Time Travel

Back to Starman #81: James Robinson filters a general history through an elder guard's memory so that it smacks of spontaneous recall as well as passed-down wisdom. We quickly follow iconic Opal City heroes through time to find out "what the hell happened to them."

I am reminded of Lynda Barry's formulation in What It Is that a memory is "an image which travels through time." Let's look at time travel. Here's Jeff Lemire in Tales from the Farm:

The 3rd panel is the time-traveling image, the boy-is-this-ever-going-to-stay-with-you image. In the 4th panel, however, the memory-image emerges into layered, expansive space by extending the scope of the (briefly self-contained) 3rd panel: Ken's in there now. The flashback's his to occupy.

As a daffier example of a hero tossed back to the past, here's Kyle Baker in Plastic Man socking it to Bats:

These green-and-orange images travel through time because every new bloody artist who takes on Batman is forced to draw the traumatic moment. DC Comics makes sure this image travels through time. The joke on the next page ("Batman? Stay with us, buddy.") is a good one, but the memory-image of the killer lodged into Batman's forehead might be better. I've often thought of a Bruce Wayne with a misshapen head, which was warped by death in Crime Alley, and would be easy as hell for a phrenologist to read.

The Same Page

Blackest Night -- whatever that is -- has slyly resurrected dead comics too. James Robinson resumes Starman and he must, by virtue of a long absence, spend time getting his readers up to speed. He walks through Opal City happenings by literally walking through a museum. History is doled out into (false) even-spaced panels, is proper, only to get jumbled, the two guards crowding together, layering over their previous selves and undoing the linearity of a tour back in time. To get us on the same page, Robinson takes two pages. This bleeding over the page and bunching up is, perhaps, a more elegant way of drawing a zombie. This bleeding is quieter than the inevitable blood on the next page.

(Art by Fernando Dagnino and Bill Sienkiewicz. Those veiny foot shadows are too sweet.)