Weblines: THE J. MICHAEL STRACZYSNKI RUN – Part VIII.

In its primary definition, drama is a composition in prose or verse, artistically (re)presented through a situation with a number of protagonists involved in a conflict and/or contrast, depending on their interests and motivations. To accomplish its function as an art form, it must be attractive, real, and impactful. But most of all, credible, even if regarded as a way of entertainment. If a connection is achieved, its purpose is accomplished.
That’s why the juxtaposition of equivalent elements into fiction does not affect its value; for the sake of enjoyment, character representation should enable emotional relatability. A lesson taught from the great literary classics, common in films, series, songs. In the modern mythological sequential art format – also known as superhero comic books – those can also be translated to the reader. Albeit the concept, they’re made to provide the suspension of belief from reality: momentaneous escapism. But superheroes do not only fight supervillains and unconceivable outer-worldly threats. They have secret identities and lead normal lives (mostly) – an aspect that separates them from the myths of old. And from that distinction alone, they have the unique opportunity to look upon humanity with a heightened perspective and intervene when necessary, to do what anyone with some superpowers to help would. That’s another power of storytelling: to provide inspiration.

Serialized superhero comic books are not only able to display battles of good vs. evil; but also, through the principles of drama embedded in every human soul, provide a frame of mind into these fictional or real personas. It’s easy to be in awe for their actions pictured on paper, but observing how they behave when engaging with their altruistic standards can be a moral exercise of their psyche (or how writers envision them). It’s just a part of what makes them compelling. They risk their personal lives against impossible odds not only for the greater good but in defense of those who are incapable of defending themselves or are stuck in difficult situations.
Sometimes fantastic visual illustrations ranging from cosmic action to street level-raw violence are not enough; superheroes can trigger inspiration and show the human potential to do good through their journey – such as:

Nightwing #1 (Oct. 1996) – DC Comics:

After the shattering events of the Legacy crossover, a small cliffhanger was designed to give Dick Grayson his long-earned monthly series. Nightwing is sent to the city of Bludhaven by Batman to investigate the murder of twenty-one dead men. From the very moment he first sets foot in the city, he saves a girl from two offenders with bad intentions; then gives her money for a bus ticket back to Gotham and instructs her to ask for a job at Waynecorp on his behalf.

The same attitude is demonstrated in Nightwing#8 (May 1997) in which a homeless man asks him for a little help; Grayson goes beyond the usual response and offers an alternative:

Spoiler: the homeless man is later beaten to death; issues later, Nightwing finds the perpetrator. When the main investigation on the murdered men is concluded, he decides to stay in Bludhaven and become its guardian. The series, considered one of the best Bat-titles of the ’90s, was written by Chuck Dixon and drawn by Scott McDaniel with inks by Karl Story. Highly recommendable reading.
Although the Nightwing series portrays the adventures of a powerless superhero in a Gotham City counterpart whose constant antagonists are criminality, violence, and corruption, there’s space – through those excerpts above – to sympathize with Dick Grayson’s soul. He’s a hero whose range of vision grants the reader identification with reality itself. In the extent pantheon of god-like heroes (and some-villains) in the DC Universe, it is a rare attribute. His attitude towards people who are victims of poverty and in dire need of help sparks emotional relatability because it contains real-life aspects of drama; therefore, empathy.

Writers of superhero comics are paid to stretch their imagination about all forms, levels, and nuances of evil. Not an easy task. When the battlefield changes to poverty, social inadequacy, and even personal problems, the challenge increases. After all, they have their own secret identities’ lives to deal with, and writers must expand their world vision from micro to macro – context, plot, act structure, characterization, dialogue.
Before J. Michael Straczynski arrived in the title, The Amazing Spider-Man unwavering routine consisted in Peter Parker’s life busy with problems, endless secrets from his supporting cast, and a physical battle with more explanatory dialogues about it than the visual action. When the writer came onboard in 2001, he wrote all those commonalities off and targeted the experienced mind and heart of the man inside the hero. The new direction proved nothing short of successful and meaningful for a readership who grew up with a character whose proper acknowledgment as an icon was long due. The first Spider-Man movie directed by Sam Raimi was still a year away of being released and the first volume of the Ultimate Spider-Man by Brian Michael Bendis & Mark Bagley was already hitting all the cylinders, presenting a modern retelling of the hero’s origin, still in his teens in the coming of the 21st century. Not every writer is capable to balance the infusion of drama with characterization in which the protagonist must devote his/her powers and resources to solving other peoples’ dilemmas. J. Michael Straczynski belongs to the group who can put all of those storytelling ingredients successfully into the test. Look no further than his Rising Stars (1999) and Midnight Nation (2000) – miniseries published by Top Cow/Joe’s Comics, which granted him the keys to lead Spider-Man’s main continuity forward. Under his direction, Peter Parker rose to the challenge in different arenas.

