Deez Knights: The Epic Troll-Job of "Moon Knight #1" by Lemire, Smallwood, and Bellaire

I'd be angry too, Spector.

Decompression in comics storytelling is a term that gets thrown around a lot, but for the purposes of what I'm writing about today on JHI, let's say that "decompression" refers to the "purposeful elongation of a storyline that might, if judiciously edited, take place in one issue of a comic book series." I'm not against decompression in my comic book storytelling, if it's done very well.

Saga, by Brian K. Vaughn and Fiona Staples, is currently dominating the Image lineup, partly by providing readers with a story that ages with them. Six trade paperbacks in, and baby Hazel is just starting to walk for the first time. She's taking her first steps along with readers into the strange world of robot Princes, Lying Cats, and bounty hunters like The Will. Those small storytelling steps, on a monthly basis, help the book to develop smaller character moments, like the deep and affecting story of marriage set against the stars with Marko and Alana.

It's easy to forget, too, that the comic book that got me into this expensive habit, Bendis & Bagley's Ultimate Spider-Man, was essentially the Patron Saint of Decompression. The Ultimate line of books began with the publisher deciding it should take 4 issues for Uncle Ben Parker to meet with his fate, and that a smaller-scale battle with a powered-up Norman Osborn should dominate the better part of 2 issues immediately after. Of course, the Bendis approach to storytelling in those books paid dividends as character interaction piled up; the rapport developed between the strong women in the book (like Mary Jane, Gwen Stacy, and the best Aunt May ever published) and Peter's early-series superheroic confession to his girlfriend were only possible because of the time taken by a craftsman like Bendis. I tend to strongly object whenever someone reads a decompressed book and complains that "nothing happens."

Well, nothing fucking happens in Moon Knight #1. Written by Jeff Lemire and illustrated by Greg Smallwood and Jordie Bellaire, this $4.99 whopper is about as filling as a fast-food sandwich, and half as pleasurable to consume. Marc Spector, the Moon Knight, begins the issue and ends it in a mental hospital, being treated for psychosis and told that his beliefs about being Moon Knight are just that: beliefs. I'm no zealot about moving a story at a breakneck pace, but when your character starts a #1 issue not-quite-believing that he's the Moon Knight and that he might be under the spell of some Egyptian villain, and it ends the exact same way, I might feel like I'm getting trolled a little bit. I'd give Marvel all the credit in the world if they were willing to actually have Marc Spector not be Moon Knight at the end of the arc, but I doubt that's coming.

If that story sandwich were peppered with other interesting ingredients, it might work better than this post-Secret Wars debut for Khonshu & Co. Spector is surrounded, throughout the issue, by allusions to older Moon Knight stories, and a couple of guards in his Arkham-lite hospital that make the orderlies in Sucker Punch look subtle. Khonshu looks good when he's dressed in Moon Knight's traditional three-piece suit, but many of the other costumes, including the wildly unfortunate bedsheet headwrap worn by Spector during a botched escape, just don't work in the context of this relatively barebones book.

A book this thick shouldn't feel so barren, either. The art takes a respectably minimalist stance toward paneling and division of frames, allowing Smallwood's pencils to bleed from moment to moment. This is an especially nice technique for the longer scenes of dialogue, and again, Khonshu has never looked more menacing than when he towers over Spector. Smallwood can only do so much to carry the otherwise thin material, though, and you realize before long that you're being strong-armed into buying issue #2.

All of this is especially heartbreaking in the wake of the absolutely stunning, and dearly departed, Marvel NOW! run on Moon Knight that was spearheaded by Warren Ellis. Those books, anchored by one-off stories that explored what a New York City protected by the Knight would be like, found time to include a ridiculously propulsive take on The Raid and an amazing encounter with a scarred S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. These self-contained stories managed to explore more of Spector's 4 possible personas and approaches to crime-fighting with more nuance than any decompressed arc could possibly achieve: while Lemire's take focuses on asking IF Spector is even Moon Knight, the earlier issues wanted to show how awesome Moon Knight can be. A drastic difference in storytelling approaches, and a major step down for what could be an exciting series from Marvel.

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MORALES BACK: Character Essences & Spider-Man #1 by Bendis, Pichelli & Ponsor

Cover by Sara Pichelli

I was 12 and all-in on the first X-Men movie and Ganke-level hyped for the upcoming Spider-Man movie when most of the internet was blowing up about a then-rising writer named Brian Michael Bendis and his major Marvel project, Ultimate Spider-Man. It didn't take long for my DragonBall-Z post-&-play RPG site to recommend the first 2 arcs, including then-modern and fresh takes on the Green Goblin, Electro, and Wilson Fisk. I saved up a couple weeks' allowance for both trades and fell in.

