Wednesday, 12 November 2008

SpaceSquid vs. The X-Men #9: Fatal Exorcist

During my thorough and entirely deserved kicking of Jean Grey I pointed out that while some of the blame for her truly feeble character development through the years could be pinned on the awful treatment she received at the hands of her Sixties writers, it wasn't really the whole picture. Yes, it was a hard time to be a woman in comics, even if most of the writers could (generously) be said to have had the best of intentions, but many other super-heroines created in that period (and it's not like the male heroes back there were particularly fascinating character studies either) went on to become far more complex and interesting than their humble origins would suggest.

In particular, I referenced Polaris as an example of how far one could develop such vacuous non-characters, given time and effort. Certainly, to compare Polaris and Jean Grey these days (ignoring the rather inconvenient fact that Grey is dead, or at least I think she is), it isn't immediately apparent that forty years ago one could only distinguish them by powers, costume and hair colour.

That's something of an oversimplification, though. Whilst Polaris has been redefined many times over the years (though she rarely redefines herself, and more on that later), and far more completely than Grey (whose occasional lapses are generally retconned), studying her history makes it clear that it took at least thirty years for any meaningful change to come about, and that until that happened, Polaris was actually far worse served as a character than Jean Grey was.

As mentioned in my article on her, Grey spends more time in the original X-Men run as a damsel in distress than I was entirely comfortable with. Despite this, though, and despite her shopping obsession and her truly vomit-inducing puppy love for Cyclops, even through those early days she does at least show signs of becoming the strong-but-caring woman that was mistaken for good female characterisation until at least the Nineties (and probably later). Polaris, by contrast, is pretty much the damsel in distress and nothing else.

We first meet Lorna Dane whilst she is under the influence of the hypnotist Mesmero (himself working for a robot he believed to be Magneto; long story), who only avoids being run over (hypnotised people apparently not understanding how to cross a road, making the whole "collect mutants" plan a bit of a bust from the get-go) when Bobby Drake pulls her out of harm's way. Clearly thinking with the wrong head, Drake brings Dane back to the mansion so she can coalesce, risking the security of the X-Men in the process [1]. It then turns out that Lorna has her own secret, along with the worst hair-dye on the planet, when a shower reveals that her tresses are in fact bright green.

There is little time to process this before Mesmero attacks the mansion, and Lorna is captured (along with Iceman). This is something of a repeated theme in Lorna's life. Up until she joins X-Factor in 1991, some 23 years since her first appearance (and thus around four comic years), it seems every storyline she is involved has her at the mercy of some enemy or other. This is particularly egregious in the early days. First she joins "Magneto" following her abduction by Mesmero, apparently due to a combination of believing herself to be Magneto's daughter[2] and a person's innate desire for power. Beast goes so far as to suggest this is a combination that would force her to take Magneto's side, which seems a somewhat unenlightened position for McCoy to take. The next time she ends up in trouble (having, probably wisely, concluded that the life of a super-heroine probably wasn't for her) it's when Sentinels attack her apartment, and she simply goes into shock. Jean might have gotten herself abducted a little too frequently, but at least she gave some vague impression of fighting back.

It is while a prisoner of the Sentinels that Polaris meets Havok, a man with whom she spends almost the entirety of her comic history. The pair return to the mansion and join the team as reserve members, much to Iceman's disgust, as he believes he had first shout (or dibs, or whatever expression you want to use for the ridiculous notion that there exists some kind of rigid etiquette to love). Inevitably the two come to blows, eventually leading to Iceman being injured and Havok leaving in shame. Xavier sends Lorna after him, hoping she can persuade him to return. This she manages, though only through the somewhat unusual method of being captured by the Hulk and needing to be rescued by Havok. The two don't even make it home before they are both imprisoned by the Secret Empire. The other X-Men don't even search for them, assuming Polaris was too rubbish to either tempt Havok back or remember to phone them to tell them she had failed.

