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Speculative
Friction:
a blog of comics and literary criticism written by Bill Baker
02-01-06
"transformer"
The concept that "there's no such thing as an original story"
and the concomitant question of "Well, then, is there such
a thing as an original plot?" have been on my mind of late.
Partly it can be traced directly to my recent reading of Iain Bank's
excellent epic posthuman space opera, The Algebraist, but there
are actually a few antecedents for this mental trend. And while
you can see strains of it in a number of the short reviews below,
something I just chalk up to synchronicity, the chief reason for
this renewed interest stems directly from the adventures of Metamorpho.
That's because I've been slowly reading--well, savoring, if truth
be told--the entire saga of DC's elemental misfit in the pages of
the recently released Showcase Presents: Metamorpho trade collection
for the past two months or so. Naturally, that slower process of
reading has granted me more time to consider not just the obvious
things in these decidedly whacky tales, but also to really mull
over some of my passing observations, and to refine them further
than is typical. All of which has lead me to realize that, in a
really interesting and telling sense, Metamorpho the comic perhaps
owes a real debt to both the Bard and the Good Book for its basic
skeletal structure, so to speak. Now this might sound a bit far
fetched, I know, but please bear with me for a moment.
[Also, please note: I am not, in any way, "accusing" or
even hinting at some kind of theft on the part of Bob Haney or any
other creator involved. Instead, what I'm concerned with is largely
unconscious and natural usage by the artist of common and readily
available narratives and devices in the course of their work. Writers
use universal themes, time-tested or -worn plots, and other devices
from literary, historical and social sources in conjunction with
language to create what are essentially wholly original items bearing
their creator's stamp, writ large or small, making it uniquely their
own. That's what I'm focusing on here generally, and specifically
how literary mechanism and other devices can be twisted into almost
unrecognizable shape, yet completely fulfill their purposes, and
often accomplish new things previously undreamt of.]
Anyway, back to Metamorpho. The lead character, Rex Mason, is an
adventurer engaged to Sapphire, a young woman possessed of both
beauty and good fortune in the guise of Simon Stagg, her fabulously
wealthy father. The catch? Well, first up, Simon Stagg is Rex's
boss, something which chafes so badly that the adventurer decides
to quit and marry his true love. Which brings us to the hero's second
problem, manifested in the grotesque form of Java, the intellectually-boosted
caveman who also serves Simon Stagg. Blessed with the heart of a
romantic and cursed with the double whammy of a face even his own
mother would have trouble loving combined with the sensibilities
of many modern stalkers, Java not-so-secretly covets the attentions
of his master's daughter, too. Which leads directly into the third
and final difficulty facing Rex Mason, since it is Java's intense
jealous hatred of Mason which leads the spurned suitor to sealing
Rex in a booby-trapped tomb to die during his last mission for the
exceedingly greedy and grasping Simon Stagg. However, instead of
dying, Mason finds himself transformed by one of the ancient gods
into a being who can literally control the chemical makeup as well
as the physical shape and state of his own body. Using his newfound
powers to escape what seemed to be his premature burial chamber,
Mason returns to Stagg and Sapphire, demanding that his former boss
devise a method to restore his human form and so he can marry Sapphire
as planned. Of course, Stagg and Java both have their own, often
conflicting, agendas of their own, all of which leads to a series
of increasingly weird adventures wherein Metamorpho and company
encounter a bizarre list of individual villains while on their endless
quest to find a cure for Mason's state..
So, what's all that wonderfully silly nonsense got to do with Shakespeare,
much less the Bible? Well, consider this: Rex Mason the man in a
real sense "dies" when he's trapped by Java in the tomb.
Then, after being metaphorically made into mere "dust"
[as in "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust"], he's resurrected
and transmuted via his encounter with a divine being and given new
life. In other words, what you've got here is a re-imagined Eden
scenario, with God gathering up the crudest of raw materials to
fashion something bearing more kinship to angels than animals, and
breathing new life into it. Again, I'm in no way suggesting that
this fun and even silly minded comic is in any way preaching atheism
or any other wild crap. Rather, I'm simply looking into the deeper
tissue of the specimen on the table before me, and recognizing some
of the structural similarities it shares with other members of the
story telling variety.
In fact, the same magical mental alchemy seems to have infused Metamorpho's
backstory with a twisted genetic trace of sorts arising from what
could easily be called Shakespeare's crowning achievement, The Tempest.
In this late and magnificent play by good ol' Will, we open with
the shipwreck of the Duke of Milan and his entourage upon the small
island inhabited by Prospero, a wizard of noble heritage, his daughter,
Miranda, and their unwilling servant, the monstrous man-thing called
Caliban. Also inhabiting the isle is a small host of magical entities,
chief among them the sprit Ariel, indentured to Prospero but longing
for freedom. Now, I'm fairly sure that the more astute among you
has already begun drawing your own correlations to the Metamorpho
cast and circumstances, and you've probably begun to notice that
they are fairly plentiful, if transposed in both interesting and
unexpected manners.
For instance, it could be said that Rex Mason is a combination of
the Duke's son, who falls for the old wizard's daughter, and the
supernatural servant Ariel, with a dash of Prospero thrown in. Just
like the noble son of the Duke and innocent woman-child in the play,
Rex and Sapphire adore each other. However, before they can marry,
the prospective groom must prove his worth to Staggs by undergoing
a series of trials. Unfortunately for the couple, the interference
by a jealous rival in the form of Java complicates matters further,
resulting in Mason's merging in a sense with the spirit of Ariel,
a magical being who is commanded by a mortal of some learning and
means, Stagg, until such a time as he has fulfilled a debt and will
be restored to human form. This entire process then feeds back into
itself again, with Metamorpho/Ariel/prospective groom having to
overcome the various challenges presented by Stagg/Prospero while
circumventing the interference from Java/Caliban, all so he can
get reject his supernatural powers before settling down to a normal,
married life with Sapphire/Miranda. It's a spring-loaded plot into
which just about any villain and setting could be loaded with a
fair amount of confidence that the results would prove entertaining,
as long as one kept the narrative flow moving and well fed.
Finally, if you're under some kind of illusion that it's just comics
creators who use these unconscious methods, don't forget that this
is the same kind of process that lead to classic films like Forbidden
Planet and The Magnificent Seven, each of which was based on The
Tempest and The Seven Samurai, respectively] among dozens, if not
hundreds, of other examples. This is part and parcel of the give
and take that every art form and medium requires. Even more importantly,
if, as the title of the recent book The Seven Different Plots suggests,
there are a finite number of fundamental plot sequences available
for use, then this ability to recombine plots and other literary
devices into new and interesting shapes really must be one of the
fundamental skills needed by any comics creator, visual or otherwise,
to create good and, paradoxically, entirely original works of fiction.
Seems worth investigating, both as individuals and en masse, if
you ask me. Expect to see more of this kind of pondering on this
subject from me in the future as opportunity and examples offer
themselves.
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