Immortal Hulk #47 Shows Us Where She-Hulk’s Loyalties Lie

The fights just keep coming as Hulk and his crew fight off the Mighty Avengers in Immortal Hulk #47, written by Al Ewing, pencilled by Joe Bennett, inked by Ruy José and Belardino Brabo. with colors by Paul Mounts, and letters by Cory Petit.

Cori McCreery: Here we are again, the world crumbling around us, as we draw ever nearer the end. Glad to be back by your side for this issue Zach. 

Zach Rabiroff: Cori, I can’t imagine a better co-writer to confront the impending arrival of gamma-infused infernal doom. Let’s get to it, shall we?

Enjoying the Ruin 

Zach: As we draw nearer to the endgame of this Immortal Hulk run, it seems our opening quotations are getting more direct. Time was, Al Ewing would hit us with a cryptic epigram from Timothy Leary or Anais Nin, and we could spend three or four paragraphs working out arcane speculative theories about what it all meant, and how the real Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test was happening inside The Leader’s laboratory.

Now, it seems, he’s just going straight for the jugular. Our quote this time comes from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein:

As Alex Spencer pointed out back in 2018, this, along with Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, is one of the founding texts of Hulk lore: the primal inspirations from which Jack Kirby and Stan Lee were drawing when they brought the character to life. Part of it was simply the Hulk’s physicality, of course: the lumbering, not-quite-lifelike appearance that (especially in his earliest form) evoked Boris Karloff in the Universal film series. More literally, part of it is what this quotation suggests about rage and violence.

The context of the quote Ewing chooses here is that Frankenstein’s monster, having been rejected and persecuted by humanity time and again, finds himself taking solace only in rage and violence against them. Perhaps, he thinks, if he can cause the same suffering among others that they inflict on him, then in the shared misery he will at last find common companionship.

It’s a dark thought, but it’s one that arguably echoes the pattern we’ve seen throughout this series. I’ve written before about my interpretation of the Hulk’s violence in Immortal Hulk as a kind of left-wing rebellion against establishment society. Maybe that’s true. Or maybe it’s merely a justification Bruce Banner tells himself to cover up the bleak reality that the only connection he can ever find with others is in the pain he brings them.

Well, hell, that got depressing fast, didn’t it? Quick, Cori, save me from myself here. Give me a cooler interpretation of how Frankenstein connects to the Hulk, will you?

Cori: So a few weeks back some of the ComicsXF staff was talking about my favorite movie of all time, Cameron Crowe’s semi-fictionalized autobio film Almost Famous, and we got to talking about legendary rock critic Lester Bangs who is a small character in the film, and a much larger character in real life. That conversation got me thinking more and more about how a few things shaking out differently in my life could have made me a rock critic instead of a comic critic, and the next thing I knew, I was listening to a two hour interview Bangs did shortly before he died.

Our conversation about Almost Famous and Bangs led Editor-in-Chief Zack Jenkins to buy two anthologies of Bangs’ work, and frankly that was too good of an idea for me not to steal. So I’ve been reading essays on The Stooges and Van Morrison and The Count Five, long rambling things that somehow still remain concise and pointed, deeply analyzing music that was the backbone of a counter culture revolution. Much like Bangs himself, I’ve let my digressions get away from me, but I swear to god there’s a point I’m making here.

The second anthology, Mainlines, Blood Feasts, and Bad Taste: A Lester Bangs Reader actually arrived in the mail today, and scanning the back cover I was immediately intrigued. There in the back cover blurb were the words, “he eschewed all conventional thinking as he discussed everything from Black Sabbath being the first truly Catholic band to Anne Murray’s smoldering sexuality.” I can’t think of a more compelling hook to get me to immediately crack open a book than the profoundly bizarre claim that Sabbath is truly Catholic. 

But first, I had to figure out which essay in the book was that one, so I had to Google, and luckily the combination of “Lester Bangs Sabbath Catholic” immediately gave me the results I was looking for. The essay was “Bring Your Mother To The Gas Chamber!” originally published in the June and July 1972 issues of Creem. What followed was one of the most astonishingly deep and profound pieces of criticism I’ve ever read. Bangs talked at length about how Sabbath spoke to a generation, one that had been drug to the depths of hell, who lived on the cusp of armageddon, and how they provided both a religious and a nihilistic voice at once.

