6 in the 6160 03 – Ultimate Black Panther #1-6

The new Ultimate line fascinates me. Something about it captured me from the very first issue of Ultimate Invasion. In this series of writings, I will discuss the Ultimate line in six-month increments for each title across six broad ideas each time.

1 – Wakanda is the City, the City is Wakanda

One of the most common criticisms I’ve seen towards Ultimate Black Panther online is that, while it’s a good comic, it’s an outlier in the new Ultimate line. Not quite at the inventive level of the rest of the line. Compared to standard superhero fare from Marvel and DC, it holds its own quite well, but... That dreaded ‘but,’ you know? And, honestly, I could see that criticism as I read the comic issue by issue to an extent. I’d want to push back because I sensed something in the book. More than anything, I thought it unlikely that the second ongoing of this line would be a fairly straight forward, typical head-on conflict with members of the Maker’s Council and nothing more. In rereading the first six issues of the book, I hit upon what I should have gotten right off:

Ultimate Black Panther is the story of an advanced secret ruling class that hoards a rare, possibly mystic material, technology and other advancements from the rest of the world, now beset by outsiders who want to shine a light on this practice and, seemingly, make the surrounding world a better place by toppling this hidden society and spreading its knowledge everywhere.

Bryan Hill treats Wakanda like it is the City. Just as the Maker has his City and his Council, and secretly hoards advancements, so too does T’Challa have Wakanda that does the same. Ra and Khonshu take the place of Tony Stark and Doom, rallying followers under the guise of liberation from a hidden society that could help but doesn’t. The perspective is that of T’Challa and his ‘Council,’ often, and we see the true motives of Ra and Khonshu, which is increasing their power in service of their secret ruling class. Still, this is a comic that exists in a world that mirrors the history of Wakanda, after a sense, and doesn’t shy away from the similarities. The tension of a highly advanced secret country in the middle of Africa is a longstanding source of tension in Black Panther comics, particularly when juxtaposed with the need surrounding them throughout their home continent. Numerous comics have highlighted the privilege and hypocrisy at the heart of the concept, particularly when T’Challa and others are portrayed as heroes, yet unwilling to actually help others in a meaningful way. This is a nation that hoards Vibranium, secreting it away from the rest of the world.

As Ra and Khonshu’s quest to take Wakanda under their rule continues, they gradually shift tactics from the brutal conquerors that we see in the first issue, razing a village with their faceless troops, to winning over the hearts and minds of the peoples surrounding Wakanda. They do this through miracles and practical improvements to their lives, and, then, they pattern their attacks somewhat on the way Kang struck at the Maker and the City in Ultimate Invasion, with devoted followers transported in, imbued with great powers, and a mission that seems righteous. Ra and Khonshu see that the best way to attack Wakanda is from below, just as they fear others will attack them.

In these issues, the perspective in Wakanda is solidly placed on T’Challa, Okoye, Shuri, and their allies. As much as we hear about the citizens of Wakanda, their worries, their discontent, and their desire to protect their country, we never experience first hand. The point is to see this country and the ensuing conflict through the eyes of the elite, those with every reason to protect what they’ve got, often in the names of others, but, maybe, really, for themselves. We see enough to grow fond of the Wakandan elite and root for them, but, are they heroes? Or are they just another version of the rot at heart of the world? It’s hard not to be struck by the revelation that the traitor in Wakanda is a former member of the Dora Milage and none of them know who she is. It’s the reverse of one of those stories where you follow an average person as they plan and scheme against a tyrant only to die in the end, making a big speech about their motives, and the tyrant responds with “Who are you again?” As with most things, it’s a matter of perspective.

2 – The Maker and his Council

Just as the Maker has his Council, T’Challa surrounds himself with trusted advisors. At the end of issue four, he purposefully cultivates a small group that’s meant to protect against possible spies. It’s a contrast to his declaration in the second issues where he says “The only people I can trust are in this room” in the War Room containing five additional people who would not make the cut for his final “circle of force” (and missing Erik Killmonger and Storm). It recalls the Maker’s uneasiness following his trip to the future where Kang blasted away part of his head; instead, T’Challa has seen part of his kingdom taken away by Ra and Khonshu as his father was killed and some of his citizens turned against him.

T’Challa is often benevolently naive. He’s been raised to be the king of a hidden kingdom safe behind high walls and this opening arc is him struggling to do the ‘right thing’ in face of unknown, new challenges. The early issues of this story seem to have him stumbling into allies and truths without meaning to. His venture into the world outside Wakanda is done with reckless abandon and it’s by chance that he encounters Killmonger and Ororo, finding common ground against a common enemy. That these two who immediately bring to mind guerrilla fighters side with T’Challa against Ra and Khonshu tells us that, despite the trappings of Wakanda and its similarity to the City, it is not the City. They are able to see through the efforts of Ra and Khonshu, seeing them for what they are. Yet, Killmonger is quick to remind T’Challa that he doesn’t necessarily trust Wakanda either, having left there, frustrated by its unwillingness to use its means to help the surrounding people.

Within T’Challa’s ‘circle of force,’ the conflicting desires for how and what Wakanda should do is a simmering issue, most notably coming to a head in a sparring match between Okoye and Shuri at the beginning of issue three. The former, as queen, tries to represent the traditional role of Wakanda – the latter, as the inventor princess free of the burdens of the crown, argues for Wakanda to enter the rest of the world. Shuri’s continued enthusiasm almost makes it seem like she could be a traitor in an effort to push Wakanda beyond its walls. Initially, at least. That sense that Shuri could be a traitor kind of flares up and, then, recedes as the true traitor is revealed (if it’s the only one).

T’Challa’s group differs from the Maker’s Council in a basic manner. The Maker has his Council to manage his control on the world. He controls them, they control continents, their minions control increasingly smaller portions, etc. They externalise his ambition and desire to fit everything in the world into its proper place, under his precise control. T’Challa’s group, while loosely corresponding to members of the Council, represent his inner turmoil. Each vocalise a part of him and the way that he’s pulled in different directions. Shuri is his duty to his people’s traditions and security, Shuri is his duty to his people’s future, Killmonger is his duty to the people outside Wakanda, Ororo is his confusion over his role as king and protector and what it means to be more than a regular human... that feeling (truth?) that he is, in fact, above others. But, their desires all subsume to his. Much like the Maker’s desires and the existence of his Council.

3 – Supergods

The conflation of and relationship between superhumans and gods is a slippery concept throughout these first six issues. T’Challa places himself below his gods, even to the point of humbling himself before the Vodu-Khan, while also distrusting the sect. He seems to truly struggle with his place as king, a self-determining ruler that is responsible not just for his own fate but that of his nation, and what that means as a mortal guided by and beneath the gods. This tension is made that much greater when encountering the orb that creates life in the temple via Killmonger and Storm. If Vibranium was Wakanda’s gift from the gods, then what is that second material? It’s never a question that dominates the comic, sitting just below the surface as T’Challa struggles to find his footing in the discovery of the second orb and the conflict with Ra and Khonshu.

Taking the lead from their names, Bryan Hill plays into the idea of them as gods. What’s notable is that, prior to this series and in the early issues of this series, both wear suits rather than costumes. The suits, black and white, play off their opposites and act as costumes of sorts. However, as the conflict with Wakanda intensifies and Khonshu, in particular, leans into the god rhetoric, he begins also using the name Moon Knight and wears that familiar costume, replacing the regular mask with a metal bird mask. It’s an allusion to Khonshu’s appearance traditionally in Marvel and also to Iron Lad/Doom. The rivets on the mask recall the look of Doom’s mask, albeit elongated and warped into the bird visage. That he would wear a mask that echoes the rebels fighting against the rule that he’s a part of further enforces the idea that Khonshu is subverting that idea with Ra, using the ways of their enemies against Wakanda.

The way that Khonshu adopts the trappings of a superhero while proclaiming himself a god also recalls the Maker, a former superhero who still dresses in a costume and mask. The Maker is, in essence, the god of this universe, refashioning it into the world that it is. We don’t know the history of Ra and Khonshu, but the power that they have and the territory that they control comes from the Maker. They have both at his leisure, making him a god of sorts to them. As the two try to expand their reach and, possibly, take even more of the world, they would naturally look to the Maker’s example. What I find interesting is that, despite his costume and superhuman capabilities, T’Challa never positions himself in a similar manner, not even in opposition to Khonshu. If there’s a redeeming element to him that separates him from the Maker, it’s that he understands his place, even as king of Wakanda.

