold his own, especially against a Superman-like hero.

By putting Punisher right in the middle of the Marvel universe’s current status quo with Norman Osborn running the show, it keeps the Punisher’s adventures relevant and exciting, and by making the stakes personal with the Hood, Remender can really flex his writing muscles.

By issue ten of the current series, the stakes couldn’t be any higher. The Hood brings the Punisher’s family back to life before his very eyes. And the Punisher, being the Punisher, acts quickly…

There’s a lot going on here, and Tan Eng Huat’s art sells it, especially Frank’s look of horror as the caskets open. The question of why the Punisher does it is what makes this page – and the horrifying pages that follow – so much fun. As a military tactician, his lack of hesitation in killing his family to stop the Hood from using them against him makes a lot of sense. But once you get past that, it probably comes down to Frank not wanting his family to see the monster that he had become because of their deaths. And that’s where the real emotion comes in, and I suspect, what Remender wants to play around with in the current Frankencastle storyline he’s doing.

Backed by writers Grant Morrison, Geoff Johns, Greg Rucka and Mark Waid contributing with numerous artists, 52 was a year look at the DC universe absent of the trinity of Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman.

Over the course of the year, the book would end up being a lot of things, from a space epic to a time travel story to a murder mystery to a journey story to a metafictional commentary and more, but most importantly, it was fun and gave something for readers to really sink their teeth into every Wednesday.

Since the writers collaborated, it’s difficult to discern each writer’s contribution to the overall narrative, but there are enough elements at play to give readers some clues to who wrote what. It’s clear the Question’s story was written by Rucka and Morrison’s fingerprints appear to be on certain parts of Animal Man’s story. That said, as much fun as it is to figure out who wrote what, it’s not important in the end.

The art, as a whole, is serviceable. Considering the schedule and the behind the scenes stuff we know now but didn’t know then, it’s amazing the project maintained its schedule to the end. I’d argue that, when it comes to the art, Keith Giffen probably deserves most of the credit for keeping things moving and establishing an artistic consistency for the book.

While I usually single out a page from the book I’m looking at for the week, I want to point out a specific panel instead. The panel on the right comes from issue #10 of the series.

I know a lot of people don’t like the idea of a married Superman - and I’ve seen some comic book writers make arguments about the limitations it imposes on the character – but I’d argue that the inability for the marriage to work more often then not stems from the inability of the writer, not the concept itself. Sure, the love “triangle” between Superman, Clark Kent and Lois Lane has a lot of possibilities, but so does the marriage, and I think that almost 20 years later, we still haven’t come close to what can be done with the idea.

That said, what I love about the aforementioned panel is how it establishes a certain level of honesty and history that’s usually missing from the characters being together. Here, Clark, who has been without his powers for a couple of months, has to be reminded by Lois that he’s about to pick up a hot pot. It’s such a throwaway panel, but it says more and does more for their relationship than entire stories devoted to their marriage. It makes them real and reveals a certain level of compatibility that is usually not expressed in their stories together. Most importantly, it shows us that their marriage exists between the panels.

This is showing us how they’re right for one another, instead of the usual telling.

And it does wonders.

* I say re-started, because I’m counting DC’s previous weekly experiment with Action Comics.

I know I already covered this particular issue of All-Star Superman, but as the new year approaches, I couldn’t pass up sharing this beautiful and optimistic page written by Grant Morrison and drawn by Frank Quitely.

This is as good a place as any to call it a year with comics.

See you back here in 2010.

This wouldn’t be a problem for me when I was young. As a kid, I didn’t like Kirby’s work at all. I prefered the art of people like John Buscema, John Romita Sr., Frank Miller, John Byrne, Al Milgrom and Mike Mignola (thanks to Rocket Raccoon!). I just didn’t understand Kirby, and I was frustrated because everyone kept telling me how I was supposed to. He was “the King” afterall.

Luckily, I came around when I was older.

So now I can appreciate pages like this:

Outside of Kirby’s art, this page has all the things I loved about Marvel. Stan Lee’s hyperbolic credits, the larger than life title, and the gravity that I couldn’t find in the DC comics coming out in the same time. As for the art, this is the Thing that I love, at once horrifying and pitiful. The facial expression Kirby gives him is perfect, and though the rain is a lazy and overused visual shorthand to express sadness and disappointment, the heaviness of it and the thickness in Kirby’s lines make it work.

