You've Come a Long Way, Bad-Ass: Five Decades With the Super-Heroines
REVIEWED - Batgirl: Mother and Absolute Wonder Woman
The weekend brought a smorgasbord up in here with my first stack of fresh reads arriving in a long spell. I've gotten titles this year but these are straight out of 2025, with DCs "All In" initiative stamped on their sleek dreamboat cardstock covers. The Absolute Trinity: Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman, plus Cassandra Cain in Batgirl: Mother. The latter two I dove headlong into, finishing "Mother" and "The Last Amazon". Through five turbulent decades I've adored super-heroines. I was Girl when Girl wasn't cool, motherfucker.
Coming up in the 1970's - '80s and having a nerd-on for superhero ladies was an exercise in frustration akin to a modern fetish for sketch comedy that doesn't explain the fuck out of every joke mis-perceiving that Iowa won't need explained that the spectacularly untalented obese Black dude who wore out his welcome the day he wandered into the goddamn set is dressed like Reba instead of him hilariously portraying America's favorite cockeyed redheaded millionaire (thanks to Christopher Moore who I stole that last bit from) instead, and yes I know that comment is Flintstone-dated but any time I've tuned into Saturday Night Lame for the past decade+, it's been stasis. Whew. In this analogy it was there, but practically ethereally. Kiddie-hood idol Catwoman was like another, Santa Claus - one appearance a YEAR. You readers of today have no idea how good you've got it. As with most things including individuals the change is a duality: equal parts wondrous to horrid.
I dove into comic life with Bat-mania. Selina was second only to library lady shit-kicker Barbara Gordon for obsession (if my mom couldn't read the writing on the wall about her boy and which Barbi... I mean "heroes" I picked, giving Mego's Wonder Woman a nightmarish pixie haircut like that time they wasted Jerry Ordway's magnificent art for six issues by having him draw Diana with that same look - bite me Walt Simonson and editorial staff), but by 7 I decided Batgirl solo adventures were crap, like any Saturday morning cartoon that wasn't old school Warner Brothers. Go-nowhere adversaries, piss-poor art and a general lack of foundation were typical of the short stories in Batman Family or Detective (except that Velvet Tiger arc drawn by Trevor Van Eden, notably). Babs and Black Canary tales were always chicks in cool outfits fighting stupid-assed goons in suits. Team her up with Kathy "Batwoman" and/or Betty "Blonde Bat-Girl" Kane or as with most stuff toss in hot Dick up against Joker's Daughter Duela, then there's something to write home about.
The true love affair started with outer media like it does for lots of people. This was the oft-vilified Adam West series, in reruns when I was three or so. Kids always loved it and so did world-weary late '60's adults who needed a smile. Self-serious teens who wanted their comics validated despite them being extra shitty then thanks to Dr. Wertham's parental scare-fest Seduction of The Innocent - fighting giant apes and tentacled aliens with no rogues like Joker, Catwoman, or Penguin - West and Co. fixed that, thank you. I discovered Batman comics right about the same time without connecting the two. Shiny, electric costumes and action hypnotized junior me, along with that required opening cartoon every day after "The Uncle Briggs Show", a local indie channel kiddie program whose wacky host dressed like a train conductor and showed shorts like Three Stooges, Little Rascals, and Looney Tunes. His alter ego was radio DJ Briggs Gordon, who once locked himself in the booth and subjected the Paducah area to 24 hours of AC/DCs "Back In Black". He ended up shooting himself to the dismay of his peanut gallery of tykes that sat in his in-studio audience which included moi who pissed Mom off royally by squaring jabs with another kid in peripheral camera. I still call a '70's sitcom "Laverne and Squirrelly" thanks to Briggs. Rest In Power, Uncle!
The first time I put eyes on statuesque Lady Newmar in glossy black catsuit with the ears and mask so resemblant of my own logo here, I went instant junkie. A LADY doing this business? Imposing, slinky, sexy, pretty, captivating, and fun - I wanted to follow her around all day long. At four years old, I laid out my first succinct psychological observation - "Batman and her are friends when nobody's looking". Then Bruce found a dame he could be pals with any ol time, and her impact on me has been paramount. I will go on record today, finally, as I'm asked all the damned time by my inmate community who my favorite comics character is, and it could only be BARBARA GORDON.
My initiation was syndication: her debut episode "Enter Batgirl, Exit Penguin": that platform rotating to reveal her secrets in the boudoir! Law, a post-toddler queer about stroked out over that purple glossy bodysuit, boots, and wig-stand all cleverly hidden behind a brick wall - I needed a feinting couch and cigarette. 'Girl had her OWN, motorcycle (screw that lace-fringe on the front and bow on the back bull-crap, seriously, that's the biggest aesthetic blight from that show), and she's a plucky librarian, too.
