Saturday Splash Page #111

"Trouble's Coming," in Suicide Squad #14, by John Ostrander (writer), Luke McDonnell (artist), Carl Gafford (colorist), Todd Klein (letterer)

Oh yeah, here's the good stuff. I was tempted to use the splash page from #13, as a mirror to the one I used for Justice League International, but if I;m going to talk about Suicide Squad, I have to talk about the Wall.

Ostrander created Amanda Waller, and despite rarely being directly involved in missions through the first 3 years of the book, she's always the gravitational force the book rotates around. It's her suggestion to Reagan to use incarcerated super-villains to handle jobs for which the U.S. government would prefer deniability. The Dirty Dozen, but with superpowers, essentially. A few recurring villains (and a few heroes to keep them under control), with others on both sides of the bars rotating in and out on an as-needed basis.

Waller's a wonderful character. She's atypical in her appearance, not just in being a black woman in a position of authority. She's short and wide, but in no way a comedy sidekick. She's an older woman,, with grown children and a murdered husband, and it shows in her face. She's got lines and wrinkles, she's been through some shit. 

But beyond that, she a character that both truly believes Task Force X is a good concept that can do valuable work to protect the world, while being motivated by the desire to have power that will grant her control over things. She's principled enough to object to the Squad being used to rescue an imprisoned dissident Soviet author (who, it turns out, doesn't want to be rescued), but also ruthless (she would no doubt argue pragmatic) enough to turn her back on rescuing Nemesis when he's caught by the Soviets during that mission. Or to publicly stand down as head of Task Force X after a congressional investigation, only to have her replacement be an actor who is merely the public face while she continues to run things from behind the scenes. She'll stare down Batman without blinking, but she can admit when she's in the wrong, assuming there's anyone around whose opinion she respects to point it out.

And that's the arc of the first 3 years of the book. Waller keeps grasping for power, keeps pushing for control, and it gradually burns out all the people who act as a check on her. It's hard work to push back against a relentless Wall every day. And as those people - Dr. LeGrieve, Nemesis, Nightshade, Rick Flag - depart in one form or the other, Waller only plays her cards closer to the vest, only grasps even further, too sure she's got it all under control because there's no one pointing out she doesn't. And it all blows up in a 3-issue arc where most of the Squad ends up on Apokolips, which is not a good place for them.

It isn't all grim, however. Ostrander works in humor here and there. The addition of Dr. Light, when he was still a walking punchline, or Punch and Jewlee and their oddball married couple routine. Reverend Craemer, as an outsider, is able to make observations with a dry wit. Captain Boomerang is, as Dave's Long Box once noted, a complete and utter dick. Which makes it fun when his scheme of committing crimes as Mirror Master leads to his being pranked by the entire prison. The mystery of the Pie Thrower, who manages to get even Lois Lane at one point 

(Ostrander doesn't bring in the A-listers much, but it makes sense when he does. Batman would object to criminals being released early. Lois Lane would absolutely dig into something like Task Force X. Pity we didn't see Lois and Waller clash more.)

Luke McDonnell is the series artist for the first two years, and parts of the third year. The series doesn't lend itself to some of the larger spectacle that his time on Justice League of America with Gerry Conway did, so the skills he showed there doesn't get much run. The battles are smaller scale, fought uglier, dirtier. The art is usually less flashy, the characters drawn with less exaggerated physiques, the  colors less eye-catching. Boomerang kills a super-speedster in the opening arc by stunning him with a boomerang to the back of the head, then simply kicking him off the roof in a tall narrow panel McDonnell does in shadow.

He gets to cut loose occasionally. The back half of the issue that splash page is from involves the Squad traveling to another dimension to rescue Nightshade's brother. There are some freaky temples and shadow monsters in those issues, as well as some nice work in panels where some sorcerer guy is burned up and shattered from within right in front of them. The main cast still look the same, not too dynamic, typically overwhelmed or dwarfed by what they're up against, but the surroundings are a far cry from the usual setting. After that, they wind up in an entirely different place and encounter Shade, the Changing Man, who hangs around for the next 20+ issues.

But that's one of the fun things about Suicide Squad. Amid the late-stage Cold War struggle and Islamic terrorism-related threats, you'd get arcs where they end up in another dimension, or discrediting some white supremacist who's trying a Robin Hood shtick.

Sunday Splash Page #288

 

"Big Talk," in Justice League of America #252, by Gerry Conway (writer), Luke McDonnell (penciler), Bill Wray (inker), Gene D'Angelo (colorist), Albert De Guzman (letterer)

The only other issues of Justice League of America I own are the three issues for the Detroit League throwing down against Despero. I bought them mostly because I was curious about the specifics of the fight, since when Despero returned in Justice League International, he was hellbent on revenge against the Leaguers that took him down.

