Comic Book Review: Tabatha #1

Tabatha #1 is the first in a four-issue limited series produced by Neil Gibson’s T-Publications. It tells the story of a mailman named Luke and his friends, all of whom just happen to be aspiring thieves. Luke uses the information he gathers from his mail route to help plan the break-ins, but as it turns out, he and his friends find much more than they expected or wanted to during their first night of breaking and entering. This is far from the first story to feature “ordinary people getting more than they bargained for”, and unfortunately it doesn’t have much to offer in the way of an original take on the concept. Worse, the few original elements do more to damage than help the book. Tabatha’s first issue winds up as a disappointing beginning to a still potentially-interesting series.

The foundational trouble with Tabatha is that it feels like a paint-by-numbers book from the start. Following from the familiarity of the basic logline, the plot progression and story beats all feel expected and slightly stale, even on a first reading. It’s not because the developments and story arc are faulty in and of themselves. Rather, the problem resides in the hollow nature of the specifics of this story. Plot takes precedence over character, and that makes the flow of the story feel forced and predictable.

We need to get to know Luke, our main character – and so we spend the first several pages of the book being put through the paces of his day. He’s bullied by his colleagues, most of the people on his route are strange and troublemakers, and the girl he’s crushing on thinks he’s weird. Despite the fact that it’s pretty standard stuff, it still could have worked. Except the jokes aren’t funny, the pacing is off, and Luke just isn’t that interesting of a character. I looked for a way to invest myself in him as a reader, and I just didn’t find it.

This is also the part of the story where we’re given heavy-handed, explicit foreshadowing by way of the fact that this job is a “means to an end” for Luke. Obviously, we’re supposed to ask “what end?” but the script just doesn’t bother to rely even a little bit on the intelligence of the audience. Instead, we’re steadily hit with the repetition of the same foreshadowing that first shows up on page two.

I was hoping things would even out as the story went along, but that wasn’t the case. When we meet Luke’s friends/roommates (who happen to be dating each other), we get the expected story beats – the “bickering like a married couple” exchange, the good-natured third wheel main character, etc. But there’s no real substance to any of these three major characters, and that makes the rest of this first issue’s developments (which I’ll avoid spoiling for those who might want to read the book) far less engaging and interesting than they should be.

Now, all these things I’m talking about are forgivable, if not ideal, for a first-issue comic book. Introducing fresh, engaging characters and plugging them into an interesting plot is not an easy business, and I know that firsthand. But I re-read Tabatha a few times in preparation for this review, and each time I did, I found it more and more problematic.

The story is just average – erring on the side of too much secrecy and not enough setup for whatever will come with the three remaining issues. Like I said, forgivable. What’s less forgivable is the supposedly sympathetic character of Fin (Luke’s best friend and roommate, as well as the character whose POV we share at the end of this first issue and apparently will continue to in further issues) and the blatantly sexist elements of his character. These are overtones which, on repeated readings, appear elsewhere in the book and betray the fact that the attitudes portrayed are not deliberately chosen and addressed character traits, but rather systematic issues with the book as a whole.

What it comes down to is that Tabatha, intentionally or not, has serious problems with objectifying both female and male characters. I’m not here to make character judgments of the creative team behind this book. I’m simply reviewing what I see on the page, and what I see is problematic to me as a reader and a storyteller.

All of the women characters in this book are drawn in tight pants, short shorts, and spaghetti straps, and are frustratingly only defined by their relationships to men. The nameless female crush of Luke (who returns essentially as a plot device late in the issue) is only important because Luke has decided that she is “his future wife”. She has minimal dialogue, and we never even learn her name. Fin’s girlfriend is written as stereotypical and short-tempered, drawn as skimpily dressed and exceptionally thin, and relegated to backseat status for most of the story. Fin and Luke aren’t exempt from the disappointingly stereotypical character machine – Luke is clearly the nerdy, innocent guy, and Fin is so bulked up that he could give Superman a run for his body type.

The challenges presented by these characters as written are the major roadblock to embracing the potential of the overall storyline. We get an intriguing look at the villain of the piece towards the end of the book, and enough of the questions left on the last page are enticing enough that I’m at least mildly curious about what comes next. I just hope new story developments feature alongside some improvements to the characters and tone of the book as well – otherwise there’s no way I would shell out to see what happens next. 

Man of Steel, Or: How the Tin Man Saved the World and Broke My Heart

I saw Man of Steel at its midnight premiere a few days ago. I’m one of those people who was so excited to see the film that I just couldn’t wait, so after a full day of work I downed yet another coffee, threw on my Supes t-shirt, and stayed up until 3AM to see the Blue Boy Scout hit the screen for the first time since 2006. And since I left the theater, I’ve been sitting on this review. Turning the film over and over in my head, struggling to let it settle. It hasn’t. Now, that may sound melodramatic, but I’m not making any apologies. Because Man of Steel is, through and through, one of the most incredible, brilliant, frustrating – and in the end, deeply disappointing – films I have ever seen. 