Bangs found deep religious subtext in their first three albums (remember this is 1972, so that’s all that Sabbath had released, Ozzy still wouldn’t part ways with the band for another seven years). Bangs states “The Christianity running consistently through their songs is cruel and bloodthirsty in the way that only Christianity can be (which is to say, lopping off heads with feverish pleasure, clad all the while in the raiment of righteousness and moral rectitude).” Instantly, as I read this essay I start thinking about Immortal Hulk, having read this most recent issue only hours before. 

But then, as Bangs meanders a bit, we reach the real reason I bring this up. See, just as I was excited to have an Epigram that comes from a work I actually know quite well for once, Bangs does the work for me. Sure, he’s not talking about our monstrous green title character (at least not directly, but as you’ll see in a second, that statement is actually not quite true), but the way he’s speaking about the music of Black Sabbath, he may as well be. After dissecting the anti-capitalist and anti-war themes of “War Pigs” and delving into the gory and visceral haunting truths of anti-heroin “Hand of Doom”, Bangs unleashes this paragraph on the nihilistic tones of “Iron Man” (no not him, as much as the MCU’s Tony would want to claim it was).

And the vengeance motif ain’t just limited to Biblical referents, because “Iron Man,” one of their greatest songs, is a piece of almost pure program music utilizing lugubrious drums clomping like the falls of Golem feet and a guitar riff that swoops recklessly like a Hulk arm demolishing buildings, to depict a miscreant, much reminiscent of the Karloff Frankenstein’s monster who really only wanted to play with the other children, who finds himself ostracized as a total freak because of his size and lumbering lack of grace (Hmmm, know some people like that myself; maybe Iron Man is really a symbol and fantasy for every adolescent ever tortured by awkwardness and “difference”) and responds with understandable rage and a havoc-wreaking rampage:

“Is he live or dead?”

“Has he thoughts within his head?”

“We’ll just pass him there

Why should we even care?”

Nobody wants him

He just stares at the world

Planning his vengeance

That he will soon unfurl

Lester Bangs

So here we are, deep into an essay on the religious powers of Black Sabbath, and we have a paragraph that is almost directly talking about the themes of a book that would come out nearly fifty years later. I’ve gone on about this far too long already, but Zach, what do you think?

Zach: What I think…well, the first thing I think is that there’s a serious risk we could go the rest of this review never mentioning Marvel Comics again, and instead talking about the roots of proto-metal, and the way that rock and roll rebellion segued seamlessly and alarmingly into corporate commoditization at an indefinable point for which Sabbath may have been the pivot. But the second thing I think, and I really don’t say this lightly, is that this is the single most important discovery in Immortal Hulk scholarship to date.

I’m serious. This is the Key to All Mythologies. This is the Dead Sea Scrolls of the Al Ewing faith. The passage you’ve quoted here, from a rock critic who died three-and-a-half decades before this comic series debuted, is so preternaturally on the nose with regard to the themes of this title that it feels (probably falsely, but nevertheless) like something more than a happy accident. Mention of “Biblical referents” for acts of vengeance against society? Check! Iron Man and the Incredible Hulk? Check! Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein monster?

Well, now, look, I have no idea whether the extremely British Al Ewing has any familiarity with this most American of rock critics, but it’s clear enough that Lester Bangs had more than slight intimacy with the Marvel stories of the late ‘60’s. Which likely accounts for what seems to be an essay drawing from a common well of cultural and literary inspirations for Hulk, for proto-metal, and for the radical musical and political culture taking anarchic aim at the society of the early Nixon years.

