Marvel Cinematic Universe: Thor (Retrospective)

Upon each viewing, I find myself enjoying the fourth film of the MCU immensely. By this point, the training wheels are off, and the production companies have plotted a firm course toward bringing the Avengers together, and the rest of the team must be introduced. In this way, Thor feels like a much freer film than Marvel's previous outing, Iron Man 2. Rather than trying to build out characters from the Iron Man movies, Thor pivots hard into new genres and territories. Much of the action unfolds on a cosmic playing field known as the Nine Realms, detailing a conflict between the realms of Asgard and Jotunheim. When Earth finally crops up in the story, it's almost a stopover for the broader conflict.

Marvel's Thor (2011)

When the brash Thor (Chris Hemsworth), son of the Asgardian king, Odin (Anthony Hopkins), is stripped of his title and power and banished to Earth for his insolence in provoking a conflict between Asgard and the Frost Giants of Jotunheim, what follows is a character arc very similar to that of Tony Stark's in the first Iron Man. The heart of this story is that of a man who never grew beyond being a spoiled brat learning to both take responsibility for his actions, and temper his contemptuous attitude with patience and respect. After falling for a mortal, the brilliant fringe scientist Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) and being fed a sinister lie by his traitorous brother, Loki (Tom Hiddleston), Thor grows into a man worthy of reclaiming what he's lost.

Much like Iron Man, if heroes are meant to instill in us virtues and ethics, then Thor presents a worthy hero. Not because he wields great power, but because he undergoes a profound change of heart. He goes from selfish and cocksure to selfless and modest, willing to give up his own life for the people of Earth. Similar to how Christ admonishes his disciples to deny themselves and take up their own cross in Luke 9, Thor quite literally dies a death to self. And only in dying does he find life again. In a blast of thunder, he is resurrected to reclaim his title and fearsome power, and this is what lends the film its transcendent quality. 

This is the stuff of myth and legend, what C. S. Lewis called the myth of the Dying God in his wonderful essay, "Myth Became Fact." These myths of Pagan messiahs and Pagan gods who die and rise again in fantasy are "good dreams," Lewis calls them in Mere Christianity, echoes in fantasy of the Father's plan worked out in reality—myth becoming fact in a particular time and place in human history. These stories, these virtues, point to Christ, a kind of basic morality system common to all humans, however sinful we might be. The very fact that we can conceive of stories like the one told in Thor, these pure expressions of virtue, suggests that there is, in fact, the purest expression of virtue, or the greatest story ever told. The mortal characters in the film, specifically Stellan Skarsgård's Erik Selvig, even discuss this in the context of the myths and legends of Norse mythology coming to life before their very eyes.

Thor is a marked improvement over Iron Man 2. Within a fantasy of warring gods and monsters, the film finds its heart in a timeless and human story about a bad man learning to be good. Between Iron Man, the Hulk, and Thor, it's easy to see how these initial films in the MCU managed to capture audiences the world over, and should banish any lingering doubts as to whether or not the once-lambasted characters in the pages of funny little 20th century picture books have become some of the definitive myths and fables of our times.

Superman: Man of Tomorrow (Review)

The origin story of Kal-El of Krypton is perhaps the best known among the pantheon of modern mythic heroes. That little spaceship crashing into the American heartland is more iconic than the scattering of Martha Wayne's pearls. The story of a boy trying to grow up in a small town, all the while knowing that he'll never quite fit in, is quintessential without losing an ounce of relatability. And the image of the god-man descending from the heavens with an outstretched hand to pull up a floundering humanity from the dredges of existence is, perhaps, the most primal story ever told.

Superman: Man of Tomorrow (2020)

All of that basic, archetypal storytelling coalesces into the story of Superman, the original superhero, and the most popular of modern mythopoetic icons. Turn him over, and stamped somewhere on his bright red Kryptonian cape you'll see, "Made in America." Yet the story's plot, themes, and character archetypes transcend any one culture or time or place. Perhaps this is what makes the origin story of Superman worth telling over and over again.

With Superman: Man of Tomorrow, we are given yet another take on this familiar tale. For all intents and purposes, there's really nothing new here. In a sense, anyone with a passing familiarity with Superman (voiced here by Darren Criss) has seen all of this before. Yet writer Tim Sheridan has found a new way of packaging the story, a different means of delivery. For example, I really don't recall J'onn J'onzz (Ike Amadi) having played such a prominent role in Superman's early days. But he takes on an important role in Sheridan's version of events. The same goes for intergalactic hotrod bounty hunter Lobo, voiced by the perfectly-cast Sons of Anarchy alum, Ryan Hurst.

