Marshal Law: The Deluxe Edition: written by Pat Mills; illustrated by Kevin O'Neill (1987-94; 2013): Misunderstood and mismarketed by Marvel's Epic Comics line when it first came out in 1989 as a Judge Dredd clone, Marshal Law became perhaps the most scabrous, irreverent superhero comic book of that self-serious, ultra-violent era of superhero comic books. Marshal Law hunts rogue super-heroes, beings created to be America's super-soldiers. And he was one of them. Now he hunts rogue super-heroes for the former San Francisco police (now, after a devastating earthquake, renamed San Futuro) in the middle of the 21st century.
There's a nod to serious drama in the first six-issue miniseries, as Marshal Law's civilian identity suffers a grievous personal loss, and the dynamics of his horrible future America with its horrible super-heroes is laid out. Later installments would abandon drama in favour of all-out satire, and this actually made the series much more satisfying as Mills and O'Neill cut loose in prose and pictures. Targets of Law's violent justice included thinly disguised versions of Superman, Batman, The Avengers, The Punisher, The Justice Society of America, Captain America,The Legion of Super-heroes, and the X-Men.
O'Neill would gain more fame as the illustrator of Alan Moore's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen; here, he's as anarchic as many of Mad magazine's most anarchic early artists such as Wally Wood or Bill Elder, but with way more graphic sex, nudity, violence, and bodily fluids. He's probably the most grotesque of (sort-of) mainstream superhero artists.
Mills is equally high-energy and bleakly satiric. Mills and O'Neill use the heroes as double-layered parodies throughout of both the history of American superhero comics and of the dark side of American history. It's a brilliant, disturbing romp.
Kudos to DC for re-publishing this series, which will delight people dubious about super-heroes and people who are just a bit tired of their dominance of the mainstream comics marketplace. With superheroes now a dominant force at the box office as well, Marshal Law's vision seems more appropriate than ever. Hopefully, the rights issues to the four Marshal Law team-up books of the 1990's (with The Mask, Pinhead, Savage Dragon, and Judge Dredd) can be worked out simultaneously so that there can be another volume. Or new stories. I'd imagine Marshal Law has only become more violent and jaded over the years. Highly recommended.
The Boys Volume 1: The Name of the Game: written by Garth Ennis; illustrated by Darick Robertson (2006-2007): Even though Irish comic-book writer Garth Ennis has done a lot of work for Marvel and DC over the last 20 years, he hates superheroes. Boy, does he hate superheroes. Well, except for Superman.
The Boys is Ennis's superhero hate made manifest, a scabrous series about superpowered beings and the people who hate them and the people who want to be them and the people who try to control them. The Boys bears a thematic resemblance to the great Marshal Law series by Pat Mills and Kevin O'Neill, another world of superheroes gone terribly wrong. Ennis's superheroes may sometimes superficially appear to be like the beloved characters of pop culture (indeed, they often do in both costume and name, anyway). But for the most part, his superheroes are corrupted by fame and power, nearly as bad as the supervillains they have violent, super-destructive public battles with. Sometimes worse.
And so a mysterious former CIA operative puts together a team to monitor superheroes and, when necessary, destroy either their public image or, if possible, their existence. Collectively, these are the Boys (though one is a woman). They have super-powers because that's pretty much necessary to survive conflicts with super-powered beings. And their leader, Butcher, really hates superpowers. And he's got an agenda of his own.
This first volume introduces the Boys and sets them on their first case, an investigation of a teen superhero group (think Teen Titans or Young Justice). The horrible world just beneath the surface of jaunty, colourful superheroing fairly firmly puts one on the side of the Boys, even if they're no angels. Darick Robertson's clean, straightforward art lays everything out in almost clinical detail -- he's about as normative as a modern-day (mostly) superhero artist can be. That the most sympathetic member of the Boys, Little Hughie, has been drawn to look almost exactly like Simon Pegg adds a whole other layer of sympathy. Well, as does the origin of Little Hughie's antipathy towards superheroes, an event that brings him to the attention of Butcher.
Terrible things happen. So do funny things. Sometimes they're the same thing. Ennis's satiric vision is as sharp as ever, the character names often sadly appropriate (in this world, the Superman stand-in is named The Homelander. And boy, is he a prick). Early throwaways seem to promise later development (the existence of fundamentalist Christian superhero groups seems somehow logical and creepy, though no creepier than the 'Extreme' super-teens the Boys try to take down).
The deforming capability of power (and the will-to-power) seems to be Ennis's main target here, as torture and sexual cruelty come esaily to most super-beings. And they're never punished for their cruelties and murders because, hey, they're part of the Establishment. People like them. They're cool. They've got power. Well, here comes the Butcher. Recommended, but not for the squeamish.
