Banner #1-4
Published by: Marvel – 2001
Written by: Brian Azzarello
Illustrated by: Richard Corben
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Cage #1-5
Published by: Marvel – 2002
Written by: Brian Azzarello
Illustrated by: Richard Corben
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Banner:
The four-issue 2001 Marvel Comics mini-series Banner written by Brian Azzarello and drawn by Richard Corben focuses on the torment of being responsible for events over which one has no control, a past and present one has no say in. Like a blackout drunk, Bruce Banner—also known as the Incredible Hulk’s human alter-ego—is haunted by the death, destruction, and general mayhem caused by his uncontrollable split-personality. He finds himself with no other option but suicide—the only path he can think of to both atone for his past sins and to protect the world from further atrocities, raising the question, “Can capital punishment, a mercy-killing, and suicide be one and the same?” The Hulk, however, is not so easily killed. The plot of Banner, thus, is simple: Banner wants to die, but is essentially immortal; Doc Samson wants to stop the Hulk, but not at the expense of Banner’s life—seeing value therein that even Banner no longer sees.
Azzarello usually shines through his dialogue—one of the reasons Azzarello’s DC/Vertigo series 100 Bullets was as remarkable an achievement as it was—however, Banner is primarily a series of violent encounters with little-to-no dialogue with only brief moments of quiet where the motivations and emotions weighing on Banner and Samson are made clear. Banner’s desperation is felt by the audience perhaps nowhere more than when, at the end of the first issue, he puts a gun in his own mouth—and pulls the trigger. This treatment of the Jekyll-and-Hyde archetype is notable for humanizing a character that long straddled the line between clichés: equal parts movie-monster and superhero.
The art in Banner is perhaps not Corben’s best, but it does have transcendent moments where it is elevated above the status quo. Corben is a living legend with a unique and immediately recognizable style—though it’s not without its imitators—contributing for decades to the comics/fantasy magazine Heavy Metal, helping to define the look of fantasy art for a generation of readers.
In 2005, Wizard: The Guide to Comics included Banner on its list of the “Top 100 Trade Paperbacks of All Time” at number 39—one spot ahead of Kingdom Come, a modern masterpiece written by Mark Waid and painted by Alex Ross, published by DC under their “Elseworlds” imprint. This may provide some sense of the adulation afforded Banner, however, it also shows a complete disregard for those things most important to a comic’s relative quality. Kingdom Come is superior by almost every metric: story, art, characters, dialogue, etc. etc. etc. That having been said, Banner is good. Very good—if simplistic. It’s just about 50 spots too high on Wizard’s list, but its inclusion on such a list is not entirely inappropriate.
Banner is not appropriate for all ages—given the theme of human casualties resulting from the Hulk’s rampages and Banner seeking suicide as a result of those casualties—but at the same time it is not an “adults only” comic. If it were a movie, a PG-13 rating would be reasonable, but not to be taken too lightly. Banner’s themes are mature, and, thus, a mature audience will appreciate the series, but there are also those young enough to still be aspiring to a maturity they do not yet fully possess whom will appreciate it in the way one appreciates anything that advances themselves in the direction they wish to evolve.
Anyone fond of Banner, Azzarello, or Corben would be rewarded by reading their other comic collaboration Cage. Cage is about the titular character Luke “Power Man” Cage and brings the character out of the Blaxploitation clichés of the 1970s into the modern street culture of the 2000s.
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Cage:
Cage, a five-issue Marvel Comics miniseries from 2002, is the third collaboration between Azzarello and Corben and surpasses their previous one—Banner—by many measures of quality, if not in attention, adulation, or adoration. In the series, Luke Cage is hired to investigate the death of a drive-by shooting collateral-damage casualty—a young girl living in the wrong neighborhood struck by a stray bullet—and uncovers, then finds himself in the middle of and profiting off of, a burgeoning gang war where three factions fight for supremacy in, and control over, the slum.