Lois Lane (Alexandra Daddario) gets a new haircut, but remains the intrepid reporter we all know and love. Ma and Pa Kent (Bellamy Young and Neil Flynn) still lead simple lives on the farm, always ready to dish out some good ol' fashioned, homespun common sense life advice on the fly. But the story has, smartly, been updated to appeal to modern audiences. When the Kents try and walk Clark through knotting a tie, now they're doing it over video call on a cell phone. These are the subtle ways that demonstrate just how timeless this story really is.

The actual mechanics of the plot are the usual comic book nonsense, but Sheridan at least attempts to imbue the proceedings with some heart. While Lobo is the first major villain encountered, and classic Superman baddie Lex Luthor (Zachary Quinto) remains an ominous presence throughout, the real villain is the lesser-known Parasite (Brett Dalton), a tragic victim of circumstance, having once been a regular chap named Rudy Jones, who just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. However briefly, the film also touches on themes such as mankind's innate fear of "the other," or "the alien," which might seem like ideas "ripped from the headlines," until you realize that most every Superman origin tale has touched on those same themes, some with more profound things to say than others.

Superman: Man of Tomorrow is not the greatest take on Superman's origin. There are too many characters at play, and some of the more compelling relationships are lost in the shuffle as a result. Yet this is not a particularly bad movie. The art style is simple and pleasing. The characters are fleshed out. And the necessary boxes are checked. Perhaps Man of Tomorrow is simply guilty of playing the story too straight, of not trying to add anything new to the tale. If you're not already a fan of Superman, this movie probably won't convert you.

But, when it comes to these sorts of classic stories, which we have read and watched and enjoyed time and again for the past eighty years now, there's a real sense of not fixing what isn't broken. And there are far worse sins to commit when retelling an iconic origin story than giving Lois a new haircut, and letting Ma and Pa Kent wrestle with how to work the camera on a cell phone.

The Flash, Volume 3: Gorilla Warfare (Review)

Continuing their wildly successful reimagining of the Flash, Manapul and Buccellato deliver some of their best work on the title with Gorilla Warfare. The story picks up where the previous volume ends, with Grodd's forces raining into Central City. Grodd has returned, believing himself the only one capable of wielding the power of the Speed Force, and he's not going to let anyone stand in his way. In many ways, this story acts as a culmination of the work the creators have done thus far, as it's all hands on deck with heroes and villains alike uniting against this unprecedented threat.

The Flash, Volume 3: Gorilla Warfare

Wrapping up the Grodd invasion story takes up the majority of the volume, though the back half changes up the storytelling a bit, offering a few smaller narratives. One in particular sees Barry temporarily losing his powers in the middle of a sticky situation, and being forced to improvise. But these are the kinds of risks that Manapul and Buccellato are willing to take as storytellers, which keeps things fresh and prevents the execution from ever becoming too predictable. Perhaps the book's biggest tease comes in the form of Reverse-Flash, one of our titular hero's greatest villains. First introduced way back in the 1940s as "the Rival," Reverse-Flash is the Flash's archenemy, and arguably his biggest threat. We get a look at the character's New 52 redesign in this volume, and—minor qualms about the character's look aside—the tease is pretty spectacular.

One thing I've noticed reading through the series is the story's deft pacing. Barry moves faster than anything on the planet, and the story zips along pretty quickly, never giving us time to lull into the absurdity of the story being told. Talking gorillas? Don't worry about that, the story says, just go with it. This lends the title a unique, pulpy feel that feels like the story could have been ripped from an older time. And that is, perhaps, why The Flash was so well-received by audiences and critics alike during The New 52 relaunch. Though this is a ground-up reimagining of characters that have been staples of pop culture for decades now, as firmly fixed in the public imagination—if not more so—as any classic character from literature or the early days of film, what Manapul and Buccellato have managed to do here is recapture the feeling of the era in which comic books were birthed.