[Fair Warning: SPOILERS ABOUND BELOW. I usually try to avoid spoilers in my reviews, but I just can’t do this one without discussing very specific, crucial elements of the story, so consider this your heads-up]. 

O.K. So, I think we all sort of know the basic drill with this new Superman movie by now. It’s meant to be an exploration of the hero in the context of our world today, which is not only exciting but also admirable. Christopher Nolan, David S. Goyer, and Zack Snyder set out to make a very real superhero movie, and I applaud that. The writers and filmmakers ask all the right questions. The problem arises when they are unable to provide the answers to go with them. 

If a superhero appeared in our world today, how would people react? What sort of toll does it take on a person (even a Kryptonian one) to exist in a world where you are different from everyone else? On an even more basic level, the real issue at the heart of Man of Steel comes in two parts. The first is an assertion: you can choose the sort of person that you become. The second is the question that naturally accompanies that: if you can choose, then how do you choose – and what happens when you do?

So let’s start at the beginning. The first third of the movie is where it shines the most, surprisingly enough. We spend a great deal of time on the doomed planet Krypton, something I wasn't expecting but in the end thought was absolutely fantastic. We get a real dose of science fiction here, a world without the boundaries of our own. Krypton is on the cusp of collapse, but it’s not there yet. There are spaceships, machines, and landscapes that will take your breath away. 

But the heart of this first part of the Superman mythos rests with the emerging conflict between the scientist Jor-El (a superbly engrossing turn by Russell Crowe) and the military man General Zod (Michael Shannon). We see the two sides of the world that Kal-El’s Superman is born from, and learn that he is the first natural birth Krypton has seen in hundreds of years, setting him up as a unique figure even on his own planet. We’re given some truly awesome action set pieces, especially as Zod seeks to solve the problem of Krypton’s potential destruction in his own, military, way. There’s a real strength and depth of character to this opening portion of Man of Steel.

Russell Crowe as Jor-El.

One slightly unconventional but well-utilized element of the film is its narrative structure, particularly as it relates to the origin story of Clark Kent. The basic story of a hero like Superman is so entrenched in the public consciousness that it seems almost tedious to sit through yet another telling of his “farmboy in Kansas” upbringing. Screenwriter David Goyer, however, chooses to fold that origin story over on itself, essentially condensing it narratively without removing any crucial elements. Following the destruction of Krypton, we spend the expected amount of time in the fields of Kansas, but through flashbacks had by a 20-something Clark as he wanders the world, seeking the best way to use his powers without revealing his true nature. For my money, this is one of the best choices the film makes from a structural perspective – and it continues to express and develop the central question and challenge of a life like Clark’s. 

Another narrative choice that makes this re-framed question abundantly clear in the course of Clark's origin story is the alteration of the death of Pa Kent (Kevin Costner). Rather than a heart attack, Clark’s father is felled by a tornado as Clark watches – helpless, because even with all his powers, he cannot bring himself to disobey the command of his father to stay put and not reveal his powers to the nearby crowd. This change is a bold choice, to be sure, and one that not everyone will agree with. Personally, I found the change itself not only interesting, but also logical as it dovetailed with the main challenge of the first half of the film, and sought to reinforce the true nature of that issue. But the writing and execution of the scene itself seemed shoddy, even a bit lazy. Here was the first point in the film that I felt underwhelmed. I wanted to care more than the movie allowed me to – and that would be a continuous problem throughout the remainder of the story.

Amy Adams as Lois Lane.

It’s not long after this that we’re introduced to Steel’s iteration of Lois Lane (Amy Adams). She makes a great first impression, and shines as a very solid, decently-drawn female character – until the film just tries to damn hard to make her constantly relevant. She goes from an interesting, dogged reporter to a ham-handed plot device in the course of about 20 minutes, and the end result is an exceptionally frustrating overuse of the character, as if the filmmakers were trying to deliberately force the audience to admit that, hey, these people are using a strong female character! Good for them! In doing so, they cut themselves off at the knees and turn Lois into little more than an incidental character who somehow manages to rocket around the world fast enough to be present for every major plot development.

Michael Shannon as the legendary General Zod.

The arrival of General Zod on earth is a welcome return of the character, and sets the third act of the film into motion…and this is where the bottom falls out. During the battles between Superman, Zod, and Faora, Man of Steel reveals its fatal flaw. To wax allegorical for a moment, it’s as if the movie is a talented football player, returning a punt kick for a touchdown. He’s outrun the other team, using his talent and his smarts to get into the open field. At which point he gets lazy, maybe even starts celebrating a little before he crosses the goal line. And then he trips, or drops the ball from his uplifted, celebratory hand. And everybody’s stomachs drop. That’s how I felt watching the last third of Man of Steel, and as much as it hurts me to say it, the reason was Superman himself. 

