Unforgettably Unforgotten: Fantastic Four #1

The following is my review of Fantastic Four #1, which was posted on PopMatters.com.

What is the Marvel universe without the Fantastic Four? That's a difficult question that many fans have had to answer since the conclusion of Secret Wars in 2015. Since then, Marvel's First Family has been absent, scattered, or a solemn combination of both. The reasons for their limited status are many and prone to speculation, ranging from bitter disputes over movie rights to simply not having a place in Marvel's ever-evolving landscape. Whatever the reason, there's one inescapable truth. The Marvel universe just isn't whole without the Fantastic Four.

Their absence is a glaring flaw in a world that was built on a foundation that Reed, Sue, Johnny, and Ben helped forge during the golden age of the Stan Lee/Jack Kirby partnership. While many other Marvel heroes have seen their star rise, the Fantastic Four only ever seem to decline. Regardless of which hot new superhero emerges or who gets an overdue overhaul, it's never a matter of whether the First Family will ascend once more. It's just a matter of time, opportunity, and vision.

With Fantastic Four #1, that moment is here. Dan Slott and Sara Pichelli are poised to reaffirm the Fantastic Four's importance to the Marvel universe. Overall, they succeed in almost every meaningful way. The most important thing they do is demonstrate how much the Richards family is still missed. It's not just Ben and Johnny who miss them, either. Many of their close associates, including Medusa, Crystal, and Luke Cage, all get a chance to say how they feel about a world without the Fantastic Four. They don't need Reed's vast vocabulary to make clear how much that world is lacking.

That sentiment starts as simple longing on Ben and Johnny's part. There's this underlying sense of solemn, but uplifting kind nostalgia. They both handle it very differently, though. Throughout the story, Ben is more resigned to the idea that Reed, Sue, and their kids are gone for good. It still hurts, but he's trying to move forward with his life. He even has a chance to make an important life decision with Alicia. From Ben's perspective, the best way to deal with the lost of his old family is to build a new one.

That's not Johnny's approach, though. In fact, he's downright offended by Ben's methods. Johnny, being the literal and figurative hot-head of the bunch, isn't inclined to move forward. He resists any inclination to just accept that the Fantastic Four are gone for good. He clings to the idea that Reed and Sue will find a way, as they often do. Considering that these two can outwit Galactus, navigate the negative zone, and resist Namor's efforts to undermine their marriage, his faith in them is not entirely misguided.

That doesn't make it any less frustrating for him, though. To some extent, Johnny's anger towards anyone who accepts that Reed, Sue, and their kids are never coming back reflects that of every other Marvel fan who misses them. It goes beyond the comics themselves. The marginalization of the Fantastic Four is hard to miss, even for those who don't follow news about mismanaged movie rights. Given their importance to the history of Marvel and the way the landscape of Marvel has unfolded without them, a little frustration is more than warranted.

It culminates in a powerful moment where Slott captures that feeling perfectly through Johnny. Rather than celebrate the progress Ben makes in his personal life, he lashes out at the stars where he and the First Family got their powers. He says what so many others have thought, felt, and articulated in fan mail. Reed Richards is one of the smartest beings in the Marvel universe. No secret war, incursion, or Disney lawyer can keep him and the Fantastic Four apart. He shouldn't need a reminder, but Johnny gives him one anyways.

He does it in a way that almost makes you want to shout with him. This isn't just another superhero team that can form, dissolve, and join a super-powered civil war within the same week. The Fantastic Four are a family. No matter how many planet eaters there are, family finds one another. That's something that no Avenger, X-men, or Champion can match. In the end, both Johnny and those who share his frustration get a welcome and overdue answer. It's both a sign and a gesture of reassurance. The Richards family is coming home. The Fantastic Four will be whole once more.

That sentiment, built around the affirmation that the First Family is coming together again, is Slott and Pichelli's most important achievement with Fantastic Four #1. This isn't just a team reforming after a dramatic schism. This is a family finding itself after being torn apart by forces that literally ripped apart the multiverse. Regardless of how much or how little you missed the Fantastic Four during their prolonged absence, it's easy to appreciate that longing these characters feel to be whole once more.

Slott and Pichelli evoke the right emotions throughout Fantastic Four #1, but the story isn't without shortcomings. As a whole, it comes off as more of a prelude rather than the first issue of a larger story. Even though Reed and Sue make an appearance, there are times when the story feels more like a movie trailer than the start of a new chapter for the First Family. The inclusion of a flashback sequence didn't seem to contribute much to the plot, either.

That doesn't make the emotional weight of Fantastic Four #1 any less impactful. It still sends the message that Fantastic Four fans have been waiting to hear for years. The First Family of the Marvel universe is coming back and they've been sorely missed. While they probably won't solve every lingering problem with superhero civil wars and pushes for diversity, they'll still be together. For any family, that's the most important part of any challenge.

Final Score: 7 out of 10

Adolescence Is Everybody's Kryptonite: Spider-Man #1

The following is my review of Spider-Man #1, which was posted on PopMatters.com.