There are well-documented connections between the decades of pulp fiction and the early years of comic book superheroes. Pulp characters like the Phantom, the Avenger, the Shadow, and Doc Savage were all prototypical superheroes, somewhat pure and distilled archetypes that formed the bedrock of what would become the modern mythological superhero phenomenon. These early stories were known for the ways in which they thumbed their noses to critics. This was not high literature, nor did it pretend to be. Pulp writers were working class people who didn't have the luxury of drinking bourbon and smoking thoughtfully on a pipe whilst waxing poetic until the perfect phrase came to them. They had a word count they had to hit, and if character development had to be sacrificed to tell the story, so be it. They could develop that character later, in another tale. All that mattered was plot, the driving force behind the narrative. These were tales aimed at popular audiences, not literature professors. And what critics lambasted, audiences loved, and comics book creators have spent nearly a century now trying to claw their way out from under those prejudices. Only in the past decade or so has the academic perspective on comic books really begun to change.

The Flash catapults us back to that earlier era of b-movie plots and outlandish characters all servicing the most zany stories a writer could dream up. Manapul and Buccellato clearly love the character and the genre, and the art continues to wrap this wild story in a gorgeous package that makes reading it not only feel like a rediscovery of something older and more primal, but also an absolute pleasure. For anyone interested in a modern comic book that has all the quirks and madcap trappings of a bygone era in storytelling, The Flash is a title you don't want to miss.

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Iron Man 2 (Retrospective)

Picking up in the closing moments of the MCU's inaugural film, Marvel's Iron Man 2 wastes no time introducing us to Mickey Rourke's enigmatic Russian, Ivan Vanko. It's clear from the outset that he has some kind of personal vendetta against Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) who, in the months after revealing himself to the world as Iron Man, has begun a downward spiral into narcissism in the worst way. While government prudes in league with weapons manufacturer Justin Hammer (Sam Rockwell) attempt to requisition and weaponize the Iron Man suit, Tony learns that the palladium core of the reactor keeping him alive is also poisoning him—or something like that. I don't claim to understand how any of this works, it's the usual comic book nonsense that demands audiences suspend disbelief in order to follow the plot. The point here is that Tony learns he's dying, and there's no apparent cure.

Marvel's Iron Man 2 (2010)

So he sets about putting those he actually cares about at arm's length, like his stalwart and even-keeled love interest, Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow), and his Air Force officer buddy, James Rhodes (Don Cheadle, replacing Terrence Howard from Iron Man). And for the first half of the film, Tony corkscrews out of control, his worst tendencies rising to the surface in one self-destructive act after another. It turns out that learning to change isn't quite as easy as it seems at first. Perhaps this is the trouble with sequels,  as character arcs completed in the first film usually end up being walked back a few steps in order to accommodate the ongoing story. Tony learns to accept responsibility for his own actions at the end of Iron Man, but by the time this movie gets rolling, you'd never know he learned that lesson in the first place.

Then, right around the halfway point, the film shifts gears. Enter Nick Fury, played by Samuel L. Jackson, reprising the character he originally portrayed in the small after-credits scene attached to Iron Man. This is where the world that will blossom into Marvel's cinematic universe really begins to take shape. Through Fury and his organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D., we reconnect with Phil Coulson (Clark Gregg) and are introduced to series mainstay Natasha Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson). Both of them are S.H.I.E.L.D. agents working for Fury, and their world of secrets provides our first real glimpse at the bigger picture.

The only problem with handling things in this manner makes for a bit of a muddled story. There is a lot going on in this film. In some instances, too much. On one hand, you have this really compelling story of fathers and sons that plays out between Tony and Vanko. On the other, you have a story about Tony learning to open up to the people around him, especially those who care about his well-being, after he learns that he's dying. It's not that either one of these particular stories is bad; in fact, they're both pretty compelling on their own. But compound both of these stories with the S.H.I.E.L.D. plot, and you have a bit of a messy story to untangle, and the problem arises with trying to do this in a span of two hours—the characters and the film's emotional resonance really suffer.

And the character that suffers the most is undoubtedly Ivan Vanko. Mickey Rourke is a rare talent, and his face is as instantly recognizable as Stallone's or Schwarzenegger's. He's introduced in a very compelling and sympathetic way, but his motivations are still shrouded enough to make him intriguing. And when he finally comes front and center for a harrowing sequence at a racetrack in Monaco, he's presented as this really quirky and intimidating villain. The character is established beautifully, but as soon as the film shifts to focus on Tony's dealings with S.H.I.E.L.D., Vanko falls almost entirely by the wayside. He's saved from the sidelines by Justin Hammer, but one feels as though this film is a bit overstuffed with characters and multiple half-baked characters are in play when only one really compelling villain is needed. Perhaps this is why these characters, despite clear motivations, carry none of the emotional weight of this particular story.