What my young brain couldn’t reconcile was how Kirby’s work appeared to go against what I trained to expect from comic books. I understand now that Kirby wasn’t repeating the language of comic books, but instead he was reinventing it, exploring it further, and then reinventing it again. I think a lot of comic book artists see the empty page and think of only the story that needs to be told, but Kirby looked at the page and saw an entire universe waiting to be discovered.

I think it’s a shame that Miller’s influence has equated to dumping as much tragedy and despair onto the character that you possibly can (seriously, when is the last time this guy has had a good day?). That said, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the stories of seeing our hero falling from grace again and again.

What’s worth talking about is the enormous sense of relief and pure glee on turning the page and seeing the final splash page for issue #232 of Daredevil, the penultimate issue to the “Born Again” story. Up until this point of the story, Daredevil’s life had been completely dismantled and it had been months since he even put the costume on, months since he was half the hero we knew he could be. So, to see this page was like a religious experience:

I can’t possibly imagine this story without David Mazzucchelli’s stunning artwork.  I know the idea of widescreen, cinematic sequences in comic books came into being (at least in terms of our ability to be aware of it) around the turn of the century, but Mazzucchelli’s art was as epic and widescreen as you could possibly get at the time. Just thinking about his work in this book makes me smile.

Yeah, it’s time I got this collection out again and gave it another read.

There isn’t a lot I can say about Pope’s art that hasn’t been said better before. At a quick glance, his work can appear sloppy, but if you really take the time to see what he’s doing, it seems like his art is trying to jump off the page, as if the inks and colors can barely contain the action. One of the things Pope gets so right is showing a Batman that’s working. All too often, Batman swinging and jumping through the rooftops of Gotham is shown as if it were the easiest thing in the world, but in reality, it would be painful, sweaty and exhausting. And Pope is good at showing Batman as a human being, just like he does with this page:

I love that dominating panel at the top with Batman hanging upside down, straining from his weight, his cape tucked under his arm to keep it out of the way…it’s just so real, so matter of fact. It makes Batman look so human, and heroic in the process.

If you haven’t read Batman Year 100, you’ve denied yourself an amazing Batman story with some sharp twists and turns. The chase scene that kicks off the first issue will leave you breathless. In many ways, I believe it to be as important today as Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns was back in 1986.

Anyway, one of my favorite issues that explored the Gordon-Batman dynamic was Legends of the Dark Knight #125, which came in near the tail end of the major No Man’s Land storyline. Writer Greg Rucka has always had an extraordinary understanding of the police aspects of the Batman universe (see Gotham Central), and his take on Gordon is pitch perfect.

In No Man’s Land, Gotham City has been destroyed because of an earthquake. After a deadline, the U.S. government decides to seal off the city and have the National Guard securing all the ways into Gotham. Once isolated, the city is immediately carved up into different territories, secured by all the crazies you come to expect in the Batman universe. Gordon and a group of police officers decide to remain in Gotham in order to keep the peace and help establish order in the event the city is reopened. In the first 100 days, Batman is no where to be seen.

When Batman does return, Gordon wants nothing to do with him.  Legends of the Dark Knight #125 is the issue where Batman and Gordon are finally reunited and they put everything out in the open. The majority of the issue is a long conversation between these two men, and thanks to Rucka’s dialogue and the amazing Rick Burchett’s art (and I’d be an idiot if I didn’t point out James Hodgkins inks and Klaus Janson’s colors), it reads with the same excitement and intensity as any fight scene you’ll see in comic books. This has been a conversation a long time coming, not so much in context with the No Man’s Land storyline, but in relation to Gordon and Batman’s extended history. Rucka’s writing is deliberate, like it’s checking off a long list of issues these men would naturally address sooner or later, such as the ridiculousness and arrogance of Batman always disappearing in the middle of their conversations:

The conversation also addresses how police departments in other cities views Gordon’s working with a vigilante, Batman’s trust issues and the probability that Gordon has known who Batman was all along. It’s a no-bullshit kind of conversation that helps to reinforce why I love Jim Gordon so much.

Man, a Jim Gordon monthly comic book is what the world needs.

I mean, what more do you need to know?

