Dig The Longbox (Redux): Planetary #13

This review of Planetary #13 originally ran on RCB.net for the 'Dig The Longbox' column.

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I quit collecting comics sometime in 1988 and came back at the end of 2011. Oh, sure, I read the odd graphic novel from time to time, but I was not, shall we say, 'active' in the life. Someday, I'm going to write about why comic fans stop reading/collecting and why (or if) they come back. ANYWAY like any traveler returned after a long absence, I was curious to know what I had missed. What were 'the kids' reading -- and dancing to -- these days?

There exists the perverse thrill of watching surprise (indignation?) dawn on the face of (some) fanboys when I admit ignorance as regards Preacher, Ex Machina, The Authority or The Invisibles let alone having not read (much) Ennis, Vaughan, Ellis or Morrison. Anyone who spends lengthy stretches of time in any one particular pop culture hothouse or another too often develops a kind of blindness or myopia to the outside world. I find cinéastes are the worst. I've seen more than a few come down with an acute case of the howling fantods when they hear a confession about never having seen Vivre sa vie, Les quatre cents coups (The 400 Blows), or anything by Antonioni or Lubitsch; so, it's all relative.

Planetary (1999 – 2009) by Warren Ellis, John Cassaday and Laura Martin née DePuy (including a host of different letterers) falls well within my time spent off-world. I'm far from a fully-committed Ellis aficionado. With the exception of Planetary -- of which I've only read a half-a-dozen issues -- I remain unschooled in the majority of the Ellis oeuvre. I would call myself more of an Ellis tourist with the potential to become a raving wild-eyed promulgator should I allow my psychosis to further develop.

At only thirty issues (twenty-seven in series proper) Planetary can be classified as manageable when it comes to the comic book reader's favorite pastime, 'catching up.' Then again, just because you tag along on a docent-led tour of the Vatican doesn't mean you're conversant on the intricacies of the Sistine Chapel; because that's what Planetary is, a masterpiece. To write about such a magnum opus approaches dissecting a snowflake with stove wood.

For all the praise and laurels Planetary receives, I find it remains cultish, on the fringes, which is precisely where it should reside, in secret. Wikipedia away, but know is this: Planetary is about all things great and geeky in the last two millennia. From sci-fi to pulp and from genre-fiction to film, Planetary has it all not to mention it's meta, complicated, deconstructs and reconstructs and abounds with analogues -- a genre comic book about comics and genres, but, so, so much more.

Planetary #13 essentially marks the midpoint in the series. I would be curious to know if it was Ellis's intention to mark this occasion with an exploration into the 'salad days' of protagonist, Elijah Snow, or if it was more organic. As a kind of stand-alone origin intermezzo, Planetary #13 locks into place while it also reinforces the overall narrative. The cover to the penultimate issue confirms this overarching 'puzzle,' each issue apiece of a piece, and part of a greater whole. Origins have origins -- secret histories -- and so Planetary #13 marks Snow's first meeting with a couple of extraordinary gentlemen and explains how Snow got so smart.

A writer with the balls of a Warren Ellis knows comics should read as well with words as without. Perhaps, this knowledge is made easier when one hitches his wagon to the likes of John Cassaday. An artist with a realist style equal parts unfussy and detailed, Cassaday's work is simple to categorize: gorgeous. Perhaps to evoke memory, Cassaday draws each of the panel borders in this issue with rough-edges and (with a few inset exceptions) separate from their neighbors -- the constituent parts of a patchwork quilt. Each page is composed as a complete story and each panel leads the eye from one image to the next. Isn't that what comic books are supposed to do? Rhetorically speaking, yes. But ask yourself: how many pull of the feat? This is what we talk about when we talk about sequential art and John Cassaday is among a very select number of the art form's masters.

What little narration there is at the start of Planetary #13 fits within tidy boxes meant to look like notebook entries. The leaves of this journal are clipped and neat, not torn or frayed. These are the edited musings of a circumspect mind, a man of intellect, the exact opposite of the man who shows up on the page. The turnout may be Tom Wolfe, but Cassaday draws Snow (natty or not) as a bruiser -- short, boxy with wide shoulders and a strong right cross. For all his physical gifts (his physique not to mention the power to freeze things solid), it's Snow's charm, his cranky gentility which makes him memorable and likeable. As he bludgeons a faux-Frankenstein monster with the frozen arm of one of its colleagues, he asks, ''Die or something, would you?'' and then thanks the beast when it obliges. Only a comic as audacious as Planetary would pay off a four-page fight with the line: ''I was only lookin' for the damn library.'' Ah, the charms of Monsieur Ellis, how they juxtapose with Cassaday's gifts for action.

