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alibi_shopSwamp Thing #56-64 (1987)
Written by Alan Moore except #59 by Steve Bissette, #62 by Rick Veitch
Art by Rick Veitch/Alfredo Alcala except #60 by John Totleben, #64 by Bissette/Veitch/Alcala/Tom Yeates
Given Alan Moore's roots in British SF comics, and the adaptability of Swamp Thing to multiple genres, it might seem odd that he's only given us space aliens once (and those were Pogo characters in drag). In his last arc of the series, he rectifies that, and then some.
The setup is obviously just an excuse to go to different random planets, but it makes clever use of the pseudo-scientific rules Moore already established: Swampy can transmit himself any distance as long as it's to somewhere with vegetation, but he's tuned to the frequency (or whatever) of Earth's plant life, so it only works on Earth—but now he's been zapped out of tune, so he can go anywhere except Earth. The ultimate resolution of this isn't very interesting, it's basically "go find this person who can help you fix it", but do we get to see some cool places along the way? Oh my yes.
The first one, "My Blue Heaven", is probably the best, and really one of the highlights of the whole series*. It puts Swampy in a place where there's no conflict and no danger, just him and a bunch of plants which he can make into whatever he wants, and that's it. The story evokes a feeling of wonder and imaginative playfulness while also becoming increasingly sad and hopeless: he misses Abby, but he also just misses people who aren't himself. The story isn't about him descending into madness (unlike the last person we met who could create whatever he wanted: Matt Cable), but about loneliness and the limits of creative art without communication. It also makes an interesting pairing with the Mars scenes in Watchmen #4, which appeared one month before this.
After that, it's a mixed bag—deliberately, as Moore seems to be using this as an opportunity to do a little of everything. There's a two-part story about Adam Strange, a long-running space-opera character who was created in 1958 but is sort of a riff on much earlier pulp heroes like Buck Rogers and John Carter; Swampy is kind of an afterthought in this one, as Moore is more interested in getting into the psychology of this jetpacked man's-man, and also (as this is Alan Moore) retconning his whole history so he's been wrong about his situation all along. There's a nifty little story in the "aliens who are very strange in a few ways but otherwise are a lot like us" mode, featuring a Green Lantern and an homage to, of all things, Clive Barker's "In the Hills, the Cities"(*); here we don't have Swampy's POV at all, he's just a weird monster. There's a Jack Kirby homage allowing Veitch to draw some crazy Kirby stuff (Veitch also wrote this, and it's a preview of his writing style going forward, which is kind of like his art: imaginative, slightly unpolished, and sometimes very funny).
And there's "Loving the Alien". It's hard to describe this, and I'm honestly not sure if I like it, but I'm very impressed that Berger and DC were willing to print it. In style and tone it's basically a New Wave SF story, maybe along the lines of James Tiptree Jr.'s "Love Is the Plan the Plan Is Death"—which, like this, is narrated by an alien whose life cycle and thought processes are normal to it but horrifying to us. It's a sort of living asteroid that's somehow part machine and part plant, and Swampy has been incarnated inside it in semi-mechanical form, which is the least of his worries because it wants to basically vivisect and sexually assault him, out of love. And we never get a good look at what it is, because every panel is a full-page Totleben illustration in a surreal and virtually non-representational style, like a cross between Jim Steranko, Dave McKean, and Roman Cieślewicz. Oh yeah, also, there's no dialogue and the whole thing is told in lots and lots of typeset paragraphs, with lots of Alan Moore adjectives. It's excessive, and unpleasant, and totally mesmerizing.
The return to Earth is very abrupt, and it's pretty clearly designed to clear the decks for the next writer. Swampy kills off the remaining Sunderland Corporation villains (we barely met these guys, but they're the ones who blew him up) in a series of imaginative little horror vignettes. Liz (still a basket case, but improving; she also throws in the 200th mention of her book, which at this point really feels like Moore being snarky about the thinness of the character) will now live with Chester (the nicest guy in the world). Swampy has a philosophical discussion with himself about why, with his awesome new powers, he can't just fix everything in the world (a question every godlike superhero must eventually find some way to evade). And he retires in a cool plant house with Abby, to live happily ever after, the end. Right?
Looking back at Moore's run now, I see plenty of flaws, but... this would be a really impressive bunch of fantasy comics today. Thirty-four years ago, I can't even imagine.
Inventories
Stuff that'll be in Vertigo comics later: During Veitch's Kirby issue, he draws a million little panels of visions a guy is having, and one of them is a dream scene containing Garrett Sanford the Sandman, who will show up in Neil Gaiman's The Sandman; not a new idea, but probably not a coincidence. Also relevant to The Sandman: the last issue brings up the idea that when a godlike entity responsible for some aspect of existence is removed from office somehow, things still more or less function, but we can tell that something's not right.
Non-human animals: Moore does like to talk about cats: on the planet Rann, there's a "water cat" (a large cat that's made out of water), and also a ritual where lovers drink out of a cat's skull. Swamp Thing wrestles an alligator for fun.
Swamp Thing origin recaps: Just a couple oblique references. Alec Holland has definitely left the building.
