Of the Essence

A mix of greatest hits awaited me on the third Wednesday of October, 2012. Nothing overtly brilliant in the lot, mind you, just standard greatness deserving a bend of the nerdy knee. From Francis Manapul and Brian Buccellato is The Flash, entering his second year as one of DC's hotly relaunched New 52 titles.

These caffeinated creators put forensic cop Barry Allen through his paces as the Scarlet Speedster, pitting him against not only the ethically-challenged Rogues (Captain Cold, Weather Wizard, Heat Wave and Glider), but also an army of super-intelligent gorillas. The twist here is that Gorilla Grodd (their super-sized king) doesn't merely want Central City or the world, but access to Barry's source of power, the Speed Force. Cue the classically gonzo multitasking that Geoff Johns tortured Wally West with about ten years ago when he shot The Flash with fresh electricity.

Barry's world, as usual, is a painterly wonderland. Softly-colored backgrounds allow brightly-costumed principles to command our attention (and quicken the narrative) effortlessly. Also, Manapul's layouts here are noticeably more widescreen than in the first story arc. Micro-panels no longer persist (that we might follow Barry's thoughts), and the gorilla army possesses terrifying girth. The final page, revealing Grodd to be prehistorically huge and crackling with energy, is a stunner.

As is the last issue of Marvel's FF, written by Jonathan Hickman and drawn by Nick Dragotta. By FF, we mean the Future Foundation, the big-brained Reed Richard's motley assortment of undisciplined geniuses that includes Alex Power, Dragon Man, Leech, Artie, a few of Mole Man's underlings, and his own two children, Franklin and Valeria. For now, only these last two need concern us, since the appearance of their adult selves from the future is a bulging back o' treats all by itself.

"Intelligence without imagination is pretty much useless," says adult Franklin to his child self. "Creating is harder than knowing." This adaptation of Einstein's words carries the funereal tone of parting wisdom, for the bearded time-traveler is about to exit the present stage, having spent a few years helping young Franklin deal with the emergence of his awesome power. The lad, born of heroes Mr. Fantastic and the Invisible Woman, is a mutant. He can alter reality and has been practicing his abilities in a pocket universe inside his bedroom closet.

Can you tell Hickman's got kids? Reading FF (and companion title Fantastic Four) during his reign of clever, you realize the scripts are odes to parenting. Here, in bittersweet blowout, older Franklin tells the younger that they're going to perform every last adventure they've ever dreamed up (and written on scraps of paper).

Nick Dragotta, an artist of sweeping emotional prowess, offers one bouncing tableau after another, featuring: vegetarian werewolves, space chickens, vampire school teachers, jell-o-knights- all met by the ferociously adventurous Franklin, Franklin and Leech. Then, after the boy is tuckered out and placed in bed, adult Franklin bids his parents farewell. Susan Richards, channeling her fretfully intellectual husband (and Hickman himself), says, "Being a parent, having children... it's a constant war between uncertainty and hope. So you live in fear, and you have these doubts..." Reed, adopting his wife's centered soulfulness, asks, "Did we do a good job, son?" Before fizzling away, he says, "A perfect one. I love you guys." It's hard for us not to as well.

Schrodinger's Cat and the Men Who Feed Her

Possibility, identity, and the merits of multitasking are celebrated in a trio of comics released today, August 22, 2012. I'll start with the first issue of Before Watchmen: Dr. Manhattan, because Adam Hughes' art is both impossibly refined and ecstatically delivered. Known today mainly for his sensual Catwoman and Wonder Woman covers, Hughes' sequential interior work is rather rare. He had notable runs years ago on Justice League America and Ghost, but the privilege is entirely ours to see him telling stories again.

Dr. Manhattan, of course, is the blue naked guy from Watchmen, DC's bestselling 1986 graphic novel. After a lab accident atomized his human body, Dr. Jon Osterman reconstituted himself by manipulating his own "intrinsic field." This brought him awareness of himself at every age, throughout time, simultaneously. Don't fret. This isn't a physics lesson delivered by the Blue Man Group. Writer Alan Moore's eery take on the subject makes Watchmen one of the most engaging reads comics can offer.

Here, Babylon 5 creator J. Michael Straczynski impeccably mimics Dr. Manhattan's chilly, present-tense narrative, established by Moore. With the place and time being Germany, August 14, 1938, Manhattan says, "I am nine years old. I am unwrapping a birthday present from my father. Quantum Physics," he continues, envisioning a kitten, a baseball mitt, a teddy bear, "says that as long as the box is closed, it could contain anything, in any state of existence."


Hughes' remarkable page layouts (sepia tinted by colorist Laura Martin) answer the age-old question, "Should Norman Rockwell have tried working with spray paint?" Absolutely, he should have. "The present is wrapped," Dr. Manhattan later says, watching his human self enter the intrinsic field chamber. The door then closes and locks, before destroying him. "What's inside the box?"

A question for next month. Right now, "Who is Matches Malone?" is a puzzle we can tackle by reading the third issue of Batman Incorporated. By writer Grant Morrison and artist Chris Burnham, this title pits Batman and Robin (three different Robins, actually) against a worldwide criminal syndicate called Leviathan.

The concept plays deftly to Morrison's strengths, which typically involve freakish disguises, bloody rituals, and just about anything else the cerebral Scotsman dreams up. Here, we get Bruce Wayne undercover in mob territory as Matches Malone, an info-trading weasel who dresses like something washed up from the dismal shores of 1974 (the era, in fact, of his creation). Burnham, a relative newcomer with a full-bodied, kinetic style, is the perfect artist to enliven the lunacy lurking in Morrison's mind.

Morrison himself dazzles in this issue, serving up playful slang in one crisp course after another. "I've heard a few things about you," says torch singer Lumina Lux to Malone, "but nobody prepared me for Sir Galahad." He answers, "I'm like true love and nuclear war- there's no way to prepare for Matches."

Similarly, there's little preparing for how incredible The Flash is, considering that most comics revitalized by the brilliant Geoff Johns end up shriveled on the vine (I'm looking at you, Hawkman and Justice Society). But this version of the fastest man alive, co-written by artist Francis Manapul and colorist Brian Buccellato, is an issue-for-issue masterpiece.

Manapul, once criticized publicly by writing partner Jim Shooter for weak cover art, now generates routine brilliance. Once establishing that the Flash should think as fast he moves, his writer/artists have sprinkled micro-panels throughout his world, illustrating our hero's quick moments of insight. Consistently iconic paneling also highlights the Flash's many Rogues, who frequently gang up against him (and each other). The cherry atop all of this is Buccellato's coloring, which is almost too beautiful for comics. Using subtle watercolor hues for the backgrounds, his boldly painted figures race through the Twin Cities of Keystone and Central.

This issue sees the Rogues Captain Cold and Heatwave under arrest and in armored transit. Cold's sister, the ethereal Glider, uses her phasing power to dump the police escorts and free Heatwave. Cold himself is rescued by the vigilante Pied Piper- in short, The Flash is never a dull read. Especially when Glider and Mirror Master steal a runaway monorail. I just have to wonder if Manapul would be so incredible if not made a fool of by an industry vet who should have had more class. Or maybe Shooter should run his mouth more often.