The role of the Vodu-Khan in these issues is an odd one. There’s a sense that they are never to be trusted, but T’Challa cannot disregard them. Moreover, he must continue to seek their advice and knowledge, even as he’s wary of their goals and the ways that they may seek to manipulate him. In these issues, he’s given two prophecies by them, neither of which comes to fruition yet: that he will encounter a woman of light that will give him an heir (presumably Ororo), and that the second material will change him in a manner that he will resist before embracing. The sense of fate and destiny plays into the mythic nature of the story. T’Challa is cast as a man of destiny, a great hero – or perhaps a misguided villain given the parallels to the Maker – battling gods as a champion of his people. The Vodu-Khan are like a sinister Greek Chorus, one with its own agenda that remains to be revealed.

4 – Two Orbs

One of the central mysteries at the heart of these issues is the true nature of Vibranium and its sister orb, a glowing green thing with the power to spread life. As we learn in issue five, both arrived via meteorite, and Wakanda’s use of Vibranium has, largely, been what we’re familiar with in the regular Marvel Universe. The other, unknown substance is related to Vibranium, presented as its opposite: “Vibranium makes our weapons. Our shields. Our machines. It is the God of Material. Think of its opposite as the God of Flesh. It can accelerate life. From it, whole kingdoms can be born,” is what Matron Imala of the Vodu-Khan tells T’Challa. The use of the word ‘god’ is an interesting resonance, as is there being a pair that are linked yet opposites (like Ra and Khonshu). While Khonshu and Ra initially seemed set on taking down Wakanda via conquering its Vibranium mines, their target quickly shifts to this new substance, including an attack directly in Shuri’s lab to steal a portion of it.

While I’m not entirely certain what these two substances mean beyond plot contrivances that contain some thematic resonance, a couple of visual details jump out at me in issues three and six. In issue three, Killmonger takes T’Challa to the temple where the second orb is housed and, at the entrance, is a panther along with various figures carved out of stone. Right before T’Challa enters, a panel occurs showing a closeup of one of the figures, whose facial details remind me a lot of Kang...

 

In issue six, after their servant had taken a portion of the orb, Ra and Khonshu used it to begin to remake their kingdom, including the Temple of Ra. At first glance, it’s an odd design that resembles a humanoid shape more than a building. Taken with the similarity to Kang outside the temple, I realised that this remade Temple of Ra resembles another incarnation of Kang: Immortus.

 

It’s a little jumbled and compressed, but the visual allusion is hard to miss once you see it. If these are purposeful hints towards the involvement of Kang/Immortus/Rama-Tut is unknown. It would be thematically sound as a way to connect this plot into the broader story of the new Ultimate Universe where, somehow, these two orbs were sent back in time by Kang (or another of his identities) for a use when the City opens back up.

5 – Visual Opulence

Carrying over from his work on Ultimate Universe #1, Stefano Caselli is the primary line artist of Ultimate Black Panther, drawing the first four issues, with Carlos Nieto doing issues five and six, while David Curiel colours all six. Caselli is a capable superhero artist and his skills with action and drama are well on display. But, what stands out for me when I flip through these issues is the use of space. Everything is big, everything is wide open. Whether it’s a village or a field or T’Challa’s bed chambers or the city square, there’s always a sense of largesse. Nothing is small, nothing is cramped or contained. T’Challa lives in a world of opulence and his surroundings reflect that. It reminds me of the large, open spaces of the City in Ultimate Invasion. Wakanda, like the City, is a contained little world, trapped within walls of its own making and, yet, it seems so big. The trick is that the walls don’t seem to exist for those that live within and that’s part of the sinister element of their existence. After all, if your home is both secure and seemingly endless, what care is there for what exists outside of the walls?

The character design of T’Challa intrigues me. The Black Panther has some key changes, most notably with the open mask, showing T’Challa’s mouth. It’s a callback to the initial design of the character by Jack Kirby where that part of the mask was weapon, showing his skin. That style of mask was much more common than the full face mask that was used instead, which hid T’Challa’s brown skin, concealing his identity and race completely. Besides restoring that original idea and pushing back on anything that would suggest hiding who the character is, there’s also a sense of freedom and confidence in the open mask. The closed mask is also complete protection, almost like a helmet. With skin exposed, it’s like T’Challa is telling any enemies that he’s not afraid, that he can display some vulnerability without concern. Outside of his Black Panther costume, his general attire is the black and gold jacket/robe that is so bold in its look. Regal and striking, it plays off the black and silver of the costume, implying that the role of the Black Panther is a lesser one than his role as king.

6 – Temporal Structure

The way that the Ultimate line reflects our world by moving at the same speed is more subtle in Ultimate Black Panther than it is in Ultimate Spider-Man. Where the first Ultimate ongoing explicitly states each month, this series prefers allusions to the passage of time. Phrases like “a few weeks” often pop up early in an issue to hint at how much time has passed since the events of the previous issue. It’s a very ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ sort of storytelling. However, that Hill is subtle in his adherence to the line’s treatment of time doesn’t mean he ignores it.

The structure of the series is to highlight important moments while having events move quietly in the background. It’s a matter of emphasis, as I stated earlier, where the book’s focus is on the actions of the ‘important’ characters, the elite. Ultimate Spider-Man often indicates the change of time through smaller moments or focusing on supporting characters – the regular people moments. This is a comic about Wakanda as the City where the emphasis is on the ruling elite and the common people are, at best, pawns. As those characters lead big lives with big events, the book jumps from big event to big event. That gives the impression that the comic is too sparse at times. It’s storytelling by big beats, in a way, which is not as dissimilar from Ultimate Spider-Man as it appears, at first. Again, it’s a matter of emphasis.

The other way that it reflects our world is by how the story subtly reflects the launch of The Ultimates, the book that most closely mirrors this one. Issues five and six of Ultimate Black Panther coincide with the first two issues of The Ultimates, and it’s no coincidence that that is when Khonshu starts increasing his rhetoric and alters his tactics (notably from faceless shocktroops to regular people given powers and iconography) to position Wakanda as a privileged, secret ruling class of sorts, interested in hoarding and protecting its wealthy status quo. The end of issue six where T’Challa protects a mineral refinery from Khonshu and his forces prefigures Hawkeye’s attacks on Roxxon in The Ultimates. When Khonshu mockingly asks, “Wakanda moves to protect corporations now?” T’Challa responds “Wakanda stops terrorists.” It’s a twisted version of the attacks that the Maker’s Council are beginning to see against themselves. While T’Challa sees through Khonshu, there’s still the fact that Wakanda is more like the City than T’Challa would care to admit.

Next: Ultimate X-Men #1-6

6 in the 6160 02 – Ultimate Spider-Man #1-6

The new Ultimate line fascinates me. Something about it captured me from the very first issue of Ultimate Invasion. In this series of writings, I will discuss the Ultimate line in six-month increments for each title across six broad ideas each time.

1 – “I’m Not Even Supposed to be Here Today”

The launch of the new Ultimate line, Ultimate Invasion, had Jonathan Hickman stepping in for the survived-a-horrible-car-crash Donny Cates in an oddly synchronistic move for an alternate timeline comic book universe. At some point into the first six months or so of Ultimate Spider-Man, writer Chip Zdarsky revealed that Hickman had originally asked him to write this comic and it was Zdarsky refusing and encouraging Hickman to do it instead that resulted in the comic that kicked off the Ultimate line proper. More synchronicity.

As the flagship book, at least initially, of the Ultimate line, the approach reflects Hickman’s seeming desire to not be the centre of attention. After the events of Ultimate Invasion and Ultimate Universe #1, the natural leadoff into this world seemed to be The Ultimates. A big superhero epic of Tony Stark and Doom’s team of rebels fighting against the evil empire of the Maker’s Council, hoping to take back enough of the world to give the Maker a fight when he emerges from the city after two years. That seemed like the logical next step to continue the broad, sweeping story that Hickman had begun.

Instead, Ultimate Spider-Man homes in on one man whose destiny was stolen by the Maker and what happens when it’s given back to him. Together with the other launch titles of the line, the approach was a surprisingly scattered one that looked at the effects of the larger conflict, while using allusions to provide updates on how that larger story is progressing. In the first six issue of Ultimate Spider-Man, we get the effects of the Council framing Tony Stark for the orbital attack on New York, Tony Stark’s efforts to restore some of what the Maker took from people, and a bit of the Council’s power structure, particularly in their divvying up of North America after the fall of Stark and Stane. This is decidedly a book that inhabits the Ultimate world, but a ground level one that shows a narrow picture. 