Zack Snyder, director and fan of extremely chiseled leading men.

Don't get me wrong. The battles between Superman and the Kryptonians are undeniably spectacular. If there’s one thing Zack Snyder knows how to do as a director, it’s orchestrate an impressive action scene. The problem is, that appetite for destruction and showmanship clashes with a central tenet of the movie he’s trying to make. In the latter part of the film, Superman is being forced to choose between rebirthing the Kryptonian race or saving humanity. He chooses humanity, as we know he must. But then, behold! He proceeds to battle Zod in an all-out superhero brawl that decimates first a small Kansas town (whose only sizeable building is apparently a Sears, in one of the more annoyingly egregious examples of product placement in the history of ever); and then the streets of Metropolis itself. The problem? This battle destroys entire city blocks. Buildings crumble and collapse into the streets. In short, any thinking person knows, people die. Realistically, thousands of them. And Superman doesn’t give it a second thought. Not once do we see him try to steer Zod out of the city, or even stop throwing punches long enough to rush people to safety. This lack of care or concern for the people Superman has chosen to call his own is paradoxical, distracting, and at best a huge oversight on the part of the filmmakers. At worst, it is an unspoken effort to change the core of this character, and what happens next made me worry that that is exactly what’s going on. 

In the end, Zod and Superman smash and bash their way into Grand Central Station, which somehow found its way from the New York City of The Avengers to Metropolis. There, Superman gets Zod in a headlock, but Zod turns the situation into a bizarre Mexican standoff by training his heat vision on a helpless family. And what happens next made me curl into my seat, feeling like someone had just gut-punched me. Superman, the embodiment of truth and justice, the hero I’ve loved since I was a kid…snapped Zod’s neck.

Henry Cavill as a Superman for the 21st Century.

Now look. I’m not a child anymore. I understand what it means to “reinvent” a character for the big screen – especially with an eye towards making him relevant in our world today. Nolan, Snyder, and company took risks with this film. I admire that. But that admiration vanished when Zod’s body hit the ground. See, there’s a real difference between “updating” a character and changing them entirely. Here, the filmmakers do the latter. 

Superman’s dedication to the good – to the protection of life, and restraining his immense powers rather than using them to harm others, is at the heart of what makes the character. It’s what makes some people dismiss him entirely – the “Big Blue Boy Scout” moniker isn’t particularly complimentary. But regardless, it’s what makes Superman truly super. It’s what sets him apart from villains like Zod and Faora. And here, that difference gets thrown out the window without a second thought. That, more than anything, is what ruined Man of Steel for me. 

David S. Goyer, screenwriter.

I could have stood for Superman killing Zod. In the universe created for the film, there’s not really another valid choice. No Phantom Zone to send him to, no anything. But what seals the deal is this: Superman’s remorse for this murder amounts to nothing more than a manly howl of anger, mitigated by the sudden (and once again, inexplicable) presence of Lois. We are given no understanding of the code that Superman has always, in every iteration on page or screen, lived by. 

So, in the end, Man of Steel may be a good, even great, movie. It may even gain the status of one of the best superhero movies of the year. Fine. That doesn’t make it a good Superman movie. So much is done right, so much of the setup is perfect. And then it goes so very, very wrong. To me, Kal-El fails to live up to the lessons taught to him by either of his fathers. This Kryptonian hero, for all his powers and might, is hollow. The most important part of Kal-El, the part that makes him Superman, is his human heart.  The real tragedy here is that the filmmakers seem to have forgotten that completely, leaving us with a stunning but ultimately empty spectacle. 

Resurrection, Man.

Hey guys,

If you were a regular follower of this blog in the past, odds are you probably aren't anymore...and I don't blame you. I wouldn't follow a blog that hasn't updated in almost a year either. See, this last year sort of got away from me. I guess since it was the last year of my undergrad career, you might be able to imagine why.

On top of all the college-related elements in the equation, I'm proud to say that over the last six months, many of the things that I might ordinarily post on this blog have been appearing over on Whatculture.com, a pop culture site that I'm now a contributing writer for. You can find a list of my articles on topics ranging from Doctor Who to Deadpool and beyond here.

But, in the immortal words of Bob Dylan, "The times they are a changin'." There is a light at the end of the empty blog tunnel - and it's the florescent glow of a laptop screen. Basically, I'm back. Back in black, back with a vengeance, etc, etc. As you might have noticed, the Wayward Wordslinger domain has gotten a facelift, and this new look is just the beginning.

From now on, you can expect updates once a week, covering everything from television to movies to books and beyond. There'll be reviews, musings, and everything in between. I'll be kicking things off with a pretty in-depth review of Man of Steel, which will go live tomorrow. Over the next few days, I'll also be tweaking the layout, gadgets, and features of the page, so come on back to check it all out!

As always, thanks for reading!