This review will contain MILD spoilers for Animal Man, but nothing major.
I had the first two collected volumes of Animal Man-- the late 80s, early 90s Vertigo series-- sitting in my "unread" longbox for about three years. At that time, I had read a few things about the series-- that it was a groundbreaking epic by the legendary Grant Morrison, and that it famously broke the fourth wall by making its titular hero aware that he was a comic book character. I had seen the famous panel wherein the Animal Man, AKA Buddy Baker, makes this discovery (Google "animal man I can see you") and you won't have any trouble finding it).
I don't consider this a major spoiler because the series is notorious for that revelation. It turns out that it takes quite a while to build to it, but I was hooked early on, and when I finally completed the two volumes gathering dust in that longbox, I was compelled to seek out the remaining five chronicles of Animal Man to see where the story went. It was a wild ride, with lots of highs and lows. Animal Man is a remarkable series-- a touch uneven, given the variation in writing and drawing talent-- but filled with thought-provoking and engaging stories.
The seven collected volumes can be divided into three major parts, defined by the contributions of Animal Man's three primary writers. Grant Morrison penned the first 26 issues (volumes 1 - 3), followed by a brief arc by Peter Milligan before Tom Veitch took over for 18 issues (volumes 4 and 5), and Jamie Delano then made Animal Man his own for 29 issues (the massive volumes 6 and 7). These three periods represent sharply contrasting tones, themes and narrative directions for the series.
Grant Morrison's Animal Man is every bit the magnum opus it's touted to be. DC's concept of an Animal Man revival was to take an obscure 1960s C-Lister, who had barely been in a dozen comics, and redefine him for the rebooted, post-Crisis-on-Infinite-Earths universe. They also wanted to give him a dark edge-- though the Vertigo imprint didn't technically exist yet, Animal Man fit right into that wheelhouse-- and make him topical and relevant. Morrison succeeds in all of these goals, probably beyond anything that was conceived when the project first got underway.
Let's get the basics out of the way first. Buddy Baker is Animal Man, a superhero with the power to reach out to nearby animals through something called the morphogenetic field (later referred to as the Life Web, and later still, The Red) and adopt their abilities. For example, he can adopt the speed of a cheetah, an eagle's ability to fly, or an ant's ability to lift 50 times its own weight. In typical 1960s fashion, he got these powers through radiation, in his case from a downed alien spaceship. In the present, he works as a movie stuntman while raising two children, Cliff and Maxine, with his wife Ellen.
Now, that status quo only lasts for about a dozen issues or so, since Animal Man's plot moves in wild and unpredictable directions almost from the get-go. Most critics agree that the series' first watershed moment comes with issue five, titled "The Coyote Gospel." The disturbing and bizarre tale of a Wile E. Coyote knockoff posits the basic question of what it would be like to be an animal that experiences all of the unending cruelty of the physical gags of Looney Tune cartoons, only in the real world. It hits the reader like a brick wall and foreshadows many of the themes Morrison would explore in the following issues, particularly about the relationship between creators, artists and characters.
From there, Morrison provides some short story arcs with an emphasis on animal rights topics, all the while weaving an undercurrent of mysteries that build gradually over the next 20 or so issues before culminating in some of the most satisfying "a-ha" or "payoff" moments I've ever read in a comic. The climactic final issues of Morrison's run make volume 3 easily the strongest of Animal Man's collected works. The metafictional nature of the conclusion is somehow apt, despite being somewhat detached from the storylines that built to it. If you need a hint of where the story goes, you need only look at the title of volume 3-- "Deus Ex Machina."
I should say a word about the art during Morrison's run before moving on. It could best be described as-- serviceable. Chas Troug's pencils tell the story, and are perfectly pleasant to look at-- especially considering some of the low-lows of volume 5-- but are not especially memorable. The writing is the star, and not until Jamie Delano took over as scribe would Animal Man's art would parallel the story in terms of quality.
