I put Alan Scott: Green Lantern on my pull list for two reasons, one is that I love Green Lantern, and it's the main thing that I collect and am trying to get all of. The second is that the Justice Society are my favourite comic team. With those two things in mind I didn't expect that the main thing that I'd come to love about this series is the beautiful, and even moving queer story that would be presented within the pages. Only two issues in it's quickly become one of my best comic of the year.
The last issue ended with a full page splash of Alan Scott going through electro-shock 'therapy' in Arkham Asylum. I saw some people online jumping to the conclusion the book was going to be doing one of those 'is the lead character actually crazy and is this all fake?' type situations. Other than that being a quite tired and well used trope at this point, it also ignored the bigger issue. This is a queer story in a time of rampant homophobia. My only conclusion was that the people who thought that's where the story might have been going might be unaware of the horrors inflicted upon the queer community at that time; because as soon as I saw it I knew that Alan Scott was going to be tortured for being gay.
And this is what this second issue is about. Much of the 'present day' (still in the past, just not as far back) part of the story deals with Alan recounting the tale of his time in Arkham, and the events that led up to him becoming the Green Lantern, rather than the continuation of the central conflict for him in that era. In some books this would slow things down considerably, especially as it would be dealing with the history of an established character that you'd have to assume the audience is familiar with. After all, Alan Scott has been around for more than eighty years, with him debuting just behind Superman and Batman, and before well known characters like Wonder Woman or other members of the Justice Society, so you'd expect his backstory to be a well known one.
But not only has it been a long while since DC really covered Alan Scott's origin, it's also gone through some substantial changes. In Infinite Frontier #0 Alan came out as gay to his son and daughter, revealing that it was something that he'd been hiding for most of his life. But, thanks to the shifting times, and likely in large part to seeing his son as an openly, happy, gay super hero, Alan joined the ever expanding ranks of queer DC characters. Of course, this prompted outcries from the conservative right, who hated that 'yet another straight character has been turned gay'. The fact that he'd not been openly gay this entire time, and had children, seemed to be an easy out for some to dismiss it out of hand and deny it being a story worth telling; completely ignoring the fact that Alan's coming out actually mirrors a lot of older gay men's experiences.
This series is exploring the reasons why Alan never came out, or at least that's how it seems to me. The first issue dealt with the tragedy of his first real love, the man he was prepared to run away with and 'marry' die in front of him. The two of them had fallen in love within the military, hiding their love in an institution that would never accept it. And that's the reason why in this issue we find Alan in Arkham, having gone there to save his career. His commanding officers had figured out he and Johnny were in love, but couldn't just throw Alan out after saving hundreds of lives, so gave him the chance to 'straighten out'.
And thus, this issue we see Alan living in an asylum, taking part in group therapy, being told that his love his wrong, and seeing what happens to those who don't opt to parrot the lie. This issue introduces a new piece of lore to the Green Lantern mythology. In the original story of him getting powers a green railway lantern is imbued with magic, and grants him his abilities. But where did that lantern come from? You'd assume that it was just part of the train that Alan is on when he gets his powers, but this issue reveals that it was something that belonged to Alan before this, and it does so through what might be my favourite single issue character.
Alan's roommate is a trans woman named Billie. The 1940's was not a time where people were unaware of trans people's existence. The first gender realignment surgeries took place in the 1930's, and there was considerable research into trans people in Germany during this period. Those huge bonfires of books that the Nazi's burned that you've surely seen photos and videos of included the contents of the Institute of Sexology, and all of their research on trans people. Germany was pioneering trans acceptance in many ways, and it was the actions of the Nazi's that would set this back decades. As such, it's no surprise to see that Billie in this book is treated less as a person in need of acceptance and help, and as a mentally ill man who needs fixing.
Billie is presented masculinely, with only a single panel where she's shown in a more feminine way, applying lipstick and wearing a wig, something that Alan warns her about getting caught doing. She's living in fear, desperate to be herself yet unable to; though accepted by Alan. Alan calls her by her name, even when being 'corrected' by the staff at Arkham, and he never once talks about her as anything but a woman. And it's due to that respect and the friendship that forms between them Billie presents him with something she made in metal shop; a train lantern she fixed up. A trans woman gave Alan Scott his lantern. This was a new addition to the lore that floored me when reading it. As a trans woman who loves this character, seeing this representation, having a trans person become so linked to this character, it meant a lot.
Sadly, Billie is taken away for special treatment that day. A week goes by, and Alan is given no news about where she is, and if she's ever coming back. Then the staff bring her back into their room, pushing her in in a wheelchair. Her head is wrapped in bandages, and the light has gone out of her. The wonderfully expressive, insightful woman who never backed down or let the powers break her is gone. She'd been lobotomised. This moment broke me completely when I read it. Tim Sheridan had introduced this new character, made her a part of Alan's history, and then used her to show the brutality of the treatment towards queer and trans people at the time. It made me weep.