Because, that’s what a Spider-Man comic is. There’s an understanding of Marvel and its structure at play here that seems almost counterintuitive for a line like this. While the original Ultimate line similarly began with Ultimate Spider-Man, there was no overarching story told there. No conflict over control of the world and the secret ruling class that holds everyone down. But: Spider-Man is the main Marvel hero. He’s the Superman and the Batman rolled into one. Starting a new line and not including Spider-Man seems foolish and misguided, because he represents the central ethos of Marvel: no matter how big, how fantastic, everything boils down to a regular guy with extraordinary powers trying to do the right thing and go home at the end of the day. So, after giving us the big lead-in of the Maker and Stark and the Council and the Ultimates, Hickman puts all of that stuff into the background and focuses on this guy in New York whose world is only as big as his family, his job, his friends, and his city. That’s how we get to see this larger than life conflict.

2 – Spider-Man is Anyone and Everyone

Around the time of Into the Spider-Verse, that wonderful animated movie that made the whole world realise that, maybe, Spider-Man is actually a kid named Miles Morales, I saw a lot of variations on the same story online that I’d never considered before. Now, I’m a white cis heterosexual man from Ontario, Canada, and I’ve always related to Peter Parker to a degree. He looked somewhat similar to me, seemingly had somewhat similar or, at least, relatable problems to me, and, in some ways, was aspirational for me. There was always an element of power fantasy at play, I suppose. And I had heard similar views on the characters from my fellow white males and, as is the general flaw of many people, I thought, for a long time, that the way that I viewed the character was how everyone else did. I’d never really given it a ton of thought, honestly. However, when the Into the Spider-Verse movie came out, I saw how much not just Miles Morales, a black/Puerto Rican teen, being Spider-Man meant to non-white people, but how much Spider-Man, in general, meant to them already. It confused me at first because Peter Parker is very white and the idea that he would be a character that non-white readers and viewers would admire and see themselves in was surprising. But, it wasn’t Peter Parker I learned that was the draw: it was Spider-Man, particularly his costume. With a full body costume that covered him entirely, including his face, he was a hero without a set racial identity. In costume, he could literally be anyone in a way that most superheroes couldn’t. You can see that Superman, Batman, Captain America, Flash, Thor, Wonder Woman, and countless others are white. But, Spider-Man, one of the three biggest superheroes in North American comics, in costume, could be anyone and anything. It was a window into a perspective I’d never considered.

Ultimate Spider-Man seems to embrace that idea of Spider-Man as a somewhat blank canvas to imprint metaphor upon in a manner that is usually reserved at Marvel for the X-Men. After the first issue was released, I read numerous takes that Peter’s feeling of living his life wrong and not being his true self is a metaphor for coming out of the closet or transitioning, particularly the latter. There’s a sense that Peter Parker the man is not right, while Peter Parker the Spider-Man is who he really is and, at the end of the first issue, he undergoes treatment to modify his body to be his true self. It’s easy to see why this would jump out to trans people as familiar and something that they see themselves in. But, it can easily be Peter realising he’s gay or Peter realising he needs to finally follow his passion in life, or any concept of change. It’s presented broadly enough that there’s no hard, fixed metaphor or meaning in place. That’s a big part of what makes this version of the character so resonant and successful: it doesn’t stray too far from the original idea of the character, but is mindful to present it in a manner just open enough for anyone to find themselves in it. It’s a true embrace of the ‘everyman’ concept that Spider-Man has always been touted by Marvel as embodying even if he didn’t always.

It’s a concept that’s reflected out from Peter across the cast of the book with Ben and Jonah’s venturing out to do journalism the way that they want to or Harry putting on his green armour to fly around and attack a powerful man echoing Peter’s changes. We learn that Mary Jane did something similar in her career years prior for further resonance. It’s a book about people deciding to be who they want to be and do what they want to, while their loved ones support them in those efforts. Like, shit, I love that. I really do. I’m lucky enough to experience that in my life and even I cling to those scenes for dear life some days, so I can only imagine what people in some truly horrible situations get from Mary Jane telling Peter “And go get ‘em, Tiger” with total love and support. It’s sappy and kind of embarrassing to say out loud, but that’s what makes these dumb little books worthwhile sometimes.

 

3 – Ultimate Peter B. Parker

Going back to Into the Spider-Verse, my personal takeaway from that movie was that Peter B. Parker proved Joe Quesada and Bill Jemas wrong. If you’ll recall, undoing Peter’s marriage to Mary Jane was one of their big goals when they ran Marvel, arguing that an older Peter as someone that readers can’t relate to (which, perhaps, as the previous section showed, was actually a skill issue). This, despite having launched Ultimate Spider-Man with a teenage version of the hero, allowing readers to have both a younger, unencumbered Peter and an older, adult Peter at the same time. It was a misguided, narrow vision of what the character could (and should) be rooted in this weird obsession that young readers would only want to read about characters their own age and that the older, existing readers only wanted the character from their supposed youths (which ignored just how long Peter had been a married adult). It was an odd contradiction that said one group only wanted themselves, while another group only wanted what they used to be, overlooking the fact that, perhaps, adults wanted to read about adults.

Into the Spider-Verse featured an alternate reality version of the character called Peter B. Parker to differentiate for all of us viewers. He was in his late 30s, divorced, and it was the first time that I, a husband and father in his mid-30s, saw a version of the character that resembled me. He was the same mess of a character struggling with balancing being Spider-Man and having a personal life, except the nature of that conflict had changed a bit. It was, honestly, everything that I wanted from a Spider-Man at this point in my life. And, of course, he only existed in that single movie (and, then, the sequel). The comics follow the movies all of the time, but not in this case? Come on, son...

That is, until Ultimate Spider-Man #1 where the Peter Parker is married to Mary Jane, has two kids, and is firmly in the approaching middle age doldrums where his life is, seemingly, exactly what he was shooting for and, yet, it doesn’t feel right. Now, here’s a Spider-Man for me as I was on the cusp of turning 41. In that first issue, Hickman nails that weird contradiction of having the life you want and not being satisfied. Not because you want out, but because you need something inside, not just around you, to be right. The ensuing issues touch up against the difficulty of balancing the different priorities of life when you have to wear so many hats (husband, father, employee, friend, etc.) and you don’t always know when and how to put yourself first. These first six issues can easily be read as Peter getting a new hobby and the ensuing fallout of meeting friends through that hobby and figuring out how to integrate this new stuff into his existing world. And that shit can be tough.

That Hickman used the idea of a new Ultimate Spider-Man to return to an adult Peter Parker in stark opposition of the original’s concept is quite clever. And needed. Because I’ve seen teenage Spider-Man, a lot, and, in fact, the dearth of adult superheroes that reflect (some of) the true realities of adulthood is annoying. In these first six issues, the biggest conflict within the Parker household is how long Peter waits to tell everyone about Spider-Man – and, even then, it’s a relatively minor conflict. It’s refreshing to see, in superhero comics, a family environment like this where everyone is accepted and loved. Even when Peter is considering accepting Tony Stark’s offer to be who he was “supposed to be,” Mary Jane encourages him blindly to do what will make him happy with the only thing she needs to know is that they’re okay. There’s no cheap melodrama or soap operatics... but it’s no boring. Hickman wisely knows that by emphasising the normalcy and love of Peter’s family, it only heightens the drama of Spider-Man. The stakes are that much larger when Harry and he completely fail in their attempt to take down Wilson Fisk, a man with the means to wipe out their loved ones, if he so wished.

What comes to mind is Grant Morrison’s discussion of Superman in All-Star Superman a echoing the gods of old where everything he does is more than a regular person. That superhero stories are meant to be bigger and better versions of our day to day lives. And that’s what Hickman achieves in the Parker family. Not by expanding the drama into melodrama or soap opera, but by expanding the love and understanding and acceptance of a family. It’s an ideal, yes; one that suits the material.

 

4 – Team Books Only

Ultimate Spider-Man is, ostensibly, a comic about Peter Parker. Jonathan Hickman has never written an ongoing solo superhero comic. Up until this point in his career, he’s written team books and, even in his creator-owned work, it’s been a focus on large ensemble casts. He tends to take things large and view the world from somewhat of a distance. So, him taking on a solo character seemed like a change of pace, something new and different, and, honestly, the first issue seemed like this would be a comic about Peter Parker with a healthy supporting cast. That was wrong. Over the course of the first six issues, it becomes apparent that Peter is the starting point, perhaps an anchor of sorts, for a comic that’s really about a group of people. Issue five, for example, focuses on Harry Osborn and how he became the Green Goblin with Peter very much in a supporting role. Ben Parker and J. Jonah Jameson’s efforts to start their own newspaper after quitting (being fired from?) the Daily Bugle often jockeys for the ‘A-story’ in any given issue.

