Writer: Grant Morrison
Artist: Frank Quitely (p), Jamie Grant (i)
Publisher: DC Comics
Initially, I was going to give All-Star Superman #6 a rating of four bullets (as I would have also given the previous five issues had I reviewed them). Each individual issue is an “above average comic, well worth your time to pick up and save for future readings” (which is SBC’s guideline for a four-bullet comic book).
I suspected, though, that the entire arc would eventually prove to “exceed expectations” and reveal itself to be “a terrific example of the art form” (SBC’s guideline for a five-bullet comic book) when Morrison had completed the series. Then, as I started writing this review, I suddenly realized that this issue actually has an intellectual depth and complexity beyond what is usually found in a mainstream comic book, which is my own criteria for a five-bullet book.
In the first draft of this review, I noted that Morrison continues to demonstrate that he has an ear for dialogue that exceeds most of his peers in the industry. I then began to comment on Frank Quitely’s pencil illustrations, which I suddenly had a satori about not only this issue, but the series to date.
I had started to mention that Quitely (augmented digitally by the “inking” and coloring of Jamie Grant) does his usual wonderful job of bringing together the conflation of the divine and mundane (known in art by a variety of terms, such as epiphanies, sublime moments, et cetera). The sublimity of Quitely’s art was the satori I needed to see that Morrison depends on Quitely’s art to support his own overt textual statement of sublimity on page one of this issue.
On the first page, a young Clark Kent (who is either still attending or has recently graduated from Metropolis University) is standing next to his adoptive father, Jonathan Kent, in a field of prairie dropseed several feet from a dead tree, a tractor, and two scarecrows. (Why the Kents have placed scarecrows in a field of wild grass is anyone’s guess.)
Above Clark and his dad, a full moon shines down and a shooting star streaks overhead as Jonathan Kent tells Clark that even though he’s never been one for sitting in church, he came out to this spot one night and prayed that he and Martha would have a child. He then goes on to say that soon after his prayer, Kal-El’s rocket crashed in the field for the Kents to find. (It would have served Morrison’s purpose more had he been able to passively convey the idea that the spacecraft arrived 40 days later, but it’s also good not to get too heavy handed with the mythical imagery.) Jonathan Kent sums up the situation in the first panel of the second page, “A childless couple blessed from above with a miracle boy from another world.”
In this opening sequence, Morrison is pointing out something that’s obvious but that most creators and readers don’t necessarily keep foremost in their minds when encountering a Superman story: The Superman mythos is a conflation of the Judeo-Christian myths of Moses and Jesus. Like Moses, the Kryptonian infant was a male child who was set adrift by his parents in a craft in order so that the child could escape destruction. He is also the son from a “heavenly father” named “El” (El is the Hebrew word for God that is etymologically related to the Aramaic Eli as well as the Arabic al, Ali, and Allah).
Additionally, the father El gave his son to a childless couple whose original names were given as Mary and John in Superman #1 and #53. Thus, Jonathan and Mary/Martha fill the roles of Joseph and Mary as a childless couple who are blessed with a “divine” child. Furthermore, like Joseph, Jonathan Kent is a common man who married the daughter of a rich man but still performed mundane labor.
Of course, I knew all of this as I was reading Morrison’s first page, but it didn’t strike me as being particularly important to either the enjoyment or the meaning of Morrison’s Superman until I considered how well Quitely conflates the divine and the mundane in his art, showing the the power of Superman and his time-traveling “descendents” in combination with the earthiness of the Kents (who are presented as more rotund than in typical depictions). The intersecting of the divine and the mundane has been evident throughout the series, but it was as I was working on this review that I noticed how well it’s all coming together.
Warning: Spoilers below.
This issue provides a story that seems to be completely out of chronology with the first five issues of the series, until it’s revealed at the end of the story that “the Unknown Superman of A.D. 4500” is not from the 46th century at all. He’s actually Kal-El from the early 21st century (and the first five issues) who has traveled back in time with “The Superman Squad” to defeat the Chronovore that he recalled helping defeat when he was ten to fifteen years younger.
It’s then revealed by the “golden Superman” (or “Superman Prime,” the leader of The Superman Squad), “This was the day you joined forces with three generations of Supermen to chain the Chronovore. Another of your legendary twelve labors, I seem to recall.”
I hasten to point out that “Superman Prime” (who is most assuredly a far-future version of Kal-El himself) doesn’t claim that “the chaining of the Chronovore” was one of the twelve labors, only that this day was.
As with the intersecting of the divine with the mundane, I believe Morrison is actually giving us two sets of “twelve labors.” One set (the seemingly divine set) includes the obvious stereotypical super feats found in mythologies and comic books—including such things as answering the unanswerable question of the Ultra-Sphinx, escaping the Underverse, and chaining the Chronovore. (Other such “super labors” that have been mentioned in the series are Superman eventually creating life and overthrowing the Tyrant Sun).
However, it’s the second set of labors (the seemingly mundane set) that makes Morrison’s work stand out. Rather than twelve feats of Herculean strength and cunning, Kal-El is performing the twelve feats that are to bring closure to his life (since he is supposedly going to die after undergoing systemic autophagic cell death following his absorption of a massive amount of solar radiation that occurred when he rescued the helionauts who were falling into the sun in the first issue).
The twelve seemingly mundane labors include such things as revealing his Clark Kent identity to Lois Lane, proclaiming to Lois his love for her, attempting to understand, forgive, and possibly reform Lex Luthor, and visiting Jonathan Kent on the day that he died.
Before the series is concluded, I have no doubt that other such seemingly mundane labors will include such things as proposing marriage to Lois and conceiving a child with her (which, of course, will also take care of the “Herculean labor” of “creating life” that Samson mentioned in the third issue).
In a polar shifting of the divine and mundane, though, we should begin to realize that the truly remarkable feats are those that include such things as telling someone that you love her, being honest and truthful with the person you love, helping your friends when asked, and letting your dying father know that you’re proud of him and that he can be proud of his son, et cetera.
This series is shaping up to be the greatest Superman arc of all time, and the sixth issue is just one more piece in a puzzle that looks to eventually be greater than the sum of its parts.
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