Luke Cage, also known as “Power Man” or the “Hero for Hire,” was a D-list superhero leftover from the days of disco. In his incarnation in Cage he has abandoned the wide-collared yellow silk shirt open to the waist, the blue tights, and the silver headband and afro for instead a pair of Oakleys, knit cap, torn up jeans and sleeveless jean jacket, headphones, close-trimmed hair, a goatee, and a bad attitude. This set a new status quo for the character that was then adopted—or perhaps “adapted”—by the mainstream Marvel universe. Though the character is not identical to his portrayal in any other series, Cage introduced a degree of contemporary realism to the character that has persisted—note Cage’s portrayal in New Avengers written by Brian Michael Bendis and drawn by Leinil Yu or his most recent incarnation on the Netflix television series “Luke Cage.”
In Cage, as in 100 Bullets, Azzarello does what Azzarello does best: street-level crime-drama with clever dialogue and believable, distinct, characters heightened just past realism into the realm of crime noir. Just as Azzarello shows more of what makes him such a great talent, Corben also excels in Cage. He is suited to drawing large muscular men and caricature-ish ethnic faces—Cage’s protagonist and antagonists in a nutshell.
Unlike Banner, Cage is firmly for mature audiences only—there is profanity, violence, and nudity, the trifecta of “inappropriate” content. It is not, however, entirely gratuitous. The characters speak as they would in real life—gangstas use the word “motherfucker” as tantamount to a pronoun—and sex happens in adult life—and, for some, so do strip clubs—the violence is likewise not a huge departure from realism—it probably doesn’t happen in your neighborhood, but would not be out of the ordinary in some neighborhoods.
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Recommendations:
Anyone whom appreciates the realistic portrayal and humanization of mainstream superheroes found in Banner might do well to give Paul Chadwick’s Concrete a try. Its namesake is a man trapped in a large, powerful, nearly indestructible, body that appears as if it were made from concrete. The main character—called “Concrete” for obvious reasons—can be seen as an analogue for one of the Hulk’s primary antagonists: Marvel’s “The Thing,” best known as a member of the Fantastic Four. Concrete explores the psychological trauma and other real-world consequences of having an unfeeling, super-powerful body that eliminates the possibility for intimate human contact, how one would cope with such a situation, and how one would make the most of it. Concrete eschews super-villains and fist fights, and instead, more often than not, the “villains” are social issues dealing with the environment or some obstacle or adventure like hiking a mountain or swimming an ocean.
Another recommendation, Fantastic Four: 1234 written by Grant Morrison and drawn by Jae Lee, explores the psychology, personalities, and emotions of the Fantastic Four and how their relationships can be used against them. The focus on the psychological makes Fantastic Four: 1234 surpass the usual tropes of super-villains and monsters they face over the course of four issues. This focus on character is shared by Cage and Banner and should appeal to a similar audience. The story exists within a previously established mythos, and thus reads as but a chapter in an unending epic that would fit as well among Stan Lee’s initial run on the series as it would any more-contemporary attempts to sophisticate the characters.
Anyone interested in Azzarello’s other work—and you all should be—should read his opus, 100 Bullets, drawn by Eduardo Risso—whose unique approach to visual storytelling is remarkable for its power and simplicity. In 100 Bullets, a mysterious man gives away for free to specific individuals briefcases containing an untraceable gun and one-hundred untraceable bullets which the recipient is free to do with as they please—hence the name—as well as information identifying the person or people responsible for causing their lives to take whatever unfortunate turn it has. The story evolves from there and, over its one-hundred issue run, becomes a more complex tale of organized crime and power struggles. Azzarello’s characters and dialogue stand out and stand the test of time; Risso’s art does as well. Risso complements Azzarello’s writing to such a degree that they create a synergy rare among collaborators, making it appear as if the work was the product of a single mind and a single hand. Early in its release, 100 Bullets was frequently compared favorably to critically acclaimed HBO television series such as “The Sopranos” and “Oz.” Prior to 100 Bullets, Azzarello and Risso also worked together on a four-issue miniseries called Jonny Double which shares the tone and many of the themes given a broader and deeper treatment in 100 Bullets.
Fans of Corben might also want to check out his stint on Marvel’s Ghost Rider from 2007 with writer Daniel Way, or the work he has contributed to Heavy Metal over the years. Another series to investigate for fans of Azzarello and Corben is their first collaboration, in 2000, a five issues (#146-150) stint on the DC/Vertigo series Hellblazer.
Brian Bigelow
March 31, 2017
