Sun Oct 23, 2016
Just by looking at the title, I can tell that issue 18 from the 1973 run of Shazam! (the first DC title with Captain Marvel/Shazam after acquiring Fawcett’s characters) is going to be amazing: Captain Marvel is lifting up part of a house while asking, “Who called me for help?” In response, a frog—held in someone’s hand—replies, “*Ribit* I did!”
Meanwhile, in a note at the bottom right corner, we get a hint of what the issue will involve: “The celebrated talking frog of Blackstone Forest!”
I’m sold.
Shazam! issue 018
It’s also worth noting that, like Doctor Strange (covered briefly in my previous review, I am a big fan of Captain Marvel—it’s difficult for me to refer to him as Shazam, even if DC has since retconned the character’s name. Grant Morrison, in his book Supergods, describes the appeal in this way: “Captain Marvel’s power came not from years in the gym or from his alien biology or his royal blood. His power came from a spell. He was a magician” (from ch. 2). That is, it’s highly unlikely the average comic reader is secretly an orphan from an alien world or heir to a billion-dollar empire. But anyone, anyone at all, can turn down the wrong street corner and discover a magic word that will transform them into Captain Marvel.
On a related note, it may be unsurprising that the depiction of Captain Marvel in Kingdom Come speaks powerfully to me, as grownup Billy Batson has never really emotionally matured (although he never got the chance to, in this story), has been lied to/corrupted/twisted by dark forces, but who nonetheless redeems himself to help everyone when it’s necessary. Maybe it’s the former Catholic in me speaking, but … how is that not an incredible fate towards which to aspire?
Anyway, let’s open this issue up and check out the story.
Page 1 reminds me that I forgot about one of the greatest comic characters ever: TAWKY TAWNY, a talking bipedal tiger who wears suits (in the ‘70s, these were terrible plaid suits with floral ties) and hangs out with the Marvel family. He has no super-powers or remarkable skills, other than possessing opposable thumbs so as to get dressed. No one bats an eye at his existence. This is the greatness of comic books distilled into a character.
A related demonstration of comics greatness is in Dr. Kilowatt’s “Brain-o-meter,” an intelligence-measuring device employed to check the smarts of the talking frog found by Tawny in the woods. (Of course, the frog only talks to Tawny, in a move that’s a clear ripoff of both the racist Warner Bros. dancing & singing frog cartoon and the fairy tale about the frog prince.)
By the way, we’re only 1⁄4 into this comic. Luckily, the plot amps up as RUSSIAN SPIES are brought in to “frog-nap” the talking frog to learn how they might improve human intelligence. When the spy tries to abscond with the frog, Captain Marvel destroys his helicopter’s rotors … only to take the place of the rotos as a “marvel-copter.” The illustration of this feat is easily the single best moment of the comic, and now I’m only halfway through this issue.
Naturally, there’s an equally amazing moment two pages later when the frog transforms back into a prince and he looks like a froggish human—so much so that other characters comment on it. Harsh! (This is also the end of the first story, which I didn’t expect, although I’m stoked to see a Captain Marvel Jr. story as well.)
OK, I totally forgot about the existence of Sivana Jr., the son of Dr. Sivana. It makes sense that Captain Marvel and Sivana would have a feud spanning generations—so, naturally, to fight the teenage Captain Marvel Jr. (aka “CM3”), Sivana Jr. appears to be in his 60s. In this backup story, he has the technology to blow square bubbles that can trap CM3 in their “elastic plastic” after Sivana Jr.’s first effort (a super-strong bed-spring coil) fails. Of course, the real plan involves mind-control devices that resemble half-dollars, and Sivana Jr. turns an initial failure into an ingenious plan when he realizes he can convince/hypnotize Freddie Freeman not to say the magic words that transform him (“Captain Marvel,” the name of his hero).
In even more ingenious comic logic, Freddie realizes he can’t say his own alter-ego’s name. Of course, this semantic nuance is the center of many CM3 plots, since he can’t technically provide his own name (when Captain Marvel Jr.) to authorities or fellow super-heroes, since that would transform him back into Freddie Freeman. Poor CM3. As an aside, I wonder if he may be the first superhero—definitely one of the first superheroes—to have a visible disability that’s not “blindness but can see in the dark” like Dr. Midnight or the Black Bat.
I don’t know if I could ever dislike a golden/silver/bronze-age Shazam story, because they’re so optimistic and fun and take for granted that a comic book world doesn’t and can’t make sense realistically. Billy, Freddie, and Mary are all kids who represent the fun of superheroes, and the kids themselves are always central to the story, with the hero identities there to solve problems when they have no other means of doing so themselves. Of course, I similarly love the Moore & Gaiman Marvelman stories that take these character ideas in new directions (including a take on CM3’s more likely approach to being a hero by staying in that identity forever if possible), but I’ve never really felt the need to check out the more recent (2000s) DC Comics take(s) on Shazam and family. I guess I should, but I don’t want to be incredibly disappointed by a move away from what I see as one of the greatest characters ever. Although I suppose, at least, I should check out the Morrison Multiversity: Thunderworld comic to see what he’d do.