Determining how to follow Grant Morrison's epic run must have been a challenge for DC editorial. The relatively short Peter Milligan run was a misstep. It attempted to retain the weirdness of Morrison without the metafiction, resulting in a bizarre tale about alternate realities and Schrodinger's Cat. When Tom Veitch takes over, the narrative takes another left turn. His tactic was to retcon Animal Man's 1960s origin substantially, and bring Native American mythology into the mix.
While some parts of that arc are successful, it takes way to long to get there, and the story diverts into much less interesting arcs on the way, such as Animal Man working for the government to protect the President from a trio of bratty psychic children. Veitch also gives Buddy an annoying hippie sidekick named Travis, who grates on the nerves just about every time he's on panel. While regular artist Steve Dillon provided "just-okay" art, there were a few fill-in artists in volume five that were beyond terrible-- one so bad that he actually traced a drawing of Buddy's daughter from a previous issue. It's almost amazing to see that art so bad made it into a mainstream comic.
After the entertaining but underwhelming Veitch issues, Animal Man returns to true glory in volumes 6 and 7, when Jamie Delano takes over writing duties and Steve Pugh handles most of the art. Pugh's art is atmospheric and dark, perfect for the new direction that Delano takes Animal Man in these two volumes. His characters are distinctive and facial expressions are vivid. Pugh is also adept at drawing the wide variety of animals that are, of course, essential to a story about a hero named Animal Man.
It is in these volumes that Animal Man once again makes a radical departure from anything that could remotely be considered a superhero story. It's hard to describe where the story goes without giving spoilers, but it's miles from where you could possibly imagine. One early story involves Buddy rescuing his son from a murderous psychopath. Focus shifts to Ellen for a while as she gets involved with some militant feminists. The final arc, which comprises the enitre 465-page volume 7, involves religion, revolution, life, death, and radical transformations that send the life of Buddy Baker spiraling into chaos.
I've never felt so compelled to devour the entire run of a comic series in trade form as I have with Animal Man. I think a large part of that is due to Grant Morrison's three-volume epic; after that, I was attached enough to the character of Buddy Baker to wade through some of the weaker issues to get to Animal Man's climactic conclusion. I think it's a worthwhile series for anyone interested in a dark series with unique storytelling.
I had the first two collected volumes of Animal Man-- the late 80s, early 90s Vertigo series-- sitting in my "unread" longbox for about three years. At that time, I had read a few things about the series-- that it was a groundbreaking epic by the legendary Grant Morrison, and that it famously broke the fourth wall by making its titular hero aware that he was a comic book character. I had seen the famous panel wherein the Animal Man, AKA Buddy Baker, makes this discovery (Google "animal man I can see you") and you won't have any trouble finding it).
I don't consider this a major spoiler because the series is notorious for that revelation. It turns out that it takes quite a while to build to it, but I was hooked early on, and when I finally completed the two volumes gathering dust in that longbox, I was compelled to seek out the remaining five chronicles of Animal Man to see where the story went. It was a wild ride, with lots of highs and lows. Animal Man is a remarkable series-- a touch uneven, given the variation in writing and drawing talent-- but filled with thought-provoking and engaging stories.
The seven collected volumes can be divided into three major parts, defined by the contributions of Animal Man's three primary writers. Grant Morrison penned the first 26 issues (volumes 1 - 3), followed by a brief arc by Peter Milligan before Tom Veitch took over for 18 issues (volumes 4 and 5), and Jamie Delano then made Animal Man his own for 29 issues (the massive volumes 6 and 7). These three periods represent sharply contrasting tones, themes and narrative directions for the series.
Grant Morrison's Animal Man is every bit the magnum opus it's touted to be. DC's concept of an Animal Man revival was to take an obscure 1960s C-Lister, who had barely been in a dozen comics, and redefine him for the rebooted, post-Crisis-on-Infinite-Earths universe. They also wanted to give him a dark edge-- though the Vertigo imprint didn't technically exist yet, Animal Man fit right into that wheelhouse-- and make him topical and relevant. Morrison succeeds in all of these goals, probably beyond anything that was conceived when the project first got underway.