This topic's been bandied about with Wendi Arant and Candace Benefiel arguing that Babs has had a significant contribution to the field, representing it as valuable and honorable. In her essay "Librarians, Professionalism, and Image: Stereotype and Reality", Abigail Luthmann sees it less favorably, stating "(t)he unassuming role of the librarian is used as a low-visibility disguise for her crime-fighting alter-ego, and while her information-locating skills may have been useful to her extracurricular activities no direct examples are given". This was said in 2007, and I have to guess Abby's a layman as there were myriad sagas built on the concept of Barbara's information-gathering skills by that hour. The subversive nature of Ms. G was the audience in the know - the geek girl is boss bitch. Clever, and ten steps ahead: the REAL fantasy, not the cover girl, but the one behind those specs. Thing is, Babs was made for the girls before that was vogue. William Dozier wasn't out to sculpt a sex symbol, he was trying to give little girls somebody to cheer for. Why can't they ever have it, then?
Beyond the show where she couldn't throw a punch because it "wouldn't be ladylike" (won't kvetch - that's present-ism hearts were in the right places, if heads weren't. They still loved having Yvonne Craig do cycle stunts, karate kicks, and smash objects over the noggins of henchmen), the phenomenal capacity for wrecking this character in non-comics media is bewildering, with the notable exception of the show that's relevance for female characters across the board cannot be worded strongly enough: Batman, the Animated Series.
I don't have access to this angel's details here in our human warehouse but circa 1992 I read a Cinafantastique article where a VIP at Warner vowed that if her company was producing a cartoon, she was demanding standards the Duck/Rabbit Season people were known for since the '30s, speaking on the upcoming FOX afternoon series springing from the successful Caped Crusader movie franchise. Thank all that's Holy for dames like her, Vertigo's Karen Berger, former DC publisher Jeanette Khan, that lady at Nickelodeon Animation responsible for Ren and Stimpy through her "meal plan" (them being the dessert), and Diane Nelson, bless that lady's heart coming in not knowing shit from Shinola regarding her product and having to learn through her bean-counting methodology big-assed mistakes. I saw her name still there when I read Doomsday Clock, the Batman Who Laughs saga, and Infinite Frontier, but she's nowhere around on my new trades.
I'll posit that BTAS liberated the comic chick more than any vehicle before and maybe since. I don't know if it's station can be overstated. What I saw working in a bar in the early '90's and spending time in alternative periodicals which included the explosion of indie comics and creators like Peter Bagge, Dan Clowes, Chester Browne, my beloved Hernandez Bros, and Julie Doucet, was savvy adults coming in an hour after the new episode aired and dissecting it for story, action, humor, art, and sharing in a week-daily love-fest that even folks who'd never read sequential art before adored. Two Sunday night showings snatched Emmys. Long time paper fiends Two-Face, Poison Ivy, Scarecrow, Bane, and Ra's Al Ghul debuted in outside media, the stepping stone to cinema in this venue. Arguably the greatest contributions were creators Bruce Timm and Paul Dini spotlighting female characters like never before in superhero canon. Allowed to be vibrant, sexy, and fun, taking center stage often in a mans program the code was cracked, showing what a lot of us figured long ago: fans LOVE these characters, so use them boldly. This ideology paid off out the gate. Bruce and Paul crafted a zany femme for the Joker, a hench-girl who was elevated to sidekick but has risen to an industry rivaling the Bat: The Maid of Mirth, Harley Quinn. She arrived on the scene in 1992, but I knew her a square decade before that...
Ubiquitous in every house I haunted Summer days of the early 1980's, the box would stay after the daytime local news for "Days of Our Lives", Americas #1 soap, or at least Paducah's. Aside from the glamour of Beau, Hope, Roman, and Marlena (or as my tribe knows her Elektra-Woman), was a pair of young star-crossed weirdos that chewed up the show. He was a stiff goofball in a suit who'd caught a zany tiger by the tail - a colorful blonde with a heavy lower borough tongue and an infectious craziness. This was Eugene and Calliope, real names John De Lancie and the late Arleen Sorkin, known to the Nerdiverse as Q from Star Trek: The Next Generation and Harley Quinn. They left a gaping hole in DoOL with their conjoined exit, and I was a devotee of Sorkin from there. Next viewing was an HBO comedy special as part of a comedy troupe The High Heeled Ladies, doing a dolled-and-fruited-up Carmen Miranda bit (hit the IMDb, kiddo) with Daffy Duck-like skill. Circa 1989 she landed on a FOX sitcom, "Duet", with Alison LaPlaca (Rachel's acerbic boss who shags Chandler on some '90's comedy), among other stars of that moment as Geneva, a charming but untrustworthy domestic. The line that stuck with me, delivered to perfection: "Guys like him are the reason nice girls like us end up in jail!", prophetic of the Cupid of Crime. Rooting for Arleen over a decade, the breakout role I wanted for her came through a channel I never in a million could've augured, right into my orbit and in amazing Kathleen Turner to Jessica Rabbit fashion. I have to insert this paragraph because Paul Dini knew she was a shining starlet like I did from first glance, and I want full credit given for that adorable and hilarious woman Christopher Lloyd married who WAS Harley Quinn.
