The Batlord

Mark Millar is quickly becoming one of my favorite writers. The man seems to be a wizard at deconstructing superheroes, and this series is a perfect example of him at his best -- which means superheroes at their worst. In a nutshell, Ultimate Marvel was a "rebooted", alternate universe created shortly after the first Spider-Man movie in order to give new readers a chance to jump in without having to worry about almost half a century of continuity. It was kicked off with Ultimate Spider-Man, and with that title's success, the Ultimate universe was further expanded with Ultimate Fantastic Four, Ultimate X-Men, and a nearly endless amount of mini-series. One of these was The Ultimates (and the subsequent Ultimates 2 and 3), which was this universe's version of the Avengers. In this first series, the roster consists of Captain America, Ant-Man (here referred to as Giant Man), Wasp, Iron Man, the Hulk (kinda sorta), and eventually, Thor, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver (kinda sorta).

I call this a deconstruction due to its in-universe cynical take on both the team and the characterizations of the individual members themselves. At first, the Ultimates are as much a publicity stunt as they are a legitimate superhero team -- most notably exemplified by the seemingly casual attitude and antics of Tony Stark, who at one point causes minor embarrassment while conducting an interview with Larry King while floating on a space shuttle in celebration of Shannon Elizabeth's birthday. They aren't even called upon to deal with any threats until halfway through the series, when the Hulk goes on a rampage in New York City, which they themselves were at least partly responsible for initiating in the first place. Eventually there is an apocalyptic alien invasion that they must stop, but for much of the series they are actually more of a liability to the world, not to mention each other.

Even more of a departure from superhero norm are the Ultimates themselves. The aforementioned Stark treats the whole thing as an adventure, though it is later revealed that his motivations are actually more altruistic than they appear at first; Giant Man (Hank Pym), and his wife, Wasp (Janet Pym), are more concerned with scientific prestige than actually saving the world; Bruce Banner causes the mid-series Hulk rampage intentionally, largely because he feels emasculated by his on-again-off-again girlfriend and the Pyms after the latter take over his position as head scientist of the Ultimate project -- although his excuse is that he was trying to give the team good press by manufacturing a threat for them to stop; it's never entirely clear whether Thor is in fact Thor, son of Odin, or just a delusional schizophrenic who believes he is... and just happens to have the powers of a Norse god; Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver aren't even really Ultimates, as they are in fact members of Magneto's terrorist Brotherhood who are only assisting the team in exchange for the release of "political prisoners".

The lowest personal depth explored by far, however, is the relationship between Hank Pym and his wife. It was already part of Marvel history that their marriage had involved physical violence, but in issue six -- which is actually titled Giant Man vs The Wasp -- this is taken to its extreme conclusion. During the battle with the Hulk, Hank Pym had been humiliated at the beginning of the altercation, putting up almost no fight. To make matters worse, there was apparently a photo in the newspapers of his wife kissing Captain America shortly after the Hulk was defeated (largely due to their combined efforts). This has all resulted in Pym feeling "small", leading to an argument with his wife which quickly escalates in intensity, until it reaches a horrifying conclusion, leaving Wasp hospitalized, after which Giant Man flees the city.





I think the aspect of this scene that really makes it disturbing to read is its ambiguity. Eventually, it clearly reaches a point where Hank's actions become unacceptable in the extreme, but until then, both parties are participating equally. This isn't a case of Hank coming home drunk and knocking around his helpless, terrified wife after she overcooks dinner; initially, the escalation is as much her doing as his, and it's made pretty obvious that this is a pattern which both participants are aware of. Janet knows what's coming, and yet she helps to perpetuate this apparent cycle all the same. That's not to say that she "deserves" what happens to her, or is even equally at fault -- Hank's attacking Janet's self-esteem over her "hygiene" as a mutant is textbook emotional abuse -- but it's hard to treat the situation in black and white when she hits him in the face with a radio.

Later revelations show that Hank taking the abuse to similar levels is nothing new however, so this is also not a case of two parties with an equally antagonistic dynamic. It's likely that Hank initiated the abuse, and Janet allowed herself to be dragged into it, eventually becoming masochistically complicit in a perpetual cycle of violence.

I find it fascinating that Millar would go this route. Morally ambiguous superheroes are nothing new, but generally not to the point of making a protagonist completely unlikable. It makes sense in a way. The kind of extreme personalities that would be drawn to this "profession" likely wouldn't be the most stable, and the realism with which this situation is depicted really brings the story down to the human level -- even though one of the characters basically turns into a pixie, and the other can grow to a height of sixty feet. This sub-plot is one of the things about this series that really makes it more than just an alternate universe Avengers.

Even Captain America isn't quite the boy scout we're all used to. Out of all of the characters he's definitely the least morally ambiguous, but he also exhibits an old world mentality that isn't entirely acceptable in modern times. After Pym disappears, Cap takes it upon himself to track him down and basically defend Wasp's honor. It's caveman-style white knighting that went out of style long ago, but it's also a subtle criticism of the kind of jackbooted, vigilante mentality that Alan Moore also attacked in Watchmen.

That said, when Captain America kicked the absolute mother****ing **** out of a sixty-foot wife beater, my inner Neanderthal couldn't help but cheer. It was Batman-level awesomeness, and I have never cared more about some guy dressed in the American flag.





Of course, there's actual superheroing... eventually. The last few issues are absolutely epic, with the Ultimates engaging in a battle with an invading alien race known as the Chitauri that makes the ending of The Avengers look like a friendly handshake. Thor uses lightning to obliterate half an alien fleet, Captain America chops some dude in half with his shield, and then the Hulk eats him... the dude who got chopped in half, not Captain America. Anybody waiting for the **** to finally hit the fan in a big way was given everything they wanted and then some. Sci fi comic book excess at its finest.

Almost everything about The Ultimates was fantastic. From the characterizations, plots, to the world building, the execution was practically flawless. The only two things off the top of my head that really bother me are A.) the absurdly convenient timing of Captain America's discovery (which was lifted almost entirely for the movie), and B.) the facial expressions. The art was otherwise phenomenal, but it had this photo quality to it that made facial expressions kind of static and lifeless at times. For the most part it's not distracting, but occasionally... not so great.

Otherwise, Millar yet again knocks one out of the park. The Ultimates has renewed my resolve to read everything he has ever done -- and I gotta get me some more Captain America while I'm at it!

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