Broken Frontier

DC’s Year One renaissance continues with the origin of Rex Mason, a six-part mini-series that looks to be as solid a read as its Green Arrow predecessor.

Metamorpho is hands down the most unexpected of DC's recent green-lit solo series, no matter how mini it may be.  He’s a popular guy, but he’s never been an icon—although far be it a critique to witness the unexpected from the mainstream!  Readers will undoubtedly be pleased with the diversity this lends to comic racks nationwide, but they should also, blessedly, be content with the overall quality of the book (as it holds a greater merit than being a mere curiosity).

Writer Dan Jurgens has penned a somewhat-update of Metamorpho’s origin, a story that—like Hawkman’s (pre-Geoff Johns)—currently cries to be retold if only for clarity’s sake.  The tale begins as leading man Mason continues his career as a treasure hunter, an archeologist-cum-superstar now staging his discoveries for a nationally televised show.  He performs under the auspices of Simon Stagg, the second richest man in the world, hell-bent on becoming number one.  For Mason's part, he plays the adventurer in order to snag Stagg’s daughter, Sapphire, a girl accustomed to one style of life only: complete and utter luxury.  So, along with Java, a prehistoric ape Mason found preserved at a previous dig, Rex moves to unearth the “Orb of Ra,” a piece of a meteor long-buried with its previous pharaoh owner.  It’s an item worth more than enough to grant Rex all he dreams of.  That is, if nothing goes wrong.  And come on, when does it ever?

Dan Jurgens reminds readers why he was the Superman and Justice League scribe of the 1990’s, penning a dense and wholly enjoyable yarn.  Simon Stagg is wonderfully amoral, and his daughter an honest blend of spoiled and sincere, a girl wanting to be more than her upbringing will likely ever allow.  Mason is, of course, a narcissist, though his soft spot is Sapphire, the one and sole soul he deigns to consider, and largely, this provides him a lone redeeming quality: he cares for having her and keeping her, so much so that no matter the possessiveness of the drive it comes across as pure, almost altruistic, if a little naïve.  The story flows with the obvious traits of the characters, neither the plot nor the psychological prevarications pervading the play-by-play one-upping the other.  Every action is buyable, understandable, and every beat to the story completely in line with what’s come before.

In compliment, Jurgens handles “layouts” alone, while Jesse Delperdang produces the “finishes.”  This gives Jurgens’ overbearingly classic art style a much needed modern overlay.  Delperdang is now infamous for his pairing with the inimitable Andy Kubert over on Grant Morrison’s Batman, and suddenly, witnessing his inks and more surrounding Jurgens’ stoic figures, Delperdang’s contribution becomes clear.  The lines in Metamorpho are more fluid and thick, turning what was once a plain façade of clean, clear characters into larger, considerably more grotesque presences, something akin to Doug Mahnke by way of Jeff Smith.

On the downside, the modernizations within the story are illogical, and what's more baffling, the story doesn’t require them in the least.  Mention of both “reality shows” and (ridiculously) “HD” (high definition) are seeded throughout the issue, marking the events as having taken place within the last few years of current continuity, marking all of Metamorpho’s illustrious history as impossible and therefore moot.  Worse, these updates could have been utilized without dating the tale to quite so current a degree.  Rex as part of a televised “treasure hunt” show is a brilliant twist, though an addition that could have been part of a believable time period, so long as “reality show” itself wasn’t uttered; same goes for “HD.”  The entire ambiance of Rex’s past wields an indelibly Errol Flynn-like tenor to its details, and to force the story to take place literally today loses all the pulp sensibilities and believability it once wore.

Moreover, I have to belabor the point that DC editorial has, for some reason, decided to silently retcon the very concept of “Year One.”  Once, the stories inside of the recent Green Arrow: Year One and now this most current Metamorpho: Year One would in fact have been subtitled “Secret Origins,” but now, apparently, an origin (all that comes prior to a super-hero becoming a super-hero) is the same as a first year (all that initially transpires after the character becomes a hero).  If there'd been any sort of announcement, or suggestion from DC as to why they made such an alteration, then, honestly, I’d be fine with it.  But there’s been no announcement, no explanation, and thus is implied an oversight not of marketing, but of conception: no one at DC ever gave the concept enough thought to realize what it was that they were butchering.

So a pointless and continuity-killing update under a (poetically) real-world continuity-killing title, but nevertheless Metamorpho is a fantastic comic.  It isn’t, in any way, a “Year One,” and it shouldn’t be titled such, but it’s a great read: an accomplished story with endearing art.