And nowhere is this more evident than in the final sequence of the film. In the same way that I felt putting Jeff Bridges in a big metal CGI husk of a suit in the first film was a kind of injustice to the high caliber of actor playing the role, I literally groaned when Rourke turned up in what looked like a copy-and-pasted version of the same suit that Bridges wore. And after all this wonderful build-up that paralleled Vanko's story with Tony's, he's defeated in an anti-climactic affair with no emotional resonance whatsoever. The movie simply has too many plot threads to unravel, and the culmination is a criminal mishandling of Rourke's character.

This isn't to say that Iron Man 2 is a bad film—it's actually pretty entertaining, in that in-the-moment kind of way. And, amazingly, all of the major plot points are resolved. There are a number of really stunning action sequences, Vanko's introduction at the Monaco race is an instant standout. Another ten minutes or so of character development for some of the new characters might have helped, and a less by-the-numbers ending would have gone a long way in making this film more memorable than it is. Vanko is a compelling enough villain that he probably should have carried this film on his own, with the annoying Hammer character jettisoned altogether. At the very least, Rourke's understated and underrated performance deserved better than to go out with the eye-roll-inducing words, "You lose."

I can't say that there's much memorable about Iron Man 2. It's well-crafted, just forgettable. It certainly doesn't have the quirky appeal of the first film in terms of story or execution. But Robert Downey Jr. is endlessly watchable as he continues to own the role of Tony Stark in what will become a career-defining performance, making this film's two hour runtime blow past in a whirlwind of quips and wisecracks, even if you're left scratching your head by the time the credits roll. The post-credits sequence here is the first to tease a direct connection to the next film in the MCU, and by this point it's clear the course is set. The Avengers are coming, and Tony Stark is paving the way.

Batman, Volume 8: Superheavy (Review)

Of all the daring storytelling decisions Scott Snyder made during his run on Batman—and there were quite a few—perhaps none were more risky than seemingly killing Bruce Wayne and letting longtime Batman ally Jim Gordon don the cowl (sans cape).

Batman, Volume 8: Superheavy

Superheavy begins some months after the events of Endgame, which saw the Batman supposedly killed during a final confrontation with the Joker. These days, there's no Dark Knight protecting the streets of Gotham. Yet the people have come together to collectively acknowledge Batman's importance, and leading the charge is Geri Powers, the head of Powers Tech, who has a bold new initiative. By combining both Wayne Enterprises and Powers Tech resources, she proposes a joint enterprise with the GCPD that would see the creation of a new, technologically-advanced bat-suit to be worn by a hand-picked member of Gotham's finest. She's effectively giving Gotham a new Batman. And the selling point? This Batman has the resources and backing of the GCPD. A vigilante no longer, this Batman would operate within the confines of the law.

Her pick for the role? None other than Commissioner Gordon himself. Throughout his run, Snyder has shown a lot of affection for this classic character. And with Superheavy, we are given the opportunity to see Gordon in a new light. We get to know his personal doubts and fears, his insecurities on full display as he attempts to settle into the role. The question of whether or not this works is probably a matter of personal taste. For my money, there's just enough lightness of touch here that you can tell Snyder understands what a hard sell this is. Gordon himself admits to this not feeling right and being a little too different from the usual status quo. Yet Snyder uses this as an opportunity to confirm the things we love most about the stalwart police commissioner: his tenacity, his doggedness, and his no-nonsense and matter-of-fact approach to crime fighting. He's not as strong as Wayne, he knows that. Nor is he as quick. But where Wayne preferred theatrics and used the fear of his enemies against them, Gordon will just as easily shoot his target with his nifty stun gun than try and scare them.

Now, there's a longstanding tradition in comic books that revolve around this sort of big event storytelling. Some of the greatest storylines in comics history have spun out of these kinds of stories, like The Death of Superman or The Infinity Gauntlet. But what readers have wisened up to over the years, is that the powers that be in the comic book industry cannot allow the mainline titles to change too much. The status quo is always reset. Superman must always resurrect. Humanity must always be saved. And, with Superheavy, Bruce Wayne must inevitably return from the dead. Snyder knows this. He knows his readers know this. So, wisely, Jim Gordon's time as Batman parallels a plot which sees Bruce Wayne, alive and well, having taken refuge with his childhood friend Julie Madison, who runs a clinic for underprivileged youth. Bruce is helping her there, but seems to have no memory of who he actually is. Ever Bruce's concerned friend, Clark Kent shows up to get to the bottom of this mystery, only to have Alfred warn him off. Alfred sees this as Bruce's opportunity to finally lead a normal life, free of the childhood trauma that led him down the path to becoming Batman in the first place.