I've sported the classical Timm version of jester Harley on my left outer calf holding her famous pop-gun from "Mad Love" since the very early '90s, with space reserved still for Ivy on the inner. A Newmar-inspired Catwoman on the inside opposite leg that was ditched for BTAS, being too distal to Pfeiffer's take, and on the opposite to Harleen, my superstar ink: a colorful blast of onomatopoeia screaming "Ka-pow!" with a melded image of Yvonne Craig's TV Babs with the glorious game-changer, Animated Batgirl.
Timm and Dini reintroduced Batgirl after her brutal maiming in "The Killing Joke", where the costumed years weren't even treated like afterthoughts. Batgirl by the mid-'80s wasn't on the radar of most fans anymore. A largely underdeveloped cipher whose finest hour came on a TV show the bulk of comic readership rejected, creative at Warner Animation saw solutions where others placed issues. Making Barbara exuberant and youthful with a streamlined look to match, undoing the gaudy excesses of Carmine Infantinos OG design, the most fully realized and dynamic version we'd been treated to erupted on the scene to severe fanfare the 1.0 character never experienced.
This explosion of interest in the character was problematic for DC Comics, as Barbara had moved on to become Oracle, a compelling and vital handicapped figure in the universe with an ongoing ensemble book unlike anything her original ID ever merited, Birds of Prey. The solution was a new title-holder, Cassandra Cain. We're treated to a silent Asian martial artist and trained-from-birth assassin rejecting her kill mission to embrace the Wayne path, protecting innocents with mentoring from good ol' Babs. An interesting product of her era with dark details and obscured countenance, Cass was intriguing enough but folks like me couldn't assign the moniker to such a heavily noir entity. Batgirl's the ray of hope for Gotham and light heart of the operation, and that's no indictment of girlhood or statement of diminished prowess at all. I personally prefer Cass as Black Bat, Grant Morrison's vision of her for Batman Inc, an international crime fighting conglomerate publicly supported by Wayne Enterprises. The dated 1990's vibe of the cowl is erased and that name hits right at who she is, for me. I don't feel proper chances were proctored to it.
Cass made a gal-pal, Stephanie Brown, answering to Spoiler. This tough cookie blonde was the daughter of Bat-baddie Cluemaster, wielded a mean left hook, loved waffles, and when appearing in Cass's book I couldn't help thinking fit the bill better than her pal. Flash a couple of years later and this momentary Robin did, until Babs returned to the cape and cowl after the Diane Nelson Learning Curve Blame It On Dan DiDio Reboot. Then for a time, Steph and a cruise liner full of popular young DC figures sailed into nonexistence, with the senior characters now practically their ages, because every reader dreams of being older than motherfucking Batman. The new reality lasted about 52 months longer than most readers wanted.
Along the way another attempt at catching the Babs-magic was an amalgamation of concepts with another redhead in a batsuit, only bringing the original distaff Gotham Knight, Batwoman back kinda sorta. Kate Kane, instead of Kathy, now military instead of circus owner/performer, and a lesbian to keep with the times is a character I don't believe holds water anymore. Shoehorning a civil-rights story into her origin ("Dont ask, don't tell") was a bad idea, dating it and making it now obsolete. I think it's largely why she doesn't catch fire. Readers, even the megaphones of the internet, rarely support political characters. They're not entertaining, being the function of comics at the end of the day. It's about escapism. Star Trek, in OG form, used analogy primarily to tell meaningful stories, an intelligent device for discussion (unlike later iterations using January 6 to destroy civilization and porn writer/failed politician Stacey Abrams as Earth's president - see what I mean?) and much smarter than this thing that got an endorsement from Maddow, but a cancellation later after ballyhoo for not letting a gay wedding happen because there were NO nuptials occurring then. Due to the political insertion, DC was receiving death threats and accusations of virulent homophobia. Again, stick with entertainment. This is a 40 years out gay dude talking.
