By Travis Trombley | |
Bicker as fans may about which shared ‘superhero’ universe they prefer, few would contest DC Comics’ title of champion in the ring of standalone, self-analytical narratives. Among the established tradition of Watchmen, Dark Knight Returns, Kingdom Come, and Year One rests an entry more modern in copyright but older in sensibility: The New Frontier.
While lacking some of the more rigorous character depth found in other DC tours de force like DKR, with New Frontier author and illustrator Darwyn Cooke weaves a tapestry narrative from the individual threads of DC’s most famous characters spanning the Golden and Silver Ages of comics. And it’s a colorful, beautiful tapestry, indeed. Beautiful enough to win Eisner, Shuster, and Harvey Awards.
Capitalizing on some of the same authority anxieties that defined the aforementioned late 80s works, New Frontier transports readers back to a ‘60s when superheroes - now casualties of McCarthyism - either resigned to work with the government, retire, or operate as outlaws. But while we see Superman and Wonder Woman - two heroes who took the loyalty oath - debate their patriotic duties in a world more grey than red, white and blue, other adventures take center stage in the book’s first half. Many, many other adventures, in fact.
Young fighter pilot Hal Jordan - who’s resolved never to kill - is put in a life or death situation two hours after the end of the Korean War. New-to-Earth J’onn J’onzz takes the form of a detective to blend into and help his adopted planet. Rick Flag and his military-supported Task Force X protect the country from threats that would have otherwise been left to the costumed adventurers. A young, idealistic Barry Allen prevents an armed robbery at a party attended by Oliver Queen, Bruce Wayne, Lois Lane, Selina Kyle, and - at another table entirely - Hal Jordan and his pilot friend Ace, who eventually becomes the leader of an adventurer team known as the Challengers. Agent Faraday, when he’s not trying to apprehend costumed heroes like Flash, works with Ferris Air to plan a mission to Mars.
But serendipitous interactions alone do not unite these characters. The threat of something known as “the Centre” - which turns out to be a psychic entity in the guise of a floating island covered in dinosaurs (it sounds preposterous, but works so, so well) - generates a number of circumstances that ultimately bring together the world’s heroes - “super,” adventurer and military, alike.
While lacking some of the more rigorous character depth found in other DC tours de force like DKR, with New Frontier author and illustrator Darwyn Cooke weaves a tapestry narrative from the individual threads of DC’s most famous characters spanning the Golden and Silver Ages of comics. And it’s a colorful, beautiful tapestry, indeed. Beautiful enough to win Eisner, Shuster, and Harvey Awards.
Capitalizing on some of the same authority anxieties that defined the aforementioned late 80s works, New Frontier transports readers back to a ‘60s when superheroes - now casualties of McCarthyism - either resigned to work with the government, retire, or operate as outlaws. But while we see Superman and Wonder Woman - two heroes who took the loyalty oath - debate their patriotic duties in a world more grey than red, white and blue, other adventures take center stage in the book’s first half. Many, many other adventures, in fact.
Young fighter pilot Hal Jordan - who’s resolved never to kill - is put in a life or death situation two hours after the end of the Korean War. New-to-Earth J’onn J’onzz takes the form of a detective to blend into and help his adopted planet. Rick Flag and his military-supported Task Force X protect the country from threats that would have otherwise been left to the costumed adventurers. A young, idealistic Barry Allen prevents an armed robbery at a party attended by Oliver Queen, Bruce Wayne, Lois Lane, Selina Kyle, and - at another table entirely - Hal Jordan and his pilot friend Ace, who eventually becomes the leader of an adventurer team known as the Challengers. Agent Faraday, when he’s not trying to apprehend costumed heroes like Flash, works with Ferris Air to plan a mission to Mars.
But serendipitous interactions alone do not unite these characters. The threat of something known as “the Centre” - which turns out to be a psychic entity in the guise of a floating island covered in dinosaurs (it sounds preposterous, but works so, so well) - generates a number of circumstances that ultimately bring together the world’s heroes - “super,” adventurer and military, alike.
Don't mess with Wonder Woman - she's a force to be reckoned with in "New Frontier"
Each yarn is so skillfully strung and crossed with others that any more detailed synopsis would only confuse potential readers or give away details best left to Cooke’s storytelling prowess.
