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Okay, so here's what happens in the above ish. Two criminals escape from a prison chain gang, manacled to one another with only a few feet between them. An alien (in mistaken gratitude for them inadvertently helping him when their intention was the opposite) replaces their chain with what he describes as an 'Energy Synthicon', giving them undreamt of power which the two then use to take on The HULK.
They lose of course, but that's par for the course with ol' Hulkie. What strikes me though, is the patent absurdity of the whole premise of having two guys 'bonded' together, presumably for life (until Greenskin solves that problem), and unable to go their separate ways. Maybe it's just me, but I can't help but wonder why LEN WEIN didn't reject the idea when it occurred to him, on the grounds that neither of the two men would be able to go to the toilet on their own, and would have to sleep in close proximity to one another because of their 'Synthicon'.
Take the clothes they're wearing too. HAMMER's topless, ANVIL wears a shirt, but how will Hammer put on a shirt (if he wants to), and how will Anvil be able to change his? Things like that bother me - or the adult me anyway, as such details wouldn't have occurred to me when I was a kid or teenager. Most youngsters wouldn't consider them either, which tends to suggest (not that there was much doubt) that these tales were written mainly for teenagers, not adults. (I should say, however, that The Hulk's friendship with a character called CRACKAJACK JACKSON is quite touching, and the poignant ending redeems the more absurd aspects of the story to a large extent.)
Anyway, just thought I'd run that by you Crivs and see what your reactions are, if any. Have I got too much time on my hands that I notice these kind of problems, or do they bug you too (even in a minor way)? Let loose in the comments section.
11 comments:
Hi there,
Yes, comics are full of those strange unthought consequences of deadline-inspired plot contrivances. I must have read that story when I was a teen, and I don't think the issues you raise were a concern to my younger self. I always attribute it to Comic Book Logic.
However, there were countless other stories where similar situations made me stop and ponder...
But, back to the issue at hand: I don't remember the story, and I didn't had the time now to reread it, so I'll stick to general considerations, based on the page you reproduced on your post. I think there are two ways that we can tackle such matters (at least, that I resort to more often than not): one, you just let it slide, if it is just an (silly) excuse for the writer to tell a good story; the other, you try to rationalize it appealing to intra or extra-comics arguments; for instance, that in their hunger for power, both Hammer and Anvil are (thoughtlessly) willing to trade their personal comfort and privacy for the new powers, or they took it without thinking of the consequences; maybe one can attribute it to thoughtlessness on the part of the alien; or maybe there is a way to disconnect the Synthicon but the alien left without telling it to them, maybe believing they would know how to do it.... But, generaly, my last resort when facing this kind of incongruence, is to always fall back to basic imperfection: every good has a potentialy malignant side effect. The trick is to learn when the former supersedes the latter. Power-hungry thugs tend not to do it...
Cheers.
Hammer and Anvil weren't given the choice of whether or not they wanted their new powers, ASB, they were just given them (though they soon revelled in their new abilities), but that doesn't affect your point. Perhaps Len Wein just assumed that kids wouldn't think of such things (if he even did himself), or maybe, as you suggest, there was a way of removing the Energy Synthicon, but as it wasn't particularly relevant to the pacing of the story, just didn't Bother touching on it. (Though it does sort of come across as being a permanent 'bond' in the tale.)
What I'd like to know is why such things now jump off the page at me when I never really noticed them before.
We're all a lot more cynical now.
We've read so many different stories throughout the years that we've become a lot more demanding. And comics storytelling has also become a lot more sophisticated. This new written-for-trade-paperback, as opposed to the 22-page-single-story made us intolerant to such thoughtlesness on the part of writers.
But above all I do believe it is just the simple fact that we have (unfortunately, sometimes) matured. We now know best. What we look for in a story is a lot different from what we'd settle for way back then.
I mention this, because over and over, I feel myself blush in embarassment when I see such objections pointed at stories I used to love when I was a teenager - stories that I thought were genius, but would I read them now, I would think them ridiculous. Because, deep down, I still love them.
I guess, even today, we tend to be a lot more condescending towards the stories and books we read back then, and the others we didn't. Re-reading them both today, we'll tend to excuse the former for their nostalgic value, and condemn the latter for its illogic.
I felt something similar when reading these recent issues of SUPERMAN: MAN OF TOMORROW, as I feel they emulate the Superman stories of the Bronze Age they I loved when I was a kid. And thats why I enjoyed them, even when you saw Superman talking naturaly to Parasite, even when standing on the atmosphereless Moon!
Everything you say is true, ASB, though I find that I still love the comics I loved as a kid, even though I can now spot absurdities I missed at the time. Too many memories and associations tied up in those tales to jettison I guess. Of course, one of the daftest things in Silver Age comics is the fact that The Flash was supposed to be able to run around the Earth eight times in one second, which means that nothing and no one should have been able to beat him. Just think - been around the world eight times in a blink - nah, not possible. At least not to an adult.
If you type Loopy Lapses In Logic into my blog's search box, you'll see a few more examples of comicbook daftness.
Loved this time period with the Hulk.Truly a golden era and nostalgia and love for the time period ALWAYS supercedes concern for logic or a confused story line!!!Those issues from around #161 onwards to around #195 have never been bettered(just my opiniion of course).Perhaps the fact that all those issues were non-distributed added to their desirability.Also I thought Trimpe excelled himself on the covers with #167, Modok and #169, The Bi-Beast just sensational.Plus the Capt.Nemo storyline in #164,165 being an all time favourite.I would not qualify for a job as an objective critic but who cares.This was Marvel at its best. Thanks for constantly jogging happy memories with your posts....I wonder would the government give you a grant for keeping up morale!!!!
Lavish praise indeed, Triple F, glad you're enjoying the posts. To know that someone gets something from this blog makes it all worthwhile. I preferred Trimpe's work when it was inked by Severin, but his own style is pleasant enough on the eyes and he's a good visual storyteller, which is always a plus. The pressure's on - now I'll have to come up with a post that you'll enjoy at least as much as this one.
One thing I noticed was that they are manacled on the opposite hands on the cover!
Well spotted - I wonder if the image was flipped?
I remember reading this comic as a kiddo, and being touched by Hulk's relationship with Krackerjack Jackson..Len Wein might have gotten the idea of the black and white inmates being shackled together from a (very preachy) 50s flick called "The Defiant Ones".
Sounds like Wein had just watched "The Defiant Ones" on TV, thought that a similar premise (with a science fiction spin) would do for a comic book story, and dashed off the script without taking the time to consider the potential complications.
I first read the story (split into two parts over two weekly issues I think) in a U.K. comic called The Mighty World Of Marvel back in the late '70s. It seems more than likely that Wein was inspired by The Defiant Ones, starring Tony Curtis and Sidney Potier, as the idea of a white and a black chained together makes one immediately think of that movie (if you've seen it). That's the first thing I thought of when I re-read it recently, so I'd say you're both right, JGRT and TC.
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