STUFF I DIG: Gødland Volume 1: Hello, Cosmic! written by Joe Casey with art by Tom Scioli
Published by Image Comics
First, a brief apology. I always prefer that the stuff I review and recommend be purchased in a single volume, stand-alone format just for the ease of recommending it to anyone who doesn’t want to dive headlong into a lengthy, ongoing series. But, unfortunately, I have to disobey my own rule and talk about comics that are part of a larger saga. Gødland is a creator-owned sci-fi/superhero/pop-culture-oddity that took off in 2005 and was immediately received as one of the most brilliant and unique new comics published in recent years and yet remains criminally under-read, at least in my own opinion. Featuring artwork by Tom Scioli and a script written by Joe Casey, the series has been collected in a string of trade paperback volumes, the first of which, Hello, Cosmic! I’ll discuss now.
The reason this book stands as such an anomaly in today’s comic book marketplace is that it refuses to be hamstrung by the ridiculous notion that comics need to be more “realistic,” a term that usually equates to bland attempts at primetime melodrama. In its wild abandon, Gødland actually shares the thematic qualities and general vibe of the classic Silver Age DC and Marvel comics that fused the superhero genre with cosmic fantasy in a way that reverberates with pop-culture junkies to this day. Just pick it up and notice the way the art, dialogue and characterization feel retro and futuristic at the same time and you’ll see what I mean. This is weird, trippy, mid-to-late twentieth century pop art at its finest while at the same time reinventing that mode for a twenty first century audience.
The story of Gødland is exactly as bizarre as you’d love it to be. Adam Archer is an astronaut who crashed on Mars four years ago and stumbled upon a strange alien collective, a cosmic godhead who grants him superpowers in an attempt to push humanity to the next stages of evolution. Upon returning home, Archer is co-opted by the US Government, given a home in a Manhattan skyscraper/scientific testing facility and put to work saving mankind, along with his three sisters, Stella, the cold and calculating group mastermind, Neela, an enterprising cosmonaut more than a little jealous of her brother and Angie, a shiftless punk rock layabout.
Hello, Cosmic! introduces the cast and backstory by way of flashbacks and character moments that are interwoven into the current stories which are, frankly, utterly demented. In our opening story, a peace-seeking interplanetary alien named Maxim who is on an exploratory mission crashes into the Great Wall of China and is subsequently kidnapped by Basil Cronus, a comic book villain in the purest sense who needs Maxim’s blood to capture the ultimate high. A head (in the figurative sense, a drug addict, in the literal sense, a sentient skull floating in a jar affixed to a cybernetic body) interested only in hallucinogenic mind expansion, Cronus is ultimately undone and winds up in the clutches of a rival supervillain. Maxim, who possesses some greater knowledge of the universe and Archer’s connection to the evolutionary hive-mind that created him, takes up residence in the team’s Manhattan skyscraper and promises to figure prominently in the future.
The second story centers around Neela’s attempt to rescue a captured superhero character named Crashman from the clutches of a sadistic torture-terrorist who, upon being captured, is subject to a media-scrutinized trial. These stories are truly the stuff of capital-C capital-B Comic Books and not a paper-and-ink version of a standard Jerry Bruckheimer action movie. At no point are we left with the feeling that Gødland wants to be anything other than what it is. Yes, pop culture references abound but it doesn’t feel like a desperate attempt to be a pitch for a Michael Bay flick.
No, Gødland is refreshingly absurd, fun and somewhat thought-provoking all at the same, which is what good comics should be. Comics should also be cool and confident enough in their own gleeful lunacy to merit the rockstar strut that seems somehow always born into Casey’s scripts. Casey is one the few American comic book writers (I count Gerard Way and Matt Fraction in this group as well) who sees a bold new vision for superhero comics that lies in reinventing the imaginative, four-color insanity of the Jack Kirby era and injecting it with new, yet-more-fucked-up goodness.
Speaking of Kirby, we have to talk about Kirby. Everyone who reads or reviews this comic has to make mention of the fact that the script bears a striking similarity to the King’s now-classic Marvel stories, or, to be even more appropriate, his Fourth World cycle from DC. In terms of dialogue, characterization and pacing, yes, this is true. Also must be made mention is the fact that the ART bears EVEN MORE of a striking similarity to Kirby’s now-classic oeuvre, with the blocky but artfully nuanced characters, heavy black linework, chunky, blocky sci-fi costumes, vivid colors and the ubiquitous “Kirby Krackle” the energy dots that are found throughout. So, yes, compare it to Kirby. My question: Since when is that a bad thing?
For starters, these guys do enough to distinguish themselves from Kirby that you could never call it a rip-off. Beautifully executed homage, yes, but not a rip-off. This is firmly set in our modern world, or a hyper-surrealistic derivation thereof, and not Kirby’s 1960’s. There is a general twenty first century edge that makes it slightly less wholesome than any of Kirby’s creations. Secondly, nobody else is doing Kirby comics and if they are, I promise it’s not with such style, intelligence and general aplomb. The comic book market NEEEEDS this shit like a drought needs a rainstorm so I welcome it with open arms. Joe Casey himself once said that he views Kirby as his own genre, which is a brilliant and entirely correct thing to say, not to mention a fantastic fucking angle from which to approach the art of comic book creation.
One of the things that Kirby seemed focused on, that we all seem focused on, that is probably the most central theme for good, “big-picture” fiction, is the notion of human evolution. The thing that elevates this comic from merely a genuinely fun read to something with depth and tremendous potential is the same thing that elevated the classic Silver Age comics to the same status: its preoccupation with mankind’s place in the cosmos and how we’re arriving. Adam Archer has been granted the gift of superhumanity and he’s not sure how or why. Through the wise and peace-seeking character of Maxim, we are introduced to the concept of a universal space-god called Iboga who will almost certainly turn out to be the crux of the story entire. Iboga is also the name of a rainforest-grown hallucinogen. The concept of expanding one’s consciousness through drugs is also embodied by the super-junkie Basil Cronus who has lost his way more than a little bit. These threads seem to be leading to a much larger statement that also incorporates the idea of a collective subconsciousness, as represented by the alien hive-mind Archer first met four years prior to the opening of the book.
Gødland, simply put, sums up the reasons to read comics at all. It’s weird, cool, funny, surprising, high-minded yet accessible, goofy, enjoyable, smart, and stylish all at the same time. This, like the very best comics, is something that you either get, in which case you love the fuck out of it, or you don’t, in which case you’re probably not cool enough to. Gødland is just one of those tasty pop-culture masterpieces that we need more of and, in these twenty first century days of the dark and brooding zeitgeist, I’m glad to have any of at all.
Do pick it up.
- Dorian Peace
Also, if you’re interested in Joe Casey’s thoughts on comics in general, I highly recommend The Basement Tapes, a column he and Matt Fraction wrote between July 2004 and December 2005 for Comic Book Resources, as well as THIS INTERVIEW with Tom Spurgeon and THIS INTERVIEW with Jonathan Ellis. He is a fascinating guy.
