Broken Frontier

The Multiverse is back. The rest of the issue is pretty much indecipherable, but the Multiverse is back. Oh, wait, I guess we already knew that.

Booster’s story wraps up (his was the only one left to) in a climax difficult to dig. Not that this should be a surprise: 52 hasn’t been terribly nifty of late. Few have been as intrigued by its structure or enthralled at its venturesome storytelling as we nearly all were during its stride. Moreover, the big reveal which takes place within this finale was leaked by Dan DiDio quite a while back, a mere halfway through the series’ run, so what did that leave, exactly? And why would it take an extra-sized, 40-page issue to tell it?

The plot of 52: Week Fifty-Two is ridiculously convoluted, involving more non-sequitur resolutions to multiversal crises as ever a comic has conceived. I haven’t had as ambivalent a response to a conclusion since Grant Morrison’s Seven Soldiers #1, which read similarly to this issue, though at least that former book utilized coincidence and fate as its central themes, whereas 52 holds no such excuses. The enemy, while an interesting one, is an odd one, and ultimately a Mr. Mind metamorphosed into a thing that wishes to devour the Multiverse (just because it can?) does not make for a satisfying, believable, or understandable antagonist. And sadly, the issue-long battle between it and Booster/Supernova/Rip Hunter is one steeped in extraordinarily archaic continuity lore, allowing only the staunchest (and perhaps eldest) of readers a chance to fully enjoy the events.

There’s precious little else here besides the long-winded wrap-up to the "mystery of 52." Only a handful of panels at the end are devoted to something other: reiterating and finalizing the placements for all the major 52 characters within the DCU, prepping the way for One Year Later (and Countdown) to commence. And like it or lump it, the message board suppositions of what’s happened to whom and how it’s all going to be left is precisely what’s shown. Again, no real surprises, just a gentle flourish to present the wares that every reader knew they were going to get long before this issue was published.

Which begs the question: does a story work if it requires an internet leak far in advance to qualify itself? I tried to read Week Fifty-Two with an unenlightened mind’s eye, tried to get a feel for the story as though I’d never known about the return of the Multiverse beforehand. The first thing to strike me was that the reveal of the Multiverse – while given plenty of double-page splashes and the like, moments of real visual magnificence – was written with the express knowledge that this wasn’t new news to readers, and thus what could have been a mind-blowing read became run-of-the-mill, an event but not a revelation. In fact, it read similar to a one-shot special, one of those guide-to-the-whatnot-universes, a DCU Secret Files and Origins for the post-IC times. It was a here’s-the-story-behind-the-story yarn, showing a story, yes, but not really filling in any necessary gaps, a tale of interest but not a terribly thrilling one all on its own. The Multiverse was there from page one, and, hey, how is this the "new Multiverse" for the characters in the story if no one remembers the old?

If comics have indeed reached a point of no return with becoming multi-media paraphernalia, with access to the internet and online message-boards being staple parts of the overall reading experience, then more comprehensive thought needs to be put into the ultimate effect such a pairing might have upon the medium as an artform, rather than just the buzz and the sales that such might garner. The characters of 52, with all their major plot threads wound-up long ago in uninspiring fashion, weeks before this final issue, and with most of the One Year Later changes still largely unexplained, it seems that this sole, single issue is the meat of the entire 52 epic. Fifty-two issues and this individual week is all that was ever necessary, and its contents were unveiled months ago.

Does that mean the journey wasn’t worth it? Not entirely, no, there were absolutely some shining moments along the way, but it’s worrisome how well-diagramed the modern comic book storytelling style has been by the entire 52 experiment. It was a strong example of how awkward and unfulfilling the comic book medium fares at beginnings, how solid and promising in middles, and how utterly unaccomplished at bringing things to a close. This may be due to the nature of the business, what with true through-and-through finales being things to avoid at all costs, but surely there are measures of standards even within the limitations, and 52 unfortunately has proven the precise measure of the medium’s limits, rather than its potentialities.

While meant to be a portent for things to come in the fictional world of the DCU, I feel that 52 offered an altogether different kind of premonition. From Morrison’s highly imaginative but wholly unsupportable concepts, to Johns’ playful though overbearing attachment to long-past continuity, to Waid’s solid if always overreaching plots, to finally Rucka’s cutting edge characters albeit with edges so razor-fine their third dimension is often absent, 52 has been a display of modern comic book paradigms that are fast on their way to becoming the next decade’s passé clichés. The industry is still riding high on these formulaic conceits, though, and with Countdown on the way promising more of the same, the next decade isn’t here yet. Still, this is the first crack I’ve felt in the framework, where all these aesthetics that once made for a grand super-hero comic are beginning to no longer feel like the affecting, mesmerizing tropes they once-upon-a-time were.

Time for something new, I think. Something new that actually is new and not a prettified amalgamation of everything past.