Sunday, November 12, 2006

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back: Part Two - Overshadowing the Amazon Princess


So then I read Wonder Woman 226, and the satisfaction and inspiration I found in the previous issue took a bit of a down turn.

There are many ways I could, if I wanted to, spin this issue to a positive end. In its pages, the relationship between Diana and Kal, Wonder Woman and Superman, is explored through a series of poignant vignettes, depicting key scenes in their lives and in their relationship. The lean is definitely towards Diana, the stories within are mostly specific to important happenings within her own narrative, and Superman’s part in being her friend during those times.

In a strange way, this issue should appeal to some of my most emotive academic and personal interests. Metaphorically at least, the story explodes the idea of the individual as a singular entity, by constantly referring back to the way we, as individuals, and Diana, as an Ambassador/Heroine/Woman, are defined by the people we let into our lives, those other individuals who share our experiences. No matter how we try to draw lines between ourselves and the other people in our lives, we find ourselves irrevocably involved in them, and them in us. We experience joy, sorrow, love, but we do so with other people there to share them, inspire them, nurture them, be our focus. This issue demonstrates that quite beautifully, showing Diana in some of her happiest and tragic moments, and the way Kal has been there in one way or another to give them audience, an ear, a shoulder, a smile.

Another academic interest in this issue comes from the metaphor it provides concerning the binary opposition of man/woman. By interweaving the lives of Diana and Kal, or perhaps more Kal into Diana’s, the issue serves as an example of man and woman as categories which define, reify and yet also undermine one another. Indeed, there are many ways this issue explodes and problematises the dichotomies of man/woman, inside/outside, that the likes of Eve Sedgwick and Ed Cohen have done such good work discussing academically, though I won’t go into them here.

Yet, in all of this, I still can’t seem to move past some of the wider implications of the issue. This was to serve as the final issue of Wonder Woman. Not the ending (as purposefully explained in the previous issue) but an ending at least. Yet for some reason, the possibilities that fact implied for the subject matter were abandoned in favour of an instalment in the wider storyline of Infinite Crisis playing out across the DCU.

The choice to review the relationship between Superman and Wonder Woman seems to gain its impetus from the fact that their friendship had recently suffered much difficulty within the text. While the most striking part of that conflict (their fight in issue 219) did indeed occur within the pages of Wonder Woman, the drama of their crumbled relationship actually occurred elsewhere; in the preceding chapters of the Sacrifice arc (where Diana and Kal first came to blows and also odds), and in the pages of Infinite Crisis itself. What’s more, while issue 226’ review served as a kind of prompt to all those of us who were either unaware of or had forgotten about the importance of that relationship, the resolution of their conflict also occurred in the pages of Infinite Crisis, rather than in Diana’s title itself.

As such the issue suggests for me a sense of unfulfillment, an instalment in a wider narrative (a metanarrative perhaps?) that, while having an important effect on Diana’s story, was not, in fact, her story. This is not a story of ‘Wonder Woman’, but rather about something else, and seems to have missed the opportunity to bear any relationship to the very first issue for a sense of closure, or indeed any particular thematic points from previous issues. It practically ignores the supporting cast of recent years, as well as any of the other threads left over from Rucka’s run (such as the Ares/Circe/Lyta situation, Vanessa Kapatelis, Leslie’s relationship with Ferdinand, or her conflict with Veronica Cale etc) and instead attempts a reinterpretation of history. Its strange, for an issue that does in fact recall a series of events from previous Wonder Woman issues, it seems to bear very little resemblance to any of them, or to provide them with much more meaning, the vignettes so overshadowed by the wider implications of the text and its relationship to Infinite Crisis.

Much worse, the continuity is wrong. I am in one mind about the two implications of that particular problem. On the one hand, if these continuity glitches were a mistake, they evidence an editorial laziness not quite acceptable for the final issue of any title, let alone one of DC’s flagship characters. Secondly, if these glitches were in fact deliberate revisions, part of DC’s attempt to establish a new continuity to its ‘New Earth’ in the wake of Infinite Crisis, then this is simply more fuel to the already raging fire that this issue was not the final issue of Wonder Woman, but a chapter in a different story altogether, and speaks ill sentiment of editorial appreciation for Diana as a character.

