Alan Moore & The Supremes - A Review of Alan Moore’s Supreme: The Story of the Year

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Written by O'Brian Gunn

Cover for Supreme: The Story of the Year

Almost every comic book publisher has its own version of Superman, the archetypal superhero with superior strength, speed, senses, looks, and morals all paired with a gleaming Colgate smile. While you might be (understandably) tempted to groan in frustration at the idea of reading yet another comic book/graphic novel with a Superman-esque character and premise, that frustration can easily morph into intrigue upon learning that it’s Alan Moore at the helm ready to take you on a supreme ride that’s totally unlike the experience of Watchmen (in a good way), but with the same level of care and attention to intricate detail. Now embarking on Supreme: The Story of the Year (S:SY).

One of the first things you should know about S:SY is that it’s not packed to the spine with leap-off-the-page action, slick-looking characters, or a complex story. But sometimes, just as it’s nice to take a breather from reality by immersing yourself between the pages of a comic book, it’s nice to take a break from the riveting, nail-biting action and mosaic comic book narrative/universal event that aims to blow your mind. Sometimes, it’s nice to enjoy the ride down a lazy 2D river and remind yourself of how far comics have come.

Doesn’t get more nostalgic than this

Jumping right into the story, Moore opens his retro-infused tale with our titular hero returning to Earth, only it seems as though his home has blended with a parallel universe revealed to Supreme’s special senses. Our main character has also recently dealt with alternate versions of himself, which only adds to his bewilderment. Upon landing in Omegapolis, Supreme is hit with a feeling of deja vu as he’s greeted by several other Supremes, including a black female Sister Supreme, a mouse named Squeak the Suprememouse, and another that has a strong resemblance to DC’s original Shazam.

After reaching a loose understanding, Supreme and his superhuman siblings travel to The Supremacy, which serves as a nexus for the many different versions of Superma--eh, Supreme throughout the decades, Moore’s way of paying homage to the various iterations of Superman that have been revealed since his original debut back in the late 1930s. There’s even a version of Supreme that’s only lasted “one short month, without even a second appearance.” The stockpile of Supremes (and some of their side characters) have been waiting for each other since their respective runs ended, gradually being joined by the next generation's iteration that will be replaced by an even newer, sleeker model. Moore gets a bit meta at this point (as if we’d expect anything less from him), explaining that “our” Supreme has gaps in his memory because those memories haven’t been written yet.

The new old Supreme.

The story soars off in earnest when Supreme learns that he has an opportunity to return to his “newly-revised Earth,” an opportunity that none of the other Supremes have had. Our hero climbs up a golden staircase to his homeworld where he’ll fill in the blanks of his past and bear witness to his future.

From there, Moore uses a 50s-style comic book format blended with Supreme’s late 90s comic book look to explore our main character’s memories, which are all too reminiscent of The Superfriends and the Silver Age Justice League of the 50s. There’s so much to unpack with this dense graphic novel, from Supreme/Ethan Crane’s job as a comic book artist (who works on a comic that features a Supreme-like character) and his time as a member of The League of Infinity to the hero’s rogues’ gallery and the final showdown that you’d expect from a classic comic book between Supreme and a certain archnemesis.

The many faces of Supreme.

One thing worth noting is that S:SY is Moore’s mea culpa for the dark tone steeped in his earlier works, such as Batman: The Killing Joke and Swamp Thing. Moore’s lighter tone is reminiscent of the hopeful, World of Tomorrow-esque and (now) slightly cheesy feel imbued in Golden and Silver Age comics. If you’d like to explore more of that bygone era, I highly recommend Brian Fies’ Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow? graphic novel.

While S:SY might sound like little more than a creative writing exercise, it’s a collection that should be considered required reading for comic book fans of all ages. It takes you back not only to Rob Liefeld’s long-legged and barrel-chested art style, but to the birth of comic books. Compared to other Superman riffs, this selection reigns Supreme.   