My solution is eliminate the redundancies and merge Kate and Kathy into a singular piece or delete Kate, period. Make her a contemporary 25-ish lesbian who owns a modern circus: daredevils and freaks, all with tats and gauges, rocking a Bettie Page cut and ink herself, being a motorcycle stunt-rider, and a costume that's a black, yellow, and red leather retro Italian job with a cool pointy black mask with goggles. I can 100% see somebody like Mike and Laura Allred on this. Give the crowd an enjoyable gay female lead with roots instead of a buzzkill apology we don't need anymore.
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Despite the love affair with Barbara G, there's the baffling mystery of Hollywood's inability to bring her properly to the live screen. One early horrible attempt actually was the best live version of HER, but all else was garbage: the early '90's TV adaptation of Birds of Prey starring the more-than-servicable fan fave Dina Meyer as Babs. Reading a TV Guide blurb about Batman and Catwoman's party-girl daughter, what I honestly envisioned and wish to hell I'd gotten was West and Newmar's pointy-masked go-go dancing offspring in a semiserious love letter to every kind of Bat-fan. Instead, it was a superhero show ashamed of it's milieu trying to surf Smallville's ratings wave with an unlikable Huntress sans mask yet trying to keep her ID secret. Harley, a known criminal commodity, has her government name decal-ed on her office door and less of a mirthful sensibility than Gaga's pointless version. In this future, 100 year old Alfred is still serving fucking tea. In episode three and not season five, we find out all three Birds want to be moms. Kill it dead.
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Also came the abortion of "Batman and Robin", a 2-hour toy ad, with studio executives shitting all over everything and George Clooney catching blame like the family dog or Dan DiDio - same diff. The morons decided viewers couldn't handle two redheads, unlike Alec Baldwin circa this point, so Alicia Silverstone stays Clueless-ly blonde, refuses her cowl because the money she makes that one could purchase a few telegenic White slaves with isn't enough to suffer hair-tugging. Now shed pay to have somebody pull her hair in a movie more than a thousand people would watch - nobody gives a damn about your vegan cooking, "Cher". Alfred, whose prune-face is turning to petroleum by the beginning of this movie that would be a Federal Hate Crime if not for Uma's Poison Ivy (see: "The Fallacies of Litigating Hate" under Essays) is now Bab's uncle and maybe baby-daddy. Add to that, she arrives unexplained the world's third greatest crime-fighter, and Alf has already prepared his bastardette a set of latex threads, arsenal, and a tricked out motorcycle. I'm all for and all in on fun. That's not what this is. It's a blow job for Kenner Toy Company, and a finger to the adult audience, much like the latter seasons of The Animated Series, when the magnificent intro with the icon without text long removed along with the stylish lobby cards, and Robin was crammed all over, comedy episodes became the rule robbing the exceptionalism, and the exodus to the newfound WB took the series to Saturday morning to hawk toys and cereal. The adult and late-teen audience virtually extricated, and the quality the Warner Animation woman demanded went by the wayside with drama stripped from the characters faces. '89 franchise DOA.
The next letdown for Batgirl buffs was the Birds of Prey theatrical release, without hide nor hair of epicenter Babs and a disturbingly demoted Cassandra, basically reduced to nothing but her ethnicity, furthering the insult dealt to the one community left out of the often hoax systemic victim conversation even when legitimately victimized. Harley takes central stage with a shitty haircut, and I was told Margot Robbie, who launched a million fans by showing snatch laid claim that Harleen wasn't supposed to be a sexual character. I pray this was a misunderstanding or lie.
Finally, the Bunny Farm blew 90 million on a Batgirl movie to be unreleased and took the insurance dough instead. It's unfathomable to me that this character isn't three deep into a franchise, without being an industry rivaling Quinn at this moment. A young female mutation of Bruce Wayne, Buffy Summers, Blanche Kiddo, and Nancy Drew with the sensibilities of the 22 year old college woman of the moment - only buffoons in suits could fuck this up so bad. I'm with Brandon Fraser, cast as villain Firefly who bemoaned what a loss this was for millions of girls. Right out the gate, in a day of unbridled diversity they got a Latina to play a Honky freckled redhead whose bestie is a Trans-Asian, and Alfred is a differently abled Black Woman: the world of BG is asea in diversity. Yet somebody stepped in and I'll guarantee you it was a loudmouth White person, and made an inorganic decision in casting immediately (this isn't about the actress who I'm sure is purely delightful and I wish future success to). Any level headed creative person could read ten issues of Stewart or Larson's runs and devise a bankable series of films from them. My only complaint is the separation of Alysia Yeoh, Trans character from Trans activism device.