Across the two volumes that compose the story, Cooke builds the narrative from vignettes that effectively introduce character-level conflicts while simultaneously tying characters and events into the overarching fiction. The vast majority of these vignettes charm readers with typical ‘60s era dialogue and compelling character development - some are more thought provoking, some dark, some cynical and some funny. All build the story, at least thematically if not directly tied to the bigger plot.
As an example, Cooke occasionally takes a moment from the central plot to follow a black man in the American South who becomes a Punisher-esque vigilante after the KKK murders his family and leaves him hanging for dead. It’s a moving thread born and concluded by tragedy, all set to the Ballad of John Henry. It’s a brief revision of the character Steel that simultaneously reinforces the historical setting, adds a hint of darker tone, broadens the moral framework, and reflects how stories can shape our interpretation of experience and our behavior.
Cooke uses asides like this and a few Superman / Wonder Woman discussions to comment on the historically relevant issues from that era while simultaneously exploring - perhaps constructing - the complex moral ideology of his heroes. And there is a complexity here to be appreciated. To Cooke’s credit, these characters all grow throughout the course of the book, whether it’s Batman simply changing his costume and taking on a sidekick or Superman slowly learning to distinguish between a nation’s ideological foundation and its administration. Not all characters are round, but very few are static.
For example, Hal Jordan enters the Korean War unwilling to kill for a conflict he doesn’t believe in, yet when faced with a tragic circumstance of survival, he must kill. The decision haunts him throughout the book until, in the end, he adopts a more adaptive standard of morality: i.e., ‘not all killing is wrong, and I’m willing to shoulder the responsibility of that discernment.’
But Cooke’s real superpower - in the case of this book, at least - is providing a third act that is as fulfilling as it is action packed - that not only matches the quality of the preceding work, but neatly ties off each and every thread in a manner wholly deserving of their individual setups. The last half of the second volume is entirely devoted to the world’s faceoff against the Centre, and it reads with the same intensity of a Lord of the Rings battle. Heroes unite, overcome differences, face defeat after defeat until all seems lost, then unite once more in a last-ditch plan that forces collaboration, all recorded and commented on by the indefatigable Lois Lane.
It may sound formulaic, but it works. Cooke very believably combines the “masked” talents with those of more traditional adventurers and more formal military minds, forcing them into a situation that actually demands careful cooperation, a feat that rarely goes beyond the “let’s all shoot our powers at the bad guy at once” cliche used by many ensemble features (looking at you Justice League: War, X-Men: Age of Apocalypse, Age of Ultron).
Across the two volumes that compose the story, Cooke builds the narrative from vignettes that effectively introduce character-level conflicts while simultaneously tying characters and events into the overarching fiction. The vast majority of these vignettes charm readers with typical ‘60s era dialogue and compelling character development - some are more thought provoking, some dark, some cynical and some funny. All build the story, at least thematically if not directly tied to the bigger plot.
As an example, Cooke occasionally takes a moment from the central plot to follow a black man in the American South who becomes a Punisher-esque vigilante after the KKK murders his family and leaves him hanging for dead. It’s a moving thread born and concluded by tragedy, all set to the Ballad of John Henry. It’s a brief revision of the character Steel that simultaneously reinforces the historical setting, adds a hint of darker tone, broadens the moral framework, and reflects how stories can shape our interpretation of experience and our behavior.
Cooke uses asides like this and a few Superman / Wonder Woman discussions to comment on the historically relevant issues from that era while simultaneously exploring - perhaps constructing - the complex moral ideology of his heroes. And there is a complexity here to be appreciated. To Cooke’s credit, these characters all grow throughout the course of the book, whether it’s Batman simply changing his costume and taking on a sidekick or Superman slowly learning to distinguish between a nation’s ideological foundation and its administration. Not all characters are round, but very few are static.
For example, Hal Jordan enters the Korean War unwilling to kill for a conflict he doesn’t believe in, yet when faced with a tragic circumstance of survival, he must kill. The decision haunts him throughout the book until, in the end, he adopts a more adaptive standard of morality: i.e., ‘not all killing is wrong, and I’m willing to shoulder the responsibility of that discernment.’
But Cooke’s real superpower - in the case of this book, at least - is providing a third act that is as fulfilling as it is action packed - that not only matches the quality of the preceding work, but neatly ties off each and every thread in a manner wholly deserving of their individual setups. The last half of the second volume is entirely devoted to the world’s faceoff against the Centre, and it reads with the same intensity of a Lord of the Rings battle. Heroes unite, overcome differences, face defeat after defeat until all seems lost, then unite once more in a last-ditch plan that forces collaboration, all recorded and commented on by the indefatigable Lois Lane.
