Track Marks

You’ll want to examine Chloe and Brandon’s arms to count them. Not my usual upbeat opening, I know. But I’m reviewing the first issue of Jupiter’s Legacy, a new Image comic by one of my favorite artists, Frank Quitely, and one of the industry’s more relentless hacks, Mark Millar. According to the back, they’ve, “[Joined] forces to create the greatest superhero epic of this generation.” With the hyperbole set to eleven, let’s dig in.

Quitely always delivers imaginative, versatile work, the best of which has been with writer Grant Morrison (All-Star Superman, New X-Men, and Flex Mentallo). His anatomy can be alien, off-putting; but a wondrous sense of scope and detail grows his following with every project. The underlying tone of Millar’s comics, meanwhile, is one of juvenile contempt for practically everything: politics, religion, superheroes, their audience.

The only subjects that seem to genuinely rev Millar’s motor are celebrity and beat-downs. His comics, Kick-Ass being the biggest, are condescendingly aimed at bros (and the hos that love them). It was a bit shocking, then, to find the first few pages of Jupiter’s Legacy tempered by civilized conversation that might actually have a narrative to set-up. The year is 1932, and the place is Morrocco. “I lost everything I had in the Crash of ’29,” explains Sheldon Sampson to the potential captain of his ship, “but I know in my heart that we’re going to get through this and the answer to everything lies on that island.”

The mystery island, which Sampson saw in a dream, is west of Cape Verde. Its ethereal, ridged design is one of the true delights in this comic. The only problem is that when someone on the boat shouts, “Quick! You gotta see this!” and we’re supposed to share Sampson’s amazement, the island already takes up several miles of horizon. Now, I’ve seen Lost. Weird shit happens with islands that can’t be explained, that won’t be explained. But did nobody on this boat not see mythical ridges before almost crashing into them?

“Whoa, find some mellow, dude. It’s just a comic.” No, remember–it’s the greatest comic of the last thirty years. But let’s reserve judgment until we see where the story leads. After being told that Sampson and his acolytes became powerful super humans who “didn’t care about money or politics” and their “only desire was to serve our country,” we jump to the present day.

We finally meet the two lookers on the comic’s cover–Sampson’s kids. Quitely mocks the female ideal that fanboys have come to expect; Chloe’s baby-doll clothes barely fit over her preternaturally creepy head and frame. Brandon looks like a laid-off roadie who knows he put his new Chili Peppers vinyl somewhere. Then again, maybe that’s what chicks like. Here’s Brandon talking to a blonde (dressed in a mask and cape) who approaches him in a club: “If you’re after what I think you’re after, just wait for me in the men’s room, honey. I’ll be finished with these drinks in five minutes, but I’m not taking my clothes off. Understand?”

Sadly, I do. This is the same tired crap that was, believe it or not, fresh and fun back in the early 2000s, when it passed for dialogue in The Authority. That great comic receives a more intentional homage on the next few pages, as Sampson and his coterie of spandex-wearing heroes pound on a generic villain. The fight is physically thrilling, as Quitely’s work never fails to be, but ultimately serves Millar’s political shit-stirring. Powerful telepath Walter says: “I’ve been blessed with this incredible brain. Isn’t it my moral responsibility to walk into the White House and show Obama what he should be doing with this second term?”

Clearly, Millar wants Jupiter’s Legacy to be the Watchmen of its time. Except that Watchmen puts down the “magic nose powder” long enough to think through what superheroes would really mean to our world. When Dr. Manhattan intervenes in Vietnam, he changes the course of history. If Walter (who’s evidently the “villain” of this tale) sees fit to criticize the current administration, shall we assume he and his “incredible brain” slept through Dubya’s reign? And the last thirty years of roller-coaster capitalism?

Of course, we already know that fascist superheroes simply kill their human enemies, as shown in The Authority (the track marks of which are just all over this comic). The only reason to open Jupiter’s Legacy 2 is to find out how all fifty-three pounds of Chloe, tuckered out from charity work and coke, broke the table.