greenygal: (Flash)
Very good thing about rereading my FLASH: getting reintroduced to two of my favorite members of the Keystone PD (okay, so they're just about the only members of the KPD we know, but still), who've gotten a little bit sidelined lately. Jared Morillo is a too-smart, much-too-arrogant homicide detective from L.A. Fred Chyre is a blue-collar beat cop with a temper problem. Y'all can imagine how well they get along, right?

I really do love Morillo.
But I can't blame Chyre for not sharing my feelings.
Subtle. Very subtle.
First they fight, then they team up...
Morillo is the world's greatest husband. No, honestly.
They look so thrilled.

Mmm, odd-couple partners, how I love them. You know, for all that I really truly do cherish the Rogues and am delighted to see them given all this space (am less than impressed by certain aspects of how they've been handled, but...), I kinda miss my constantly bickering cops. Ah well, I'll always have back issues...

And a bonus pic, because I do occasionally pay attention to the star of the book, plus it made me giggle: Oh, Wally. I love how he's clearly gearing up to remember about partnership and not doing everything himself, and then Linda turns out to be thinking about something else entirely. I *heart* practical Linda.
greenygal: (shocked)
We are, unfortunately, better than halfway through Geoff Johns' last storyline in FLASH. *pauses for respectful silence* So I decided that this might be a good time to go back and reread his run as a whole, and see what it looks like in retrospect. Comments may be forthcoming as I get farther in; I've barely gotten started and I can already tell I'm going to want to bitch about Frances Kane (of all people). But presently I just want to share the way my eyes went wide when I saw this panel.

The speaker is Weather Wizard, and he doesn't mean it that way, I know he doesn't mean it that way, but lord, of all the comparisons to draw... And it reminded me that I'd found this pretty entertaining at the time (no, never mind the context, it's much better without). So when I encountered this I just couldn't stop laughing. Let's hear it for significant pauses.

This might even be plausible, as they're currently being played; it's certainly one way for Cold to try and keep his unreliable man in line, and I can see how it would be helpful for McCulloch's particular...issues. Although looking at these earlier issues, I have the sinking feeling that Geoff has been busily retconning his own take on McCulloch, never mind everyone else's. Ooops. Still, like the image.
greenygal: (Flash)
Jay! I have a Jay!

Jay shiiiny.

*plays with Jay*

And he comes with a teeny comic book! I've read Jay's origin before, but he and Joan always make me smile. "I guess I'm just a freak of science...anyhow...will you go to that dance with me?"

Also: FLASH #207 poster

*covets*
greenygal: (Flash)
When I called it a piece of exercise equipment? I was kidding. But no. From FLASH #263:

"Although [Flash] uses his unique cosmic treadmill for time-travel--a simple adjustment renders it ideal for exercise!"

Uh-huh. Very practical, our Barry.

We find this out, I might add, because Barry's response to a) being called a has-been by a bitchy newswoman and b) having his wife leave him is to jump on the treadmill. Clearly there is no better way to prove one's manhood than by, uh, running in place. Admittedly most people can't manage 26 trillion miles worth of running in place, but on the other hand that almost makes it worse. Talk about getting nowhere fast...
greenygal: (Flash)
So pre-Crisis? Barry Allen's full first name was...Barrence. Yes. Barrence Allen, the Flash.

*stifles utterly helpless giggle fit*

Admittedly the current version, Bartholomew, isn't much better, but still. Barrence.

Now I'm imagining him doing Embarrassing Name Bonding with Hal (Harold) Jordan...
greenygal: (Flash)
After writing my previous entry on weirdness in FLASH, I started thinking a little harder about one of the items on the list, namely Barry's childhood comics hero turning out to be a real person, and, you know, this comes out to be even weirder than I thought....

So, okay, back in 1956, DC decided to completely revamp four discontinued 1940s superheroes: Flash, Green Lantern, Hawkman, and Atom. Same names, but completely different characters. Atom didn't even have the same powers. This led to the beginning of comics' Silver Age, the revitalization of superheroes, and all manner of other good things. Fine. But what did it mean for the original heroes?

Well, that was handled in FLASH. As far as the new Flash, Barry Allen, and his comrades were concerned, the previous Flash and his comrades were just old comic book characters. Of course, several years later it would be revealed that they all actually existed on a parallel earth, but that's not my concern for the moment. What I'm thinking right now is that for thirty years, the DC universe had four superheroes running around--well-known, respected members of the Justice League, every one--who were named after comic book characters.

Oh, sure, in three out of four cases it was just coincidence. (Yes, Barry did it on purpose. He's been a fanboy from day one.) But the DC public doesn't know that. They just know about the names. (Okay, those of them who've read comics know about the names, but I think the media would pick that up--sooner rather than later, probably--and spread the word to those who didn't.)

