Superhero fiction is dominated by Marvel and DC. When someone wants to tell a story outside that ecosystem, they often run into a unique challenge, one not often seen in other media. Because of their deep cultural penetration, there’s a shorthand to these established universes. Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, can appear in a story about the street-level Spider-Man and no one bats an eye. Alan Moore can write a horror and mysticism Swamp Thing comic that also involves him fighting Lex Luthor. We know, children know, that these things go together. Eighty-plus years of appearing on lunchboxes and storybooks and cartoons and underwear and blockbuster movies have done a fine job in telling us not to worry about how the world works. It’s accepted as truth.
But when a creator has a story that they can’t tell in the framework of those two tax write-offs of the AT&T and Disney corporations, they are forced to build this mythology from the ground up. Some, like WildC.A.T.S., chose to drop readers in at the starting point, building these legends as they go along. Others, like Invincible, want to introduce a living superhero universe from the first issue, relying on weaker, ersatz versions of established properties before breaking into their own thing. When you want the universe from issue #1, you have to paint with broad strokes. If characters feel closer to Dollar Tree brands than outright parodies, you’ve done your job better than most, but you still face an uphill battle trying to distinguish your work from the competition.
The Blue Flame has its feet standing in two worlds. In one, Sam Braucam is the Blue Flame, a cosmic adventurer, he is a Green Lantern, a Nova, an Adam Strange meeting new alien and colorful alien civilizations. In the other, Sam Braucam is the Blue Flame, a working-class tradesman who spends his evenings as a member of Milwaukee’s premiere team of vigilantes, The Night Brigade. There’s the spark of an interesting idea, juxtaposing the homemade Kick-Ass style hero with the pulpy sci-fi explorer, but the end result of this first issue is something a bit more uneven.
Writer Christopher Cantwell has made a habit of telling long-form stories in his comics, and The Blue Flame is no exception. This issue feels like a cold open, a pre-credits roll of a lot of important information that we won’t understand until the end of the first act. It’s challenging to judge on the basis of a single issue because it’s not written as a distinct unit of comics. Sam is framed as the ideal man of an America gone by. He’s a humble, hard worker, a union man who comes home with grease on his hands before going out and serving his community. He’s a blank slate who, in both stories, things just happen to. Sam has no agency, he makes no choices, he’s not bound so much by inaction than the fact that the story doesn’t give him space for any action. If this is a long-form story, it’s hard to pinpoint why a reader would want to keep going to issue two.
A disappointment in this issue is the stylistic change for artist Adam Gorham. His work had stood out, in part, for his messy, grimy inks, adding texture and visual identity to the pages. Here, Gorham is reserved, perhaps restrained by the snow-covered Wisconsin backdrop. His figure work is emotive and his layouts strong, but it’s missing a sense of style. In moments, like an early sci-fi spread, or his quiet contemplativeness in front of a boiler, Gorham’s work shines. The colors from Kurt Michael Russell are bright and primary in the Earth-bound scenes, with more interesting, textured work in the cosmic stories. They are a solid pair when they get a chance to play with unique locals, but a bit too sanitized when tied to heroics in the midwest. It’s a disappointment that the script doesn’t allow them time to flex more in this issue.
I’m aware this review sounds negative, but I am more confused by this title than mad at it. At the core of things, this feels like a deconstruction of the idea of superheroes. On one hand, that makes sense with the genre being a media juggernaut at the peak of its power. On the other hand, we are inundated with superhero deconstructions. Watchmen, Invincible, and The Boys are acclaimed and popular television programs treading that ground. What is this book trying to say about humanity, super or otherwise, that isn’t already being done? Cantwell is bringing his smart, slow burn, prestige drama sensibilities to his comics, but does so at the expense of the single issue, much less the ever-important first issue. The Blue Flame #1 burns out for having high ambitions. It is trying to do too much, spread too thin for any one part to stick out. It falls short of canonizing new mythology, but unlike many other comics out there, it’s at least reaching for the stars.
But I swear if this ends as a cliched coma dream thing, I’m going to give Christopher Cantwell a swirly.
Zachary Jenkins co-hosts the podcast Battle of the Atom and is the former editor-in-chief of ComicsXF. Shocking everyone, he has a full and vibrant life outside all this.