Are we seeing a pattern yet? It would be tempting to pile on the accusations of accidental sexism, but that would be unfair, at least in part. Polaris' problem was that her character was totally unnecessary within the group. Her magnetic powers at this point were not all that much more impressive than Marvel Girl's telekinesis, with the added problem of only working on metal [3]. Beyond that, she was just another woman on the team, without anything more specific to recommend her. I've read most of Polaris' original appearances in the black and white Essential Classic X-Men series, and it's remarkable how difficult it is to tell the two women apart without their hair colours making it obvious. The best bet is to see who's fighting over her in any given panel, which implies that Lorna suffers from the same problem Jean does, she promotes conflict in other characters rather than having one within herself. Only the way this problem is dealt with particularly distinguishes the two at this stage.

With Polaris, there seem to be three options. Firstly, get rid of her. Lorna repeatedly drops out of the X-books, citing her education (she and Havok apparently have a sideline in geophysics), a desire to escape the superhero life, or an attempt to recover from the latest in an apparently endless series of traumas.

The second option is to have her captured, or possessed. This too is a recurring theme. The next time we see Polaris after the Krakoa incident[4] both she and Havok are under the control of a Shi'ar agent, who attempts to use them to stop Xavier meeting Lilandra. Proteus attempts to control her not long afterwards, and next it's Malice's turn. Malice, one of Mr Sinister's marauders, possesses Polaris for so long that the two become permanently bonded, seeming removing Lorna from the equation indefinitely. Ultimately Polaris only regains control when Malice herself is captured by Zaladane in the Savage Land. Malice is thrown from her host body, but Zaladane steals Polaris' magnetic powers.

This leads us to the third method for attempting to do something useful with Polaris; mess around with her powers. For reasons that aren't entirely clear, Lorna escapes the Savage Land with a new power, the ability to feed off surrounding negative emotions and convert them into mass and strength. This, whilst in some ways just making her a poor substitute for Colossus instead of a poor substitute for Phoenix, does at least keep her going until she is once again captured, this time by Legion (who himself is possessed by the Shadow King), and used as a battery for captured negative emotion (by now we have learned that she induces negativity as well as absorbing it).

In the resulting fight, the X-Men and X-Factor join forces to defeat the Shadow King, and Lorna regains her powers. In the wake of this, she joins a new iteration of X-Factor as a government-sanctioned mutant team. It is now, at long last, in 1991, that someone (namely Peter David) puts some effort into defining Polaris as an actual character. Realising that this post would require me to read some of his early X-Factor run was a genuine pleasure. The '91 reboot represents some of the best writing of the era, at least where Marvel was concerned.

One day there might be time to discuss David's run in more general terms (it's certainly worthy of study), but for now the key point is that David made Polaris into an actual person. The consequences of Lorna's low self-confidence and repeated external manipulation finally began to make themselves felt. She is referred to a psychologist, but refuses to speak, seeing his attempts to "get in her head" as one more act of mental violation. Eventually, though, he allows her to come to terms with herself, in addition to persuading her that she may be borderline anorexic.

This, at last, is the beginning of a genuine character. I've spoken before about the fact that the "flawed hero" archetype usually relies on a very narrow field of potential flaws, usually a dark past, torturous present, or a temperament unsuited for beating up super villains without killing them. Polaris tries to be a hero despite her low self-esteem and resulting extreme weight-loss. For all her fear of both recommitting to Alex and of losing him, and her conviction that she is unworthy of her role in X-Factor, she pushes it aside when it comes to the crunch. As time passes she begins to build her esteem, and becomes the moral backbone of the group. Now at last, she is strong and compassionate because she has overcome her demons, not simply because it's the accepted template for comic book heroines.

Naturally, this state of affairs couldn't last. Later stories (post-David) had her once more melt into Havok's shadow, needing him to save her from repossession by Malice, and freaking out totally when he leaves her (actually part of a plan by Dark Beast, which was part of a plan by Onslaught, which was then built upon by a plan of Havok's, it all gets very confusing). By the time Polaris returns to the X-Men following X-Factor's cancellation and Alex's apparent death (he actually just changes dimensions for a while), she is as helpless and pathetic as ever, running scared from a team of Skrulls that are tailing her when she should be beating the extra-terrestrial crap out of them. Her decision to join Magneto in ruling over Genosha (given to him by the United Nations in exchange for him not destroying all electronic equipment on the planet) at least shows some steel [5], but we quickly learn her motivation was simply to learn the truth about Magneto's relationship to her. No sooner has she learned that he is indeed her father, then the Sentinels of Cassandra Nova attack, all but annihilating the entire Genoshan population.