The library belongs to ''the Baron'' although Ellis has enough cheek to let readers figure it out for themselves (hint: see above parargraph). Throughout the issue Snow's thoughts (and dialogue) are sprinkled with other (not so) obtuse references: ''that invisible fella,'' ''a man who went to Mars'' and ''the Frenchman.''  Beasts bested, Snow finds his objective, ''the secret map of the world'' as divined by a group of illuminati who styled themselves, ''the Conspiracy.'' The map leads Snow to a well-known London address on Baker Street. After another display of his Alexander-of-Macedonia-like action-hero-ish nature, Snow has a conversation with the master sleuth so chock-a-block full of conspiracies (some open, some dark and some darker) and secrets (''eugenics'' and a ''controlled economy'') that the entire chummy chat turns quite forgettable. Planetary makes its bones on secrets and some sort of 'dead-drop' gets made every issue.

What makes Planetary #13 memorable is when Snow kicks Dracula and shatters his crotch.

The name 'Dracula' is never said. Why say the name when you can 'count' on Cassaday to sink his teeth into it? The unnamed undead emerges from the shadows (of course) and before Snow administers the ultimate coup de grâce, Snow confirms this is no garden-variety vamp: ''met a lady called Van Helsing in New York city last year.'' As one of Ellis's countrymen once wrote, ''—that is all // Ye know on earth, and all ye need know.''

The ball-busting image of a shattered Dracula serves as graphic shorthand for the phrase: ''that's the issue when …'' It's a one image distillation of the opening sequence, a challenge -- a literal kick in the crotch -- from Ellis and Cassaday to their fellow writers and artists (and by extension to every reader) to remember: comic books are a visual medium, don't forget it.

 
I'll pass along the advice I received when I wanted to 'catch up' on Planetary: don't read it in trade, sample a couple of singles first and then buy the trades, if you must. Every issue of Planetary stands on its own, has its own orbit you might say. If you like one you're apt to like each and every thrilling adventure. Odd, nowadays, I know, a comic book series that reads as well in singles as it does collected. As Snow is fond of saying: ''It's a strange world. Let's keep it that way.'' Dig it?

Column: '... We've Established That'

Editor's Note:  A few weeks ago, the staff here at 'Sophisticated Fun' was murdering some time on an odd Tuesday afternoon (ugh, Tuesdays, amiright?) when and we kicked around the idea of starting a column. Something where we could write in the first-person, you know, make 'I' statements instead of always trying to create this illusion of journalistic integrity, but a column, seriously?  Columns are the last refuge of the reporter, the designated hitter position of the newsroom, a valuable (and valued) member of the team, but someone who's been repressing her opinions and biases for so long that they now she has to take prescribed meds. (or so she says) for her condition. The other side of the same coin reads that a columnist is the Swiss Army Knife of journalists: the perspicacity of a hard-bitten, worn-at-the-soles scribbler, but with the wit and acumen of a luncheon companion at the Algonquin -- you know what we're talking about, a guy who spends too much of his time looking up fancy words at thesaurus.com and making references that were relevant in the 1920's to try and sound smart and occasionly drops a 'amiright' like he's some twenty-three-year-old instead of, dunno, thirty-eight or something.  Yeessh. We don't have the budget for 'that guy,' so we assigned it to Keith. Wait! I've haven't even said what our new column is about … screw it, we'll make Keith write that too. Excelsior! -- The Editorial Staff of IiSF?

Author's Note: Hey! The folks over in editorial said they were going to write up a short introduction to our new column, ''… We've established That,'' but they're behind on deadline (as usual) so they’ve asked me (again) to fill in the details. I’m sure they'll add something later (as is their prerogative … amiright?). Whatever. So, what we've got here at IiSF? is a column looking at landmark comic book series that occurred from roughly 1986 until early August of 2011. Say you were someone … well, me, and you (for the most part) stopped reading comic books about the time you turned twelve or thirteen and all of a sudden you’re reading comics again, writing a blog about comics and so on and so on. You read other comic book bloggers (incessantly), listen to podcasts (mostly from Canada) and they’re always going on about Y: The Last Man this and Identity Crises that and making off-hand references to Age of Apocalypse, House of M and Infinity Gauntlet (which sounds like a sex toy you might find in the dungeons of the House of M). ANYWAY! The gang over at Thirteen Minutes wrote to me to ask if I had ever read Joss Whedon and John Cassaday's Astonishing X-Men. I had not. Which brings us to … 'We've Established That,' a (rather) regular feature that tells you faithful reader that the stories that you already know are great … are … great? So … we've established that, huh? Huh? See what I did there?  -- KPS

  I don't have the ''Joss Whedon gene.'' Sorry. Oh, sure, I've seen some syndicated Buffy bits and I really, really, really tried to like Serenity, but it didn't take (oh, poor Nathan Fillon, always a bridesmaid …). I guess there is no accounting for taste. So, when it was suggested to me that I read Astonishing X-Men, I dismissed it because of the Whedon-factor. Or, I suppose, you could say, that my ability to appreciate the particular talents of Mr. Whedon had not yet manifested itself. Whedon or no, I am, however, fluent in X-Men, having learned the language from the masters, Claremont, Cockrum and Byrne. When talking about pop-culture -- especially pop-culture blind spots -- I often invoke the phrase (appropriated from the King), 50,000,000 Elvis Fans Can't Be Wrong, in other words, ''it's not you, it's me.'' Using either one of these loopholes allows one to solve a pop-culture Kobayashi Maru (if you will) and fall on the sword, unless, of course, one wants to be a total contrarian, which is shorthand for ''completely unreliable asshole.'' Adding X-Men can (I’ve found) cut the sweet with the bitter. So, l figured, 50,000,000 … um, yeah, already did that part … how about: time to get my ''Snikt!'' on, again?

