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Grant Morrison’s status in the comics world is almost unrivalled. Emerging out of the “British invasion” of the late 80s, the Glaswegian rebooted Batman and Superman for DC Comics and X-Men and the Fantastic Four for Marvel, producing some of the most iconic series of recent decades. He has rocked the boat without capsizing it – his All-Star Superman put the Man of Steel under a death sentence, while Arkham Asylum was a gothic nightmare in which Batman is interrogated by Gotham’s villains.
Morrison himself is a larger-than-life figure with a fascination for the occult. His MBE in 2012 may sit strangely with works that have foregrounded radicalism – The Invisibles, perhaps his finest creation, is a quest to liberate humanity inspired by an “alien abduction experience in Kathmandu”. But Morrison is an entertainer: his work is packed with ideas, but rarely introspective. Instead, wild action and dramatic, shifting worlds dominate.
Zenith, the tale of an 80s superhero pop star, propelled him on to the biggest stage. Produced for 2000 AD between 1987 and 1992, it was out of print for two decades after ownership disputes between authors and publishers. 2000 AD owner Rebellion finally issued a collected edition last December, which sold out on pre-order in two days, and separate hardcovers of the series’ four “phases” are being published between now and July 2015. Morrison and Yeowell have kept quiet about Zenith’s return.
Phase One begins with a splendid prologue referencing the patriotic heroes of postwar comics. British superhero Maximan (“Bullets, they’re simply water off a duck’s back. But this is one duck who’s all set to cook the Nazi goose!”) is on the verge of death, having been taken apart by the Third Reich’s Masterman in the ruins of Berlin, when a nuke falls from the sky, destroying the pair.
With its British perspective and disrespect for both history and the usual rules of heroism, it’s a fine statement of intent. The revisionism continues when Zenith himself appears in a shower of sugar cubes and coffee after a night out with a Page 3 girl. This is neither the upstanding figure of comics’ golden age, nor the compromised antihero of Alan Moore’s roughly contemporaneous Watchmen. Zenith takes delight in his powers (flight, speed, strength, psychic ability), but when former superhero Ruby Fox turns up with a tale of Nazis from another dimension, his priorities are clear: “Listen, we’re making a video here.”
Morrison’s satirical portrait of the 1980s is key to Zenith’s appeal. There are menacing Tories and some lovely asides (“This is rare groove – volume is critical”), while his self-centred protagonist is a neat symbol of the age. For Morrison, his creation is “as dumb, sexy and disposable as an 80s pop single: Alan Moore remixed by Stock, Aitken and Waterman”. This is an era overshadowed by the sacrifice of two world wars and the social revolution of the 60s – epitomised by the previous, post-Maximan generation of superheroes, who deserted their posts for protests and LSD. What remains for the 1980s but nice trousers and good times?
Yeowell does a great job of bringing the vision to life. His bold, black-and-white panels suit faces as well as they suit fight scenes, while 1980s fashion competes for attention with the villains of the piece, the Lovecraftian “Many-Angled Ones”. These dark gods take on human bodies, but their real form is a cosmic mass of mouths, eyes and tentacles. They look petrifying, and the action gets pleasingly surreal when Zenith and his companion are sucked into the belly of the beast, dodging talon-like teeth and weird organs as they seek a weak spot.
Zenith: Phase One rarely ascends the heights of the ambitious The Invisibles. It often feels engagingly silly rather than genuinely wild. But Morrison and Yeowell’s wholehearted enthusiasm for the fantastic is addictive.
• Zenith: Phase Oneis published by 2000 AD.
