Marvel's Thunderbolts - Not Your Father's Comic Book

In the old days, comics were simple. A bad guy would do something bad (rob a bank, kidnap someone, plot to kill someone), the hero would rush to the rescue. Usually the hero would be initially thwarted, perhaps in some nefarious, elaborate trap set by the villain. But the hero would eventually find a way to break free and undo the villain's evil plans, generally saving a heroine in the process.

Admittedly, this plot couldn't last forever. Times change and if the comics didn't change with them, they'd have never lasted. So in the 1960's, Marvel had great success with heroes like SpiderMan and the Fantastic Four and the Hulk; heroes who had personal issues to confront while taking on the villains, real people who wore masks and fought evil but had to overcome their own weaknesses while doing so. This approach struck a chord with the 60's youth, keying in on the and greater introspection of the times. Kennedy had been killed, the country was moving further and further into the Vietnam War, and the country was splitting apart over the war, the generation gap, and civil right issues. Questions of right and wrong weren't so easily answered as in the 40's and 50's and this new moral ambiguity found its way into all forms of mass entertainment; motion pictures, music, television, and comics.

In the 1970's, this trend toward more complicated heroes continued, and we saw Marvel's biggest competitor, DC Comics, inserting complexity and doubt into it's heroes as well. Stories dealing with drug abuse and politics came to the fore. By the 1980's, many comics were written for adult audiences, bypassing completely the "black and white" morality of decades past. Titles like Frank Miller's "Daredevil" and Alan Moore's "Watchmen" depicted harrowingly realistic tales of heroes who were psychologically scarred and driven by personal demons, operating in uinverses that were brutal and violent. There weren't any dogs running around in capes in these heroes's worlds, nor planets bouncing off good guy's chests, or cute teen sidekicks to trade clever quips with. This material was raw and searingly dramatic, and it touched a chord in an audience that hungered for comics that reflected the world they saw outside their windows, not one that was glimpsed through rose colored glasses.

By the 1990's, this form of "realistic" comic storytelling had become more the rule than the exception. The classic superhero title was rapidly fading from prominence and was being replaced by angst ridden teenagers fighting prejudice, tormented family men lashing out in anger at a world that had scarred them, and superhero teams that seemed just as likely to battle each other as their arch foes.

As I was growing older as well, this trend did not bother me. In fact, I welcomed it. I still enjoyed some classic comic titles, but I wanted to read about characters that seemed to mirror my own conflicts, characters that weren't born with an innate sense of right and wrong but had to struggle to find it. My timing actually could not have been better, for I was growing up at the same time that comics were, and both my own expectations and those of comics themselves had altered quite a bit.

All of which brings me to Marvel's "Thunderbolts".

Initially a "Dirty Dozen" type of book, with a cadre of longtime Marvel villains posing as heroes in order to ingratiate themselves with the United States government in order to eventually conquer the world, "Thunderbolts" broke a lot of barriers. It was, to my knowledge, one of the first attempts to construct on ongoing comic title from the point of view of the villains. It also dealt quite originally with the notion of what villainy and heroism is; several of the villains became so enamored of their "fake" hero roles that they began to consider actually going straight as a result. This, in turn, led to a very insightful examination of how difficult it is to really change; not only to change yourself but also to change other's perceptions of you. The book was an instant critical and financial success, due in large part to Kurt Busiek's superb, measured and complex handling of the characters. It was the type of book I love; strong on characterization, full of morally complex situations that test both the character's mettle and the reader's perceptions, and possessed of an unpredictability that is quite rare in comics.

Busiek moved off the book a few years ago, and turned the writing reins over to Fabian Nicieza. I still enjoyed the book, but it became a bit overly dense in its plot and featured such a large cast of characters it was hard to really streamline the plot in a way that made the book stand out and define itself.

