REVIEW: Justice Society of America #10

Reviews

I was, like many of you, nervous when the news came out that the Superman of Kingdom Come would become a part of the JSA team for some time. Kingdom Come was, of course, one of the best graphic novels written in the last twenty years and a tribute to the ideals of DC Comics, America and heroism in general.

Given the attempt to recapture that same magic with the lackluster The Kingdom mini-series to say nothing of the varying levels of success with which certain elements of the KC Universe have been added into the reality of New Earth (a time-displaced Thom Kallor as the Starman of three worlds and three times, Ma Hunkle’s granddaughter as a new Red Tornado, Damage now wearing the costume of “The Atom” among others), we fans can be forgiven for being somewhat skeptical of this storyline.

We can be forgiven… but we can also be relieved.

For with Alex Ross assisting with the story and Geoff Johns (the one writer at DC Comics as trustworthy than Mark Waid in regards to respecting the past of the company) handling the writing chores, this story thus far is very true to the spirit of Kingdom Come.



Ross also contributes a few painted panels, but the lion’s share of the artwork in this issue is ably illustrated by Dale Eaglesham, who is – as ever – a master of both high-action and facial expression. He is one of the best visual storytellers in the business and even during the confusing moment in which Superman must fight his way past the entire JSA, change into his costume and rush to save a woman attempting suicide, the progression of action is smooth and logical despite occurring in a matter of seconds.

This story isn’t really a sequel to Kingdom Come. And as good as it is thus far, I doubt very much that this story may prove to be the equal of Kingdom Come. But taken on its’ own merits, it is a damn fine story about Truth, Justice and The American Way. And that is all that it needs to be.

He stands at the center of the universe, old as the stars and wise as infinity. And he can see the turning of the last page long before you’ve even started the book. He’s like rain and fog and the chilling touch of the grave. He is called many names in a thousand tongues on a million worlds. Heckler. The Smirking One. Riffer. The Lonely Magus. Wolf-Brother. The God of Snark. Mister Pirate. The Guy In The Rafters. Captain. The Voice In The Back. But here and now, in this place and in this time, he is called The Starman. And... he's wonderful.