I love the fact that Hope Larson shows Yeoh as a capable fighter and potential partner to Batgirl. Potent stuff, and best of all, EMPOWERING and entertaining. Conversely, when she whines and cries about misgendering like her skin is onion-like, it's as if she's the stereotype the activist community has manifested, not reflective of the amazingly resilient and potent dysphoria sufferers I know. Too often, AY is the Debbie Downer of the Barbara-verse, and that's not good.
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As for "Batgirl: Mother", in thesis: a decent contemporary Cassandra Cain story, no more, no less, and that's no discredit. Immediately, I appreciated the addition of eyes to the mask, sometimes giving a Spidey appeal. Takeshi Miyazawa's renderings and inker Wayne Faucher were more than merely adequate, giving heart and charm to the action. Aesthetically, the shiner here is colorist Mike Spicer. Inmates caught notice over my shoulder of the striking blue-violet palette that dominates the work and sets the vibe.
The tale shows substantial growth from Cain who no longer dwells in silence or isolation. She inhabits a space reserved for a Batgirl now much better, and the dynamic with estranged mother Lady Shiva is at times deep and arresting. Being a hawker myself for Asian characters, I would like to see Cass be visible face-wise, that's another reason I liked the Black Bat approach. I want Babs doing double Batgirl/Oracle duty and if Cass and Stephanie are Batgirl too, cool then. From context clues, I'm not sure what's up in this moment. It seems like Brown might be currently deceased? Is Cass the only 'Girl standing? I'm behind the wire sans the answers, but ordering Batgirls Volumes #1-3 this week.
Back to that Honk-let starved for super-TV and costumed babes kicking ass. His poppa handed him the TV Guide in 1976 to see another one of those upcoming blurbs about a comic book property hitting the tube, this one my old man knew I'd go plumb loco over. A year later, "The New Original Adventures of Wonder Woman" hit ABC and my little head to our stucco ceiling right with it.
Season one of the show was a godsend for the masses. Set in World War II, this joint had a little something for everybody, with negligée clad Amazons while beating up fascists chewing up the scenery for the guys, Playgirl hunk and Carol Burnett alumni Lyle Waggoner's Steve Trevor for the ladies and laddies, Mary Tyler Moore's "Phyllis" Cloris Leachman camping it up as The Queen, and the undeniable beauty of Lynda Carter, whose strength and grace brought the princess to life and stopped that costume from being a gag. The season also brought Debra Winger as kid sister Wonder Girl Drusilla, along with tropes like the costume-changing "twirl", invisible jet, "Feminum" mines, and super-ape Gargantua. My first brush with celebrity, too.
In Mom and Dad's closet was a magazine, Playboy specifically from 1976 featuring Mom's high school chum Linda Carpenter (yeah, sounds like...), who under the name Linda Beatty was the centerfold. She auditioned for the coveted part of Diana that went to the statuesque brunette we all know and love, BUT in episode three, the beauty pageant, we gathered around the old Zenith to watch Ms. Carpenter walk across the stage with Diana Prince. She was a USO girl in Apocalypse Now! coming out of the helicopter into the hungry arms of excitable servicemen, dating Mr. Jon Voight, namesake of George Costanza's LaBaron's spurious prior owner. She also went with the big dude from the Manhattan Transfer, who I have two songs by on my tablet, "Spice of Life", and a wild cover of XTC's "The Man Who Sailed Around His Soul" that I'm pretty sure Mr. Big croons the lead on. When I met Linda in '82 after Dad offed himself she was '80's androgynous in a men's suit jacket (her being the first person to tell me about the fabulousness of thrift store shopping), and sexy as all get out. This kind person mailed me a Go-Go's poster from LA a month later. My 'rents never instilled in me showing gratitude, something I picked up later always wishing I'd sent her a Thank You card among other important folks on my path. If you need a takeaway from this piece maybe it ain't comics, Puddin'.
ABC dropped the show despite it's vast impact surely due to the budget, but CBS took it. Bringing it to the present, the show was retooled and focused on Diana Prince as a government agent with Wondy brought in as clean-up woman. I was so bored with this, I quit watching by the middle of season three. Notably, I watched the "Formicida" episode containing a rare supervillain and starring Shields and Yarnell, a pair of honest-to-Yahweh MIMES who got their own variety show as the concept was so big in the 1970's for a minute the eve of my current incarceration.