I find this idea incredibly funny. Did Hawkman get accused of being a comics geek? Did people want to know if Green Lantern was going to move to Gotham City like his apparent idol? Was there public concern over people with such immense power (okay, the Atom doesn't have immense power, but...) having such a shaky grasp of reality that they patterned themselves after fictional people? Or were they initially suspected of being publicity stunts for whatever company it was that published these comics? And hey, legal issues--I bet those names were trademarked. Had the trademarks lapsed, or did Green Lantern have to go to court and explain that he was a member of an interstellar police force that had been calling themselves that for thousands of years before comics were even invented, honestly? Maybe they settled out of court.

Wait, wait, it gets better. Wonder Woman, along with several other characters, had been in continuous publication since the 1940s. So she was a contemporary of the new characters, but she was also established as having appeared in the old comics. (Yeah, I know, it makes my head hurt too.) And since she was still being published, she hadn't undergone an everything-but-the-name is different revamp. Which means that if those comics were at all like the ones we know, they featured both her distinctive origin and costume and the names of her secret identity and supporting cast. Poor Diana would've come to Man's World and everybody would've assumed she was a delusional fangirl, at least until she started deflecting bullets and tossing cars and whatever, at which point it would become clear that she was at least a very powerful delusional fangirl and that it was best to humor her. Fortunately Steve Trevor was evidently a very serious-minded child and never got into comic books (or at least never read that weird one about the woman with the lasso), because otherwise he would have suffered metafictional breakdown before Diana's origin was halfway through...
greenygal: (Flash)
So I read FLASH #350. Last issue of the Barry Allen run. And they wrap up the plot (and I could just hear all the people who were reading it at the time shrieking "FINALLY!") and touch base with some supporting characters, and the Rogues are actually kind of cute the way they keep proclaiming they hate each other and yet end up hanging out together at the end of the book, and the ending is touching and very bittersweet. Oh...and then there's the genderbender bodystealing romance.

Oh yes. Long story short, Barry's wife Iris, who was supposed to have been murdered, was revealed to have actually had her essence transplanted into a new body at the moment of her death, but when Barry was put on trial for murder she decided to help him by possessing one of the jurors. (Without the juror's permission, by the way. Bad Iris. Bad!)

But what this translates to is that Iris spends virtually the whole of this, the final Barry Allen FLASH, in the body of a fat, balding middle-aged man. They dance around the revelation of who she really is, so there's no kissing or anything, but watching Barry and "Nathan Newbury" dealing with each other is...a little brain-warping. Especially when "he" starts to sniffle with emotion, and then an observer comments on their "tender reunion."

But, really, what else would you expect? This is pre-Crisis FLASH, after all.

It's not Barry so much. Barry is Captain Whitebread. No noticeable skeletons in his closet except for the running around dressed in spandex. (Well, okay, plus he's a comics collector. The freak. ;) Everything else in the book, however... I mean, poor Barry has been turned into a puppet, a puddle, and a piece of pavement. He's been made to weigh a thousand pounds, had his head blown up like a balloon and, my personal favorite, been made unable to see any color but green. Two of his major bad guys are a stage magician named Abra Kadabra and a talking gorilla, and some of his other recurring villains use boomerangs, tops, and ice skates as their weapons of choice--never mind the guy who's willing to be addressed in public as "Rainbow Raider." His wife found out that he was the Flash because he talks in his sleep. And speaking of his wife, she turned out to unknowingly be a refugee from the 30th century. (This would eventually be used to explain that whole resurrection-and-possession plot I mentioned above, but it was introduced years before that. Just...because, I guess.) He acquires a sidekick via one of the most unbelievable coincidences I've ever heard--literally lightning striking twice--and did I mention how he gives that sidekick a new costume just by thinking about it real hard? His favorite comic book character turns out to be real. He's met his own editor. He travels in time by means of a piece of exercise equipment. His costume has been known to talk to him.

And this is just the stuff I know about, based on my limited collection of stories and study of useful websites (in particular, again, Dark Mark's Indexes). God only knows what else is lurking in those back issues...
greenygal: (Flash)
...oh, lord, now I'm buying old Flash issues. Which, yes, okay, rabid fangirl there anyway, but I had an agreement with myself that it was a post-Crisis thing. Ooops. *glares at Ebay*

Of course, this does mean that if I ever write that Barry/Hal I will have some faintest idea what I'm talking about...

FLASH #209

Apr. 29th, 2004 09:26 pm
greenygal: (Miracles)
...oh. Oh. No, I don't entirely buy the League's behavior, but...oh god. Like that. *long breath* I'm not crying. I'm not crying--ah, who'm I kidding? It's FLASH. I have no defenses.

This book has never just been about super-speed or bad guys for me. (Not that I'm knocking those parts.) It's about...miracles. Death and rebirth, love and heartbreak. Faith tested...and redeemed. Always.

(Yes, you can tell my first experiences were with Mark Waid, can't you? He left a mark.)

Lately, this book has tested both my faith and my patience. But this issue snaps it all back into place. This is my Wally. This is my Flash. This is a writer I don't need to be afraid of, because he gets it. Really gets it. And can break my heart in a way that leaves me begging for more.

Everything's not okay. Not yet. But it will be. And in the meantime--it'll be a good ride.

I have faith in that.

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