But I’m going to hone in on one more reference that Bangs pulls out of his hat in that quote: his mention of “the falls of Golem feet.” The golem, loyal readers of this column will by now know, is a figure out of Jewish mythology: a man of clay brought to life to protect his people in times of need, but whose existence represents, at the same time, an impingement of man against God’s unique right of creation. The golem, in other words, was a Frankenstein before Frankenstein (and may, indeed, have inspired one or both of the Shelley’s in writing their story). It was also something that may well have been on the mind of Jack Kirby when he co-created the Hulk, and I think it connects to our hero in a way that may not be immediately obvious.

The golem is made by science but given life by God. And having been given that life, the gift is both a blessing and curse for the world that brought him into being. That’s the same primal, mythological theme that Shelley was talking about when she subtitled her novel The Modern Prometheus. The gift of fire that Prometheus gave mankind was the spark that ignited civilization. But it also ignited violence, and war, and territoriality, and the genocidal weapons of self-destruction that humans have let loose from the spear to the gas chambers of Bangs’ essay.

Indeed, we saw all this acted out as a religious one-act play in the recent Immortal Hulk: Time of Monsters one-shot. And as it was for Prometheus, and for the golem, so too is it for Bruce Banner: blessed and cursed by science and the divine, unleashed upon a world unprepared to receive its gift. Hell of a thing for a rock critic to figure out, but there you go.

And Almost Famous is my favorite movie, too.

All the Violence Leaking Out of Him

Cori: As you pointed out, we’re in incredible danger of never actually talking about the content of this issue, because I could go on talking about that essay for hours. But, I will digress, and swing us (like a Hulk arm), back around to the topic at hand. Truly, our multi-faceted revelation of the Ewing deep lore couldn’t have come at a better time though, because the meat of this issue is just rooted in nearly twenty full pages of violence. The prime focus of the issue is the fight between Hulk and the Avengers, and while it’s a nicely paced fight scene, it is still just mostly a fight scene. 

Zach: It certainly is, and I can see how that might come as a disappointment for readers who have been primed to come to this book for learned discourses on God, man, and Cronenberg [Ed Note: Humina]. There’s a school of thought that fight scenes in comics are really a crutch when it comes down to it: a way for writers to generate a cheap excuse for interesting visuals, while padding out their narrative with ginned-up conflict that could be just as easily resolved by a tense and well-written conversation.

There’s some truth in that, of course, and I don’t need to tell you that every week has its fair share of formula comics grimly going through the motions to reach their obligatory, climactic battle. But I don’t think that’s all there is to it. There is a quote attributed, perhaps apocryphally, to choreographer Bob Fosse about the logic of the Broadway musical: “When speaking isn’t enough, sing. When singing isn’t enough, dance.” Musicals, in other words, do not operate under the mundane logic of our everyday reality. They exist in a rarefied sphere of heightened emotion, where the expression of passion and feeling can only be conveyed through the high art of music and movement.

And superhero comics, I’d wager, really aren’t any different. They don’t sing, of course (the ending of Grant Morrison’s Final Crisis notwithstanding). But they do fight, and in the universe of superhero fiction, the climactic fight scene serves the same necessary function as the showstopper before the Act I curtain. It is the grand, thrilling catharsis that releases the tension built up over the preceding pages; the dismissal of earthbound logic and its replacement by something stylized and, in its way, beautiful. Reject it, and you reject the whole notion of pulp genre fiction, built as it is on violence as a kind of transcendence of the ordinary.

None of this, of course, makes it any easier to analyze or comment on for a critic. Writing about a fight scene is like trying to provide color commentary on a kiss: there’s really nothing we can bring to the table that isn’t being surpassed by the experience itself. But for a reader, it can be fun, and this sequence was certainly that. So with all of that out of the way, Cori, did you have any favorite moments from this slugfest?

Cori: Well I did particularly like the portions of the fight with Blade. Blade automatically assuming that the Hulk is a vampire now was incredibly funny. But not nearly as funny as Hulk just yeeting Blade into the stratosphere, which took both the vampire hunter and Iron Man (yes that one this time), off the table. I also really appreciated the moment that Rick got to help try to calm everyone down. How about you Zach? 