Let's get the basics out of the way first. Buddy Baker is Animal Man, a superhero with the power to reach out to nearby animals through something called the morphogenetic field (later referred to as the Life Web, and later still, The Red) and adopt their abilities. For example, he can adopt the speed of a cheetah, an eagle's ability to fly, or an ant's ability to lift 50 times its own weight. In typical 1960s fashion, he got these powers through radiation, in his case from a downed alien spaceship. In the present, he works as a movie stuntman while raising two children, Cliff and Maxine, with his wife Ellen.
Now, that status quo only lasts for about a dozen issues or so, since Animal Man's plot moves in wild and unpredictable directions almost from the get-go. Most critics agree that the series' first watershed moment comes with issue five, titled "The Coyote Gospel." The disturbing and bizarre tale of a Wile E. Coyote knockoff posits the basic question of what it would be like to be an animal that experiences all of the unending cruelty of the physical gags of Looney Tune cartoons, only in the real world. It hits the reader like a brick wall and foreshadows many of the themes Morrison would explore in the following issues, particularly about the relationship between creators, artists and characters.
From there, Morrison provides some short story arcs with an emphasis on animal rights topics, all the while weaving an undercurrent of mysteries that build gradually over the next 20 or so issues before culminating in some of the most satisfying "a-ha" or "payoff" moments I've ever read in a comic. The climactic final issues of Morrison's run make volume 3 easily the strongest of Animal Man's collected works. The metafictional nature of the conclusion is somehow apt, despite being somewhat detached from the storylines that built to it. If you need a hint of where the story goes, you need only look at the title of volume 3-- "Deus Ex Machina."
I should say a word about the art during Morrison's run before moving on. It could best be described as-- serviceable. Chas Troug's pencils tell the story, and are perfectly pleasant to look at-- especially considering some of the low-lows of volume 5-- but are not especially memorable. The writing is the star, and not until Jamie Delano took over as scribe would Animal Man's art would parallel the story in terms of quality.
Determining how to follow Grant Morrison's epic run must have been a challenge for DC editorial. The relatively short Peter Milligan run was a misstep. It attempted to retain the weirdness of Morrison without the metafiction, resulting in a bizarre tale about alternate realities and Schrodinger's Cat. When Tom Veitch takes over, the narrative takes another left turn. His tactic was to retcon Animal Man's 1960s origin substantially, and bring Native American mythology into the mix.
While some parts of that arc are successful, it takes way to long to get there, and the story diverts into much less interesting arcs on the way, such as Animal Man working for the government to protect the President from a trio of bratty psychic children. Veitch also gives Buddy an annoying hippie sidekick named Travis, who grates on the nerves just about every time he's on panel. While regular artist Steve Dillon provided "just-okay" art, there were a few fill-in artists in volume five that were beyond terrible-- one so bad that he actually traced a drawing of Buddy's daughter from a previous issue. It's almost amazing to see that art so bad made it into a mainstream comic.
After the entertaining but underwhelming Veitch issues, Animal Man returns to true glory in volumes 6 and 7, when Jamie Delano takes over writing duties and Steve Pugh handles most of the art. Pugh's art is atmospheric and dark, perfect for the new direction that Delano takes Animal Man in these two volumes. His characters are distinctive and facial expressions are vivid. Pugh is also adept at drawing the wide variety of animals that are, of course, essential to a story about a hero named Animal Man.
It is in these volumes that Animal Man once again makes a radical departure from anything that could remotely be considered a superhero story. It's hard to describe where the story goes without giving spoilers, but it's miles from where you could possibly imagine. One early story involves Buddy rescuing his son from a murderous psychopath. Focus shifts to Ellen for a while as she gets involved with some militant feminists. The final arc, which comprises the enitre 465-page volume 7, involves religion, revolution, life, death, and radical transformations that send the life of Buddy Baker spiraling into chaos.
I've never felt so compelled to devour the entire run of a comic series in trade form as I have with Animal Man. I think a large part of that is due to Grant Morrison's three-volume epic; after that, I was attached enough to the character of Buddy Baker to wade through some of the weaker issues to get to Animal Man's climactic conclusion. I think it's a worthwhile series for anyone interested in a dark series with unique storytelling.
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