I mentioned some weeks ago that whilst Polaris' development as a character was undeniably significant, it was also cynical in the extreme. It is from this point on that this charge becomes applicable. The dual shock of discovering her father's identity and the massacre of millions of mutants changes her forever. The first change is entirely welcome, to the reader if not her colleagues: the murder of so many fellow mutants persuades her that Magneto was right all along, in terms of general philosophy if not necessarily in each individual terrorist act. With Magneto dead, she takes his place, finding herself comfortable in the role as his daughter and his successor, leader of the battered remnants of his country.

If they had left it there, everything might have been OK. The idea that even one as devoted to Xavier's dream as Lorna could turn 180 degrees in the wake of such tragedy is a powerful one (the real world parallels need not be named), and it gave her a mission and a purpose that she had always lacked. This, though, required that Magneto stayed dead (which he absolutely, absolutely should have, for so many reasons), which was never particularly likely.

Instead, Polaris returns to the X-Men to find Alex alive, though in a comatose state. At this point she switches into full-on Fatal Attraction mode, threatening Alex's nurse Annie with magnetically-controlled scalpels, taking every advantage to criticise and belittle her, and basically act like a total bitch. When Alex finally awakens, Lorna begs him to marry her, a rather sad proposal that the rest of the X-Men treat as a done deal before Alex has a chance to respond. It's all bound to end in tears (though it does lead to a sequence with a stag-night shape-changing stripper that's probably the funniest scene UXM has yet produced) since Alex has fallen for his nurse (her mutant son has been setting them up on psychic dates while Havok was comatose, which is one of the freakier things I've heard of). Waiting until the ceremony to confess this (Havok being, essentially, a douche) he sets Polaris off on a murderous rampage.

This is where we get into trouble. Dealing with Lorna's trauma over the Genosha incident by having her change her political philosophy and embrace her father's legacy made total sense. Watching someone who has been, on and off, a super-heroine since the late Sixties become essentially a terrorist sympathiser and even backer probably upsets a lot of fans (it bugged me a little too, though mainly because of how I remembered her from X-Factor back in the mid Nineties), but it was a logical progression that breathed new life into the character. But have her try to kill all her mates because she's been dumped at the altar? Sheesh. I get the argument: that this was just the straw that broke the camel's back, but having a genocide survivor finally snap because her wedding has been cancelled (a wedding, by the way, that she was very clear about being a sensible move rather than a heartfelt or passionate one) is nothing short of pathetic.

In the issues since then, she has lost her powers again due to M-Day, once again becoming whiny and useless and entirely defined by Havok (who now loves her again, did I mention he's a douche?) before being captured (hooray for tradition) by Apocalypse and converted into Pestilence.

Ultimately this bonding gave her back her powers, and she has both forgiven Havok and possibly restarted their relationship (it's hard to tell, they're in space now), but she still seems to oscillate between the unforgivably wet whining Lorna of the Sixties; the raging, directionless psychopath of the new millennium; and the pointless Jean Grey clone she seemed to be at more or less every point in between.

For God's sake, Marvel, give her back to Peter David. He's even writing X-Factor again.

Next time, we take a look at Havok, the final X-Men from the Sixties (that'll make seven years already dealt with; and they said this couldn't be done), and discuss the problems inherent in being a younger sibling to an apparent golden boy, and also to have powers which are rubbish and keep going crazy.

[1] Though since she actually sees Beast and he just tells her he's off to a costume party (in the middle of the day, natch), she's clearly too outrageously stupid to be of any real threat to the operation's secrecy.

[2] This, of course, is true, but complicated. Since Magneto had an affair with Lorna's mother, and later apparently killed both her and her husband in a plane crash, the truth wasn't actually known by Lorna's adopted parents (actually her "paternal" aunt and uncle), hence the "reveal" in UXM 52 that Lorna and Magneto weren't related), leading them to debunk the tale that, years later, turned out to be true.