  Here's the first thing I'll say about Whedon: kid can commence. From page one, panel one, Whedon sets his hook and it's Kitty bar the door from then on. Whedon knows the quickest way to win an audience's interest (and their hearts) is put them in the shoes of the protagonist and let 'em ramble on. So setting Kitty Pryde outside the gates of that very particular address familiar to all X-Men and X-aficionados in the Northeast corner of Westchester Co., New York is (I'm stating the obvious here) an invitation (literally) and nothing short of a masterstroke of storytelling. Turns out, Whedon's X-Men are my X-Men too. The first issue of X-Men I ever bought was Uncanny X-Men #130[1], the first appearance of Dazzler, one issue removed (Wikipedia tells me) from the first appearance of one, Katherine Anne 'Kitty' Pryde. Astonishing X-Men is Kitty's story, plain and simple. Kitty's memories phase in and out (huh, amiright?) as she herself passes through the walls of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. This reminds me of something an old bluesman once told me,[2] 'good musicians borrow, great musicians steal;' which when it comes to storytellers, puts Joss Whedon securely in the latter camp. As if by some psionic ability, Whedon knows what X-fans want from their X-Men: Sentinels, a mutant cure wrapped in conspiracy and crazy shit going down in the Danger-room. He does all this with the (other) thing mutant mavens crave: laughs, japes and jokes of the inside-variety. I probably laughed out loud more than I thrilled at the fight scenes -- my reaction (I think) shows I've grown up, matured, set aside childish things like superhero comic books …

  If I had $3.99 for every time I've read X or Y or friggin' Z is 'a great jumping on point' I would be able to afford a lot more Marvel comic books[3]. Zing! I had no idea where X-continuity was prior to Whedon and Cassaday's mandate to astonish. I had no idea about the backstory to the big (steely) reveal in this series and it still (there's no better word for it) astonished. O.K., full disclosure, it was weird that Professor X was wallowing in the middle of a no man's land which is/was Genosha(?) or something and, yes, it did take me out of the story for a moment, but what I gleaned from the context filled in most of the details. Something blew up, a lot of mutants died, and that's why (I guess) the White Queen a.k.a Emma Frost is now a co-leader (and cohabitating with ol' one-eye (get it!) himself, Cyclops) of the team. For the new comic book reader or for a relapsed one like yours truly, prior continuity is the ultimate turd in the punchbowl. I get it. It's important. Nobody likes to piss on canon, especially long-established continuity that has been carefully cultivated by creators, conglomerates and fans alike, but give us newbies and degenerate a break and the benefit of the frickin' doubt to fill in the details for ourselves or not, it's a big tent after all, plenty of room inside. Rant over.

  My research (Wikipedia) tells me that John Cassaday commenced his career in 1995, so way outside my ken. I'm told by Wikipedia (again) and my other fellow 'knights of the keyboard' that Planetary is also one to add to my list of must-reads, not only for Cassaday, but also for another nineteen-nineties powerhouse, Warren Ellis. Yep, don't know no Ellis neither. What struck me about Cassaday's work was how it possesses a photo-realistic-quality; it's not, of course, maybe cartoon-real or comic-real is a better description. Illustrative is the best way I can described his pencils -- like these characters are (pardon the cliché) drawn from real-life. Buildings and vehicles are rendered like architectural blueprints. I went wild (as I can presuppose everyone else did) for how Cassaday cants the moment the gang's all back together when Cyclopes says: ''We have to astonish them.'' Yes! It's moments like that that, for better or for worse, mint fanboys. Cassaday and Whedon know that simple fact in their adamantium infused bones. Wolverine (see what I did there, huh?) is resplendent in his yellow on blue costume as is Beast (the three-quarter unitard is perhaps unfortunate, but better than boxers), who provides the team with its emotional intelligence -- something I had forgotten about from those Claremont Cockrum collaborations of yesteryear. Who can say better than that? Not me, bub. So, like freedom, cold beer on a hot day and getting a RT for one's efforts, Astonishing X-Men (Vol. 1) is … uncannily and ultimately, astonishing … so, yes, we've established that.   

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[1] Not really, but I'm telling a story here. I did buy it, but it wasn't my 'first' X-Men comic book -- (first one I bought off the walls of New England Comics encased in mylar, sure)  -- it was the '80's, rap was hitting the mainstream, everyone was sampling from everywhere.

[2] He was my guitar teacher and he loved jazz and blues, but he wasn't much older than I am now, but (again) … Hello! Story!

[3] That's for you Owen Craig!