Next: Veitch starts a sprout
Written by Alan Moore except #59 by Steve Bissette, #62 by Rick Veitch
Art by Rick Veitch/Alfredo Alcala except #60 by John Totleben, #64 by Bissette/Veitch/Alcala/Tom Yeates
Given Alan Moore's roots in British SF comics, and the adaptability of Swamp Thing to multiple genres, it might seem odd that he's only given us space aliens once (and those were Pogo characters in drag). In his last arc of the series, he rectifies that, and then some.
The setup is obviously just an excuse to go to different random planets, but it makes clever use of the pseudo-scientific rules Moore already established: Swampy can transmit himself any distance as long as it's to somewhere with vegetation, but he's tuned to the frequency (or whatever) of Earth's plant life, so it only works on Earth—but now he's been zapped out of tune, so he can go anywhere except Earth. The ultimate resolution of this isn't very interesting, it's basically "go find this person who can help you fix it", but do we get to see some cool places along the way? Oh my yes.
The first one, "My Blue Heaven", is probably the best, and really one of the highlights of the whole series*. It puts Swampy in a place where there's no conflict and no danger, just him and a bunch of plants which he can make into whatever he wants, and that's it. The story evokes a feeling of wonder and imaginative playfulness while also becoming increasingly sad and hopeless: he misses Abby, but he also just misses people who aren't himself. The story isn't about him descending into madness (unlike the last person we met who could create whatever he wanted: Matt Cable), but about loneliness and the limits of creative art without communication. It also makes an interesting pairing with the Mars scenes in Watchmen #4, which appeared one month before this.
After that, it's a mixed bag—deliberately, as Moore seems to be using this as an opportunity to do a little of everything. There's a two-part story about Adam Strange, a long-running space-opera character who was created in 1958 but is sort of a riff on much earlier pulp heroes like Buck Rogers and John Carter; Swampy is kind of an afterthought in this one, as Moore is more interested in getting into the psychology of this jetpacked man's-man, and also (as this is Alan Moore) retconning his whole history so he's been wrong about his situation all along. There's a nifty little story in the "aliens who are very strange in a few ways but otherwise are a lot like us" mode, featuring a Green Lantern and an homage to, of all things, Clive Barker's "In the Hills, the Cities"(*); here we don't have Swampy's POV at all, he's just a weird monster. There's a Jack Kirby homage allowing Veitch to draw some crazy Kirby stuff (Veitch also wrote this, and it's a preview of his writing style going forward, which is kind of like his art: imaginative, slightly unpolished, and sometimes very funny).
And there's "Loving the Alien". It's hard to describe this, and I'm honestly not sure if I like it, but I'm very impressed that Berger and DC were willing to print it. In style and tone it's basically a New Wave SF story, maybe along the lines of James Tiptree Jr.'s "Love Is the Plan the Plan Is Death"—which, like this, is narrated by an alien whose life cycle and thought processes are normal to it but horrifying to us. It's a sort of living asteroid that's somehow part machine and part plant, and Swampy has been incarnated inside it in semi-mechanical form, which is the least of his worries because it wants to basically vivisect and sexually assault him, out of love. And we never get a good look at what it is, because every panel is a full-page Totleben illustration in a surreal and virtually non-representational style, like a cross between Jim Steranko, Dave McKean, and Roman Cieślewicz. Oh yeah, also, there's no dialogue and the whole thing is told in lots and lots of typeset paragraphs, with lots of Alan Moore adjectives. It's excessive, and unpleasant, and totally mesmerizing.
The return to Earth is very abrupt, and it's pretty clearly designed to clear the decks for the next writer. Swampy kills off the remaining Sunderland Corporation villains (we barely met these guys, but they're the ones who blew him up) in a series of imaginative little horror vignettes. Liz (still a basket case, but improving; she also throws in the 200th mention of her book, which at this point really feels like Moore being snarky about the thinness of the character) will now live with Chester (the nicest guy in the world). Swampy has a philosophical discussion with himself about why, with his awesome new powers, he can't just fix everything in the world (a question every godlike superhero must eventually find some way to evade). And he retires in a cool plant house with Abby, to live happily ever after, the end. Right?
Looking back at Moore's run now, I see plenty of flaws, but... this would be a really impressive bunch of fantasy comics today. Thirty-four years ago, I can't even imagine.
Inventories
Stuff that'll be in Vertigo comics later: During Veitch's Kirby issue, he draws a million little panels of visions a guy is having, and one of them is a dream scene containing Garrett Sanford the Sandman, who will show up in Neil Gaiman's The Sandman; not a new idea, but probably not a coincidence. Also relevant to The Sandman: the last issue brings up the idea that when a godlike entity responsible for some aspect of existence is removed from office somehow, things still more or less function, but we can tell that something's not right.
Non-human animals: Moore does like to talk about cats: on the planet Rann, there's a "water cat" (a large cat that's made out of water), and also a ritual where lovers drink out of a cat's skull. Swamp Thing wrestles an alligator for fun.
Swamp Thing origin recaps: Just a couple oblique references. Alec Holland has definitely left the building.
Next: Veitch starts a sprout
