Siege: An Event Seven Years in the Making?

Marvel's Siege event was supposed to capstone to seven years worth of stories and overall bad luck for the Heroes of the Marvel U. Briefly, the excellent Civil War mini-series served as the catalyst for some pretty hefty events that rocked the Marvel U. It all went down like this:

Civil War: The divisive Superhero Registration Act is passed. Led by Iron Man and Captain America, two warring factions of heroes and villains settle their differences with their fists - as if there is any other way. End Result: Iron Man's faction wins; heroes must register with government; Captain America dies; Bucky becomes new Cap.

Secret Invasion: Skrulls invade earth. Skrulls are lame. Iron Man fails to prevent/stop the invasion finds himself on the outs with pretty much everyone, especially Thor. Norman Osborn is promoted to head of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Dark Reign: S.H.I.E.L.D. becomes H.A.M.M.E.R. Osborn steals Iron Man's tech and leads a group of Avengers composed almost entirely of not-so-reformed super-villains. In order to protect other heroes' identities, Iron Man turns himself into a retard thus preventing Osborn from hacking his brain but failing to stop Osborn from beating him into a coma on live TV.

Siege: Loki tricks Osborn into attacking Asgard by triggering a disaster not unlike the disaster that kicked off Civil War. Asgard is blamed for the disaster, H.A.M.M.E.R. attacks.

Here's Marvel's promotional trailer for Siege:


My reaction to this trailer: HOT DAMN! There is nothing more boner-inducing than a high stakes brawl between heroes and villains, set on an epic stage. Now, before getting into my critique, overall, Siege was pretty o.k.. Brian Michael Bendis was given the hefty task of delivering the goods in a scant four issues, and did, for the most part, and Olivier Coipel, as usual, was rock-solid on the pencilling end of the story.

Here's my issue with Siege. Except for the bellow image of Ares, the God of War, being reduced to pudding, Siege was both contrived and anti-climactic, which, as you'll read in my conclusion, isn't necessarily a bad thing.



Contrived: Yawn...
While Bendis deserves all the credit in the world for spinning a pretty good yarn, he, like most event writers, was bound to the powers of the editor and the new direction of the Marvel U. - The Heroic Age. In other words, one only had to look as far as The Heroic Age promo material to figure out how Siege was going to end.

Take a look.



From this picture alone we can infer the following:

1. The big three (Captain America, Thor, Iron Man) have resolved their differences;
2. The Avengers are getting back together; and
3. Osborn has been deposed.

Did I need to fork over close to 20 bucks for an action-packed statement of the obvious?

Anti-Climactic

Siege was billed as a huge turning point for the Marvel U. The promotional material for Siege describes it as an event "Seven Years in the Making". Wait a minute... It took seven years to make Norman Osborn go crazy and get the Avengers back together? Really?

Normally, I'd take this opportunity to discuss the fact that, right now, no less than a dozen nerds are writing fan-fiction featuring Norman Osborn and the Avengers. Further, at least three of these scripts will feature a six-page threesome starring Hawkeye, Daken and Ms. Marvel (Carol Danvers). However, I'm going to take the high road and take a moment and discuss the concept of hubris.

Hubris, or excessive, blinding pride is very often the root cause of failure. I'm not saying Marvel failed with Siege, but how could Marvel hope to live up to it's own hype? Let's be honest here, Siege did not take seven years to develop. Hell, it only took a year to tear down the entire Berlin Wall; so, let's call a spade a spade - Siege like all other "event" comics is simply a publisher's regular cross-title cash grab that, although enjoyable, doesn't change the landscape all that much.

Am I right?

Well, without giving too much away, I'm going to say that I'm mostly right, and here's why. First, I'm right in that the conclusion to Siege was fairly predictable and uninspired. Maybe it's me, but, by the mid-point of issue #3, I was no longer invested in Siege, and found myself wishing the battle for Asgard was over and looking forward to the beginning of the Heroic Age. Now, it's worth noting that it remains to be seen how the Heroic Age will pan out, which makes me not completely right. While I will maintain that Siege accomplished little in shaking things up, the end of the series presents readers with a new vision that, at the very least, will be a well-deserved break from the usual tone of doom and gloom that has governed much of the Marvel U. for the past 10 years. That said, who knows, maybe the Heroic Age will change the comic medium as we know it.

Final Thoughts
Despite my criticism, truthfully, I'm on the fence when it comes to Siege. As a whole, Siege didn't rock my world and didn't change much. Rather, Siege presents us with standard comic book fare - a serviceable story and good art, which, to me, is just fine. Really, can we ask for anything more?

At this juncture, I feel it is best to wrap things up. I'd love to continue rambling and dissect my stance on Siege, but, in this case at least, brevity and some insight on the perils of neutrality will serve me, and hopefully you, best. A wise and great man once said, "If you sit on the fence too long, you will get speared in the nuts." So, with these prophetic words in mind, I offer my final verdict on Siege: Wait for the trade.