This isn't a criticism though, it's important that these kind of stories aren't shied away from. Queer and trans people have been victims of extreme brutality in history, and to this day, and whilst we might want to see better stories, stories that don't end tragically and in which our community get their happy ending we can't always sugarcoat reality. Life is hard for the queer community, and pretending otherwise is a lie that only helps to keep that brutality going. Most people, the kind of people who don't encounter this kind of hate because they're not the targets of it, and not the instigators, can go through their life never knowing how harsh it can be. My mother was visibly shocked and disturbed on an occasion in which I told her the kind of abuse I'd received, abuse that was second nature to me, yet made her see the hard reality of her daughters life. Sometimes a bucket of cold water to the face is needed, and Billie's treatment here is just that.
But Billie's death, for her lobotomy was the death of the person she was, is not in vain. Through mourning her and writing in his diary Alan is caught by the staff, and his admission is changed from voluntary to forced. They see that he is unrepentant in who he is, and need to punish him for it. He's taken through to the elctro-shock room, and he's tortured. And now we know what that final page of issue one meant. But if the staff were hoping to break Alan they were woefully mistaken. Instead, Alan gathers together all of the inmates there for conversion therapy, the queer patients who are either going to be tortured into lying about their sexuality and gender, or killed for it, and he stages a prison break. A prison break whose way is illuminated by the lantern Billie made for him. Even when she's gone her presence is there, helping to light their way to freedom.
After escaping Arkham, Alan begins to work on the railroad, his lantern with him every step of the way. He continues to love men, and engages in sexual activity with them, always in private, knowing now what horrors await him if caught. The night that the train Alan is on is derailed he wasn't there alone. Another change that Sheridan has brought to the origin is that Alan wasn't working in the engine room when the train derailed, but was with his lover, the two of them stealing a moment of intimacy in private. Alan loses yet another person he loves, another queer character lost in a world that seems to hate them at every turn. But, as this issue has been telling us, death is not the end.
Alan explains how ever since encountering the crimson flame he seems to be stuck in a cycle, one where death would lead to a new life; resurrection, and renewal. Even though the military went searching for the crimson flame in the first issue, Alan tells us that he'd also learned of the emerald flame of life, something that seemed to be drawn to him, possibly due to his interactions with its crimson counterpart. Whatever the reason, it chooses Alan, and as he dies in the wreckage of that train he's reborn as the Green Lantern.
This series has taken the origins of one of DC's oldest characters and expanded it in ways that I never expected it to be. The fairly simple story has been given depth that it never had before. Not only has Sheridan expanded the lore, introducing the crimson flame, and the Red Lantern that was teased in other books who makes his first mysterious appearance on the final page of this issue, but in Alan himself. Now Alan coming out way in the future isn't a 'sudden change' of a character that was never gay, it's a moment of self acceptance that's been a long time coming; perhaps even the greatest battle that Alan Scott has ever had.
I've spoken in depth about the writing on this issue, and I appreciate that this review has already gone on much longer than it normally would, but can't end without talking about the art. Cian Tormey draws the issue, with Matt Herms providing the colours. As you've seen from the description on the plot, there's not a whole lot in this issue that's particularly visually flashy in the story, apart from the spectacular splash page of the train crash. But that doesn't mean the art here isn't worth talking about.
The art team have a much tougher job than depicting larger than life heroes and villains battling each other. Instead, they need to depict the human heart of this story. It's the expressions on Alan's face as he's learning to process his grief over Johnny, his outrage at Billie's murder, the moment of resignation as he finally dies moments before being reborn as the Green Lantern (another fantastic visual moment). The art on this book is like the story, it's dealing with the human. It helps us connect with Alan Scott even more. It portrays the horrors that he has lived through. Some people might look at the book and see the lack of flashy costumes and big moments and dismiss it, or say that the art is boring, but it's not. The art puts you into the frightening, heartbreaking moments, and does some truly important storytelling.
This isn't how I normally do my comic reviews, and this feels more like it's strayed into an essay over a simple review; but I couldn't read this issue and not spend more time talking about it than I usually would. Comics are entertainment, they're designed to be fun, pulpy, and quite often ridiculous. You can't have a universe with flying supermen and amazonian warriors without a little silliness. But sometimes there are comics that come along that make you double take. They're wrapped in a super hero skin, but they're so much more than what most people think comics can be. We're only two issues into this series, but it already feels like the kind of book that is going to make waves.
As a queer comic fan it often feels like people within my community are unrepresented. Things are changing, and there are more and more queer characters being introduced into comics, and it seems like DC is leading the way with that. And we get things like DC Pride, which are nice to see, but sometimes feel a bit too light, a bit too empty to really be saying much other than 'yay, queer people exist'. Media made to cater to queer audiences can sometimes feel a little cash-grabby, made to make money and draw in queer fans. But this book feels like the polar opposite. It feels like it has a very real, very important queer story to tell. I don't know if this will last through to upcoming issues, if the queer part of the text will take a backseat for the more traditional super hero action, but if it stays like this Alan Scott: Green Lantern will end up being one of the most important queer comics we have.
As a queer and trans comic fan who loves this character I couldn't be happier with this series. I love how Alan Scott has been reinvented in this way, how much richer his story has become. And whilst I cried at the loss of Billie, she's a character that I'm going to remember for a long time despite her only nine pages of a single issue. Tim Sheridan and his team are creating something amazing.
No comments:
Post a Comment