Welcome to the ’90s: DC Edition

by Adam Esquenazi Douglas

However you find comic books when you’re 13 years old is how you want comics to be forever.

I’d heard this for ages, but never took too much stock in it. I loved comics, old and current, and welcomed whatever the wild and wonderful world of four-colored costumed crusaders would bring me.

And then everything changed.

As with any other part of life, innocence fled, Santa signed off, and all that magic that we tried so hard to believe in when we were young was replaced with a big, stinking ball of reality. I had grown up.

But still I remember…

The 90s were a very critical and criticized era in comic books. Yes, yes, the Image boom, Marvel’s bankruptcy, and Liefeldianism spread to every costume design and gritty reboot. We all know how dark it was when we saw the Knight Fall. How dirty it felt when Daredevil proved he really was a blind man and wore…whatever the hell this is:

However, it wasn’t all miscues and chromium covers. There was artistry and attempts by creators to do just that: create. These rare and ready writers and artists were given unsavory tasks: completely recreate beloved icons. They knew there’d be scorn, shame, and, in some cases, organized protests (more on that in a bit, faithful Unrealtors), but they persevered.

Now in the world of Brand New Days, New 52s, Heroic Ages, and so many furious presses of the reset button, much of the work of these esoteric innovators has gone the way of Uncle Ben. Sure, you’ll see the remnants still kicking around, but no longer are any of them the stars of their own books.

But was that really the best idea?

Let’s take a look at some of the more infamous 90s re-imaginings and determine whether they deserve to still stand in the twenty-two-paged spotlight…or be reduced to reserve status.

GREEN LANTERN: KYLE RAYNER

I have to start here because…this is where it all started. A friend lent me some issues from Grant Morrison’s BRILLIANT JLA series, and, for whatever reason, I was drawn to this wavy-haired, crab-masked ring-slinger.

He was young, and so was I. He said, “Dude,” and so did I. He was a wannabe artist who funneled his creativity through his magic wishing ring. Even back then I knew I wanted the life of an artist, and hey, I’d be a superhero too, if I could.

His name was Kyle Rayner.

And I had my first case of fanboyitis.

I devoured as many Morrison JLA issues as I could eat, and was insanely excited to find out Kyle had his own series. I subscribed immediately.

I would read them over and over and over again. I was fascinated by the unique and unusual ways the writers would utilize the power ring, and how they always flowed first from Kyle’s boundless imagination, nary a boxing glove to be found. I imagined Kyle’s personal problems as grand, romantic escapades of the New York City starving artist (which probably explains why I moved to the Big Apple to pursue art). I even once looked up then-Green Lantern writer Ron Marz in the white pages and gave him a call letting him know how much of a fan I was. True story, folks.

I thought EVERYONE loved Kyle.

But Kyle, I found, was no Raymond.

We all know the terrible truth behind Kyle’s creation. Mainstay Corpsman Hal Jordan went bananas, killed everyone, then reignited the sun blah blah blah. Longtime DC fans went twice as bananas, going so far as creating H.E.A.T. – Hal’s Emerald Advancement Team: an organization dedicated to abolishing the rule of Rayner, and reinstating Coast’s City’s favorite son as Lantern prime and reigniting the emerald flame of the Green Lantern Corps. They tried, but, for the most part, failed. Kyle stayed, the Corps remained absent (except for that one miniseries), and Hal remained (mostly) buried.

And then Geoff Johns came along and decided to ruin everything by making everything great and fantastic and better than ever.

 

In 2004, Geoff wrote Green Lantern: Rebirth, reintroducing Hal Jordan to the DC Universe, honoring and explaining (very well if you ask me) why Hal went nutty and firmly reestablishing Hal as a DC icon and leader of the Lanterns.

It was great, and the majority of Hal’s adventures in the (wow, gettin’ old), decade since have been top-notch. Even if there’s a wee bit of Captain Planet borrowing here and there.

But what really was Hal before he was Johns’d? What really defined him? His most famous exploits had him playing straight man to the rebellious Oliver Queen. In fact, arguably the most iconic Green Lantern cover had 66% of its real estate dedicated to archers, not ringers.

Futile attempts to humanize Hal included a brief stint with alcoholism and…graying his hair. Seriously. A new ‘do reminding us all of our own mortality here in the real world was a surefire way to connect with the kids.

The most interesting Lantern comics when Hal was the main GL didn’t even star him. “Mogo Doesn’t Socialize,” The “F-Sharp Bell Corps,” heck, Hal wasn’t even the GL in Crisis on Infinite Earths.

Simply put, he was another mask with powers in the 60s (ok, fine, 1959) that the Nostalgia Beast refused to cast off for thirty-plus years.

Like him or hate him, Kyle had a lot more going for him than that.

He was DC’s answer to Peter Parker. He was us with a godlike piece of jewelry. He had women troubles, money troubles, and a decent sense of humor. Nothing ever felt particularly shoe-horned, except, arguably, his origin, but really that wasn’t his fault. And besides, the stories that followed more than made up for it. We had seen plenty of space opera schlock before. This new Lantern lived in the city, fought on the streets, and had a local coffee shop.

He wasn’t a perfect hero, but that’s what made him great. You can’t do anything with a perfect hero. With Kyle, anything was possible. He was the essence of Green Lantern inside and out.