Spider-Man comics have always been known for the width and depth of the supporting cast, so it’s not like Hickman is exactly breaking with tradition. However, it becomes apparent quickly that what seems like establishing the world around Peter prior to him plunging into becoming Spider-Man in the first issue is actually a bit of a backdoor into an ensemble cast book. I said earlier that, instead of focusing on the actual conflict between the Maker’s Council and Tony Stark, Hickman focuses in on a small part of that conflict, and, by the end of the first six issues, it’s apparent that by making this a book about Peter, Harry, Ben, Jonah, Mary Jane, Gwen, and the kids that it’s about showing that conflict on multiple fronts. Peter is at the centre of the cast, but his fight with Fisk/the Council is not the same as Harry’s or Ben’s or Jonah’s, etc.

It’s a reminder that the system of this world isn’t simply superhumans running things where the only way to dethrone them is to punch them in the face (and, as the sixth issue shows, even that isn’t as sure a thing as you’d hope). The Maker and his Council control every facet of this world from government to media to business, and all of those areas overlap and affect everything in everyone’s lives. After all, the first time we see Fisk, it’s as the owner of the Bugle and his conflict is introduced as being with Ben and Jonah. They share the same enemy, but engage in conflict on different fronts. In that way, Hickman shows that he’s still himself. He’s not deep diving into a single protagonist at the expense of an expansive view. Hell, it’s only four issues before Spider-Man becomes ‘Spider-Man and the Green Goblin,’ basically.

The thing that I find interesting is that I’ve yet to come across criticism of the series for not focusing on Peter enough. I’m sure it exists, but quality wins out, sometimes, I suppose.

 

5 – The World Outside Your Window

I think what hit me first was Matthew Wilson’s colouring in the first issue. Lots of muted blues and warmth in the faces of people in January. A sense of dreariness meant to reflect a world whose essence was stolen – and the lives of people not free to be who they’re really meant to be. It doesn’t look like the colouring of other superhero comics – and, honestly, it doesn’t really look like the subsequent issues. Part of that is no doubt down to first issues being given (presumably) more time and attention to make that strong first impression. But, I’d like to think it’s because everything changes at the end of the first issue. The world opens up, things become brighter and more lively for Peter, so the visual tone of the series changes, too. It’s actually a subtle change and carries with the idea that each issue carries through time month by month. As we all know, the world looks different at different times of the year. Throughout those issues, I love the way that Wilson imbues scenes with a certain colour to establish lighting and feel. It carries across two different line artists and gives a sense of visual consistency. It’s a low key strength of these first six issues.

The choice of Marco Checchetto as the book’s primary line artist grounds the book in a reality. He brings a sense of the real world to his characters and is surprisingly good at handling scenes where there’s no superheroics or action. While his approach to people is a bit more realistic than Mark Bagley, I see a lot of similarities in the use of repeated panels/perspectives, and a willingness to engage with the dialogue-driven scenes that often populate the issues. It highlights a subtle callback to the first Ultimate Spider-Man where much of these issues is about characters talking and the artist needing to find a way to keep things interesting visually. It’s a small thing, but the way that Checchetto draws Jonah might be my favourite bit of his art. He adds that bit of kindness and humanity that the character needs, particularly in this series where he’s less of a caricature than he often is elsewhere. He’s still gruff and serious, but there’s a bit of tenderness in his face that really works in the book.

The two fill-in issues by David Messina are interesting departures, particularly issue four, where Peter and Mary Jane have dinner with Harry and Gwen. The use of the nine panel grid plays off the dinner banter of the four really well and helps move the issue forward at a steady pace. That he draws that issue and the fifth issue’s spotlight on Harry kind of gives the sense of Messina as stepping in to give Harry’s perspective a bit more while Checchetto is more Peter/his family. That’s an interesting distinction to make, particularly since Messina’s work looks a little bit more conventional superhero comics than that of Checchetto. Harry is much more the typical superhero in this world than Peter, falling into a weird Batman/Iron Man hybrid sort of trajectory. While Peter’s story is much more a regular guy jumping into the extraordinary, Harry’s is a privileged guy forcing himself into the extraordinary, which recalls traditional superhero fare. Which isn’t to say that Checchetto can’t do superheroics. I really love the sixth issue fight with Fisk, particularly the way that, as it goes on and it becomes apparent just how overmatched Peter and Harry are, Fisk seems to grow in size, towering over Spider-Man by the end.

Often, this series feels like a book about regular people living their lives with the odd bit of costumed bullshit tacked on. Flipping through the issues, it’s weird how much of them actually feature Peter in costume doing stuff. I don’t know if that’s a compliment to the art team or not that what stands out in my memory are the quiet scenes between characters, while Spider-Man taking on the Shocker is often an afterthought. I will say: it never feels like either artist is just waiting for the ‘exciting’ stuff to happen and that’s a very large part of what makes all of this other stuff I’ve been discussing work.

 

6 – “We all gotta have something to fight for.”

The real time ‘gimmick’ of the Ultimate line is explicit in Ultimate Spider-Man with each issue given a month indicated, with these six running January through June. In my first piece, I argued that this was a twist on Marvel’s attempt at realism in superhero fiction where characters were meant to exist in a world like ours. Instead of placing the emphasis on space, Hickman uses time as the common factor. In the first issue of Ultimate Spider-Man, as we follow Peter’s day, we see the real joke at the heart of the line: Peter Parker’s daily world looks a lot like ours. Strip out the new powers and this could be a straightforward dramedy on network TV. The tragedy of this world is that the Maker made it like ours.

While this very much did not seem like our world in the Ultimate Invasion series, when the focus is placed on a regular person in New York, it’s apparent that this world is more like ours than it appeared. It plays off the fact that, long ago, Marvel stopped trying to give readers the world outside their window with superheroes grafted on, and has become this fantastical place, not unlike DC’s universe. What the Maker did was undo so much of that, turning a world of Marvels into one of ‘mundane.’ After the events of Ultimate Invasion and Ultimate Universe #1, Tony Stark is dedicated to undoing that damage and making the world into what it was meant to be. So, the real time progression of each issue corresponding to our progression of time is also tied to the world progressing towards the regular Marvel Earth. This mirroring of our world as it tries to move away from our world is an odd tension at the heart of the line.

But, this struggle also reflects our world. Beyond the metaphors I mentioned above, when you look at the actions of Peter and Harry against Fisk, or Ben and Jonah figuring things out within the broad system of the world, you can see a book about that feeling that pervades a lot people right now of a world where the rich and powerful have taken away something just as the Maker (a tech bro to the Nth degree if ever there was one) has done to the people of this world. That feeling of something wrong, of no hope, of a small group of powerful people constantly taking... These characters – and the characters of the entire line, honestly – are saying enough and working to make things better in whatever way they’re able. While later books are more explicit about the activist nature of the heroes in this world, the second that Peter opened the jar containing the spider and let it bite him, he wasn’t just becoming his true self, he was fighting against the system. For himself and for his kids.

Next: Ultimate Black Panther #1-6

6 in the 6160 01 – Ultimate Invasion #1-4 and Ultimate Universe #1

The new Ultimate line fascinates me. Something about it captured me from the very first issue of Ultimate Invasion. In this series of writings, I will discuss the Ultimate line in six-month increments for each title across six broad ideas each time. I begin with the five issues released across six months that set the stage for this new world and line of titles.

1 – “Good Artists Copy”

Were it not for a car accident, this project would have looked very different.

The entire rebirth of the Ultimate Universe was meant to be different. How different, we don’t know currently and may never know. What we do know is that, originally, Donny Cates was meant to write this series (under the existing title or another) and it was an unfortunate car accident that has had horrible long-lasting effects on Cates that resulted in the need for another writer to step in. Again, details are short on how this all happened, so there could have been numerous false starts or discussions involving other writers before Jonathan Hickman took over the project. I’ll be the callous prick who points out how fitting that this project, recreating an alternate version of the Marvel Universe was sent on a different path by a single, violent event. It’s the sort of thematic connection that’s so on the nose that a reader would roll their eyes. Truth is stranger and all that...

It also meant that the man tapped with bringing the idea back to life is the same that killed it originally. The first Ultimate line of comics ran from 2000-2015, coming to an end in Secret Wars #1 by Hickman and Esad Ribić, where the regular Marvel 616 universe also perished. By the end of the event, the 616 was back, while the Ultimate Universe was nowhere to be found. There were some holdovers: Miles Morales and his family, the Maker (an alternate version of Reed Richards), Ultimate Mjolnir showed up, and maybe a few others. But, the idea of a new reader friendly version of all of Marvel’s characters was no longer a going concern, not with movies filling that gap, to an extent. So, it was a bit of a surprise when Ultimate Invasion was announced as bringing the Ultimate Universe back.