The Crazy. Part 1 - The Monolith

Laypeople often look at comic nerds as painfully shy, vaguely mutant-like recluses who have spent years carefully building comic-themed lairs in their mother’s basements where they can safely hoard their belongings away from other people, out of sunlight, and close to the fridge.

I'm not going to attempt to dispel this popular myth because, in many cases, it's actually true. However, writing a blog entry about the subterranean virgins that make up a chunk of the comic nerd demographic is an anthropological endeavour that will take some time. Believe me, I will get to this post in due time. However, for the time being, as the first of a series of entires, I am going to focus on a common trait all comic collectors possess - The Crazy.

Collecting comics is a lot like collecting bugs or eyeballs – you have to be a little bit nuts.

I am going volunteer myself as proof of this fact. However, before getting into the crazy, I'm going to briefly list some of the everyday things that make me mostly normal. Outside of comic collecting, I'm a pretty normal guy. I have a good job, take good care of myself, and am engaged to an amazing woman. Regarding the latter, it is important to note that my future wife does not collect or fully understand the appeal of comic books. That said, my bride-to-be has always lovingly supported my hobby and occasional (read: constant) bouts of comic fanaticism.

Okay. Let's get to The Crazy. Despite my apparent normalcy, when it comes to comics, I can admit to being nuts.

This is me on comic books - twitchy and a little paranoid.



That, or I'm oddly morbidly focused on minutiae which leads to incoherent tangents (ie. Why haven't I double bagged my signed comics? Why? Why? WHY!?... I watched a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor. That's my dream; that's my nightmare...); like this guy.

This condemning, yet accurate portrait is the product of close to 20 years worth of collecting. As normal as I am now, my early high school years were not especially kind to me. A series of bad haircuts, volcanic acne and aviator glasses didn't exactly get me accepted by the cool kids, and my disinterest in school and mediocre grades didn't get me in with the bookworms. Between sports and chronic masturbation, I needed something to pass the time until I got to see my first set of real boobs, let alone kiss a girl, which, in my 13 year old mind, would change my life for the better, forever.

Yeah.

In any case, comic books always intrigued me and, soon enough, I started a small collection that I kept in my mother's basement, out of sunlight. Today, my collection is housed in a stainless steel tower (it's massive and awesome) and three satellite long boxes.

The primary focus of this instalment of "The Crazy" is my comic book tower, otherwise known as The Monolith.

Unlike the monolith from Kubrick's masterpiece, my comic monolith is not made of stone and did not come from the sky. Rather, my monolith is a black stainless steel filing cabinet that was delivered from Staples. However, much like the monolith in Space Odyssey, the flawless black cuboid that resides in my front hallway has amazing mind-altering capabilities. Also, my monolith is filled with comics, so Arthur C. Clarke can go fuck himself; may he rest in peace.

Back to the mind-altering powers of The Monolith.

Once upon a time, I was content to store my beloved collection in long boxes and store these boxes in a safe place (the back room). This year, in a somewhat inspired, but mostly random act, I decided to upgrade my storage facilities by purchasing what amounts to a pretty safe option for my books. Briefly, the new cabinet is not only functional and spacious but it provides me with a mold/fire/water-proof alternative to the ever popular long box.

Here's where the head fuck comes in. After the long and difficult migration to The Monolith, one of my carefully arranged rows of comics tipped over. Now, I'm the type of collector who goes ape-shit over a bent corner or misplaced staple, so you can imagine the meltdown I experienced when I found my books lying face-down at the bottom of the drawer. After some meticulous inspection, a bout of buyer's remorse, and a serious forehead slap, my comics were back in order and damage-free.

No harm, no foul. Right?

Wrong.

That night, in hushed tones, The Monolith ordered me to cut out my tongue with a pizza slicer.

Actually, it didn't.

However, from that point on, I've developed an interesting complex (read: phobia) where any regular household noise is actually the sound of my comic books tipping over or the cause of my comic books tipping.

I'm not kidding. Observe the power of The Monolith.

1. A whistling kettle? Oh shit. My comics just tipped.

2. A knock at the door? Did the minor tremor created by the knock ripple up the wall and tip my comics? Probably. No. Most definitely.

3. The cleaning lady? Did the cleaning lady forget to read my note about mopping the floor around The Monolith and hit it with the mop, thus tipping my comics? Yes. Oh fuck.

4. Sex? Sex creates a bigger tremor than a knock at the door... Dammit! I knew I should have gone with the headache excuse.

Yup, that about sums it. Admittedly, my condition has gotten better over the past few months. I don't check on my comics multiple times a day and have given up on the idea of learning Filipino in order to ensure the cleaning lady has gotten the message.

Will it ever go away? No. Probably not. Similar to "Odyssey's" herbivorous monkey tribe, I'm banking on natural evolution and divine intervention to solve my problem.