We all know how the story will end. Bruce will return. Somehow, someway. And Snyder knows this too. In fact, he's building toward it. And it seems his philosophy is to have as much fun as possible in getting there. There's a lot of comedy here, from the intentionally goofy design of the new bat-mech armor, to Gordon's personality while wearing his own sleeker version of the bat-suit. The action is big and bombastic, which at this point is just Snyder's modus operandi. These stories feel tailor-made for a big screen adaptation somewhere down the line.

What I continue to find most interesting is Snyder's understanding and use of symbols. He's constantly exploring what Batman represents within the context of Gotham. Now, we're a long way from the mythological underpinnings of The Court of Owls or Death of the Family. I feel as though I can make a compelling case for those storylines being the equivalent of pulp fiction elevated to the level of good literature. Superheavy is a different beast altogether. This is pulp fiction knowing exactly what it is, and choosing to play happily within the confines of its genre. You'll glean some insights into characters like Gordon, but you're not going to find the sweeping, mythological elements present in those earlier volumes making keen observations about the nature of humanity, goodness, and evil. But what this shows us is Snyder's versatility as a writer, and just how malleable the Batman character really is.

Capullo's art is part of what makes the volume so fun to read. His pairing with Snyder is one of those rare comic book couplings where both writer and artist play to each other's strengths. His artwork perfectly captures the tone of the story, and Snyder is more than willing to write in these crazy sequences that let Capullo really go to work creating stunning, instantly memorable imagery.

At the end of the day, Batman, Volume 8: Superheavy is the beginning of a new kind of Batman story. And this story more or less tells you from its earliest pages just how the tale is going to end. If you're a "purist" in the sense of holding that certain Batman fundamentals never be touched, this probably isn't your cup of tea. But if you can accept the story for what it is, see the course that has been charted, and come to this story on its own terms, you'll likely find this a breath of fresh air, a fun and different take on the Batman mythos.

The Flash, Volume 2: Rogues Revolution (Review)

The second volume of The Flash, titled Rogues Revolution, picks up right where the first ends, with our titular hero quite literally dropped into the middle of things. From the jump, we are introduced to Grodd, a classic Flash villain who also happens to be a massive, super-intelligent Gorilla. Think bigger, meaner, angrier Caesar from the reimagined Planet of the Apes trilogy and throw in some superpowers, and you're well on your way to understanding Grodd.

The Flash: Rogues Revolution

The first part of the book is dedicated to exploring Grodd and his kingdom, Gorilla City (comics are not known for their subtlety). And, for my money, this is some of the most interesting stuff in the volume. Manapul and Buccellato do a good job here of tapping into the Flash's mythic potential. As the newly-crowned king of Gorilla City, Grodd sees Flash as a threat to his rule, but the city's elders recognize him as a long-prophesied "messenger." It's worth noting that Hermes, the Greek god with remarkable speed due to his golden sandals, to whom Flash bears more than a passing resemblance, was known as the "messenger" of the ancient gods—the analogue is unmistakable. A lot of tantalizing clues are dropped in this section, but it's not long before the story zips back to Central City.

Once leaving Grodd behind, the book turns to focus primarily on another group of villains, known as the Rogues. The character that sees the most development here is Leonard Snart, the iconic, if somewhat underrated, Captain Cold. Like Grodd, Snart is reimagined in some interesting ways, and that reimagining lays the groundwork for the heart of the story this time around. Formerly a kind of leader of the Rogues, Snart has been ousted and replaced by a mysterious and beautiful entity called Glider.

The writers do a good job of building up sympathy for Snart, showing him to be a mostly honorable man who's just made some bad choices in life and is now paying for his sins. He no longer comes across as a bargain bin Mr. Freeze, but as a living, breathing character with his own agenda. When he finally shows up to help the Flash in the fight against his former allies, it's pretty exhilarating to see these two enemies on the same side. This kind of subversive storytelling so early on in their run demonstrates the creators' resolve to do something truly unique and not tread on ground previously covered by earlier writers. Like the previous volume, Rogues Revolution ends on a cliffhanger that is absolutely bonkers, with Grodd and his army raining into Central City seeking revenge. This is the kind of wild and offbeat storytelling that only the unique medium of comic books can really do well, neither taking itself too seriously nor sacrificing the integrity of beloved characters.