Movie poster for The Four.

Next Up: The Four Trilogy. Warriors with superpowers. Wuxia. ‘Nuff said.

His Power Level Is Over 9,000! - A Review of Chronicle, Directed by Josh Trank (with mild spoilers)

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Written by O'Brian Gunn

Chronicle movie poster.

Many of us have wondered what it would be like to have superpowers, but Uncle Ben would probably agree that it’s unfortunate that power and responsibility aren’t always a package deal. In 2012, director Josh Trank and screenwriter Max Landis gave audiences a lot to think about when they debuted Chronicle, the documentary-style film about three high schoolers - Andrew, Matt, and Steve - who are given the power of telekinesis when they discover an alien object (reminiscent of a crystallized Shuma-Gorath) burrowed underground.

Andrew, the main character, keeps to himself and is usually seen (when he’s not behind the camera) in black. At home, his loving mother is dying of cancer, and his verbally and physically abusive father is a disabled former firefighter who feels as powerless as his son, but deals with his circumstances in a much more toxic way. At school, Andrew is a target for bullies and often perceived as creepy and severely withdrawn. His cousin Matt is a touch more sociable and encourages Andrew to crack his way out of his shell, and Steve is a rare popular kid who doesn’t seem to mind associating and being seen with the not-so-popular kids.

Who’s behind the camera?

What drives Chronicle’s narrative is the question of “does power shape us, or do we shape power?” Both Matt and Steve are set up as the good guys, saving a man from drowning in a car after Andrew “accidentally” hurls him off the road for tailgating and blaring his horn at them, while Andrew remains as an unknown throughout a majority of the film in regards to whether he’s a protagonist or antagonist; he has just as much potential for either.

Andrew quickly takes to his abilities, easily mastering flying, finesse, and great displays of power as he, Steve, and Matt weave between being mischievous teenagers playing pranks on random people and testing the limits of their new abilities. Andrew starts to gain more confidence, adds some color to his wardrobe, and opens up more to Steve and Matt, noting that he’d like to travel to Tibet for a slice of serenity.    

Andrew also experiences both the sweetness and bitterness of putting yourself in the public spotlight, flooring his high school during a talent show in which he uses his powers masqueraded as magic tricks, and being humiliated when he drunkenly vomits on a girl as they’re hooking up. Matt is on the receiving end of a flicker of the depths of Andrew’s still-unresolved rage when he tries to capture the moment on film. This is a catalyst that reminds Andrew that despite all his power, he’s still trapped, still powerless to save his mother, still the same old Andrew.

A side of telekinesis with every order

It’s when Andrew’s mother’s condition worsens that he uses his abilities to rob neighborhood bullies and a gas station. An accident leads to an explosion at the gas station, which likely killed the owner and leaves Andrew with severe injuries. When Andrew’s father visits him in the hospital and informs him that his mother has died and starts to hit him, Andrew’s eyes snap open and he rages into full Phoenix mode for the duration of the movie before Matt, unable to calm him down, has no choice but to kill his cousin, a self-proclaimed apex predator.

This movie was a jab in the gut for me. I could easily identify with Andrew, as I’m also an introvert (I hesitate to use “loner”), was bullied for a period of time in high school, and my home life wasn’t the best, either. Andrew isn’t much different from the many school shooters who seem to crop up damn near every day, and Chronicle gives us an example of what can happen when we don’t handle our emotions in a healthy way and when we feel like we have no agency in life. While I can understand resorting to criminal actions for what you see as a noble outcome and standing up for yourself by any means you feel necessary, I also feel that Andrew had opportunities to let Matt, Steve, and his mom provide him with the support he needed to work through his anger and gain much-needed clarity. But then again, how much help do you think you need when you can fly and lift cars with your mind?