It was an even larger surprise when the issues began coming out and it became apparent exactly what sort of Ultimate Universe was being created. This was not a return to the old 1610; instead, this new universe, created by the Maker, is designated 6160. After escaping confinement in the regular Marvel Universe, he gathers the necessary materials to escape that world and recreate his old one, albeit with changes. Over the course of the series, we see that he carefully managed this world through time travel to eliminate most of the superpowered people of both the Marvel and Ultimate Universes, setting up a world basically ruled by himself along with a hand-picked council that each oversees a geographic portion of the world. When an attack from the future decimates one of their gatherings, one of their number, Howard Stark, is brought into the conspiracy, having distanced himself from ‘politics’ previously, leaving that element to his partner, Obadiah Stane. To make matters more interesting, the superpowered attackers from the future looked to be an army of clones resembling the Ultimate versions of Captain America, Thor, Giant-Man, Wasp, and Vision, sent by Kang back in time to kill the Maker and his council.

After, Howard Stark is brought into the conspiracy and put to work building the Maker another time machine, an Immortus Engine, alongside a masked prisoner identified as Reed Richards. While they succeed, they also make plans to work against the Maker, resulting in another invasion of Kang and his army into the Maker’s City where they battled with his own genetically created army, eventually leading the seeming death of most of those involved and the City being sealed off for two years (with an unknown amount of time passing in the City). Outside, the council makes plans for what to do with the world for the two years without the Maker and Howard’s son, Tony, adopts similar armour to his father, calling himself Iron Lad and allying himself with Doom (Reed Richards) to free the world from the control of the Maker and his allies.

It’s a very different sort of Ultimate Universe, one not designed as a back to basics entry point. It is an entry point, of sorts, albeit one filled with allusions and mysteries and ‘Easter eggs’ for those in the know. It’s a world of systems of power hidden from most who live inside them, but shown clearly to the reader. While the original Ultimate line featured modern updates of familiar concepts, distilling and simplifying them of decades of stories, taking advantage of the ability to pick and choose different elements to create something, hopefully, better, this is something else entirely. This is a world equally curated, though both in and outside of the comics, albeit one that twists and bends the Marvel Universe as we know it. It is a world just as designed by its real world creators as any other; it is also one designed by the Maker, which sets it apart in a dramatic manner.

That doesn’t mean it’s completely unfamiliar, though...

2 – “Great Artists Steal”

The idea of a version of Reed Richards curating his world, picking and choosing what wondrous elements make it to the public, which ones are purloined for his personal use, and which are similar smothered in the crib is not a new one. In Ultimate Invasion, Hickman recasts his Maker, in part, as Randall Dowling of the Four. Planetary by Warren Ellis, John Cassaday, and Laura Martin, published by the Wildstorm imprint of DC Comics, ran for 27 issues and three specials from 1999 to 2009, and it followed an organisation that sought out the hidden history of the world, investigating weird happenings and, over the course of the series, was revealed to be working directly against a group called the Four, which had spent the latter half of the 20th century covering up all the strange and wondrous things that could have made the world so much greater. Throughout the series, we’re given numerous examples of the Four’s efforts to suppress superhumans and the advancements that they could bring, mostly at the behest of their leader, Dowling. Ellis modeled Dowling and the Four after Reed Richards and the Fantastic Four, ostensibly as a metaphor for the superhero genre’s dominance of comics in the latter half of the 20th century, a process that began, one could say, with the release of Fantastic Four #1. While it was eventually revealed that Dowling was also attempting to save the world from an alien threat in addition to controlling it, the Maker has no such lofty goals. Hickman even throws a subtle clue to this line of thinking near the end of the first issue of Ultimate Invasion when the Maker asks Reed Richards, “If you could do it all against – if you could truly change things – if you had the chance... / ...would you erase me from existence?” When Richards answers, “... / ... / YES.” the Maker responds, “I’ll keep that in mind.” Which, of course, is his entire plan in this new universe: erase all threats from existence.

His methods match those of Dowling, but his attitude (and look) is reminiscent of another Wildstorm character that Ellis wrote: Henry Bendix, the Weatherman of Stormwatch when Ellis’s run on that title began. Up through the final issue of that volume, Ellis painted a picture of a man obsessed with controlling the world to make it fit his vision of what it should be, primarily through his control of superhumans. By being in charge of the United Nations’ superhuman response team, he was able to influence and shift things and is only revealed when another group of superhumans makes their presence known – and their intentions for how they wish to change the world. It’s that group that threatened Bendix’s burgeoning world, Stormwatch, and Stormwatch’s superteam descendent, the Authority, that shows in the Maker’s council. There are a few easy comparisons (Ra and Khonshu to Apollo and Midnighter, for instance), but it’s more of a general concept of a group of roughly seven superhumans (or superhuman ruling groups) being the true power of the world, all under the thumb of a single man.

Ultimate Invasion’s plot recalls, after a fashion, the opening story of The Authority, “The Circle,” where the formerly-deposed-and-impersonated ruler of an island nation, Kaizen Gamorra, sends superpowered clone armies out into the world to decimate cities, creating his mark (a circle with three dots on it) across the entire planet. Kang’s army of clones sent into the past to destroy the Maker (the epilogue in issue 3 with Kang rallying the troops recalls Gamorra’s similar speech to his army) and all he’s built is a variation on the idea, one taken even further in the fourth issue when the Maker’s own army, a different sort of cloned superhuman force, engages with it. It’s a battle of Gamorras to an extent, highlighted by Howard Stark in the middle, attempting to somehow destroy both sides. And, when all is said and done, what’s left is the next version of the armoured hero (Iron Man to Iron Lad ala Engineer to Engineer) creating his own version of the Authority/Planetary to take down the remaining rulers of the planet, the corrupted Authority/Four/Bendix’s Stormwatch.

There are no easy one to one comparisons, as I said earlier, it’s more like Hickman is operating in a sub-genre of superhero comics called “Ellis’s Wildstorm.” While the original Ultimate line took many cues from that period of Wildstorm (and Ellis was one of the more prolific voices in the initial Ultimate line after Brian Michael Bendis and Mark Millar), it was more influenced by Millar’s following Ellis on The Authority. Hickman, in creating this new version, takes a few steps back to what came before.

3 – Broken Boy Soldier

But, Hickman is also playing with his own toys and exploring his own interests, of course. In some ways, Ultimate Invasion is unfinished business. In 2011, Hickman and Esad Ribić launched Ultimate Comics: The Ultimates, part of the second line wide relaunch of the Ultimate books, and this series pitted the Ultimates against the Maker as he created his time-advanced city, and looked to change the world. From a personal standpoint, it was definitely an exciting highlight of the time and it lasted less than a year before Hickman left the title to take over the main line version, the Avengers and New Avengers, on a run that would culminate with Secret Wars in 2015. While Hickman had used the Maker since his time on Ultimate Comics: The Ultimates, there was still a sense that whatever plans he’d had for the character and that world were left unfulfilled, perhaps not for him, but for some readers (like me). Ultimate Invasion presents a version of that unfulfilled promise by having the Maker not pick up where he left off, but go even further and completely succeed. It’s like the time between Ultimate Comics: The Ultimates and Ultimate Invasion actually happened and we’re jumping back into that story with the Maker having won and remade the world as he wished, in a way.

Beyond that, Ultimate Invasion is a story of global systems and politics, of the seen and unseen powers that control everything, a frequent topic of Hickman’s work. He’s particularly interested in power and systems controlled by a small group of people. While Ellis’s Wildstorm work is an obvious and inescapable influence over Ultimate Invasion, and it’s also a continuation of Hickman’s earlier Ultimate work, he gives a big clue of another influence on how he approaches the Maker and his plans in the first issue: the Illuminati. A staple of Hickman’s New Avengers, the Illuminati is a group created by Brian Michael Bendis and Alex Maleev, a council of superhumans in the Marvel Universe, that would meet and work together to quietly shape things behind the scenes. Bendis had them form as a response to the Kree-Skrull War under the guise that, if Earth was entering into a larger universe, it needed a more unified approach to survive. Hickman pushed the group into much greyer moral areas as it was the primary defence against the multiversal collapse that resulted in incursion events where two alternate Earths would occupy a shared space with a limited time to destroy one in order to save the other, or both would die. Hickman’s Illuminati killed Earths. In Ultimate Invasion #1, the Maker steals something from each of the seven members of the current Illuminati (as a variation of Reed Richards, he is the stolen item for Richards) to create his gateway to his new universe. He does so purposefully and clearly, sending a message to them that not only is he leaving and they cannot stop him, he’s taking the lessons he learned from them with him. You may as well call the Maker’s council that world’s Illuminati.