Di was the only DC gal with her own title, and I followed it religiously. For this honor it received purely for litigious reasons (required to retain the character) even with flagging sales typically, the most effort given to a woman by a corporate publisher naturally fell there. One weird conceit from the editors, tho': every issue had a letters page with requests for classic rogues like the Cheetah, Dr. Psycho, Silver Swan, et al. After years of IOU responses, all the baddies came in one 20-something pager fighting Etta and some pencil-neck jerk who had a crush on her. They handled this book like eggs on skates.
As a teenager, I felt like I was waiting for the actual character to show up. The chance to make things right happened over and over with a reality altering Crisis then the lauded Perez reboot, but honestly he got her FURTHER from arriving than before for my money, treating "superhero" like a cuss word and doing a story about menopause. Every writer past that came on and changed the title to a new book, usually wiping out the last creative team's work completely, like Rucka did to Phil Jimenez's loyal readership. PJ finally installed lovable kid sister Donna Troy as a stationary cast member in his finale, then that Ordway/Simonson nonsense ostensibly to kill a potential interesting love interest, followed by a scenario yanked outta Greg's ass that undid about 15 years of continuity and fan-service to the devoted readers. Said, I like his Year One, and it's WAY closer to what I was waiting for but not 100%. Finally though, somebody hit my amazon G-spot, and that "G" stands for Grant.
It was the "JLA/Planetary" quasi-crossover that illuminated an absence to me, with the fusion of Diana Prince and Jakita Wagner with futuristic tech bracelets coming from a Paradise Lost to save our world. I recalled those amazing vintage concepts of the isolated tribe that sailed into far tomorrows way before anyone envisioned Wakanda or other super-folk of DCs Silver Age laying claim to science fiction in their origins. William Marston's fetishistic leanings were way too obsessed upon, and the other contributions ignored that the character who'd devolved into practically a cave woman instead of an icon of progress now suffered as a result. I hate it when our unbalanced culture takes sex to the point of boredom, delirium, or moroseness as the community did with this. I'm all about Dianas roots, all-encompassing. Grant Morrison understood what I ranted about, and saw the images in my head clearly. I told people online for years that updating Marstons work (devoured by inevitable bondage conversation usually) would be so much more interesting than the takes we get. Morrison and Yannick Panquette showed them the light.
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Wonder Woman: Earth One is a masterwork of comics. Comedy, action, drama, horror, philosophy, mythology, romance, sexuality, art that creates a visual journey for the reader, and an ending that leaves the eyes on the page to decide its moral ramifications. The non-Luddite Amazons with super medicine, advanced communications, portals to the outside universe, and control of archaic magics were the stuff of my dreams. The experience reminiscent of the Warner Hubey and Bertie cartoon where the mice spend the night in a cheese shop and indulge themselves to ennui, deciding they want baffled Claude the cat to eat them ("It dont add up" says a baffled bulldog with adding machine, receipt, and pencil behind his ear). It was so good I lost any desire to read Wonder Woman again. Seriously, I tried and Rebirth WW is the best ever mainstream attempt but I've had my money-shot and I'm over it. That book was everything I was looking for, other than the ultimate Cheetah story, and I feel like Alex Ross gave me that in "Justice" with Priscilla Rich going glamorously feral with Hecates help. I spoke too soon though, because nothing is absolute. Except Absolute...
Upon receiving a gift-wrapped turd in the mail, legendary drag queen Divine says "I smell deep dark trouble" at the sight of this package in John Waters' cult film "Pink Flamingos". My feelings exactly reading "In a different, darker world, Diana of Themyscrira was exiled to the underworld as a baby and raised by an enemy." Why my trepidation? Darkness fatigue, people, after decades of an adjective I'm as sick of as Hot N Spicy on all and every snack in this house. At the human troughs, I don't want only that bland greasy fried chicken - gimme that sugary broccoli salad, some obviously from-frozen fish filets with hush puppies, and mediocre chocolate pudding, Thelma! I crave variety. What waited inside was the sweetest surprise I ever could've wished for.
AWW is an unabashed love letter to the character and fans. Kelly Thompson's tale of Diana changing everything she touches with beauty, grace, courage, and honesty is endemic to her person no matter the environment. In this context it's so much more meaningful with Circe allowing us to forget the nasty person we've known her to be, instead showing what allowing someone to experience unyielding love can do. The balancing act pulled off with such precision of maintaining it's status as a superhero action book is no mean feat. Unashamedly, I was choking back tears and had to read this at snail's pace, not missing a pica of Hayden Sherman's spellbinding storybook-ish art with Jordie Bellaire's dreamy watercolor mimicking atmospheres. The latter work by Mattia De Iulis telling the story with Hades and Persephone is a deft and uncanny visual meal. This is the hallmark of a great comics investment - a guaranteed multiple read, and one I'll excitedly share with anyone who'll take the time to enjoy it.
