Deus ex Kryptonia

You know what should sit at the heart of all superhero stories? Not the goddamn spandex, that’s for sure. Not the silly codenames, asinine motivations and juvenile team-ups. No, the heart of all superhero stories – correct that, all good superhero stories – is awe. Superheroes take the best of humanity and kick it up to 120%. All the good deeds that we mere mortals do in everyday life – and we do a lot of them, there are plenty of inspiring stories out there – are but a dust-mote next to the amazing feats that a superhero can perform. A good superhero story moves us, gives us a model of what it truly is to be strong, brave and bold. Characters like these are legends. Super-human, super-real.

I’d crafted the ultimate Superman story. Clark Kent, apparently dead of a broken heart. Four heroes – copies and imitations, to be sure, but imperfect reflections of true greatness still remain fantastic – arise to take Superman’s place. A villain from outside space and time, a twisted mirror of our true hero, threatens to bring the entire world under his control. The heroes fight, the heroes fall.

And then like a miracle, the Last Son of Krypton returned to save us all. 

Death… death to the Supermen!

Storytelling is about conflict. Superhero comics, even more so.  We readers of comic books love a good fight scene, and like nothing more than the iconic heroes sparring – whether verbally or physically – with loathsome villains. When designing a villain, their grotesque morals are often externalised – comics are, after all, a medium where your hero can battle Evil Incarnate and no-one would bat an eye. The Joker is as much of an icon as Batman; his hideous features just as much a mask as that worn by Bruce Wayne. The Red Skull reflects the monstrous death-urge at the twisted heart of fascism. The Leader has a distended head to demonstrate that he is brainier than the typical schmoe, while Sinestro relies on a sufficiently wicked name – and mustache – to demonstrate his untrustworthiness. Character traits – whether they be good or bad – are writ large and obvious in comics.

I had assembled my four Supermen. Jheri Curl-el, the jive-talking Metropolis Kid. Man of Yesterday’s Tomorrows, bouffant and radiant. The Mohawk of Steel, with the blood and spit of evil-doers upon his knuckles. And of course the Last Lion of Krypton, flying through the sky powered by Jah and upfulness. What they needed now was a cause to unite them.

Rebirth of the Supermen, part deux

Completing the style sheets from Trevor Wood’s collection, this shows how animators would have presented Jheri Curl-El and The Man of Yesterday’s Tomorrow. Jheri was a sentimental favourite of mine; of the four replacements, he came the closest to the big-hearted everyman that is at the core of all good Superman stories. He was the first to fall when they – and I, Brian Panderson – met our collective doomsday.

Modern-day Samson

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. If you’re going to write Superman, you’ve got to do it goddamn properly.

When Mike Carlin, DC’s line editor for all things Kryptonian, gave me the all-clear to take over the books, it was like someone had just dropped a blank cheque in my lap. Carlin believed in me, believed in my vision, and he was pulling out all the stops to make sure I got the independence and support I required.

My proposal was sublime. I saw no point in throwing a muscled goon at Superman. To simply make a villain stronger that the world’s first and best superhero wasn’t going to create a compelling character or a story for the ages. Readers instinctively understand that a character like that isn’t a real threat, but just a plot point stumbling around in a ripped pair of pants. It also couldn’t be Kryptonite-based. Kryptonite was created as a then-necessary method to dampen Superman’s power levels, but it was an ultimately limited fix. In a similar vein to Kal-El’s sensitivity to magic, Kryptonite would be a cheap and too-easily telegraphed solution to what I was looking to achieve.

Superman’s true Kryptonite – the real Achilles’ Heel for the Man of Steel – was Clark Kent. Put another way, Superman’s humanity and his fierce loyalty for his adopted world was his ultimate weakness. Only love would tear Superman apart.