Monday, July 30, 2007

A Question of Love and Hate
Steve Ditko is far-famed as the co-creator of Spider-Man, but I most admire his solo creation The Question. Crusading reporter Vic Sage shared Ditko's Objectivist leanings and fought against corruption and collectivism in all its guises. He donned the faceless mask of The Question whenever extralegal intervention was required to bring justice to the wicked, the anonymity allowing Vic Sage to continue to pillory his ideological foes from his media pulpit. The Question believed that right and wrong were as distinct as black and white; the merciless should be shown no mercy, the brutal should be brutalized, and the exploiters should be exploited. His costume consisted of the trademark suit, trench coat, and fedora of a pulp private dick, and of course that iconic mask that made him appear faceless; The Question was too cool for words.



I am not an Objectivist for one simple reason: I am a Christian. (Ayn Rand, the founder of Objectivism, once said to William F. Buckley, "You're too smart to believe in God.") Aside from viewing compassion as a weakness and denying the existence of Almighty God, though, there is much of value to be found in Objectivist thought: hatred of socialism, opposition to Marx's fatalist theory of history, celebration of rebellion against conformity, belief in beauty and science, rejection of superstition. Crusading reporters (a rarity in actual journalism)-cum-masked crimefighters are a dime a dozen in comics; the characteristics that make The Question exceptional are the mask (comics are a visual medium, after all) and his philosophy. Many different writers have reinterpreted this so that what is cool about The Question is the mask and that particular writer's philosophy, which as we shall see is where all my troubles began.

In 2004-05, DC Comics published a six-issue miniseries titled The Question, subtitled "Devil's in the Details." Vic Sage travels to Metropolis and uncovers a conspiracy between Lex Luthor and a group of criminal daredevils calling themselves the Subterraneans to assassinate Superman using a new skyscraper, the Science Spire, as an enormous Kryptonian-specific death ray. It's quite a fantastic story, with The Question appearing seemingly at random to pummel out of Metropolis's criminal elements the clues he needs to first discover and then unravel the mystery of the Subterraneans; Superman making only a few scattered cameos, all of which manage that rare feat of capturing the character's essential majesty; Lex Luthor's minions positively cackling at their own ingenuity in hiding the dread weapon of the Science Spire in plain sight; and Sage sweetly pining for Lois Lane, whom he knew back in journalism school. In the end, the guilty are swiftly and severely dispatched, the Science Spire's potential as a weapon is blunted, and without the Man of Steel's knowledge The Question has saved his life. Rick Veitch's plot is complimented, enhanced, and elevated by Tommy Lee Edwards's realistic, frenetic art. I love "Devil's in the Details."

But the title's prophetic, because there's one singular yet enormous problem with Veitch and Edwards's The Question: Vic Sage, The Question, "talks" to the City of Metropolis. He "walks in two worlds," defeating in spiritual/astral combat a psychopomp called, simply enough, Psychopomp, and gathering as many clues about the Subterraneans' intentions from "listening" to Metropolis as from whaling on two-bit hoods and hired goons. The Science Spire is a huge resonator/reservoir for qi ("chi" in the story, spelled in accordance with the old Wade-Giles system of romanization), described in the story as "Earth energy," the perfect weapon against Superman's alien physiology. Obviously, I do not believe in qi/chi, but neither do I believe in the Olympian gods of ancient Greece, and that's never stopped me from enjoying a Wonder Woman story; so, no problem there. My problem lies in The Question's attunement to this energy, his ability to, as repeated within the text ad nauseum, "walk in two worlds." The Question is an Objectivist, he would not subscribe to any concept as evocative of New Age fuzziness as "walking in two worlds." It's ridiculous! At one point Superman suspects that The Question may be under the influence of a psychotropic substance, but The Questions says any physical changes in his blood chemistry are merely the result of, you guessed it, "walking in two worlds."

Objectivism is named after the philosophy's supposedly objective appraisal of the world; a central maxim, derived from the works of Aristotle, is "A is A." Briefly, A what it seems to be, a letter than starts the alphabet and corresponds to certain sounds. It is not symbolic or totemic of anything greater or lesser than that. A is exactly and solely what it appears to be. A is A. Thus, the world is what it appears to be, rock and steel and glass and air and flesh and bone. The world is no mere facet of an invisible, only subconsciously discernible undercurrent of "Earth energy." To an Objectivist, there is no "all-powerful Force controlling everything. There's no mystical energy field controls my destiny."

Thus, the crux of the problem, the titular question of love and hate. I'm thrilled by the plot, art, and atmosphere of The Question, but I detest the same story's utter perversion of The Question. I want to hate The Question, but in a world full of genuinely and achingly mediocre comics every other element of the book - the dialogue, the cleverness of the Subterraneans' scheme and the uncommonly logical structure of their organization, the uniqueness of Luthor's plot against Superman, the characterizations of Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen, the nonstop fucking brilliance of the art - screams out for just praise! There is everything to love about "Devil's in the Details," except for that one detail of The Question's out-of-left-field powers. Is perfection required? Must I reject the whole for that one admittedly not insignificant flaw? Should I take as stark and intransigent a position as Sage himself might? Alas, alas, this tumultuous world demands moderation in all things; there's nothing for it but to love almost all of The Question and hate hate hate that one detail in The Question. Verdammt compromise!

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