The art by Manapul and Buccellato remains a standout on this title. The few sections of the book containing art by Marcus To and Ray McCarthy are a little jarring to come across at first. That's not to say this art is bad—it certainly isn't—only that it's categorically different from what we have grown accustomed to. It's not uncommon for comic books to rotate writers and artists, if only to give consistent workers a bit of a break from having to produce content on a crunched schedule. But when the art has been as defining as it has been here, to deviate from that creates a certain amount of subtle dissonance in the flow of the narrative. But, this is a minor qualm with an otherwise gorgeous book. Rogues Revolution is a fun, fleet continuation and another win for Manapul and Buccellato as they carry on writing and drawing their definitive work on the Flash.

Superman: Action Comics Vol. 1: Invisible Mafia (Review)

Action Comics is the original title in which the Man of Steel first appeared way back in June 1938. The title celebrated the publication of its 1000th issue in 2018, and, after making the jump from Marvel to DC, legendary comics writer Brian Michael Bendis took over writing duties on issue #1001. Bendis's run on the title opens with Invisible Mafia, and this volume feels very much like a first chapter.

Superman: Action Comics Vol. 1: Invisible Mafia

Bendis already made his big introduction as Superman's newest guardian with The Man of Steel miniseries, a big, bombastic story oozing classic appeal. For better or worse, Invisible Mafia brings things back down to earth. Clark Kent is back in the newsroom of the Daily Planet, working alongside newer faces like gossip columnist Trish Q and reporter Robinson Goode, as well as stalwarts like photojournalist Jimmy Olson and editor-in-chief Perry White. Noticeably absent is Lois Lane, a classic Superman character and now Clark's wife. She is accompanying their son, Jon, on his rite of passage across the stars, but to everyone at the Daily Planet, Lois and Clark are just having marriage problems and taking time apart. As those rumors swirl, fires begin breaking out across the city of Metropolis, and Superman is named as the arsonist responsible, an accusation that nobody really seems to believe. This is where Bendis's story begins.

While Superman works to get to the bottom of things, Clark uses his connections as a reporter to comb through leads. Of course, the arsons are revealed to be part of a larger scheme, a distraction to keep Superman busy while a new cabal—the titular "invisible mafia"—plots in the shadows. This volume is almost entirely narrative set-up with very little payoff, suggesting that Bendis intends to play the long game with his readers. Given all the fanfare surrounding his taking on Superman, this really comes as no surprise. Bendis will be writing Superman for a long time.

There's nothing groundbreaking about Invisible Mafia, and there doesn't have to be. Not every Superman story has to be about planets colliding or stars exploding. Yet this story feels like classic Superman, marking a return to a kind of earlier status quo wherein Superman worked to save the good citizens of Metropolis from mostly human threats. "Mostly" applies here because the most memorable villain debuting in this volume is the mysterious Red Cloud, who materializes as an ethereal crimson mist with a vaguely human face. The volume's stellar art goes a long way in making this new villain instantly iconic, and Bendis sets up the mystery of Red Cloud to be a major storyline going forward.

A couple of interesting subplots thread through the volume, from Lois's secret return to political intrigue surrounding the city's mayor. Classic villain Lex Luthor gets a brief tease that will likely have greater significance in the context of the larger narrative. But, like the main storyline, these subplots are mostly introduced with very little resolution. The real joy of reading this volume lies in seeing Bendis lend his deft touch to these classic characters. There are some really clever lines of dialogue that had me smirking because they sounded like something Superman would actually say, and the newsroom antics at the Daily Planet are fodder for some real laugh-out-loud moments, most often courtesy of Perry White, the original grouchy newspaper editor.

Invisible Mafia is not the biggest or the most magnificent Superman tale, nor does it set out to be. But in terms of establishing what the world of Superman will look like under Bendis's penmanship, the volume accomplishes what it sets out to do. In more than one way, the story is a distilled version of Superman, unplugged and stripped down for a back-to-basics storytelling approach that calls to mind the kind of Superman your grandfather might see if you asked him to close his eyes and think back to the Action Comics of his youth. With art by Ryan Sook, Patrick Gleason, and Yanick Paquette, the Man of Steel looks as iconic as ever. After all the Flashpoints and paradoxes and world-shattering events that have characterized the DC Comics universe the past several years, it's nice to see Superman back in Metropolis fighting for truth, justice, and the American way.