What provides this issue with such a disappointing resonance was the way it fails to capitalise on the promise of the previous issue. As discussed in the first part of this thread, the previous issue was all about moving away from grand narratives down to personal ones, it was about changing the world heart by heart, it was about renewed faith in Diana’s story, her uniqueness, her personal touch. This issue, rather than providing us with a continuation of that theme, relegates the continuation of Diana’s story to only one or two pages at the end, using the rest of the issue to tie her up to Superman. Another disappointing aspect to that choice is that Superman is such a larger than life character, bringing with him so much of his own mythology, that his presence within the text doesn’t exactly overshadow Diana, but threatens to suggest that her story can only take place in the context of his own. For much of her comic book career since the 1940s, people have fallen back on describing the character of Wonder Woman as ‘Superman lite’, his star-spangled female counterpart, rather than acknowledging the idiosyncratic points that make her such a unique heroine. By choosing to have her share panel time with Superman in what was to be her final issue, the result is a reinstating of that old assumption, a kind of step back from trying to set Diana with a unique place in the DCU. Even the cover to the issue, shown above, represents Diana in a diminutive position with regards to Superman, his shadow and presence gaining their overpowering context from her rather demure physical pose. The context of Infinite Crisis also accentuates the idea that Diana's personal narrative is being disregarded in favour of another narrative, even within her own book.

And so, from going forward so brightly in the previous issue, where the importance of Diana’s personal narrative seemed so clear, this issue does a hell of a good job reminding us that Diana’s story is one that is subject to the whims of higher powers and wider happenings. It is the comic book version of a TV ‘clip show’, and had it been entered somewhere else, i.e. as a chapter in an annual, a special, or some other collection of stories, or indeed even as an earlier issue, it might have been a good clip show. But in the context of being the final issue? It is a whimper rather than the bang Rucka’s run had consistently proven itself to be, and I suspect more of a testament to bad editorial decision-making than his writing. Still, I couldn’t help but feel short changed, and would be very interested to hear Rucka’s thoughts on the matter.

And yours.

alex x

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

One Step Forward; Two Steps Back: Part One - Endings of the Amazon Princess


Back when I was at university, a bunch of us used to meet up in a café to conduct our seminars. One particular occasion we were chewing over postmodern philosophy a bit, trying to get our heads around it (or at least some of it). We were looking at the idea of ‘incredulity towards metanarratives’, a suspicion of anything that seeks to instate itself as the ‘grand story’ of what is and isn’t legitimate knowledge, the engendering of a state of questioning awareness, and scepticism of theoretical certainties. It was like studying finesse, always just about graspable, but it just had to feel right. It was also the makings of something of a paradox. For those of you familiar, and those of you interested even if not, one of the greatest critiques always fired at postmodern philosophy is the idea that postmodernism itself runs the risk of becoming a metanarrative, the kind it seeks to critique; it runs the risk of becoming arbiter to correct and incorrect modes of thought. By recommending scepticism of the rules, is it instating a rule? And the way postmodernism seems to flout that criticism is in its evasive style, in being enigmatic, and in the process, more than a little bit vague. Postmodern philosophy does a lot to critique, but does very little to suggest, to replace, to reinstate. It tears down houses, like science, like metaphysics, and it doesn’t bother building you a new one. In that way it, perhaps, avoids being accused of being a metanarrative, but it does then leave you thinking you’re out in the cold. If there are no true ways of doing things, no grand story of how things are supposed to be, what are you left with? Pragmatically, what do you do with postmodernism? If postmodern theoretical work does manage to escape the accusation of being a metanarrative, what alternative does it represent? If we are to remain incredulous to attempts at creating foundations of thought, what are we left with? If we’ve learned to question everything, if we’ve got the tools to cast down our most certain ideas, how do we move forward? And most importantly, how do we change the world?

The latter question bugged the hell out of me. I wanted to change the world. I still do, in all the idiosyncratic ways people do. I want people to be happier, and I want to celebrate difference without reifying it. I want to open things up, and get rid of a lot of other things altogether. I want to get rid of pineapple on pizza…(sorry Timmy), how does my incredulity, my critical finesse, my distrust of statements of truth help me change the world? How do I change the world if not by making up rules, by being certain and setting up foundations of thought and sanctioned forms of knowledge? The answer is lying in the pages of number 225, volume two, of Wonder Woman. The answer, is incrementally.