Creating an iconic character is like trying to create another Mona Lisa. There's no formula to it. Nobody truly knows whether a character will become an icon any more than Da Vinci knew that his paintings would be the subject of a Dan Brown novel. It's these iconic characters that make up the backbone of the comic book industry and if modern comics has a Mona Lisa, then it is best manifested in the character of Peter Parker.

He's not just a character that Marvel and Disney milk for billions. He's a proverbial everyman who readers can relate to more than aliens from Krypton, warriors from Paradise Island, or talking raccoons with machine guns. Peter Parker embodies that uniquely close connection with readers wherein his heroics and his persona aren't larger than life. The strength and success of Peter Parker helped make him an icon. He turned Toby McGuire a Hollywood superstar. He turned Andrew Garfield into someone other than that guy who once dated Emma Stone. Peter's influence is beyond dispute.

In the same way the music industry looks for the next Elvis Presley, Marvel keeps trying to create another Peter Parker. The success of such efforts are varied at best. For every Kamala Khan, there's are multiple Ben Rileys. By most measures, the biggest success to date is Miles Morales. He may have been born from the defunct pile of ashes that was the Ultimate Universe, but the strength of his character has made him an icon in his own right and he managed to do it without resorting to clones.

With the end of Secret Wars, Miles Morales has now set up shop in the prime Marvel Universe. Now, absent of the baggage that made the Ultimate Universe the ultimate afterthought, he's free to develop on a new path in Spider-Man #1. That path follows a similar route to Peter Parker with a few unique twists along the way. While the destination is the same, the route might be a bit too familiar at times.

Miles Morales is in a very different place compared to Peter Parker. It's not just because he's a teenager, he's still in high school, and he hasn't been cloned yet either. He's still trying to establish himself in this world of female Thors, talking trees, and time-displaced X-men. On top of all that, he has to do that while trying to navigate high school, grades, and teenage hormones. The responsibilities placed on him couldn't be more unreasonable without demanding he master origami in the process.

This is the sort of balancing act that Superman, Batman, and Captain America never have to deal with. They're adults dealing with adult problems. What Miles deals with, and what Peter Parker once dealt with as well, are problems that actual people face as teenagers. Give any teenager superpowers and they'll still struggle being a teenager. Adolescences is everybody's kryptonite to some degree. This is what made Peter Parker relatable in his youth. This is what makes Miles Morales relatable in Spider-Man #1.

Brian Michael Bendis goes out of his way to emphasize Miles' struggles as a teenage boy over his struggles as Spider-Man. He spends most of the issue out of his costume, dealing with the frustrations and complications that come with being a teenager. This includes struggling with grades, dealing with irate teenage girls, and discussing midterms with parents. For countless teenagers, this is every bit as daunting as a battle against Galactus.

It's a typical part of a teenager's life and a part that most adults try to forget. Spider-Man #1 goes out of its way to capture that and for good reasons. It's one of the most important elements of Spider-Man's formula. While this keeps Miles grounded, as prescribed by the classic Peter Parker formula, it does have some shortcomings.

At times, the narrative tries too hard to make Miles Morales into a younger, non-clone version of Peter Parker. In the same way it's impossible to recreate the Beatles without John Lennon, it's not possible to make Miles exactly like Peter. It's one thing to have him struggle with school, grades, and women. This has been the basis of every Spider-Man movie and cartoon for nearly two decades. However, Miles Morales has a few key elements that set him apart and these elements are poorly developed in Spider-Man #1.

Miles doesn't life with his Aunt and Uncle. Miles' best friend doesn't have a rich father who occasionally puts on goblin masks and throws pumpkin bombs. Most notably, Miles isn't the nerdy white boy that shows like The Big Bang Theory have been glorifying for a decade. He's a half-black, half-latino kid in an urban area. Expecting his experiences to be the same as Peter Parker requires a certain ignorance of 100 years of American race relations or a complete rejection of every rant Bill O'Riley has ever made on the subject.

That's not to say that these differences are outright ignored. Miles' friendship with Genke, as well as his dealings with his parents, do help establish that Miles is not a Peter Parker clone. In any Spider-Man story, that counts for a lot. However, the failure to explore the elements that make Miles a different kind of Spider-Man is a significant shortcoming for the story.

Despite such shortcomings, Spider-Man #1 still sticks close enough to the formula to work. It still shows Miles functioning as both a teenager and as Spider-Man. When he finally does put on his costume, he confronts a threat that doesn't feel like it was pasted from old Steve Ditko art. There is sufficient intrigue to make Miles Morales' story worth following.

Brian Michael Bendis and Sara Pichelli follow the necessary formula to make Miles Morales feel like Spider-Man, but the finished product feels incomplete. It lacks the kinds of egregious flaws that would make that formula volatile. There's never a sense in Spider-Man #1 that Miles Morales is ready to make a deal with Mephisto. Miles is still a long way from Peter Parker in terms of iconic status and movie appearances, but with this issue, he takes another important step.

Final Score: 7 out of 10