Can't offer thanks enough to the portly Corrections Officer that told me Absolute Batman was all the rage, causing me to order the triad. I haven't fully indulged the other two yet, but will after I hang up from this Sermon on the Mount. I cracked Superman and honestly wasn't moved yet. It seemed like one more Elseworlds tale to me, reminding me of Kal-El from "DC Mech". I'm on a Supes and Missus bend lately with Season 4 of "Superman and Lois" popping up on the tablet last week. Always "a very special episode" with that outfit, I'm prone to ugly-cry, Lovers. I never dug "Arrow" because if doing a superhero soap opera, dont go with a cardboard daytime one. SaL is emotionally exhaustive in the finest way. Three dimensional, detailed, complex, and messy characters with villains who are their own heroes, and sometimes ours too. It has catapulted my adoration for the first lady of DC, also. I've ached plenty over the strife of Ms. Lane. She also had the lynchpin scene in that perfect movie this year thats hands-down my #1 superhero joint yet. When in Clark's teenage bedroom with those horrified and sweet parents doting on his abused body while she drinks in that he's exactly who he claimed to be and not one stitch a poser, that galvanizes the iconoclastic movie I've enjoyed four times, and I never repeat movies. Still Elizabeth Tullock's TV LL is my girl reporter of choice to the Nth.
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The final scene has me jazzed for Supergirl, the Woman of Tomorrow and more scene-snatcher Krypto. I hope the powers that be make a Wonder Woman flick of this caliber too. No fault at all to Gal Gadot (have to be careful - a misunderstanding about that topic could get me shanked around here), but I'm not a fan of the Patty Jenkins movies. I AM a fan of that director, though. Listen to her talk about the flick she tried to get made about a prison dog, "I Am Superman", and her opinions about Corrections, and I can't not think she's a restrained genius.
The movie she was tasked with came out of a crap can(n)on. I hate it all - the pic from WWI, wacky Luthor, the monotone storytelling, Steppenwolf the forgettable videogame villain (bear in mind I've yet to see the Snyder cut), the tale of two Marthas, dusty lenses, the death of Superman on his second adventure destroying the resonance of it's story, and Diana's clandestine nature which made her movies in no way a celebration of the character. Absentee fanfare with girls celebrating her nor deriving inspiration or epic fight scenes we still talk about unlike Kill Bill which in every way is the superior female-led action spectacle. This should have been two of the greatest superhero films ever, and I offer that more lip-service was issued than genuine fan-love other than admiration for the lead. No one remembers nor cares about the battle finale between Diana and the Cheetah. Movie-goers remember ALL of Blanches throw-downs.
The industry has changed vastly since those dark ages when only the rarest situations allowed women to front titles, films, and series. The results are varied as with most things. There's positive evolution, a great example being Marvel's Jane Foster, Valkyrie. I have the "Saga" trade, and it plus Wonder Woman: Earth One go in the satchel I'll carry across war-torn Europe to the safe house. Jane began as Stan Lee's generic "girl" character: all the same, pretty and chronically scared shitless. One time, Sue Storm (now Richards) passed out over a PICTURE of the fucking Hulk. In 1976, What If? posed the query Jane had found Thors hammer. We got Ms. F looking sharp in Norse duds as Thordis, the hammer-chick fans loved to pieces. Simultaneously, various femmes were imbued with the essence of Brunhilde, the Valkyrie who became a fixture of non-team the Defenders with Hulk, Namor, Dr. Strange, and Silver Surfer among others. Jane has evolved into a competent physician over the years, the concept of the Asgardian superheroine definitely having a place in Marvel's lore, and fans loved the Valkyrie but needed a solvent anchor. A successful tenure as Thor herself made the idea of Jane as the (kinda) last Valkyrie, and heir to Thor's spot in the hero pantheon with him promoted to All-Father quality evolution. A fantastic powers-set, awesome weapons with a magnetic persona and trappings, she could lead the Avengers one day. I pray this iteration lasts. My only minor gripe would be a slightly more electric look for a super-heroine with the credentials I listed. Bring a dose of color and pizzazz to that chainmail, please.
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Sometimes what passes for evolution isn't. It's virtue signaling and the problem is it rings untrue. The disingenuous nature erodes the "good intention" that spawned it, like the scornful quotation marks around that. Its backhanded, because the person who insinuated it is actually insulting the demographic they're claiming to offer uplift to.