Apex predator mode

And this review wouldn’t be complete without touching on Josh Trank and Mike Landis, both of whom have sordid and controversial pasts, and both of whom seem perfect to write/direct a movie about a self-destructive adolescent who has power but often seems to lack the temperament to use it wisely. After all, creative types can’t help but imbue a bit of themselves in their creations.

Chronicle might not bring anything new to philosophical discussions about morality and power, but the documentary style offers up a deeper insight into the film’s characters. It’s deeply personal to be captured and preserved on camera, especially without filters, editing, or special effects. And much like receiving superpowers, the camera has the ability to show you facets of your true personality that simmer just underneath the surface, waiting to be revealed to yourself and the world.

Cover of Supreme: The Story of the Year.

Next Up: Alan Moore’s Supreme: Story of the Year, which offers an alternate take on Superman. In this self-contained story arc, Supreme explores his origins after losing his memory (in typical comic book fashion), taking readers on a journey through Little Haven and Omegapolis as Moore serves up his distinct commentary on not just superheroes, but comic books as a colorful and historic entity.  

The Ol’ One-Two Mind Punch: A Review of Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club 2 (with mild spoilers)

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Written by O'Brian Gunn

Fight Club 2

Over the years, Fight Club has become more of an experience than a movie, one that has shaped many a mind and outlook on life. While it was considered a box-office failure when initially released in 1999, it has since become somewhat of a lifestyle, mostly for men. I admit that when I first watched Edward Norton and Brad Pitt pummel each other’s bodies, lives, and minds, I, too, was a bit taken in with the message about the dangers of toxic consumerism. It also didn’t hurt that the film had a healthy dusting of homoerotic subtext, but that’s a discussion for another time.

Sebastian & Marla

With Fight Club 2, Palahniuk and artist Cameron Stewart lull us back into the head of The Narrator (now going by the name Sebastian) to explore his life 10 years after Project Mayhem. He’s married to Marla, lives in the suburbs, and has a son, all the trappings you think he’d avoid at all costs. But just like with typical life in the suburbs, a white picket fence isn’t enough of a barrier to hold back the dual-darkness churning within the seemingly happy home.

Sebastian still has Tyler Durden haunting and rearranging his mental house, despite his taking medication and working with a therapist to keep his alternate personality under control. The fact that Marla is willingly undoing her husband’s mental renovations by replacing some of his pills with aspirin so she can feel alive again with Tyler also doesn’t help matters. Readers are treated to the familiar narrative voice, well-marinated revelations, and turns of phrase that glazed the movie script, easily drawing you back into the jangled world. But just like the inside of Sebastian’s skull, there are some major differences.

With the help of members of Project Mayhem, Tyler has birthed a new movement called Rize or Die. Just as Sebastian shifted his life to the suburbs, Tyler has shifted his focus to the entire world, inciting wars and terror in various countries in the hopes of sieving through mankind to leave only those who are worthy of inheriting the earth...or at least what remains of it once the dust has settled, the fires of war have been extinguished, and the casualties have been taken care of.

Just like in Fight Club, Sebastian acts as the fly in Tyler’s psychedelic ointment, this time fighting to save his son, who has been kidnapped by Tyler and the rest of Rize or Die/Fight Club in an attempt to turn the child into a military leader. Tapping into newly developed maternal instincts, Marla does her part by working with a progeria support group (which she infiltrated in her usual fashion) made up of computer geniuses who help her track down her son.

Throughout the novel’s 10 chapters, plus a revisited ending to the original novel, Palahniuk and Stewart weave an at times confusing tale that still manages to offer up some insightful commentary about the banal prison of routine that suburban and married life can sometimes become, the current state of masculinity, and the concept of ideas shaping humanity rather than humanity shaping ideas.

A Family dinner in Fight Club 2.

