Ed Brubaker et al, Captain America (Marvel, 2005- ), $2.99, monthly.
I
am not old enough to remember the first Captain America.
But I am not ashamed to say that I am indeed old enough, if
not to remember, at least to coexist along with the second,
his rebirth in Marvel Comics from suspended animation in
the pages of my beloved Avengers. And I can say with all gravity and
seriousness that from the start in those heady mid-1960s
days, I never much cared for the man. He was dull, dry, and
dour—he felt, even then, as if he did not quite belong in
my mighty Marvel bullpen. I dismissed him early in my
comics-reading career as a flag-waving bore and was done
with it. So, you will be correct in imagining, I was not
among those (were there any?) who found themselves agitated
about the much ballyhooed Death of Captain America
storyline a couple of years ago. It smacked of a weak
retread for a new decade of that so-called “death” of
D.C.’s version of the humorless comics icon, Superman. We
would spin the media up for a few months to question “what
does it all mean,” and then slowly start the process of
rebirth and healing. But, oh, Ed Brubaker. That alone gave
me pause.
It was a long pause. In fact, only this past month did I
finally sit down to start reading through the last four
years of the book Brubaker has been writing since 2005,
helped immeasurably by the beautifully produced
Omnibus
edition of the first 25
issues of Brubaker’s run on Captain America
vol. 5. And I do admit freely
in retrospect that I underestimated the series, at least
after Captain America finally got himself executed by his
brainwashed girlfriend. The series up to that point was
fine, but not all that gripping: bogged down and deflected
endlessly by various Marvel “events,” especially the Civil
War which completely railroaded the energy of Cap’s
adventures in his own book in the months leading up to his
demise, the whole reads like an intricate conspiracy-laden
film noir that continuously loses site of its conspiracies.
What exactly is Lukin trying to accomplish by blowing up
all those bombs again? Why does Faustus turn on Red Skull?
Which of these A.I.M. guys (or their off-shoots) are
working for whom? The only truly moving part of the
narrative from my vantage point was the recovery of lost
Bucky, the Winter Solider as he had been known while under
the mind-control of his Soviet handlers, and the
forgiveness he is shown despite the many sins his
well-trained gun committed.
Which is why I have enjoyed and admired this series so much
more since Steve Rogers’ demise. Part of the conceit of
Brubaker’s retelling of the Captain America myth in the
issues leading up to Cap’s death is that the story we
thought we all knew about the duo’s adventures in WWII was
darker, necessarily more violent and expedient than we were
ever told. And it was young sidekick Bucky, not Cap, who
was put in the position of doing that which America’s icon
could not be caught doing: assassinations, sneak attacks, a
quick shot to the head. After Cap’s assassination it is a
shaky and barely redeemed Bucky who must find his way
toward picking up the shield and the mask of the man he
loved and lost so many decades ago. And his struggle to
find his way into that new identity is deliberately and
movingly addressed.
And, I’ll admit it: I can’t stop thinking about Agent 13,
Sharon Carter—perhaps because she and I both came into this
world in a warm spring day in 1966. Like Bucky, she must
live with the memory of crimes she committed and yet is not
responsible for—in her case, the assassination of the man
she loved (or thought she loved—it is never finally clear
how much of her newly-rekindled romance for Steve Rogers is
due to Faustus’ control and how much is of her own
volition). Like Bucky, she must live forever in the
shadows, no longer a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. but neither free
nor willing to go it alone. I can only hope there is a
major role for her in the series going forward.
There has been much speculation as to when Steve Rogers
will be reborn. In the world of comics, and especially of
Captain America, such speculations are of course not
far-fetched: Cap’s arch-nemesis, Red Skull, has been reborn
more than he has been killed, and of course Steve Rogers
himself is the ur-messiah figure of the Marvel universe,
reborn from those Norman Rockwell days of 1945 into the
wild and crazy mid-60s, an adventure from which he never
finished recovering. Still, I admire the hell out of
Brubaker for not rushing into anything here. There is
always time for resurrections. Rogers, presumably, isn’t
going anywhere. In the meantime, Captain America has never
seemed so dark and dangerous. And this one has a
well-earned sense of humor. The Captain is dead. Long live
the new Captain America.
