Written by: Grant Morrison
Art by: Phillip Bond
Colors: Brian Miller
Letters: Todd Klein
Vertigo
Here’s the disclaimer: I am Grant Morrison’s bitch. The man could wipe his ass with his keyboard, get it published in a comic book, and I’d still read it. If he started writing copy for cereal boxes, I’d read it. If he pissed in the snow, I’d give it at least a cursory once-over.
There’s a very simple reason for this: every time I read something new by him, I am exposed to a truly creative mind. Not everything he does is perfect (the weirdness of The Filth almost fell apart at the end), but he’s always treading new ground. Reading some of his books is almost like having your skull peeled back and having your brain re-wired; sometimes, you have to reorganize your thought patterns to get at what he’s trying to do.
But not all the time. My favorite Morrison book is still Kill Your Boyfriend, a Vertigo one-shot from 1995 that showed just what kind of fun you can have spreading mayhem and stupidity throughout British suburbia. KYB artist Phillip Bond teams up with my favorite mad bastard to take on Lollywood, Atlantis, and Vedic scripture in Vimanarama.
One of the great pleasures of reading Morrisonis his command of cultural knowledge, both pop and ancient. Vimanarama draws on Pakistani pulp film and Sanskrit religious texts to romp through (once again) suburban England. It’s a very twisted alternative to Busiek’s Astro City, with mere mortals and metahumans interacting to form the narrative base.
Ali’s a whiny punk b!+ch with a trendy haircut, a family convenience store, and an impending arranged marriage. He’s not a bad guy; when the store’s floor collapses and his brother is trapped beneath a box of Turkish delight (mmm…sweet gummy mantrap), he rushes over to help (with a backdrop of dancing girls on the way). Rather than meet his new fiancé, he goes with Omar to the hospital. Nice, right?
Well, going to the hospital is just an excuse to be angsty. As they leave the hospital, Ali issues his great ultimatum: if Sofia (his bride-to-be) is ugly, then he will hang himself, since it will have been proven that God hates him.
Hmmm…okay, maybe not so nice. But Ali volunteers to find his missing nephew, so he’s not a total jackass. Crawling through the wreckage of the back of the store, he enters a hidden passage and meets Sofia. Turns out she’s pretty, so God must be smiling on him. She’s found some of the baby’s things, and so they follow the passage into a huge underground city. It’s like rishi city, one of the seven great cities of antiquity that are talked about in the Vedas. The baby unwittingly unleashes a horde of demons imprisoned within, who skedaddle to destroy the world, leaving one behind to smoosh Ali and Sofia. Attempting to summon help, Sofia rubs a glowing lotus, which converts the demon to light and summons the Ultrahadeen from the 11th planet, where they have been battling for the last six millenia.
Oh man, this is totally groovy.
The Ultrahadeen are a group of metahumans based on Vedic, Hindu, and Buddhist figures. They’re led by Prince Ben Rama, who looks like Vishnu meets Superman, and include a hot chick with a mini-angel, a silent male with many arms, and a Buddha figure. The city is one of seven of the ancient world, imbued with green technology of total grooviness. The Ultrahadeen are heroes from Earth’s ancient past, and the demons are Atlanteans, who fear the light. Apparently, Earth was a pretty hip place before the Ultrahadeen went off on their Hindu Secret War.
Is it weird enough yet? Well, guess what. Turns out that Sofia is the reincarnation of Prince Rama’s love, and he sweeps her away to show her the wonders of all she’s forgotten. Omar tries to kill Ali, because the voices in his head said to. God, it seems, hates Ali after all.
Meanwhile, the demons have declared war on Earth. They’ve trashed Parliament and are headed towards Manhattan – Atlantis, which was actually raised from the waters by the Ultrahadeen to defeat the Atlanteans in a past age. The Ultrahadeen call upon their weapons of faith, good cheer, and eco-friendliness and start whoopin’ some Atlantean fish-ass.
It’s all going well until the human component kicks in, and ultimately, the humanist story is what Vimanarama is all about. Ali has fallen for Sofia at first sight, is all bummed about her flying off with a hunky meta, and decides that drastic step is in order. Sofia, on the other hand, rejects the meta for the human. Unfortunately for Prince Rama, the loss of his love saps him of his strength, which is a bad turn for the good guys. Rama is felled by a falling leaf – not a bomb, or an axe, or even an evil leaf – and seems to be out of the game. As the bad guys start digging for “black” vimanas (flying weapons like magical F-16s), Sofia runs to Ali to tell him that she loves him. That’s great, but Ali has decided to save the world by killing himself.
I told you he was a whiny punk bitch, didn’t I? It’s a thin rationalization, but Ali is actually looking for angels in the afterlife, figuring they can help in the battle. The last issue is given over to Ali and family arguing in limbo, Sofia’s tragic loss, Prince Rama coming to terms with his role in this strange, new world of lesser beings. Even in the backdrop of a Bollywood superhero dramedy, the story feels like an everyday one.
Bond illustrates this metamystical romp with his inimitable cartoony-Kirby style. Bond’s bold lines and expressive faces are perfectly suited to this ultra-kitschy tale. A ton of credit has to go to Brian Miller, whose colors shine during the more psychedelic panels. Check out the panel in which the Horn of Jibreel is finally sounded; it perfectly states the impact, scope, and beauty of this ultimate weapon.
