HOURMAN #11-13: ONE MILLION
A slacker superhero justifies his angst-ridden existence.

Writer: Tom Peyer
Artists: Rags Morales, Steve Scott, David Meikis, Walden Wong, Andrew Hennesey
Colorist: John Kalisz
Separations: Heroic Age
Letterer: Kurt Hathaway
Three issue story arc
Published by DC Comics 1999-2000
$2.50 each

Reviewed by Pindaros

The notion of "fun" has become a cliche in mainstream comics these days, yet another way of coming to grips with the declining popularity of the form. As in, "what made superhero comics great when I was young was that they were fun."

Of course, the "fun" comics of yore can be anything from Golden Age CAPTAIN MARVEL to Jim Lee's run on WILDC.A.T.S, depending on the age of the speaker. This suggests that "fun" is actually standing in for whatever qualities of a comic recall youthful pleasures.

As a result, "fun" is often just a code-word for nostalgia. Or if readers and creators sense the danger of nostalgia, "fun" can refer to books that emphasize and critique the juvenile passions behind the enjoyment of superheroes.

In both cases the results can be fairly banal. Either creators restrain themselves from writing stories that reflect their recent interests and passions, or they produce satire that is fairly juvenile in its own right, in the name of "deconstructing traditional superhero themes." "Fun" essentially becomes an indication that a writer is doing work that is emotionally and intellectually less complex than they are capable of.

I bring this up because above all, HOURMAN is "fun." Should the casual reader have any doubts on this score, they need only look at the artwork. The work of usual artist Rags Morales and his substitute Steve Scott stands somewhere between the simple cartoon style of DC's current animated shows and the earnestly detailed 70's futurism of Dave Cockrum's art on SUPERBOY AND THE LEGION OF SUPERHEROES. That is, shiny sf, but with plenty of caricature, for which Morales has a particular gift.

The "fun" of the series is even more obvious in the entourage that Hourman has acquired over the course of the series. As well as Snapper Carr (on whom more later), the series now includes Carr's ex-wife, the New Age sexpot Bethany, the mad scientist Dr. Rocco Togg, and a demon named Torcher who arrived during the 'Day of Judgment' crossover last fall. The Avengers they ain't, as becomes particularly clear in this story arc, when they try to follow Hourman into the future in his timeship and become trapped in eternity.

Hourman himself moves the series further into both the nostalgia and the satire camp, as an all-powerful android ("intelligent machine colony" to be precise) who lacks social skills. On the one hand, he evokes a whole history of poorly adapted artificial men, from Frankenstein to Lieutenant Data; on the other, his personal disasters put to rest the notion that the achievements and morality of a superhero are the important aspects of his character. Built to be both good and powerful, Hourman continues to be hopeless.

With this appeal to pathos we already have a better-written, if derivative, superhero satire, on the level of a good TV sitcom. Fortunately for us, Tom Peyer has warped his writing away from this well-trod path by putting its narrative voice into the mouth of Snapper Carr. As a figure who is both sympathetic friend and articulate critic, Carr serves as a sort of Pancho Villa that makes HOURMAN a unique reading experience.

While Peyer is to be commended for his inspired use of Carr, he is exploiting a potential that was in Carr from the moment of his creation by Gardner Fox. Portrayed as the ultimate slang-wielding, jalopy-hopping teenager, Carr brought the image of the sidekick out of the orphans and newsboys of the Golden Age into the scientific excitement of the late '50s. While Bucky and Robin were kids eager for adventure, Carr exemplified both the earnestness and the enthusiasm of intelligent boys at the beginning of the Space Age.

As well as modulating the excitement of the young reader by offering a peer's reaction to the fantastic adventures of the JLA, Carr underlined the sense that the scientific world embodied by the DC superheroes was an enterprise through which adults opened up worlds of wonder for their children. In a sense, Carr's excitement gave meaning to the League's victories.

Marvel's development of teen superheroes was a strategy that ultimately proved more successful, especially given that time would betray the initial promise of the scientific frontier. The alienation felt by Peter Parker and the X-Men ultimately spoke far more about the feelings of young people during the Vietnam War and after than Snapper's hip patois ever could, and even DC was willing to let the youth leave the JLA in disgrace.

All the same, any teenager who dons the tights is bound up in the same need to justify this sartorial excess with heroics, and so superhero teens have the same predicament as any other hero. The increasing "realism" of these characters results in an acknowledgment that as human beings they want love and comfort, but these desires are only considered worthy inasmuch as the characters remain in a paranoid world of devastation, making emotional fulfillment impossible.

Peyer has brought Carr back as a figure whose enthusiasm and language remain definitive, but whose experience has suggested that the promise of the late '50s could never be achieved solely by superheroes. Carr is in a position to ask what no superhero ever can, namely, what good is absolute power if it means you have to forego love? (Also addressed in P. Craig Russell's new RHINEGOLD series.)

'Hourman One Million' begins immediately after Hourman has had his first kiss interrupted by his former team-mates in Justice Legion A. Returned to the 853rd century, the Legionnaires challenge the life he has made for himself with Snapper, then seek his help in defeating a seemingly undefeatable enemy. Strange golden globes are appearing, turning into improved, even perfected, versions of anyone they meet, and then replacing them. In the face of such an enemy, the usual superheroic tools of superior power and wit are useless, since the enemy is just like the heroes, except better.

Carr arrives late in the game, but his appearance makes possible Hourman's victory. Trapped accidently in Hourman's timeship, in eternity, Carr's arrival is utterly unwelcome to the Justice Legion (having gone without bathing for a time without time, he smells bad) but brings Hourman the deeper understanding he needs to defeat his enemy. Hourman had literally adopted the body of his enemy in an attempt to improve himself, but through Carr's presence he is able to realize that it is the desire for perfection itself that is defeating him.

At the climax of the book Carr's claim that someone's life feels important if "somewhere in time there's a few ratty losers who love him for what he is, not what he can do," is as tear-jerking as anything written by Claremont. Peyer, however, balances this on the next page with a supervillain who chastises Hourman for his "insane war on flawlessness." The contrast of sentiments makes this the deftest handling of masculine emotion since Stan Lee wrote about the Thing's relationship with his Yancy Street fans.

While I hope this review wins HOURMAN some much deserved new readers, I should note that 'Hourman One Million' is a story arc that brings to fruition themes laid out in earlier issues, and introduces some new ones to be (hopefully) developed in future issues. Which is to say, it's not an ideal starting point for a new reader.

A better place to begin is (not surprisingly) with issue #1, or barring that, with issue #8, the "Day of Judgment" crossover issue. What is particularly important to have before reading the current arc is a sense of what Snapper and company bring to Hourman's story, the simple fun of friendship that is common in life, but rare in superhero comics.

Recommended

Pindaros is a regular contributor to PopImage.

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