Throughout the issue, Athena takes us on a journey from the grand to the personal, she speaks to us of the crumbling of the Gods, and the endurance of Diana, not simply as their champion, but as her own. For those of you taking note, Athena’s appearances during Rucka’s run often portrayed her as playing chess with the characters of the storylines, pitting them against each other and manoeuvring them towards her endgame. The game of chess, as it begins, is open-ended. It has rules, but it also has a multitude of outcomes, dependent on the players. And as they are moved across the board, those outcomes become few, they become streamlined, and inevitability comes into play (the parallel between that process and the solidifying of discourses in the social world only just occurred to me). Athena plays the game of fate with the people on Earth, including Diana.

By issue 225, Athena’s chessboard is nowhere to be seen. She tells us that this is an end to the story, as it has been written from the beginning. The board is not gone because this is the end, nor is it gone because she has achieved her endgame. The board is gone because Athena’s quite possibly had a change of heart. For now she speaks to us of endings, plural. She’s done playing the game of fate, and with it goes the idea of a grand play in which all the cast have played a part. The Gods, as she informs us, are withdrawing from the stage, taking with it the certainty, finality, foundation they represent. She goes us a step further, she undermines the Gods to the reader, reducing them down to characteristics of pettiness and vanity. And in so doing, Athena encourages us to challenge what they represent, she gives us the encouragement to be incredulous, to critique, to question, by exposing their flaws. And then there is Diana.

Athena speaks of Diana with a curious turn of reverence, using the kind of devotion and deference in her exposition we would expect Diana herself to use in referring to the Gods. Athena is worshipping Diana, not as a God, but as a representative of humanity, as a champion of the personal and the individual. Athena, lovingly perhaps, speaks of Diana’s own strengths and flaws, hinting at her tragic complexity. Just as she speaks of the retreat of the Gods, she juxtaposes it with the endurance of Diana. And why is it that Diana will endure? Because, she contains within her the gifts of her Gods, without actually being one. Diana is a part of the grand story and ancient tradition, but she is not it. She will not stagnate, because she will always grow. She contains the ability to change and adapt that the Gods do not.

In the final pages, Athena speaks to us of change, and the great task of trying to change the world we live in. How, she asks, do we measure the success of a mission that seeks to change the cast of humanity’s heart? How do we change the world when it is so set in its certainties, in its foundations, in its Gods, in its metanarratives of what is and isn’t the right way of doing things? Incrementally. Bit by bit, piece-by-piece, person by person. Diana returns from her meeting with the Gods to be greeted by her friends and her supporters. Each has travelled far to see her, to offer support. She addresses each one, not as a mass, but individually, requesting names, asking them where they’re from. She does so because it’s the only way to do it, heart by heart. She’s going to change the world, and she’s going to do it by paying attention to each and every narrative of the people she meets. And she’s going to change with it in a way the grand stories never get to do.


In that single issue of Wonder Woman there seems to be that inspiration for my answer to the postmodern conundrum. I can’t hope to defend such a philosophical and theoretical framework against its critics. I’m not even going to try too hard. But I can change the world a little bit by sharing the things I feel I’ve learned, the questioning part of me, the critique, the incredulity to certainty. And by being comfortable with the uncertainty it has engendered (as I’ve mentioned before) and open to the conversations always already implied in my movements in the world, I stand the chance of learning to change as well as be changed.

alex x

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Wonder Woman's Greatest Stories: comfortable with multiplicity

Ok,

I've been having a look at some of the reactions to the news that DC are releasing a Wonder Woman's Greatest Stories volume, particularly this one, and I can't help wondering why it is we're worrying so much.

Of all the heroes, or perhaps more specifically of DC's big three, Wonder Woman is constantly argued as the hardest to define, the one thats harder to find a voice for. From that kind of argument we get all the others, the constant disagreements about Pre and Post-crisis Wonder Women, invisible planes, the age of Steve Trevor, the disputes concerning Perez' run. I know where I fall with the discussions, I know where my pereferences are. That doesn't change the fact that, even though there are a number of interpretations of Diana I'm not a fan of (Byrne's run being particularly unfavoured for me), what I can't help loving is the way that there have been so many. I'm sorry, I know this probably doesn't help the argument, but I genuinely like that there are so many conflicting aspects to the Wonder Woman story, and I like it even more when they are expressed as part of the character, rather than explained away by writers ignoring each other and retconning things out of existence.