Howard Stark’s betrayal is the lone man standing up and refusing to participate that recalls the original Ultimate Tony Stark doing something similar at Davos under Hickman in the Ultimate Fallout series that preceded Ultimate Comics: The Ultimates, or Reed Richards’s disillusionment/break with the Council of Reeds. That singular conscience that cannot abide the group think status quo that looks down on everything, willing to treat lives as mere currency in the service of their own ideals. This idealism is shared by his son and, to an unknown degree, by this world’s native Reed Richards/Doom. It recalls the original break from the world by the Maker. He too looked at the status quo and decided to make things right. It’s all cycles and different perspectives, systems that breed systems that breed systems...

4 – The Architect

Visually, there is no better candidate to draw the rebirth of the Ultimate line of books than Bryan Hitch. He is the bridge between the Ellis Wildstorm period and the original Ultimate line, having drawn parts of the second Stormwatch volume, the entire first year of The Authority, and, then, the first two Ultimates series. No artist better embodies the visual look of the late 1990s/early 2000s and the concept of ‘widescreen’ superhero comics than Bryan Hitch, here back with his Ultimates inker Andrew Currie. To see Hitch draw this new world, a synthesis of Wildstorm and the original Ultimate line, is to see both simultaneously. Perhaps, no visual better demonstrates that idea than the initial invasion of Kang’s future clone army, coming out of the sky like Gammora’s clones, but looking like the Ultimates. That visual resonance is key to this book. More than any artist, he hammers home just how much the look of the Maker recalls Henry Bendix’s all black spandex suit with metal headband implant crossed with the mark of Gamorra that his army wore on similarly all black spandex suits. By the final issue, when the Maker and Kang’s forces have their final battle, it looks like elements of The Authority at war with elements of The Ultimates.

Beyond his ‘usefulness’ as the visual connector between the two major antecedents of this new Ultimate Universe, Hitch is really fucking good. A stylist who is immediately recognisable but able to adapt to anything. He does big ‘widescreen’ action better than anyone, becoming the dominant influence for all that came after him, but also able to do visually arresting ‘quiet’ scenes. Some of the best moments in the series are the discussion scenes where Hitch shows body language and facial reactions to carry as much weight in rooms where what’s unsaid is just as important as what’s said. Those council scenes are so good at establishing characters who literally say nothing, like the casualness of Omega Red who lounges with his hands behind his head or comes up behind Colossus, flinging his hand over the other’s shoulder. Hitch is wonderful at little details that allow you to go back and stare endlessly at pages.

In the final issue, Alex Sinclair does some very interesting things with colour, seemingly eschewing realism for effects throughout the battle between the Maker and Kang. Mid-battle, the colour shifts from ‘realistic’ to overly saturated by a blue light for the Maker’s immediate surroundings, while Kang has a more green lighting effect surrounding him, resulting in something like a rainbow when they clash on this magnificent double-page spread. So powerful are these two beings that their very essences radiate their energy, in a way. It heightens the conflict and gives these two monsters, each thinking themself right, an almost heroic effect when they clash.

And, later, after Howard Stark decimates both groups and the City counts down to its closure, all colour is stripped away for a grey, desolate effect. Sinclair, while adhering to realism throughout most of the series abandons it to great effect here, emphasising the emotion of scenes. Even the followup with a orange tone to the council’s meeting suggests a sunset/autumn feel that is on the world before the coming night/winter.

5 – No One Left to Save the World

Up until this point, I’ve mostly focused on Ultimate Invasion, leaving the one-shot followup Ultimate Universe #1 out of things. But, going forward with the Ultimate line of comics, Ultimate Universe #1 is much more important. Ultimate Invasion is the back story, the set up, the looming threat hanging over the entire thing, but it’s not the actual story. Ultimate Universe #1 provides the actual story of the line, the one picked up by the four series that have (so far) followed it.

In an inversion to the concept of the original Ultimates, who acted on behalf of the US government to enforce a specific political agenda rooted in the status quo, this group, as led by Tony Stark (Iron Lad), is a terrorist one set on overthrowing the status quo. Imagine if the Authority made up Planetary, after a manner. This issue establishes part of their mission to free the Maker’s locked away secret knowledge of the world and begin to re-establish the World That Should Have Been, putting them in direct opposition to the Maker’s council. In his absence, they have taken more control of the world, including dividing up North America with the loss of Stane and Stark. The issue ends with a direct confrontation with the council and them using Stark’s own weaponry against this new resistance, blasting New York City from space and blaming Tony for the attack. That leaves him and his allies not just as terrorists to the true powers of the world, but to the public as well. While their war remains secret to a degree, they also exist in the minds of the world in a very public manner. Less superhumans as weapons of mass destruction and more as IEDs.

Even in the regular Marvel Universe, the superheroes are very much agents of the status quo, reacting to crime and other threats. In Ellis’s Wildstorm books, there was a sense of a larger responsibility for superheroes, to not abide a corrupt status quo, but to change it. First glimpsed in the group of superhumans in the “Change or Die” arc that concluded the first Stormwatch volume and, then, continued with the Authority (who, by their actions, Ellis described as villains within the traditional definitions of superheroes), and, then, in Planetary where the mission of the organisation was explicitly to eliminate a ruling power that had purposefully suppressed information and held the world back. To destroy the world as it is is an act of terrorism and villainy, a remarkably bold direction to set the heroes of this world. Tony Stark’s mission isn’t simply to fight the council directly, but to create an army of superhumans with the Maker’s hidden knowledge, to subtly affect the world around him. Until the launch of The Ultimates monthly series, the line of books followed this understated element of his mission, painting fairly disparate portraits of this world, almost at complete disconnect.

An underrated idea established in this issue is that Stark’s group, while having lofty goals, is fairly inexperienced and may not be good at this. They bumble around this issue, barely survive a confrontation with Captain Britain, ruler of Europe, and, then, are almost killed from space in attack that they are blamed for. These are idealists flailing about, making mistakes, and surviving by the skin of their teeth. It’s smart to introduce them as somewhat incompetent, giving the 24 month deadline weight. As is hinted at in Ultimate Invasion #4, time moves at an unknown rate in the City and they don’t know what they’ll face when it opens again. That this group of ‘Ultimates’ bear that name with irony more than anything makes the need for progress urgent, almost frantic. If they could only squeak by Captain Britain by himself, how will they survive the full council, or the Maker and his forces?

Appropriately, to continue the idea of the past influencing the present, the artist on this issue is Stefano Caselli, the initial/primary artist on Hickman’s first ongoing series for Marvel, Secret Warriors. That book was, basically, the big break at Marvel for both men and, here, they reunite to set into motion the next two years of the new Ultimate Universe. His involvement also breaks the visual spell of Hitch’s Authority/Ultimates look, bringing things back more towards Marvel’s general visual aesthetic, while also setting up his own involvement as artist on Ultimate Black Panther. Caselli is an adept superhero artist and draws a wonderfully thick Thor, giving the imprisoned Thunder God an appropriate heft and power.

6 – 24 Months

We return, then, to Wildstorm and the broader influence of that company upon the shaping of this new Ultimate Universe. It has gone through different periods of attempting a larger, overriding story. Periods where there was a central theme to the line, up to and including the most recent attempt to begin a Wildstorm line under Warren Ellis, beginning with The Wild Storm series, continuing in the Deathblow series that spun out from it, and... nothing. The line never materialised, notably as a result of the accusations against Ellis. I can’t remember if Hickman was one of the rumoured writers recruited to do one of the series to spin out of The Wild Storm (though, Deathblow writer Bryan Hill is the writer of Ultimate Black Panther for this line). Before that, there was the reboot of the line featuring the likes of Grant Morrison, Garth Ennis, Brian Azzarello, and Gail Simone. And, in between, there was an apocalyptic version of the Wildstorm Universe, I believe. While not completely unified under Ellis in the late ‘90s, there was a sense of a unified creative vision with books sharing a sensibility. The new Ultimate line takes that idea forward in spirit more than anything...

The big innovation (as Marvel is apt to point out at every opportunity) is that the ticking time bomb of the Maker’s City being closed for two years following the events of Ultimate Invasion #4 results in a line of comics that progresses in real time. Each month of comics corresponds with a month passing in both our world and theirs. If this world can’t look like ours, it can age at the same time as ours. It’s a clever variation on the original idea of Marvel Comics as superhero stories that reflect the world outside your window. Hickman sees through the lie that you could have a world full of superpowered people and have it remain anything remotely like ours. By their very existence, superhumans would dramatically change the world. So, if the space is incompatible, why not make the time identical?

And, so, the new Ultimate line operates on a deadline that will end January 2026. While not exclusive to Wildstorm, when that company was part of Image Comics, Image once did a month where every comic skipped ahead a year and delivered that issue, a flash forward. A promise of what’s to come. A ticking clock. As the line is beyond Hickman and his plans, inviting in a variety of voices and perspectives, he’s crafted a variation on that idea. The same clock without the specifics of what would happen. A story that was rooted in time travel being defined by time as it moves forward... It also brings to mind the end of the first year of The Authority, which ran across the course of 1999, even approaching the year 2000 when the Spirit of the 20th Century would no longer be needed or relevant.