The "STEM crisis" is a joke. A manufactured dilemma from persons that need those to justify their paycheck. Telling young Black women they need to get involved in science if they have no interest is asinine. Science is immutable, unchanging with the wielder of the microscope. Is there a Filipino men's hairdressing crisis? How about a mind your own business crisis? How about a let's go back to letting her decide her life crisis, asshole?
Further to the point, every mathematician/chemist/PhD in pop culture on commercials, TV, and movies does not have to artificially be a woman of color, as that's actually an insult to Black women. "If you can see her you can be her" is horseshit, too. Can I be Latto, then? It's patronizing, and that's not celebrating anyone. I don't like Riri Williams. Why? Because she's an emblem of this distortion. Designed as an pity-fuck, and not progress. A character I totally love is Bumblebee, DC's Teen Titan. Karen Beecher was a Black female scientist designing her own tech in the 1970's not as a response but to be freaking cool, which she IS. They tried to visually amalgamate her in New 52 with the scientist Tanya Spears/Power Girl, a Politically Correct version of that character, de-sexualized and sanitized for folks claiming to love comics yet needing them altered to bring them aboard. Irony is replacing a robust figured Honky with a Black chick built like a boy to satisfy the self-loathing. I loved the show "Fargo", and at long last passing a period without my personal TV, a season began. I knew trouble was afoot when before the first episode a preview had the show-runner speak on a "teachable moment" with this season. For shit's sweet sake, I am here for a quirky crime drama, not a damned sermon. Inside 15 minutes, I see a Black gang whose membership is more noble, smart, and betrayed than the others, plus a biracial couple in an era of such illegality with a jet black daughter who's naturally a scientific and mathematical prodigy. CLICK. Again, this isn't helpful to anybody. My most enduring friend I don't talk to anymore insinuated me racist over my dislike for The new Little Mermaid. What do I have to say for myself? In the houseful of mixed nuts I live in, the first review I caught was a 45-ish African-American hollering from his TV "Goddamn - even the Little Mermaid's a nigga now?"
Who is a Marvel character that fits the latter camp and has made it from print to screen then? Try all three Marvels. Carol broke through, claiming a man's title ("Captain Marvel" > "Wonder Woman" and "1984"). Monica was a strong Black character when diversity wasn't epidemic. Kamala is a breakthrough legacy character with a rich likability factor. Also, despite the voguish-ness of Marvels-bashing, this is a fave of mine. The direct, in-excessive, jovial, and frenetic pace of the film makes it one of my repeat watches (twice - that's good for me). I also like Madame Web and consider it a great woman-centric movie, despite it's box office failings. I'd like to know how home life treated the film as around here we were pleasantly surprised after hearing the assassinations from the theatrical release. I love the genre-twist, and think Dakota Johnson was unbelievably unprofessional for shit-talking her company afterwards. Though quite good in the picture, I wouldn't blame anyone refusing her employment now.
Counter, I have misgivings for Wakanda Forever, which held little good for us penis-havers, except Agent Ross who was essentially a damsel-in-distress. The best feature was Namor who was nearly buried beneath the #metoo vibe of the film that became dangerously close to ideologue territory rather than comic movie. Likewise, "Shang-Chi and the Ten Rings", wherein the titular warrior's sister can beat his ass like Mom could Dad plus bus driver Aquafina after a couple of lessons takes down the world-conquering dragon. In the sequel why not have the sonofabitch run a nail salon while his teen daughter smokes the Living Tribunal?
I'm glad to see real pan-fan-body progress of women in comics and the projects they've sparked. I hope to see more and better. I envision a modern Wonder Woman TV series with Greg Berlanti at the helm, doing fashionista Diana Prince as a secret agent for the Amazons finding herself on the road to being the Worlds Greatest Heroine (I want an executive producer credit for this brilliant suggestion). Seeing what his people can do with sharp ladies in Legends of Tomorrow makes me a believer. I'm sure "the ebullient Miss Quinn" as Alfred dubs her in "Mad Love" will have her own series of movies before much longer, and hopefully they'll get my Babs right too. Zoe Kravitz's Catwoman was the most faithful yet, and we can hope it'll get some solo love after that glorious Penguin series. Hard to believe I'm in a time where these are even discussions to be had.
I really didn't plan on cranking out sixteen pages on a two comic review. I'm gonna go talk to an inmate I'm friends with when nobody's looking. Back for more soon!
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With the piece about gratitude inside this screed/love note/critique/essay, on completion I realized I spoke every word to my brother on the streets, Bill Widener, who I shared a space with before the 1200 siblings I do now. I hope he reads, laughs, and thinks throughout this. Making him do that second thing always brought me an inexplicable amount of contentment. If you're reading this, switch to Splenda for fuck's sake.
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