I came to Bendis and his writing in the same summer that Wizard instructed me to read some books titled Daredevil: Born Again, Watchmen, and The Dark Knight Returns. Say what you will about how the Ultimates leveled Manhattan or how Ultimate Jean Grey was a little too thirsty for Ultimate Logan, but I would place the totality of Bendis's run on Ultimate Spider-Man on the level of those works. For one, his Claremont-level commitment to seeing a vision for a book through is almost unheard of in our current climate, wherein a writer could be plucked from a book in a prime run for any number of extratextual reasons (film promotions, economics, politics). Bendis (and frequent collaborator Mark Bagley) took a character wildly popular but weighed down by continuity and freed him, once again, to swing the skyline of Manhattan.  11 years after they saved Peter Parker, they killed, buried, and replaced him with a newer, younger character named Miles Morales.

Through Miles, readers were able to rediscover the youthful hope and challenges of growing up through fresh, and wonderfully diverse eyes. One cannot help but look at Miles and see the missed potential in a comedic actor like Donald Glover never getting to play Spider-Man, but Miles acted in memory of Peter Parker's wonderful example, but he'd experienced no major loss himself; he was only doing the right thing because it had to be done. Bendis quickly had Miles butt heads with his uncle, who became the Prowler in an arc that inverted the classic Peter & Uncle Ben dynamic, and before they knew it, Marvel had a new, definitive Spider-Man on their hands...just over in the 1610 continuity, which they were planning to jettison anyway...

Pichelli is routinely unafraid to mix styles within pages on Spider-Man #1. Miles's teacher would be so screwed if this was an observation lesson. 

That idea of a definitive Spider-Man was on my mind a lot when I read issue #1 of the new run of Spider-Man, by Bendis (his 16th year on this book) and Sara Pichelli. While Marvel is seemingly busy having Peter Parker off attempting to be Iron Man with a heart of gold (which is confusing, because they also seem to be attempting to turn Stark himself into...Iron Man with a heart of gold), they've found themselves free to work Miles Morales, one of a very small, select group of 1610 characters, into the main world as the premier Spider-Man. I don't think Slott's Amazing Spider-Man run is a travesty for the character (the Uncle Ben Foundation idea is cute) but it has nothing on the essence-capturing work Bendis and Pichelli are doing with Miles and co.

I liken it to the revelation that is Sam Wilson: Captain America, a book so brazenly liberal and raw in its honesty that I'm shocked that Marvel allowed the current arc, which sees Captain America, now a black man (literally dehumanized when he is unwillingly transformed into Cap-Wolf) going up against the true evils of the modern Marvel Universe: corporations and banks that are "too big to fail." In a time when our own political sphere is threatened by the presence of a take-no-prisoners corporate mentality, I don't think the writers of Captain America are being indirect when they have a young, victimized Latino be the hero of the story. Contrast this with the lackluster action and snark over in Totally Awesome Hulk and it's clear that not all relaunches are created equally.

Miles Morales, as a hero in the new canon, leaves almost nothing to be desired. Like the web-slinger of old, he's able to get dates but he catches plenty of heat when he misses them. He stands up to his teachers and simply walks out of class (teacher's note: students do this, and I know many of them aren't Spider-Man) if he needs to go fight Shocker. He worries about his future, if he's doing the right thing moment to moment. Even after a couple of years, Miles feels out of place in his elite charter school. Miles feels like Spider-Man.

His supporting cast, always a major highlight of Spidey books in their prime, is also stellar. In the first issue, Ganke (absolutely the Landry Clarke of this book, which is part of why I love it so) takes up plenty of real estate, encouraging his friend to be Spider-Man while also holding down school and the occasional date. Bombshell is also mentioned in this issue, showing that there might be more Ultimate characters waiting in the wings to reveal themselves (more than Miles and The Maker, at the least). The dynamic between Mr. and the newly-resurrected (in the single-most cathartic moment in Secret Wars) is ridiculously interesting now that Mr. Morales knows about his son's heroics, while Mrs. is still in the dark (for now; one of the best parts of Bendis's run has been his liberalism with secret identities).

YA BOI GANKE

I won't spoil the threat that nearly levels the Avengers toward the end of the book, nor the amazing art Pichellil produced to depict it. One of her many stellar abilities involves changing styles between pages, creating dynamic visuals like the ones included above. For Miles Morales (and sometimes Ganke), life is always moving quickly.

On a critical note, I do wonder just how much more story Bendis can get from Miles encountering Peter Parker...yet again...at the end of the book. When everything else is so good, however, I'm willing to let the mystery unfold.

And so at the outset of the new ongoing Miles Morales book, simply titled Spider-Man, we have a teenage hero struggling with grades, girls, and a secret identity while fighting crime. He feels uncomfortable socially and academically, even though he's got the brains to back up his brawn. Unlike some of those other stories you've heard, Miles isn't motivated by survivor's guilt or deep pain; he's simply following a great example of doing the right thing, regardless of the cost. Miles is a a high school student; he's a young man of color; most importantly, he is Spider-Man. Give him a spin.

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