Note: I didn't plan to read this book and have the review land on Halloween -- that was purely random. But it's nice when things work out so appropriately, isn't it?
There are books where you wonder why anyone ever thought they were a
good idea -- how they could possibly have come into existence. A
fully-painted series of comic books in which a sweaty-looking Superman
and Batman trade dreams as part of the schemes of an undead Scottish
laird to beat a random female demon would fall into that category for a
whole lot of people.
But, once you realize that comics
not uncommonly come into existence because the then-hot artist had a
list of things he really wanted to draw, it starts to make more sense. Legends of the World's Finest,
the book in question, has introductions from both writer Walt Simonson
and painter Daniel Brereton in which both of them pretend this was a
good or at least plausible idea to begin with. (In their defense, it was
1993, when the spandex-dudes industry was teetering on an unsustainable
peak of grimacing, variant covers, belt pouches, bad art, and
speculator hype. A lot of things looked like good ideas at the time from
inside the industry. And Brereton, unlike some artists of that era, was
hot because he paints creepy, gorgeous art, so the demon-plot at least
was driven by his obvious strengths.)
This Legends
is also from long enough ago that it feels more like the wordy comics
of the '70s and '80s than the more stripped-down style of the last
twenty years -- everyone here yammers on a lot, and the narrative
voice gets into the action, too, telling us things we can clearly see
in the panels repeatedly. I'm too lazy to look up whether the "real"
Superman was officially dead or alive when Legends was published
-- it was right in the middle of that foofaraw, when first he was dead,
then he was four other people, and then he suddenly wasn't dead and
wasn't any of them, either -- but it's from that era of comics, when the Big Two companies were throwing everything they could think of at the wall,
with the Image founders doing the same with even less likely things, and nearly everything was sticking.
For
a while, at least. The wall wised up before too long, and a hell of a
lot of things suddenly stopped sticking very soon after this. And a lot
of projects that worked well enough in the inflationary era look silly
and ridiculous afterwards.
Again, which brings us back to Legends.
It is silly. I won't say that it's actually ridiculous, but it and
ridiculous are close enough neighbors to share a snow-blower this
winter. It has Batman and Superman act wildly out of character on
purpose, but doesn't manage to wring any humor, or much drama, out of that. It
manages to feel much longer than its hundred-and-fifty-ish pages. For a
presumably out-of-continuity Prestige Format series, it's remarkably
mired in the dull continuity of the era. (Superman thinks about his last
encounter with Blaze, the female demon! It features the character sensation of never, the who-ever-cared-about-her Silver Banshee!)
There are a lot of big
elements here that just don't come off as big. The world is nearly
destroyed, yet again, but it's ho-hum. There's way too much talking,
none of it in words that are surprising or interesting. And it teaches
the great superhero lesson that evil people can never change, so you
should never ever help anyone who asks.
Everyone has
probably forgotten this even existed. They were pretty much right to do
so. But the Brereton art is still quite impressive, especially if you
want to see a sweaty, bodybuilder-esque Superman lurching around. That's the most positive thing I can say about it.
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