It may sound formulaic, but it works. Cooke very believably combines the “masked” talents with those of more traditional adventurers and more formal military minds, forcing them into a situation that actually demands careful cooperation, a feat that rarely goes beyond the “let’s all shoot our powers at the bad guy at once” cliche used by many ensemble features (looking at you Justice League: War, X-Men: Age of Apocalypse, Age of Ultron).
It’s all punctuated by an epilogue set to excerpts from JFK’s “New Frontier” speech. Cooke intertwines images of his heroes celebrating and working with images of evil, both of the comic ilk (Lex Luthor looking out over a factory obviously polluting the air and water, or Joker harassing Gotham) and a more realistic social type (a drinking fountain labeled “WHITE ONLY”). In doing so, Cooke ties the superhero narrative to the optimism of Kennedy’s administration and to the grander, justice-seeking American narrative overall. It’s a uniquely touching move that communicates the simple hope superheroes - to Cooke, at least - represent.
One particular panel tells says it all too well. It’s an image of a young black child reading a comic next to the gravestone of John Wilson, the aforementioned revision of Steel. Accompanied with a note about racial issues in America from Kennedy’s speech, it reads as hope for an equality to come, but on another level it shows the simple relationship between superhero stories, youth and grief in which Cooke believes - the idea that superheroes inspire us to make sense of the problem of pain by trying to make the world a better place.
It’s a naive, idealistic notion, but so are superheroes, afterall. Perhaps DC’s forthcoming Justice League film can tap into this hope to balance the cynical attempts at maturity by way of moral deconstruction seen in Dawn of Justice.
Due to my general lack of expertise in the arena of comic book illustration, I try to avoid such evaluations, but the art in this book so perfectly matches the tone of the narrative that any other talent would have been a disservice. Cooke loves the medium shot and its variations, reinforcing his focus on characters - especially character interactions - in this feature. Rendered in an animation style similar to old cartoons like Jonny Quest, Cooke’s illustrations - bolstered by David Stewart's colors and Jared K. Fletcher's lettering - of faces expertly communicate every emotion from fear to contempt, especially through use of dynamically expressive eyes and mouths.
In terms of action, Cooke’s use of lines (contrails, fire, simple movement tick marks) and depth allow for both scale and movement. He likes to pull the camera back for longer shots when things start roaring and exploding, which allows a number of characters to be in action at once. Additionally, not once did I skim over a confusing, jumbled panel or question what I was looking at or where the action was.
From the cartoonishly vibrant set pieces that recall the innocent adventures of Saturday mornings to the rippling folds on Barry’s Flash costume, the aesthetics proclaim a vibrancy of youth. They support the narrative’s thesis of these characters as - yes - inventions of imagination, but also as characters of an untainted, idealistic spirit.
One particular panel tells says it all too well. It’s an image of a young black child reading a comic next to the gravestone of John Wilson, the aforementioned revision of Steel. Accompanied with a note about racial issues in America from Kennedy’s speech, it reads as hope for an equality to come, but on another level it shows the simple relationship between superhero stories, youth and grief in which Cooke believes - the idea that superheroes inspire us to make sense of the problem of pain by trying to make the world a better place.
It’s a naive, idealistic notion, but so are superheroes, afterall. Perhaps DC’s forthcoming Justice League film can tap into this hope to balance the cynical attempts at maturity by way of moral deconstruction seen in Dawn of Justice.
Due to my general lack of expertise in the arena of comic book illustration, I try to avoid such evaluations, but the art in this book so perfectly matches the tone of the narrative that any other talent would have been a disservice. Cooke loves the medium shot and its variations, reinforcing his focus on characters - especially character interactions - in this feature. Rendered in an animation style similar to old cartoons like Jonny Quest, Cooke’s illustrations - bolstered by David Stewart's colors and Jared K. Fletcher's lettering - of faces expertly communicate every emotion from fear to contempt, especially through use of dynamically expressive eyes and mouths.
In terms of action, Cooke’s use of lines (contrails, fire, simple movement tick marks) and depth allow for both scale and movement. He likes to pull the camera back for longer shots when things start roaring and exploding, which allows a number of characters to be in action at once. Additionally, not once did I skim over a confusing, jumbled panel or question what I was looking at or where the action was.