[3] It's worth noting that Polaris' similarities to Marvel Girl is somewhat echoed by Havok's similarities to his brother (this at least makes somewhat more sense). I don't think it surprising at all that neither character remained with the X-Men for particularly long.

[4] The battle in Giant X-Men that led to the changeover between the original team and the Seventies recruits that re-energised the comic, and ultimately turned it into a franchise. It was also the crisis that led to Phoenix removing the mental blocks Polaris had apparently subconsciously erected to limit her powers. Apparently otherwise there would have been a very real chance of her achieving something.


[5] And some pleasing moral flexibility, too. Magneto loses his access to his powers in his attempt to shut down the world's machines, and only close proximity to Polaris allows him to regain his abilities. Had Polaris refused to join him, it is likely that his rule over Genosha would have been short-lived in the extreme.

Tuesday, 11 November 2008

If Only Someone Else Read For Him

If you can get past the overblown language and Olbermann's tendency towards histrionics, this is about as good an attack on Proposition 8 I've heard so far.

Monday, 10 November 2008

What He Said

Since he's pretty much my role model in any case, I'll let Charlie Brooker sum up on post-election disbelief. Hopefully this will be the end of it for a while, and I can find something else to bang on about.

(Best line, by the way:
Jesus, guys, why not just change your name to the Bastard Party and march around in long black capes? Vote for us, we're openly despicable.
Needless to say, he's describing the Republican campaign.

Also, make sure you stick around for the zombies).

Sunday, 9 November 2008

No Respect For The Dead

SpaceSquid and C are changing following their calisthenics programme, which is very manly and makes women love them. Our awesome masculinity is marred, however, by the sudden arrival of rubbishy classical music.

SS: Why the Hell are they piping this crap through in here?

C: You have an objection to Handel?

SS: I'm just uncomfortable listening to him while I take my clothes off. I feel like I'm in a Stanley Kubrik film.

C: You have an objection to Kubrick too?

SS: Are you kidding? If I end up in his oeuvre I'll be bored senseless, and possibly hacked up with an axe.

C: Maybe the axing will come as some sort of relief. Unless Kubrik does ghosts. Does Kubrik do ghosts?

SS: In The Shining, yeah. I like that you didn't know that but you haven't questioned that whole axe thing. What's your point?

C: That you'll spend eternity haunting a Kubrik film.

SS: Ah, Christ; you're right. I hope it's Full Metal Jacket. That's only half total shit.

C: I couldn't interest you in 2001? You could freak out the apes.

SS: Pffft. I can't help thinking prehistoric primates wouldn't fully appreciate the terror of being visited by a furious ghost from the distant future.

C: Erm, the orgy scene in Eyes Wide Shut?

SS: Sigh. I guess that's the best I can hope for. Sold.

Saturday, 8 November 2008

I Weep For Today's Youth

Important work on my thesis (that I was totally doing and in no way playing Krakout whilst thinking about chicks) was interrupted yesterday by Josephus arriving with an urgent question. It's always flattering to be asked for advice by my junior colleagues, so I was glad to help.
"What can I do for you?" I asked in my most friendly and yet patronising tone.
"What the accepted procedure if an undergraduate signs off his homework with a picture of a penis?" Josephus replied.

Now, this is a difficult question. We have yet to write the paragraph of departmental policy that deals with representations of male genitalia, so a certain amount of improvisation is required. More importantly, though, it raises a number of important and yet disturbing questions. Some wished to know whether the image was a self-portrait (obviously I don't have the ability to recognise undergraduates purely by their naughty rods, though if it that was the artists' own attributes I'm not sure they were worth advertising). Others demanded to know whether the penis was worth anything without the working out, even if it was the answer to using trigonometry to prove the triangle inequality.

Mainly, though, I just want to know how someone can be admitted to one of the foremost mathematics departments in the country and still be unable to resist the urge to draw phalli about the place with idiotic abandon?

Friday, 7 November 2008

Culture Report With SpaceSquid

Went to see Chess last night, and am happy to report that I enjoyed myself immensely (even though they were all young and pretty and could sing and dance and thus I hate them and everything they stand for).