In Marvel Comics, street-level poverty is not part of Spider-Man’s rogues’ gallery. So, he cannot act exactly like Dick Grayson in the aforementioned examples from the Nightwing series. But any fan, already familiar with the life and times of Peter Parker, knows that his heart can do just the same, if not more. JMS has demonstrated what Spider-Man could do in the 3-part storyline in ASM#40-42 (already outlined in this column); it’s worth noting that it started out as Peter investigating the troubled life of one of his students.
In the here analyzed 2-part tale, with John Romita Jr., Scott Hanna, and Dan Kemp, Straczynski touches upon the theme of Peter helping out another of his students – but with a more incisive approach. The difference is, instead of expanding the story to another level that would lead to an inevitable physical confrontation with a new super-villain, this one remains somehow grounded in Peter’s routine as a teacher.

Along with him in the script and story duties, one of his former collaborators  – Fiona Avery.

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She was hired as a reference editor for the fifth and final season of Babylon 5 (1993-1998); as a writer in its spinoff Crusade (1999) and in another TV series Earth: Final Conflict. Transitioning to comics, she continued collaborating with Straczynski, expanding the Rising Stars Universe by writing the miniseries Bright, Voices of the Dead, and Untouchable for Top Cow – where she also created the miniseries No Honor with artist Clayton Crain and the Witchblade – Obakemono graphic novel with Billy Tan. And just like JMS, her work got noticed by Marvel.
Fiona started out with an acclaimed Rogue miniseries (2001) and then tested her ground with the Arachknight in a 2001 annual Peter Parker Spider-Man: set in Peter’s early days with the uniform, he decides traveling to Nazca, in Peru for summer vacation. There, as fate had it, he comes across an ancient tribe – the Spider Village, whose inhabitants are worshippers of the Great Weaver; their temple had been overrun by The Snake Clan and it’s up for Peter to save the day as the spider-warrior chosen to save the village. Despite being an adventure with little retro continuity impact, it does reinforce the Spider-totem theme that Straczynski was already introducing in the beginning of his run. For sure, the tale was inspired by the Nazca lines – located in the system of valleys on the southern coast of the country.

But she left her mark in the company’s mythology by expanding the Spider-mythos with the creation of Anya Corazon – Araña (‘Spider’ in Spanish). Her debut came in the second volume of Amazing Fantasy in August 2004 – penciled by Mark Brooks. Six issues later, she gained her self-titled series in Jan. 2005 with Roger Cruz in the art chores.
Adapting the elements used in the aforesaid annual, Avery expanded the Spider-totem mythology in her own way, creating the ancient and mystical Spider Society that sponsors and trains Anna; they cover themselves as a company: Webcorp – having as main antagonists the Sisterhood of The Wasp. Another element borrowed and expanded from an ASM tale conceived by Straczynski. The Araña monthly series lasted 12 issues.

As far as legacy goes, it’s relevant to acknowledge Anya Corazon as an extension of the Spider-Verse, before the term itself existed. She predates Kamala Khan – the new Ms. Marvel by nine years; unfortunately, albeit being bolstered as the new Spider-Girl after the events of the Grim Hunt storyline, she never achieved the same popular status as Ms. Marvel has.

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UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES ASM#55-56 (2003 – vol.2):
(Covers by Mike Deodato Jr.)