We’re lucky Geoff Johns is such a great writer that he was able to, essentially, build Mr. Jordan from the ground up and gives us a much more nuanced take on ol’ Highball Hal. Just make sure to keep in mind that Geoff more or less created a brand new character, with only a handful of throwbacks to what once was. Because if he had simply picked up where the writers left off with Hal…we’d probably need to reignite the sun again sooner than later.

GREEN ARROW: CONNOR HAWKE

DC really seemed to want to go green long before it was hip. The son of original Green Arrow Oliver Queen, Connor Hawke was the 90s new, tan, Gen-X Robin Hoodesque hero: Green Arrow. After the “death” of Oliver Queen, Connor took up the bow, ditched the feathered-hat, and became DC’s newest resident archery artist, only this one would be cleanly shaven.

Connor Hawke was the yin to Kyle Rayner’s yang. Connor was stoic, thoughtful, a Buddhist in contrast to Kyle’s more id-like personality. But both were struggling to fill some pretty hefty, green boots.

Fortunately for Connor, objections were few and we never saw the inception of Q.U.I.V.E.R: Queen’s Unique and Intrepid Viking-Energy Revengers…or something.

Unfortunately for Connor, as Mr. Wilde once said, “There is only one thing in life worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.” Connor’s solo GA adventures had less-than-impressive sales, and despite some truly creative uses of Connor (when he took down the Key with boxing glove arrows? CLASSIC), no one really was able to fully hit the bulls-eye. Less than a decade later, Kevin Smith resurrected Ollie, and Connor became “Ollie’s kid” all over again.

However, Connor flourished in the pages of Smith’s superheroics. He was a great foil to Oliver, and really helped evolve the concept of parenting in comics. So often when a hero has a child THE ENTIRE BOOK IS ABOUT THE KID, but with Oliver and Connor it was a progressive, refreshing, and very unique look at fatherhood in tights. And the concept of legacy overall. Throw in surrogate mothering from Dinah Lance, step-brother like input of Roy Harper, and the absolutely underutilized Mia Dearden, and Oliver & Company were one of DC’s finest family of crime fighters.

Connor was a fine torchbearer, but he was best when righting wrongs with dear old Dad.

Now where the hell didja put him, DC?

HOURMAN: MATTHEW TYLER

Yes, this is 90s aesthetics at its worse: take a truly old-school superhero and MAKE HIM TOTALLY RADICAL. A forgotten Golden Age concept found itself re-materialized and mechanized with Grant Morrison’s truly revolutionary reboot of Hourman.

This android from the 853rd century was as close to a “descendant” the original Hourmans (Hourmen?) could hope for. Built by the Tyler Chemorobotics Corporation, this new Hour“man” had all the abilities of the original, plus a mess of new spacey-wacey timey-wimey powers and whatnots. Plus there was a heap of New Gods nonsense (in the best way possible) thrown on top. He was one magic machine.

Ironically enough, Hourman was a little too ahead of his time, and this complex creation was a little too cerebral for 90s nonchalance. Futuristic rebuilding of characters (I’m looking at you, Marvel) was nothing new, but being this thoughtful about it certainly was. If you came from the future, you shot lasers and had a cool, cybernetic costume.

Hourman, instead, was a more clever combination of technopunk pastiche and brimming, limitless possibility of creativity we so often see from over the pond. He was a futurist’s favorite character, but sadly stuck in a fairly humdrum decade.

Writers and artists tried to find a space for this yellow-and-red robot, but, ultimately, his predecessor and (kinda, it’s weird. Just wiki it.) son Rick Tyler took up the hourglass again. The android eventually known as Matthew Tyler quietly slipped into the timestream again, and hasn’t risen from the waters yet.

But hey, the future’s a big place. Fingers crossed. If we’re ever gonna get the “Blink” storyline of the DCU, my money’s on Hourman to do it.

Looking over today’s comic book shelves, I see Barry Allen kicking up dust, Barbara Gordon swinging around town, and heck, even the original five X-Men are Marvel’s merriest mutants once again. The last 90s Metroid is in captivity, and the brick-and-mortar shop galaxy is at peace.

And life goes on.

I don’t hate this trend of retreading long-gone guys and gals in costumes and capes. If I was in charge, you better believe we’d see the return of Impulse and Arsenal and Argent all fighting crime in a JLA led by Superman Red, organized by Oracle, and headquartered on the Moon.

And if history has taught us anything, it’s all circular, and it will happen eventually. And following that, Jason Rusch and Ryan Choi and Greg Willis will all rise to power in turn. The wheel will keep on spinning, heroes will come and go, and the wills and wishes and whims of so many aged 13-year-olds will lay out the landscape for so many years.

And is that so bad?

You tell me.

—

Adam Esquenazi Douglas is a playwright who was born in Texas, grew up in Arkansas, was raised by a Jewish man and a Cuban woman, and, somehow, he doesn’t have an accent.

He is co-host of two podcasts, The JimmyJew Podcast Extravaganza and Schmame Over, which can be found at http://jimmyjew.libsyn.com/ and http://schmameover.libsyn.com/ respectively, as well as on iTunes. He is a contributing writer to www.GamersSchmamers.com.

He currently lives in Brooklyn where he drinks far too much coffee.