Influence on influence on influence.

Next: Ultimate Spider-Man #1-6

Jim Starlin Versus the Inevitable: Thoughts on Dreadstar vs. the Inevitable

[This is not a review. I will be discussing Dreadstar vs. the Inevitable in ways that will ‘spoil’ it so, if you haven’t gotten your copy yet and don’t want to learn anything too detailed about what happens, maybe bookmark this piece to return to at a later date. If you don’t particularly care, read on.]

What is a Dreadstar comic?

I’ve been pondering that since reading Dreadstar vs. the Inevitable, the newest Dreadstar graphic novel. It’s the second Dreadstar graphic novel of the 2020s, both published through Kickstarter campaigns, after Jim Starlin departed the book in 1989 with issue 40. He had stopped drawing it a year previously and, after it was continued by writer Peter David with, mostly, artist Angel Medina, Starlin’s only contributions were the odd cover and chapters of a serialised novel that ran in the back. Even when the title returned for a six-issue mini-series under Malibu’s Bravura imprint, Starlin just did covers, focused instead on his ‘Breed series. The last time he had done anything with the character was actually in the third ‘Breed series where Vanth Dreadstar and Oedi from the title joined alongside Starlin’s other creator-owned characters to team up with the protagonist of ‘Breed. While fans always hoped Starlin would return to the character, that appearance seemed likely to be the last time Starlin would draw the character after an injury to his hand seemed to end his drawing career. Instead, after many years of work and recuperation, Starlin managed to regain the use of his drawing hand and the first comic he drew was Dreadstar Returns, which was published in 2021, not only acting as the first Dreadstar comic since the early ‘90s, but also with the promise of several more graphic novels planned. Dreadstar vs. the Inevitable finally had its Kickstarter campaign in 2023 with the property jumping to yet another publisher (if you include the ‘Breed III appearance, Dreadstar has been published by nine different publishers over its 42-year span).

Dreadstar began as a serialised story called The Metamorphosis Odyssey in the pages of Epic Illustrated in 1982 with Starlin writing and painting it. Partly a chance to work on his own characters, partly a chance to try painting a comic, it told the story of a war between two ancient, god-like alien races. With one side realising that that they will eventually lose the war, a plan is put into action to destroy the Milky Way Galaxy – it’s an allegorical story rooted in the Vietnam War. The idea being that the other side is so terrible that, to save the galaxy from the terrible fate of being conquered by this race, it would be better to be destroyed altogether. Vanth Dreadstar is one of four beings gathered to fulfill that plan. Armed with a mystical power sword, Dreadstar is stronger and tougher than the average mortal – the galaxy’s most formidable warrior. He and Aknaton, the alien who destroys the Milky Way Galaxy, are the sole survivors of the explosion that destroys it – and, immediately after reaching safety in a neighbouring galaxy, Vanth kills Aknaton and settles into a quiet life.

The Epic Illustrated story was followed by two graphic novels, also painted, and a short story that led into the ongoing monthly from Epic Comics. The basic set-up was that, in this galaxy, there is also a war between two powerful groups, the Monarchy and the theocratic Instrumentality, and Vanth is drawn into the conflict when the planet he lives on is attacked, killing his wife and the nearby village of cat people. Joining the Monarchy’s army with the goal of getting revenge against the Instrumentality, he learns that neither side is interested in winning the war as both societies are now dependent on the war machine. Basically, it’s too profitable to end the war. Pulling together a group of like-minded individuals, Vanth sets about finding a way to end the war. The monthly title followed Dreadstar and Company in these efforts and, once the Instrumentality won the war, finding a way to overthrow their religious rule, settling into a conflict with the Lord High Papal, leader of the church and government, and his minions.

Starlin stopped drawing the title after the Instrumentality was defeated and the ensuing year where he only wrote the book was a meditation on what happens next with Vanth awaking from a two-year coma, trying to find a place in this new world. Vanth’s efforts to find a direction for his life mirrored Starlin’s efforts to find a direction for the comic. Due to various reasons, Starlin never did find that direction and departed the title, giving it over to Peter David and Angel Medina to continue. This resulted in another change of galaxies and various adventures until the series ended abruptly with plans indicated by First Comics that it would return in a new form. Instead, First Comics didn’t last much longer and it was resurrected as a six-issue mini-series by David with artist Ernie Colon that focused on Vanth’s daughter, the new wielder of the power sword. That story both wrapped up the previous series and told a new story, seemingly bringing the story of Dreadstar to an end.

Until Vanth and Oedi appeared in ‘Breed III alongside Starlin’s other creator-owned characters. It wasn’t completely apparent when these characters were from given that both were back in their most well-known clothes from the beginning of the Epic Comics Dreadstar monthly. Rather than an addition to the broader Dreadstar story, it seemed like a fun crossover of Starlin’s various characters as a bit of a treat for his longtime fans. Soon thereafter, Starlin was back at Marvel, writing and drawing new Thanos stories in a series of graphic novels – until his accident that seemed to end his drawing career. He continued working on Thanos stories with the art team of Alan Davis and Mark Farmer and seemed to bring his version of those characters to a conclusion. If I recall, there were some musings about doing more Dreadstar with another artist (and even one or two aborted efforts previously at a new Dreadstar comic by Starlin himself – one of which is included in the Dreadstar Guidebook that was published as part of the Kickstarter for Dreadstar Returns), but, instead, he discovered that he could, in fact, still draw.

Dreadstar Returns was both a return to familiar grounds with the characters looking like their most classic versions but it not only taking place after Starlin’s run but all of the Peter David-written material as well. Vanth and company are back in the galaxy that they had departed, which is run by the telepath Willow, whose consciousness has been merged with a giant computer. Vanth seems content working for this government to help free worlds from tyrants and bring them into Willow Consortium. The story opens with him slaughtering a tyrant king modeled after Donald Trump before being drawn into the real story: a dimensional void is slowly consuming the capital planet of the Consortium and, from within, can be heard a voice calling Willow’s name. Vanth, Oedi, a newly resurrected Willow, and Teuton go into the void to figure out what’s going on. After battling through constructs of old enemies, which gives Starlin an excuse to draw every old bad guy from the title, it’s revealed that the cause is Doctor Delphi, a thought-dead member of the group who was in love with Willow. His death actually resulted in him becoming the god of a pocket dimension and, with his newfound omnipotence (in that dimension), he has been watching over Willow and the rest of his old universe. He’s discovered a new threat, an incredibly power being he calls the Nameless that is dedicated to killing all other life in the universe and will kill Willow and the rest in the future. Delphi sacrifices himself (again) to warn them and give them the barest chance at survival.

Dreadstar vs. the Inevitable picks up there as plans are made to confront the Nameless and, hopefully, stop his path of destruction. This quest eventually involves teaming up with the Lord High Papal, once the primary antagonist of the title, and ends with a lengthy rumination on the necessity of COVID lockdowns. It’s an odd comic, one that never really delivers what you’d expect, but also fits into the larger body of Starlin’s work. I wouldn’t say that it’s good necessarily... definitely interesting. It’s left me, as I said at the beginning of this piece, pondering a question:

What is a Dreadstar comic?

I’ve long had the definition/running joke of DREADSTAR IS POWER! taken from the short story that ran in Epic Illustrated #15. From The Metamorphosis Odyssey on, the stories revolved around the idea of power in its various forms, from raw strength to the influence and control one may exert over an entire populace. Vanth Dreadstar has access to an energy he dubs The Power and always seeks to use it in the service of some idea of ‘good,’ usually against those that would use their power in ‘bad’ ways. The Nameless is presented as such a foe, using advanced technology and military skill to travel across the universe, destroying every inhabited planet that it encounters. In Dreadstar Returns, Delphi tells Willow the origin of the Nameless, the mightiest warrior on a planet that was born into a war that had lasted generations and, eventually, helped end it, but found himself the sole survivor. Having seen the destruction nature of people, his desire to live grew into an all-encompassing paranoia that meant that all other living beings must die to ensure his survival. It’s a bombastic overreaction that fits into a long line of Starlin threats, including the Lord High Papal. But, it also makes for a mirror version of Vanth.