Beyond that, I pretty much knew this era from all the negative talk about it online. That it was a case of Gerry Conway trying too hard to make the Justice League like the X-Men, complete with giving them a sort of Danger Room for training. That the new characters didn't belong in the Justice League. I guess there's less of a feeling that the b-listers can have a place there than in the Avengers.

It doesn't help that it's a team pulled together by Aquaman, and then he left the book (for reasons I'm unaware of and indifferent to). When the ostensible mind behind it doesn't stick around, not a good look. And it leaves the roster with Martian Manhunter and then. . .well is Zatanna or Elongated Man the bigger name in 1986? 

(Although Batman is in this arc, but I don't have the impression that was a regular thing. Batman's like a cat. He decides he wants to be involved, so he jumps in your lap and insists on being included. It's weird to see him go on a date with Vixen as Bruce Wayne. Different era, I know, and Mari McCabe's a well-known model, so not weird for her to be around a billionaire playboy, but seeing Batman that casual with a teammate was unexpected.)

The story itself is alright. It doesn't seem like such a terrible defeat, but Conway establishes Despero shows up wanting revenge on the original League that defeated him, and decided killing the current version was good enough. So him coming back from this loss and doing essentially the same thing is at least consistent.

I don't think Luke McDonnell's really the best artist for a Justice League book. Despero looks alright, and some of the large establishing shot pages are good, but the action isn't very dynamic. The characters don't look impressive. Which, if this was supposed to be demonstrating that a Justice League comprised of more mortal and less gods (2nd-stringers instead of 1st-stringers) can still do the job, then I guess it's a good choice. But you could probably make the characters themselves look almost ordinary, but what they're doing look more explosive than comes across here.

Most of the new characters didn't have much staying power. Vibe got killed, although Geoff Johns tried making him a thing again in the New 52. Steel was basically dead, then john Henry Irons got the codename and was much cooler, and then Johns introduced a new character, "Commander Steel", around the time JSA All-Stars was going. Gypsy, got back in the League eventually, but in the '90s, Extreme Justice rosters. Not exactly a high point, but she also got to be in some Birds of Prey arcs, which is probably better.

Vixen had the most success, since she ended up as one of the heroes keeping the super-crooks on the Suicide Squad in line, and even survived to the end. She's gotten to rejoin the Justice League at least once, albeit I think when Brad Meltzer was writing.

Sunday Splash Page #142

 

"Everybody's Looking Over His Shoulder," in Deadshot (vol. 1) #1, by John Ostrander and Kim Yale (writers), Luke McDonnell (artist), Julianna Ferritier (colorist), Tom Harkins (letterer) 

Released in the winter of 1988, this was Ostrander and Yale taking the chance to flesh out Deadshot's backstory and family history, to try and explain why he was how he was. Why is he so indifferent to his own life, or anyone else's? Besides the fact it makes him do cool stuff, I mean. In this first issue, he pretends to be for hire to get close to a drug lord named El Jefe, who stays on the move in airplanes constantly. When he points out one stray shot from Floyd will depressurize the cabin and kill everyone, including Lawton, Deadshot's response is "So?"

There's a great panel of the three guys around him with their jaws dropped right after that.

The real plot's kicked off by the abduction of Floyd's son. While Floyd heads off in pursuit, his therapist at Belle Reve, Marnie Herrs, tries to go digging into his past. Because she's become too attached and wants to save Floyd. Which gets her tangled in the twisted mess of loathing and backstabbing that is Floyd's parents' relationship. There's a lot in there about the two of them, and the social class they ran in, that apparently informs Floyd's perspective on relationships with women. There's also a lot about Floyd and his deceased older brother, Eddie. "Good" brother versus "bad", which I know Ostrander used as part of why Deadshot deliberately misses when he aims at Batman.

I would imagine a lot of it's hokum in any real psychological sense, but it makes interesting ground for writers to play in.

The fallout from this mini-series would come due in Suicide Squad at basically the same time, when Waller tells Deadshot to make sure Rick Flag doesn't kill a senator by any means necessary. Floyd's approach is. . . innovative? Or maybe just a valuable lesson for the Wall to better define her variables when it comes to Deadshot.

For a story about some damaged people trying to screw each other over because of petty grudges, McDonnell's art style is appropriate. It feels a bit like a proto-Sean Phillips. The characters aren't as gritty-looking, shadows aren't used as heavily, everyone's a bit neater, maybe more square, but no one looks glamorous, either. A lot of dumpy, out-of-shape guys and people carrying the years of holding grudges and trauma on their faces. There aren't many fantastic elements to the story, and so McDonnell doesn't make people look fantastic. Floyd's the only one running around in a costume once he gets on his own, and at the end of the day, he's just a crazy guy with guns strapped to his wrists.