It starts like any other day in the life of a teacher would: on his way to work, Peter recognizes one of his school’s students who’s late talking to youngsters who are flunking class. Her name is Melissa Coolridge, and due to a cast on her leg and a pair of crutches, she can’t hurry. Peter does not only follows her pace but goes beyond: by investigating her academic record, he finds out that she needs help with her grades and units, so he makes her his student in Honors Bio. Then, by escorting her home and carrying her bags; but that’s when they see some thugs robbing her home. Without revealing his powers (and playing the dumb nerd), Peter knocks them down with her bags. In the aftermath, he gets to meet her mother and comes across a learns a coincidence: Melissa’s brother – Joshua – was caught carjacking by Spider-Man and handed to the police. Afterward, Mary Jane just delivers the truth: “So, if you helped make the problem, I guess you kinda have to fix it.”
Under the mask, he tracks down the same thugs who robbed the Coolridge home and discovers the reason they were robbed is that Melissa’s brother owes money to some drug dealers; since he was nowhere to be found, her family have to pay. Ezekiel returns (from South Africa) and hears Peter on his current situation and how the Doctrine of Unintended Consequences is a factor that he – as a Superhero – must take into consideration; because even bad guys are responsible for their own have families. That gives him a reason to ponder on his actions; however, not as it used to.

Many times over, the usage of guilt as a fuel to ignite Peter’s attitude used to be the gimmick to insert more drama into Spider-Man’s stories; distinctively during his teenagehood, when his life was not compatible with the one as a beginner superhero. Often, the culpability that forced this youngster to act like a responsible man beyond the normal limits of what any other ‘normal’ man should, became the psychological hallmark that made Spider-Man so unique.
But as he was growing older, despite his age and experience, his emotional response was still portrayed as a teenager’s. It’s unclear to determine whether this was the (editorial) template that should be followed by every new writer as Marvel was establishing the personality profile for each of their main heroes and villains. Then again, it’s understandable that any pre-adult without a proper father figure would operate like so. But after decades of countless published issues that would only add more to his history and make him as mature as Steve Rogers and Logan, the time was already more than due to acknowledge Peter Parker’s age as a fully-formed adult in the dawn of the 21st century. It’s what happened to Dick Grayson: Chuck Dixon was already well-aware of Bruce Wayne/Batman’s psyche; with Nightwing, he could shape the character’s learning curve with each issue of the title. It is the same model used by Bendis in Ultimate Spider-Man – building his persona in each issue based on time and experience.
By looking back at his history and everything he’s gone through, JMS made Spider-Man/Peter Parker’s voice unique and recognizable. He knows him – just like Frank Miller with Matt Murdock, Walter Simonson with Thor, Chuck Dixon with Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, Geoff Johns with Hal Jordan, and more sui generis runs in the realm of superhero comics.

That’s why it’s easy for Peter – as a teacher – to assess Melissa’s mind and heart once she becomes his student:

His criterion to help is his belief in her, not guilt. Instead of making a weight out of it, he embraces the responsibility as he would with each of his students. In that respect, JMS’s idea to make Peter a teacher justifies his emotional and psychological maturity, and not losing his wit. There are no thought balloons and captions overflowing with aching drama and self-questioning; no preaching over ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ with Uncle Ben’s flashbacks.
However, from the way Peter is here scripted, one can even conjecture that he is channeling Ben Parker’s kind nature through him, given his sheer will to do good for someone who needs help. So he’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish it. Once again, proper characterization applied: no longer a flawed young adult teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders, but a man accountable for his decisions. The writer is encouraging us to reassess Spider-Man, by pushing the flexibility of the character in a way no other writer ever has – and still not offending our intelligence. From a storytelling perspective, it’s enjoyable to read a Spider-Man comic with minimum (superhero) action and more character development; tales such as “The Kid Who Collects Spider-Man!” from ASM #248 (Jan. 1984), became instant classics due to the same prose formula. Here, a character such as Melissa Coolridge serves the story for Peter – who decides to deal with the obstacle he himself created.