It was interesting to see some of the changes that had been worked in. It's not clear how much of this was specifically done by the troupe themselves (a few new song lines were sufficiently clunky to suggest Tim Rice was either not involved, or really bored that day), and how much of it was down to the bastardised hybrid that arose from the ashes of the West End and Broadway versions. Given the amount of time I wasted explaining why Chess is total genius, though, I figured I would mention how some of the changes affect the story.

The most interesting addition is a counterpart to Molokov, an equally scheming and jingoistic American whose name I don't remember but was something like De Corsi. This has the advantage of symmetry (I mentioned last time round that we didn't see enough of the American half of the Cold War rhetoric), and frees up the American from the political wrangling that was never really that convincing (sure, he wants Florence back and his former opponent to lose, but joining the Russians in their meta-game never entirely sat right). On the other hand, though, it sidelines the American in the second act, he simply becomes a washed-up player that no-one respects. His only real contribution to the proceedings post-interval is to let the Russian know of a potential flaw in Vitaly's game, which will allow the Russian to win.

This is bad for two reasons. First, the entire point of the American's character is that chess is the means by which he wins respect and adoration. The game itself is completely irrelevant. He as much as admits this when he describes the child he once was: "He could have all he ever wanted if he's prepared to pay". Chess isn't fun for him, it's the necessary payment for what he needs. Having some 11th hour revelation that chess is all that matters [1] completely violates that idea.

The other problem is that this idea weakens the Russian. For the Russian chess is important. It's critical. His only real ambition is to prove himself the best at the game he loves. When he defects to the West at the end of the first act, there is no suggestion that this is an ideological move (he admits he has no time for anything so petty as nationality), so much as the desire to escape the party men who constantly attempted to inject politics into his playing. In the original, there was never any doubt that he could defeat Vitaly, the choice was entirely his as to whether he would win for himself, or lose for Florence. You lessen that through the implication that he needed help.

Going back to the American for a moment, the poor guy was fairly badly done to throughout. The original character was fascinating, with insufferable arrogance and bellicose invective shielding low self-esteem and his desperate desire to be loved. His dismissive attitude towards and yet total reliance on Florence is part of that. No admission of his insecurity can be made without it being preceded by rage, and is inevitably shot through with self-justification. The man is a horrible mess of drives and needs and fears and self-hatred, and listening to him unravel over the second CD of the original album is genuinely affecting. In last night's show, though, he was almost one-dimensional, whining and ineffectual from the beginning. He was impossible to sympathise with, a great shame when making you feel for the guy was one of the triumphs of the original.

Finally, as predicted, the ending was somewhat less miserable than it once was, though still pretty morose. The only really important change is that having won, the Russian returns to the USSR, ensuring the Russians will give Florence what she wanted. I guess the idea is to show that whilst the Russian would never choose anything above his own success, he genuinely did love Florence enough to sacrifice himself once his victory was complete. The degree to which we should expect Florence to feel satisfied by this is debatable.

Anyway, if nothing else, if you get the chance to catch a musical at the Gala Theatre in Durham, I can recommend it. Them kids can sing.

[1] He also implies that he's the only person in the entire competition who seems to care about the game itself, which is both pretty laughable given his previous behaviour and another example of this particular version of the show constantly ramming home what is supposed to be subtext (however obvious): there are games within games within games. At various points all the main characters actually move as though puppets, controlled from above by the Chess Federation President, who herself moves like a terrifying clockwork mannequin. See what they've done? Everyone is being played, everything is a game, all of us are puppets. As though that wasn't obvious from the story already. Mind you, every time I complain something is depressingly obvious I find someone who didn't pick up on it (several of the people who came to see the show with me couldn't work out what the Hell that crazy spasming woman was doing. "Does she have some kind of degenerative disease?").

Update: I should also mention that it was good to see this performed without any eighties hair to distract me:

Time To Spare

Apologies to R and Tom for not having celebrated their birthdays here yet; it's been a hell of a week.

Here, then, somewhat belatedly, is a video for R, one of my favourite moments from one of my favourite shows.



And here is something for Tom. This choice is a little less obvious, I mainly went for it a) because it's an awesome song, and b) my perverse internal i-Pod chose this as the soundtrack for watching Tom marry the delectable K.



Good work on still being alive, you guys. Keep that up.