That’s just the general foundation of the plot. To avoid ruining the full experience, I won’t go into too much detail about Tyler’s origins; the meta tissues powering the movement of the narrative; or how parts of the story reminded me of Mr. Robot, Legion, and the Metal Gear Solid series. What I will do is say that the “2” in Fight Club 2 not only signifies the fact that it’s a sequel, but also the fact that you’ll likely have to read the story twice to truly start to wrap your mind around what’s really going on...and maybe even “2” for the number of alternate personalities you’ll need to not just know, but understand what’s going on.

Fight Club 2 pummeled me to a bloody, confused pulp, but that literary beating is balanced out with a full mental massage of introspection administered by the same hands that frenetically put together the puzzle of the original Fight Club. I didn’t love this graphic novel, but I didn’t entirely hate it either...which might be intentional in a story about someone with dual personalities, to add a hint of dualism to the narrative. I’m gonna need some time to recover before round three.

Chronicle (2012)

Next Up: Chronicle, film director Josh Trank’s initial 2012 foray into the cinematic world of superpowers before the much-lambasted Fantastic Four. Chronicle is the story of three high schoolers given the power of telekinesis and their shared journey down the fine line separating heroes from villains.

Fade to Black & White Under the Plague Moonlight: A Review of Charles Burns’ Black Hole

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Written by O'Brian Gunn

Cover of the hardcover collection of Black Hole, by Charles Burns.

Growing up, most of us learned the consequences of sex, whether it was the consequences of unprotected sex, sex with someone of the same gender, or not waiting until we’re mentally and emotionally ready to have sex. In Black Hole, Charles Burns teaches readers another thing about sex: that it can physically transform you for what might be the rest of your life.

Black Hole is set in Seattle in the mid-70s. A strange plague is spreading through the town, one that affects sexually-active teenagers and no one else. It would be easy to call the plague just another sexually-transmitted disease, but this contagion acts more like a physical mutation, one that leaves deformities that are both minor enough to be easily concealed underneath a shirt, and extensive enough that some live hidden on the outskirts of town.

Burns’ black and white images do a great job of setting the scene, visually taking readers back to the mood and aesthetic of the 70s. The lack of color also helps lull the reader into the characters’ heads as they descend into a mental labyrinth looping, spiraling, and curving across the brain’s hemispheres with images that are visually arresting one moment, and stomach-churning the next. Rather than a fever dream, some visuals are more like fever nightmares, ones that make you wonder  what kind of trip Burns was on when he conceived of them.

Page 5 of Black Hole, by Charles Burns.

When not treated to horrors and glories pulped and sculpted from the sides of Burns’ skull, the reader pieces together the narrative with help from a generous cast of characters. But this is where the story stumbles a bit for me. My main issue is that not only are the characters similarly drawn, making it difficult to tell them apart sometimes, they also have similar stories and personalities.

The female characters are also a bit of a letdown. Nearly all of them have the same voice; the same personality; and the same need to be saved, sustained by, and cater to the whims of male characters. This could just be Burns’ interpretation of the teenage (both male and female) hormonal confusion and near-constant desire to be with the one you “love”/are infatuated with, but it often comes across as disappointment and more missed opportunities to flesh out a story, a story in which one character actually sheds her flesh.

That said, there is one male character who’s emotionally floundering his way through his transformation and reaches out to a female character in search of stability, albeit in a way that’s anything but stable. This particular character only makes a minor, supporting appearance in the story, and I would’ve liked a deeper look inside his head.

Page 32 of Black Hole, by Charles Burns.

There’s also a plot point in the middle of the story that’s as unexpected as an unplanned pregnancy. The graphic novel is told through a series of vignettes, and this particular plot point appears in three different narratives, but it’s never either explained nor resolved. But maybe it’s not supposed to be?   

But focusing more on the positive and accentuating less of the not-so-positive, Burns does a great job of injecting sensual imagery and symbolism throughout the story that make you view each individual panel as a work of art rather than outright pornography. Oddly, this also lends a hint of paranoia to the tale as the reader wonders if certain images are meant to be purposefully sexual or nothing more than regular objects, a bit like a teenager might think during his or her sexual awakening.