Zach: Aside from the hilarity of Blade’s one-track mind (when your only tool is a wooden hammer, every problem is a vampire nail, I guess), I was especially impressed by Ewing’s handle on Captain America. From his calm, effortless command of the battle to his attempt to de-escalate the violence even in the midst of chaos, everything about his demeanor felt pitch-perfect to me. It was enough to sell me on a Captain America run from this English writer, should Marvel ever be bold enough to attempt it.

And then, of course, there was Cap’s stunned, guilty, and heartbroken reaction to the arrival of the badly warped Rick Jones. Rick was Captain America’s kid sidekick way, way back in the day, and I’m always a big softie for moments when Cap shows that he’s never let that bond die. In this case, you can sense the awful guilt welling up as Captain America realizes he has, again, failed to be there to protect his protégé. It’s a moment of almost fatherly emotion, and it provided a fantastic pivot point to the entire battle. But I think you’ll agree that the real star of this show was neither Cap nor Banner, but a different Hulk entirely.

My Team? My Family?

Cori: Yeah, shockingly the prime conflict in this issue wasn’t the big epic slobberknocker between the Avengers and the Hulk, but the internal struggle that Jen Walters had to wrestle with, while also literally wrestling with Betty. She’s weighing her own experiences with the Green Door with her obligations to the Avengers throughout, and it’s a great internal conflict. It gives us an unexpected focal point as we head into the final issues, and really does a great job to tie things back to the She-Hulk one-shot from last year. What’d you think of Jen’s struggle Zach? 

Zach: It was a fascinating decision to center this issue on Jen’s narration, and a bold one: pulling away from Banner’s own point of view so close to the end of the run isn’t the expected move, and refocusing on a supporting character might have easily distracted us at a moment when the narrative needed to escalate. Yet it works perfectly here, in no small part because Ewing manages to capture the nuanced, conflicted voice of Jenn as she struggles to decide where her heart and her loyalties lie.

And it is a struggle: indeed, the dramatic arc of this issue is really her movement from anger and bitterness to love and acceptance for the cousin who made her life the way it is. I actually blanched a bit at the almost self-pitying tone to her monologue early in the issue, as she blames Bruce for repeatedly bringing pain into her life: “It gathers around him like weather. Leaks out like radiation. The first time he brought it to me, it came with a bullet in the back and a blood transfusion. A new self. The She-Hulk.”

That’s not quite a fair summation of events, really. Bruce didn’t put that bullet in Jen’s back, mobsters did, and it’s not as though he offered a blood transfusion with the intent of turning her into a monster like himself. But what we’re really seeing here is Jen grappling with the very real pain and anger that she’s never allowed herself to process before. And if Bruce doesn’t deserve to be the sole target of that ire, he doesn’t get to exempt himself from it, either. He owes her compassion, just as she owes it to him. And that’s the conclusion that she, and we, end up reaching in the end: that the bonds of love and family are ultimately bigger than whatever scars the Green Door has caused. Hulks, all of them, stand together.

Cori: In the end it does come down to the power of family as trite as that may sound. But it’s not trite, at least not in the way that Ewing plays it. Because while it’s family first, Ewing makes for sure that we know that family isn’t just blood. Family are the people that you choose to share your life with, the bonds that you forge that are stronger than simple DNA could ever be. And now, here at the end, the Hulk family are united in a way they haven’t been throughout the series, coming together just when they need to most to confront Sterns. 

Final Thoughts

• I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that the title that Lester Bangs gave to the second half of that Black Sabbath essay was “Black Sabbath and the Straight Dope on Blood-Lust Orgies”, because Bangs had editors that weren’t cowards [Ed. Note: Ahem.].
• Never forget the immortal words of Lester Bangs: “The first mistake of art is to assume that it’s serious.”
• IGGY POP!

Cori McCreery

Yes, it's Cori McCreery—strange visitor from DC fandom who came to Xavier Files with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal critics. Cori, who can leap tall buildings in a single bound, race a speeding bullet to its target, bend steel in her bare hands, and who, also works as an editor for a great Eisner winning website, Women Write About Comics, fights a never-ending battle for truth and justice.

Zach Rabiroff

Zach Rabiroff edits articles at Comicsxf.com.