Vanth grew up on an icy planet, constantly fighting, becoming a fantastic warrior until he discovered The Power in the form of a sword. Much like the Nameless, was the greatest warrior on his planet and desires an end to conflict. His experiences with massive genocide left him with a similar wish to be alone, away from everyone. Unlike the Nameless, that desire for solitude and survival only eventually gave way to love and, then, a desire to provide that state of peace to everyone. The Nameless’s path reflects the one taken by Aknaton where it’s better to destroy everything for the idea of peace, completely antithetical to everything Vanth stands for, a twisted mirror image of himself and the authority figure he hates the most. Surprisingly, Starlin doesn’t make these connections explicit, treating the Nameless merely as an incredibly powerful threat to be dealt with, leaving the Nameless almost as an abstract cosmic being rather than a fully fleshed out character like past enemies, like the Lord High Papal, who the Nameless recalls visually somewhat.

The Lord High Papal was the victim of prejudice as a child, the mixed-race son of a human and an unknown alien. An outsider, he grew up weak and abused by those around him, finding a path to power in the Instrumentality’s church. Eventually, he became the leader of the church, the most powerful being in the galaxy and tool of the Twelve Gods – their living weapon against the universe. His hatred of others led to a great power that he used to subjugate and oppress. His death at the hands of Vanth, eventual resurrection and, then, mentorship of Kalla, Vanth’s daughter, makes for a different version of the character in Dreadstar vs. the Inevitable. His inclusion in the comic is one of the early moments where I questioned Starlin’s approach. While Dreadstar has featured numerous characters changing alliances, the ease with which Vanth and Papal settle into a partnership feels off... and familiar.

Rather than the next step in these characters’ journeys, it reminded me of the relationship of Adam Warlock and Thanos. Papal’s characterisation was never far off from that of Thanos (nor his design) with the Twelve Gods of the Instrumentality replacing Mistress Death to an extent, but there were differences. The thirst for power as a means to rule rather than its own end was the largest one. Thanos’s goals were always smaller and more deeply personal, it seemed to me; Papal wanted safety and control. While both grew up as outsiders, set apart by physical appearances, Papal seemed more defined by those formative experiences than Thanos, particularly as Starlin kept writing the Titan. Post-Infinity Gauntlet, Thanos became a different sort of character and that existence continued when Starlin wrote him, up through the series of graphic novels from the past decade. He and Warlock entered into a unique relationship of respect, sometimes working together, sometimes against, but always with the sense that whatever personal animus may have existed was behind them. That’s the relationship of Vanth and Papal here, and it’s unsettling. There’s a little more bite to their interactions, a little more distrust, but it’s largely the same.

One moment, in particular, stood out that seemed to firmly place them into the pseudo-roles of Warlock and Thanos. As the two prepared to board the Nameless’s vessel, Papal addresses their past regarding Kalla and Dreadstar’s current relationship with Willow: “WE ARE BETTER SUITED TO A SOLITARY EXISTENCE. / OUR KIND WERE NEVER MEANT TO SIRE OFFSPRING... / ...NOR PARTAKE IN ANY OTHER KIND OF PERSONAL RELATIONSHIP. [...] AS POWERFUL AS SHE IS, THE WOMAN IS NOT OF THE SAME COSMIC STOCK AS YOU AND I.” That last phrase, in particular, is very reminiscent of the language used for Warlock and Thanos in the recent graphic novels where their status as unique cosmic beings was emphasised heavily. Starlin using the same language for Vanth and Papal is a hard to miss allusion. That isn’t necessarily a problem. I tend to appreciate the way that similar ideas turn up across the body of work by a writer. The original Dreadstar run contained many similarities to Starlin’s work before and after, both in the writing and the art. That was part of the fun when his various creator-owned characters all got together in ‘Breed III, seeing the similarities and differences. It’s always been the case. This feels different than that.

When the two eventually confront the Nameless, they find that he is a giant compared to them and is impervious to their most destructive, powerful attack. If their portrayal recalls Warlock and Thanos, the Nameless becomes something of a Galactus figure. It’s at this point that the story really feels less like a Dreadstar story and like an unwritten Thanos graphic novel repurposed. Everything that follows, from destroying the Nameless’s records of inhabited planets (depriving him of his Herald) to avoiding destruction by appearing uninhabited feels like a very Marvel/Galactus sort of story. Most Warlock/Thanos stories by Starlin are not resolved through direct conflict or physical violence – there’s reason and cleverness. Not that Dreadstar and Company were brainless dolts; Vanth Dreadstar tends to win through power. Dreadstar is power. It’s a running joke for me, yes – one rooted in an essential truth. Vanth Dreadstar is an anachronism, a warrior that thinks that enough violence will bring peace. The sad joke of the character is that he subscribes to the destroy the village to save it mindset of Aknaton while thinking that he doesn’t. That is part of this story, as well. When Papal prompts them to leave the Nameless’s ship after their failure to do even the minimum amount of harm, Vanth argues that they need to stay and fight. It’s the moment in the story that felt the most right, because that’s what he’s done so many times (and barely survived many times). It’s also a moment that renders Vanth Dreadstar unnecessary.

The rest of the story has them seem to survive the Nameless in a somewhat anticlimactic manner where a plan is put into place to have all of the worlds of the Willow Consortium use as little power as possible and do everything that they can to make it seem like the worlds are uninhabited, hoping that the Nameless, no longer in possession of his information on inhabited planets, will pass them by. It becomes a thin allegory for COVID lockdowns and the sorts that wouldn’t abide them. Starlin mocks the likes of Mitch McConnell and has one guy arrested for trying to turn on a giant electric sign to announce the gender of his unborn baby. Dreadstar and Company merely enforce the lockdown and it appears that it works. It leaves the two graphic novels in a place where it’s hard to tell what the point was entirely. They were stories that exist with no real drive, no real triumph for its seeming protagonist. While Dreadstar has always been an ensemble piece, to an extent, Vanth Dreadstar was always central (aside from the graphic novel The Price that preceded the ongoing series). Here, he no longer fits.

Two books in with two Kickstarter campaigns and it seems like a good place to ask if this return to Dreadstar makes sense. From the beginning, the conceit seemed a little contrived. Part a return to the familiar, while not ignoring anything that happened before. It reminds me, again, of Starlin’s Thanos graphic novels where, for the first time, he seemed to make an effort to incorporate and acknowledge the work of others on the characters. In his previous return to the characters, a decade earlier, he made a very explicit point of dismissing other Thanos stories as featuring clones, not the real character. In the graphic novels, a central plot point was giving us two versions of both Thanos and Warlock, one his and one the in-continuity Marvel, and finding a way to reconcile the differences. There’s no such effort here. Instead, things are much like you remember but everything that happened did, in fact, happen. Just because. Which is Starlin’s right. What’s lacking is a strong purpose.

What is a Dreadstar comic?

As I said, it’s about power. More than that, it’s about large powers in conflict, ones beyond the control of regular people. Governments, advanced civilisations, authority. It’s about noticing the power structures of the world, saying that things that people take for granted are wrong, and doing something to fix them. The Peter David run was rooted in subverting that idea where Dreadstar and Company think that they’re overthrowing a corrupt leader in favour of a wrongfully deposed, genial king. Instead, they were wrong and reinstall a brutal tyrant. The story that takes up these two volumes – and it is a single story, seemingly – isn’t about anything like that. It’s a cosmic godlike being warning them of impending doom and, then, trying to confront that external doom. Yes, that cosmic doom is powerful, so powerful that the combined might of Vanth Dreadstar and the Lord High Papal can’t even hurt it, let along destroy it. The Nameless is something beyond typical power structures – something from outside the system.

And I want to say that is another form of subverting the Dreadstar model. The COVID analogy that practically leaps off the page it’s so blatant is what it’s about. Something so big and unavoidable that it overwhelms existing power structures. Vanth Dreadstar is useless, because he’s useless. We all were. All we could do is submit to power structures and hope that their plans worked. And it feels wrong somehow, because it’s doing something by doing nothing. I’m not sure how much I believe in this argument. Or, better yet, how much that redeems these two books, particularly the newest one. Does it make them more enjoyable? No. More interesting? Perhaps. Does it answer the question of why Dreadstar? No.

I said it when Dreadstar Returns came out, but I find a joy in these comics that goes beyond the plot or characters. I’m still bowled over by how one of my favourite artists thought that his ability to draw was gone forever and, then, it wasn’t. These comics shouldn’t exist. In a large way, they’re about that. About pushing through and finding a way, where maybe the process is more important than the results. I like to imagine the joy that Starlin feels drawing these comics. I hope there is joy. Where maybe he returned to Vanth Dreadstar because, for a time, he thought he would never be able to, even if he never really planned to. Throw these characters back into mostly familiar roles and looks and just run with things. Maybe he doesn’t have anything to say about these characters and is just hoping he will. I think there is something there even if this one didn’t quite seem it.

There will be more Dreadstar graphic novels. The next one is titled Dreadstar vs. Dreadstar and deals with his daughter. Will that one make these two suddenly fall into place and make more sense? Maybe. I’m there, though.