As I've discussed before, Diana's identity has always been something of a fiction. She was made from clay, she was invented and crafted in a really explicit way. Even from the outset, waaay back with Marston, she was depicted as straddling two cultures, she was characterised in terms of what were, at the time, problematic issues concerning gender differences, and Marston played up the conflicts between masculinity and femininity, patriarchy and his own interpretation of feminism. And from him and onwards, those kinds of issues have always been present, Diana has always been a part of some political battle, has engendered contradiction and conflict in her storylines. Is it really any wonder, with that in mind, that we find ourselves wondering just what the best Wonder Woman stories should be? It seems, when it comes to Diana, this isn't just a matter of taste, its an argument that stems from the fact that Diana has always been something of a mystery, hard to pin down, always skirting different boundaries, sometimes breaking them. Interpretations with Wonder Woman have tended to be radically different from each other, and I can't help thinking that suits her just fine.

Thats why I'm really looking forward to the volume, to see the eclectic mix of writing, and to marvel at just how much ground Wonder Woman as a character has covered.

alex x

Saturday, November 04, 2006

Wonder Woman vs Xena: What shouldn't have been

Just had a look at Beau Smith’s work for the Wonder Woman vs Xena cancelled book from a few years ago. (which is here)

Now, a few years ago I would have been pretty enthused about the idea of this book, though knowing company crossovers to be generally not the most fantastic work, and Dark Horse’s Xena not itself the best take either (what is it about the relationship between TV shows and their comic book franchises?), I would’ve had my reservations.

And, while I’m sure Smith had good intentions at heart, I’m pretty glad this version didn’t make it to the shelves.

Its not because it was going to be ‘be like one of the light hearted episodes of Xena that Sam Rami and the cast pulled off so very well’, as Smith intended. While I’d prefer a serious take myself, the light-hearted comedy routine would have been fun to read, and interesting given Diana’s character isn’t often written with humour in mind.

Its not even that the plot summary revolves around Ares wanting to watch a fight between Xena and Wonder Woman because he’s bored and ‘Wonder Woman ain’t bad to look at.’ Ares was always presented as something of a sleaze in that show, so I’d say its unfortunate, but vaguely in character.

And, my friends, its not even because the plot features a town called Testosterone lead by a male chauvinist pig called Bolos.

Its because, forgive me for assuming too much, I’m getting the impression that Ares and Bolos wouldn’t have been the only sleazes the gaze of this text seemed to be directed towards. I know I know, maybe I’m being too harsh, and after my rage at ‘War Games’ I am trying to write less angrily. But come on; ‘Warrior Princess-Wet Tunic-Mud Battle-To The Death-Pay-Per-View-Extravaganza’?!! I honestly can’t quite tell if this is supposed to be ironic or not. Either way, its rather telling that Smith’s plot summary makes no mention of the characterisation of Wonder Woman, Wonder Girl, Xena or Gabrielle, other than to point out that Ares views them similarly, and instead focuses on the chauvinism of the other characters in the storyline.

I guess what disappoints here is the fact that, were a writer to consider playing it seriously, there could be a lot to play with in this kind of crossover. The linkage between the Amazons from the Xenaverse and the Themysciran Amazons could have been interesting, as could the meeting of the two pantheons, let alone the interplay between characters like Xena and Diana, Gabrielle and Cassie, Artemis and Amarice, Circe with Callisto or Alti…We’ve also got two different interpretations of Hercules going on here, which may have been fun to generate conflict with. Then there are wider themes, such as the likeness between Diana and Gabrielle’s missions for peace, and how they reconcile the need for violence. Xena’s quest for redemption and dark past shed interesting light on the privilege Diana comes at her own mission from. Cassie’s relationship with Ares also provides a nice link between herself and Xena, and perhaps the appropriateness of the two protégé’s to their mentors could be something to knock around.

In any case, I can’t say I feel too inspired by Smith’s ‘story-that-could-have-been’. Swapping Diana and Xena’s costumes because its ‘too good not to happen’? Referring to the rampage of a warrior princess and her sidekick as a ‘bad time of the month to get in their way’? Methinks that chauvinist tone is just a little too convincing, and not nearly enough amusing.

Any thoughts?

Alex x