While I certainly have a few qualms about Black Hole, including the confounding soft and hard ending(s), they weren’t major enough to make me swear off anything else Charles Burns conjures up. Much like It Follows, this is a graphic novel that makes you rethink the psychological “afteresex” of such an intimate sharing of your body and identity. Maybe Burns imbued his story with a plague of his own, because after reading it, I learned that a film adaptation of Black Hole is in the works by New Regency and Plan B. In the words of Diana Ross, “If there’s a cure for this, I don’t want it.”    

Fight Club 2, by Chuck Palahniuk & Cameron Stewart.

Next Up: Fight Club 2, the graphic novel follow-up to the cult classic film Fight Club that explores The Narrator’s life 10 years after Project Mayhem. Will a wife, a kid, and a handful of pills be enough to keep Tyler Durden away? Doubtful.   

The Method Behind the Unabridged Madness

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Written by O'Brian Gunn

Might be best to wait until the final coda of A Song of Ice and Fire before we dive back in.

Might be best to wait until the final coda of A Song of Ice and Fire before we dive back in.

So why only review finished stories? Mainly because we’ve reached (and seem to be surpassing) peak content overload these days. How many TV series, books, podcasts, movie franchises, comic book/graphic novel series are you in the middle of watching/listening to/being delightfully assaulted by right now? And how many other things do you have going on in your life that are eating away at your time, no matter how much enjoyment you might derive from them? More than likely, quite a lot.

I’ve always loved stories, and I’ve always loved how you can watch/experience characters from your favorite stories grow, change, and learn in ways they usually don’t or can’t when it comes to the standard movie/TV show format. That being said, it can also be more than a little exhausting keeping up with so many different characters, story developments, and plot twists (Who’s the father of Debra’s baby again?). Gotta have Netflix and Hulu and Comixology and Amazon Prime and HBO GO and whatever other new streaming service is rolling out. Now your wallet is burning along with the hours of the day.

With finished stories, you have an easier way to get your fix without the stress, nor is there a lengthy commitment contract that makes you feel like you’re being locked into an apartment lease (but much more enjoyable, and with muuuuch better neighbors). You know for a fact how many seasons/chapters/books there are, there’s no need to worry about the story being canceled right when things really start (or fail) to take off, you don’t have to worry about waiting in anticipation for the next season to premiere, and you don’t have to rewatch or reread past episodes/seasons/books as a refresher before the next installment (I know I’m not the only one who does this...am I?).

When an oh-so-very intriguing comic book run comes out right as you're financially recovering from your last haul at the comic book store.

When an oh-so-very intriguing comic book run comes out right as you're financially recovering from your last haul at the comic book store.

Something else to think about is that there are plenty of graphic novels/comic books, movies, and TV shows that have had a complete run that you might not be aware of, ones that just might become some of your new favorites. Who knows?

            At the end of every month, I’ll share in-depth reviews from both major and minor creators, leaning toward independent and lesser-known names and publishers to give them the exposure they rightfully deserve. After all, it’s no secret that the indie and creator-owned scene is one that truly dives fathoms-deep into the expansive creative ether and brings us pearls we’ve never dreamed of before, ones untarnished by corporate agendas, checklists, interference, and the like.

Hopefully, you’ll be introduced to more than a few new narratives and creators you’ve never heard of from a variety of mediums as you’re between ongoing stories, or when you’re ready to take a breather from climbing Mt. Colossal Content.

And don’t worry, I won’t wake you ‘til it’s done.

Cover of Charles Burns' Black Hole.

Cover of Charles Burns' Black Hole.

First up: Black Hole, a graphic novel from Charles Burns set in 1970s Seattle that explores what happens when teenage sexual contact becomes a sexual plague, one that leaves behind physical deformities that are subtle for some and so grotesque for others that they are forced to live outside of town.