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The reality and consequences of being a superhero is a recurring theme in most of  Straczynski’s comic book work. In Superman, he hypothesized different answers as to how a superhero can help someone with a personal problem, and why in the Grounded storyline, published in Superman #700-714 (2010).
After returning from space battling a dangerous threat, Superman is interviewed by a group of journalists; amidst them, a woman stands in front of him and slaps his face. She blames him for not being reachable to save her husband who died of a brain tumor and couldn’t take him to a hospital in time. As a result, Superman reflects on his limitations and what he represents. So he decides to start a journey of self-discovery, walking from town to town across America, dealing with people’s individual issues – from broken cars, unemployment, domestic violence, to suicide – and still dealing with other crises that only Superman can advert.
JMS’s mission statement couldn’t be more direct: to bring a demigod out of the sky to walk among the people he vowed to protect in order to learn their (or our) truths about the human condition. It’s a tale about power, responsibility, and guilt; a subtle exploration of the human heart inside the Man of Steel.

Straczynski’s admiration for the last son of Krypton used to be a well-known fact in the comic fandom. With the release of his autobiography in July 2019, the world got to know how his Love for stories – and Clark Kent’s soul – literally saved his life from a strenuous upbringing in a tragic family; so much that he put his favorite superhero’s name in the title of his best selling autobiography: Becoming Superman – My Journey From Poverty to Hollywood.
If there were ever doubts that storytelling through modern fantasy, science fiction, and superheroes can do so much more for our human essence than just entertain our eyes for some time, Straczynski eliminates them all in this book. He learned from those stories to change his own, until becoming a master of his craft. Superman is the symbol of moral code he’s used as a compass to stay in the path of righteousness – his main inspiration. So he could give it forward with great verve to his readers.

“Just as speech is invention about objects and ideas, so myth is invention about truth.”
– J.R.R. Tolkien.

This Superman arc and the two-part tale here examined are seven years apart from their publication. Still, a comparative analysis between both is worth making: not in the sense as to which is the best, but how the same theme of individual help is put through under lenses of the same creative mind. The insight provided by JMS is compelling, to say the least; it’s a unique frame of reference of heroes that could simply ignore the situation they were put in, but face the truth of such unintended consequences of their acts in the same way. Responsibility is taken. So Straczynski’s Spider-Man emboldens the definitive evolution of Peter Parker who stands (at this point) shoulder to shoulder with Clark Kent.

There is a plot similarity to Sensitive Issues – ASM#40-42 /vol.2, though this one does not present a supervillain showdown, keeping the ‘realism’ factor into the theme. Ezekiel’s intervention provides a positive closure, thanks to Peter’s words and actions; he is there as a reminder of things to come. The main plot moves forward.
Nevertheless, the arc itself is not eventful, but rather meaningful: Spider-Man helps Peter Parker – and not the opposite. And despite being addressed as “old” by Melissa, it’s a clever way to suggest that, without realizing, Peter assumes the Father figure he had for such little time: he becomes Ben Parker.

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Stories like the ones here reviewed stand apart from the usual conception of superhero comics; they offer possibilities beyond what their reputation is known for. They’re not game-changers in the field, neither propose a new psychological autopsy of what makes them tick. The motif is simple: investigate their introspections when facing other people’s inner problems. Therefore, instigating some thought about the code we choose to live by and provoking – even for a minute – a conscious examination of what is immoral and wrong according to the values we hold dear by living in a law-abiding society, including our next-door neighbor’s. Superheroes are not there to uphold them, but they still inspire contemplation of these values and the unpredictability of life.
Because at the end of the day (and the story), it’s the central character’s journey that counts. We identify ourselves with them and forget about our lives through theirs, being guided beyond the limits of our own imagination.

Behind the wheel, sit writers like J. Michael Straczynski, who once again, help to deliver through his work in Spider-Man comics a succinct message that whatever the harsh moment of reality we confront or help someone with, it won’t be a perpetual state (as he did it with 9/11). If we open our hearts to these stories, they can amuse, inspire, defy, inform, and teach what it means to be a friendly neighborhood person. Even a super-hero.

This post is dedicated to Francessca Vasquez.