That said, Brian Michael Bendis went out of his way to push Nick Fury out of S.H.I.E.L.D. since he started at Marvel, and in doing so, he got Fury out of his comfort zone (much like he did recently with Dr. Strange). Bendis saw what the rest of us would eventually figure out: removed from the usual trappings and gimmicks, Fury offers an awful lot as a character.

I credit Jonathan Hickman for finding the right balance of ruthlessness and cynicism for Nick Fury in the monthly Secret Warriors. I also give him credit for creating one of the best Nick Fury moments in recent memory.

In order to appreciate page 22 of Secret Warriors #4, I have to post the last panel from the preceding page:

Secret Warriors has surprised me in many ways. The biggest surprise is how patient Hickman has been in putting the pieces together. A slow burn, Secret Warriors doesn’t really kick into high gear until issue #5, and I don’t know if that’s a testament to Hickman’s confidence as a writer or Marvel’s confidence with the book itself. Still, it’s nice to see a book take its time instead of dumping every hook it can into the first issue.

By the way, Stefano Caselli offers some nice clean art to go with Hickman’s story, and I think a large part of the book’s success has been his contribution to the book. I don’t think enough people stress that.

Because of the nature of this discussion, it should be noted that I will be revealing a spoiler from Detective Comics #857.

It’s clear that writing the new Batwoman is a labor of love of Greg Rucka, as the character has brought out some of his best storytelling. And while Rucka’s talent as a writer would be more than enough to get us interested in Batwoman, it’s J.H. Williams III’s involvement as an artist that makes his story excel from a comic book into a work of art.

This is something I never thought I’d be saying about Detective Comics, let alone a story involving Batwoman, who up until this storyline started a few months ago, was simply defined by her sexuality thanks to the media prematurely announcing her arrival in comics.

Now, while the success of modern comic books has partially hinged on the borrowing of film techniques (such as: widescreen panels, removal of thought balloons, over-emphasis on panel narration, more natural dialogue and much, much more), this  has unfortunately homogenized the uniqueness of comics and turned it into a vehicle that offered nothing particularly special, especially when compared to other media. In a podcast interview, writer Alan Moore said, “at the end of the day, if you only see comics in cinematic terms then the best that a comic can ever be is a film that doesn’t move.”

What’s the point?

I’d argue that the success of future comic books will be weighed heavily on its ability to create a kind of storytelling that simply cannot be achieved elsewhere. This is one of the things that liberature does so well for books, by allowing authors to create novels that cannot be replicated on film, or as House of Leaves (one of the most important works of liberature) author Mark Z. Danielewski put it once, “This experience lives only in this book.”

While this depends on comic book publishers taking chances with formats and allowing writers to have a more active participation in how the final product is conceived,  it also certainly relies on the artists ability to bypass the instilled traditions of comic storytelling and create something new.

And with that said, if there is any artist working who is achieving those results today, it is Williams.  The most recent issue of Detective Comics makes this point ridiculously clear, such as this page (and page #1 above):

The decisions Williams makes here are stunning (Dave Stewart deserves a lot of credit for his coloring as well). First off, the page design helps to enhance the disorientation and insanity of Alice, the story’s villain (woman in white). The symmetrical design, in lesser hands, would have appeared contrived and perhaps gotten in the way of the storytelling, but Williams makes it shine. And most importantly, the symmetry is teasing us towards the story’s big twist, that Alice is Batwoman’s sister. And this is what makes the first page so clever on second viewing. Not only was Williams simply finding a new way to draw a phone conversation, he was also emphasizing the similarities with the two characters to help facilitate the story’s twist (it’s amazing how he gives it away on the first page and still it’s a surprise later). Williams’ ability to convey the story in a new way while taking the design into consideration to enhance the story’s payoff is something that needs to be studied carefully by other artists.

Most importantly, the work here forces the reader to turn the book, to participate in the storytelling. I know readers are complacent to have the books move from left to right and have the story given to them with little resistance, but when the reader has to move the book upside down to take in the complete story, it helps to remind them of the medium’s possibilities and acknowledge the book as an object. The more this is understood and recognized, the easier it is when artists like Williams really start to think outside of the box.

You simply cannot do this kind of storytelling anywhere else, and Williams not only makes it look easy, but he makes the comic book medium better as a result. This is why Williams is one of the most important mainstream comic book artists working today.

Next time: In honor of Puff-Tober-Ween, I’ll be looking at some horrifying comic book pages.