Nicieza's tenure ended about a year ago, and fan favorite Warren Ellis grabbed the reins. Ellis is well known for his dark, slyly humorous, satirical and wildly unique vision in comics, and he brings theses strengths to the newest version of the Thunderbolts, and it shows. This team has even fewer likable characters than previous versions. Now the team is under government control, and is used to capture and detain those heroes who haven't complied with the new registration act. It features Bullseye, who brags about hundreds of murders and believes that every kill he makes brings him strength, making him like unto God. Moonstone, the team leader, and psychologically manipulates all the other team members in order to secure her power base. The Swordsman, formerly somewhat sympathetic, is seen brutally striking a paralyzed opponent. Venom is a former third rate criminal (the Scorpion) who is possessed by an alien symbiote that would just as soon devour the brains of the heroes the group now chases instead of capturing them.

The book is riveting reading, full of double and triple crosses, complex, deeply damaged psyches and enough twists and turns to keep M. Knight Shymalan guessing. Cast in present day America, THE NEW THUNDERBOLTS is socially and culturally relevant, dealing with issues such an national security vs. freedom of the individual, the questionable use of force and survelliance and the accountability of governmental shadow agencies to the public. The book has terrifically tense and exciting action sequences and brilliant characterization. The team's first mission is to capture one "Jack Flag" a virtually forgotten hero from a the early 90s, and Ellis manages, in two issues, to make him a character we instantly care about and empathize with, making his eventual downfall all the more engaging and tragic. The art by Mike Deodato is a nice compromise between comic book heroics and a noir, fatalistic tone that works quite well for this book.

Why then, do I feel badly about liking it?

Maybe it's because, unlike in the past, where my monthly buys balanced more "realistic" titles with those that featured old fashioned "good vs. evil" heroics, NEW THUNDERBOLTS is an example of a mainstream (not even an "adult") title that isn't balanced by anything possessing that old style. Instead of being a trend on the fringe of comics, "NT" is now perfectly mainstream, it's cynicism and darkness not offset by anything lighter, at least not at Marvel or DC, homes of the majority of my comics buys. This is the tone that predominates now, and while again, I do enjoy the book, I bemoan the fact that times have changed so much as to make this the new "normal". I miss the simpler, more romanticized books that posited some sort of ideals for younger readers to key in on. I might personally be able to relate to stories with more complex moralities, but kids need to walk before they can run and books like THUNDERBOLTS don't do much to engender any type of hope or role models. There is time enough for children to become more circumspect and view the world in a complicated way. For a an all too brief, special time, kids need to believe that there are heroes that stand for truth and justice, that aren't possessed of multiple motives.

I"m not arguing for a return of the tone of the comics of the 30's and 40's, where good guys all wore white and were so devoid of depth that they practically bored you to death. Some internal conflict is both interesting and instructive, even to younger readers. But even such complex heroes as SpiderMan, the Fantastic Four and Daredevil were essentially decent human beings at heart. But as perversely entertaining as NEW THUNDERBOLTS (and many other books like it) is, I tend to walk away from it feeling a bit depressed. I don't necessarily need comics to be an escape valve all the time, but many modern comics are just the opposite, reinforcing a type of cynicism that pervades almost all aspects of our society.

I'm so torn. I love so much about this book but I don't "like" liking it so much.

Maybe I keep coming back to it because even deep within this morass of psychopathology, political corruption, power plays and almost totally absent morality, there blooms a flower of hope in the character of Songbird. A former criminal who lead the old Thunderbolts in the service of truly reforming and redeeming themselves, Songbird tries to disrupt Moonstone's plans (and those of the group's malevolent and insane supervisor, Norman Osborne AKA the Green Goblin) and protect civilians from the team's disorganized rampages. One suspects that the bad guys won't always win. Bullseye recently was totally paralyzed and rendered speechless in a battle with true "good guys" (usually not something I'd cheer for, but Bullseye is a monster), Venom tried to commit murder in front of dozens of civilian witnesses, and the true heroes of the group, Songbird and Radioactive Man (incredibly), were publicly seen saving innocents while Venom rampaged.

I guess we all see what we want to see sometimes, but for now, there is still enough humanity in this book to make me feel OK about continuing to buy it. All the technical elements of excellence are already there; characterization, plotting, pacing, etc. It just needed a shot of decency to make the experience palatable.

I still wish there were a lot more "light" books on the shelves. I miss putting down a comic and feeling good about the world. But maybe if I can find hope in NEW THUNDERBOLTS, I can find hope in comics in general. And maybe, ultimately, the rarity of that hope makes it all the more precious.