From the cartoonishly vibrant set pieces that recall the innocent adventures of Saturday mornings to the rippling folds on Barry’s Flash costume, the aesthetics proclaim a vibrancy of youth. They support the narrative’s thesis of these characters as - yes - inventions of imagination, but also as characters of an untainted, idealistic spirit.
Look at those wide eyes and subtly bitten lip. This Lois is clearly holding back tears.
And on the note of character fidelity, it’s worth stating that none of Cooke’s renditions of the characters feels disingenuous or off. In fact, some lines are so perfect that one can’t imagine a character having not said such a thing before. One that stands out in particular is Batman’s threat to J’onn: “I've been watching you, Mister Jones. I know all about you. Except where you come from. My instincts tell me you’re to be trusted, but no make no mistake -- It took a seventy-thousand dollar sliver of meteor to stop the one in Metropolis. With you. All I need is a penny for a book of matches.” It’s a perfectly “Batman” line: deference to instinct and benefit of doubt, then implied threat.
Speaking of Batman, however, it’s worth noting that DC’s heavy hitters Bats and Supes take a backseat here, especially for the climax. Compared to the recent Justice League: Origin (or the animated version Justice League: War) in which Superman is the key to victory, here he makes a speech and then disappears, only to return once the fight is won, and Batman doesn’t even join the final bout. Instead, J’onn and Hal take the limelight, permitting readers access to the narrative by wahy of fledgling heroes who have room to develop.
If there’s any qualm to be had with this arc, it’s Cooke’s unapologetically left-leaning political bias. McCarthy is a superhero-hating monster and Nixon an “oaf.” The power-hungry right-wing government and its military-industrial complex is a strawman easily blown over in the fallout wind of a Superman flyby. Given the nuance Cooke applied to the heroes of the book, it’s a shame he didn’t afford political ideologies the same complexity. Fortunately this reduction doesn’t steal much panel time.
If this summer’s Batman v Superman film wanted to deconstruct these heroes to show viewers that nobody can save a farm without drowning some horses, New Frontier counters - perhaps naively - that by working together, these heroes can save the farm and the horses and still have time to get cats down from trees. In New Frontier, the heroes personify hope by way of effort, not quasi-divine nature.
For fans of the superhero genre, I can’t recommend this book enough. Or, if you prefer, the animated film adaptation, which encapsulates the book’s tone and themes but cuts some content, is also very much worth watching.
Sadly, Cooke lost his battle with an aggressive form of lung cancer earlier this year, but his magnum opus lives on, and with it his idealistic hope in humanity - a hope that he embodied in DC’s most famous icons.
Read it.
Speaking of Batman, however, it’s worth noting that DC’s heavy hitters Bats and Supes take a backseat here, especially for the climax. Compared to the recent Justice League: Origin (or the animated version Justice League: War) in which Superman is the key to victory, here he makes a speech and then disappears, only to return once the fight is won, and Batman doesn’t even join the final bout. Instead, J’onn and Hal take the limelight, permitting readers access to the narrative by wahy of fledgling heroes who have room to develop.
If there’s any qualm to be had with this arc, it’s Cooke’s unapologetically left-leaning political bias. McCarthy is a superhero-hating monster and Nixon an “oaf.” The power-hungry right-wing government and its military-industrial complex is a strawman easily blown over in the fallout wind of a Superman flyby. Given the nuance Cooke applied to the heroes of the book, it’s a shame he didn’t afford political ideologies the same complexity. Fortunately this reduction doesn’t steal much panel time.
If this summer’s Batman v Superman film wanted to deconstruct these heroes to show viewers that nobody can save a farm without drowning some horses, New Frontier counters - perhaps naively - that by working together, these heroes can save the farm and the horses and still have time to get cats down from trees. In New Frontier, the heroes personify hope by way of effort, not quasi-divine nature.
For fans of the superhero genre, I can’t recommend this book enough. Or, if you prefer, the animated film adaptation, which encapsulates the book’s tone and themes but cuts some content, is also very much worth watching.
Sadly, Cooke lost his battle with an aggressive form of lung cancer earlier this year, but his magnum opus lives on, and with it his idealistic hope in humanity - a hope that he embodied in DC’s most famous icons.
Read it.
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