Unca Cheeks the Toy Wonder's Silver Age Comics Web Site!
...
OR: "... Out
of the Kitchen, and Into the Spandex": The
(Sometimes) Muddled Image of Women In Marvel Comics
[ PART TWO ]
... so: "All right, then" (a few of you have e-mailed your bright-eyed and attentive Unca Cheeks, anent our previous installment of this particular site entry). "All right, already! So nobody in full and uncontested possession of all their mental marbles has ever, ever argued that the sorry, sexist likes of Madame Medusa might serve as illustration ample How To Do Super-Hero Women the Right Way, for pity's sake! Take a good, close gander at some of the more well-known and popular Marvel Comics femmes, you... you... you big cheater, you! Take a look at Jean Grey! Take a look at Ms. Marvel! Take a look at THE SCARLET WITCH, f'cryin' out loud -- !"
Allllllllllllllllrighty, then. 
"The Warlord and the Witch" [AVENGERS #75; April, 1970; Roy Thomas, author; John Buscema and Tom Palmer, illustrators] opens up with a terrified Jarvis (loyal butler; chef; and all-around manservant and bottle washer Numero Uno for the Mighty Avengers) responding to various shrieking klaxons and alarums, re: the unauthorized entry of somedamnbody into the team's high-toned mansion, proper.
"If the intruder has somehow slipped past the Masters' outer defenses," the battlin' butler barks, frantically throwing this switch and pulling that lever; "...it's my duty to stop him!"
(Boy... you'd think it'd be one whole heck of a lot tougher to scare up half decent help 'round Avengers Mansion way, with bizarrely dangerous and painful stuff like that as part of the daily "To Do" regimen, wouldn't you?" I mean: can you even imagine the pre-hiring interview for a gig like that one, f'cry-yi-yi...?
[IRON MAN (thumbing through the typewritten resume of the nervous job applicant seated before him): "Very impressive, Mr. Witherspoon. Five years of household management supervision, for Buckingham Palace... personal aide-de-camp to His Holiness, The Supreme Pontiff... Head Roadie for Ted Nugent, during the American leg of the WANGO TANGO tour..."
[WITHERSPOON (primly): "Exactly so, Mawstuh... errrrrr... 'Iron Man,' sir. With all due modesty: I dare say I've bally well encountered -- and triumphed over -- virtually every sort of domestic difficulty or set-back imaginable, eh, wot...?"
[IRON MAN (nodding): "Excellent. Excellent. Just one final little impromptu 'test,' then... just to make absolutely certain we have all our situational ducks in a row, as it were. Mere formality, really..."
[WITHERSPOON (adjusting the Windsor knot in his school tie): "Veddy good, sir. A quick, tasty quiche lorraine, perhaps? An example of my peerless silver polishing abilities? The guitar solo from Cat Scratch Fever...?"
[Wordlessly, Iron Man thumbs a switch on the console before him. A massive, adamantium door at the far side of the room slides its slow, ponderous way open, revealing the leering, menacing forms of Doctor Doom; the Red Skull; the Juggernaut; Kang the Conqueror; the Blob; the Super-Skrull; Ultron; Loki; Dormammu; and -- inexplicably -- television actress Shannen Doherty.
[IRON MAN (gesturing over his shoulder): "Take 'em, homeboy."
[WITHERSPOON (in stark, unreasoning terror): "Shannen Doherty! NOOOOOOO -- !!"
(I'm just sayin'. That's all.)
Well: in any event -- one Mindless, Obligatory Opening Action Sequence, later -- said "mysterious intruder" stands revealed (to reader and hired help, alike) as sometime Avenger and full-time pain-in-the-
patookis Quicksilver: bad-tempered brother to the beauteous Scarlet Witch, and resident Flash rip-off.
"Uh... is Miss Wanda joining you here?" the much-flustered manservant tremulously inquires of the Witch's semi-psychotic super-
sibling.
"Wanda?" the fleet-footed Quicksilver moans, by way of tortured reply.
"My sister... ?" (Look, Speedy Gonzales: if you're not
110% "clear" on that particular aspect of your family history... )
"When you spoke her name," the hyper-accelerative headcase continues; "... you reminded me how urgent my mission is... and that I must do what I came to do!"
" [...] what I came to do," apparently, includes knocking an unsuspecting Jarvis off his aged and spindly pins, once again; ricocheting his way through Manhattan crosstown traffic whilst urging himself on with the anti-D.A.R.E. imperative: "Must have more SPEED... MORE!"
Meanwhile... On the Non-Raving Lunatic Side O'Town: the rest of this era's Avengers line-up (The Black Panther; Captain America; Goliath; and the Vision) are all lollygagging about the local waterfront; waving a cheery "buh-bye" to the vacationing Henry (Yellowjacket) Pym and his glamorous and vivacious heiress wife, Janet (the Wasp) Pym.
"Just one more, boys," the glamorous Miss Moneybags
cautions a panting phalanx of paparazzi; "... my kneecaps are
getting chilly!" (Boy... slow news day, huh...?)
(... and, hey: check out the vintage I COVER THE WATERFRONT/HIS
GIRL FRIDAY cameras and clothing penciler John Buscema saw fit
to outfit these so-called "newshawks" with, willya? Is this meta-fictive
muddle taking place in 1970... or 1950, for the luvva God and/or
Joseph Pulitzer -- ?!?)
Scant heartbeats after the Pym's ship has set out to sea, however...
... Something Weenie This Way Comes.
"I should have guessed!" a grim-visaged Captain America rasps, as his long-absent fellow Avenger screeches to a high-velocity halt before him. "Pietro!"
"Ah," the emotionless Vision solemnly intones. "I have heard of that former Avenger's matchless speed!"
"Now you'll do more than hear of it, friend!" the mach-umpteen moron shoots back, in a classic instance of Mixed Signals-R-Us.
"If that was supposed'ta be a threat, pal," a looming Goliath growls, by way of overly-testosteroned response; "... then [Pick One] -- ":
A.) "... yer gonna wish you'd stayed in Lower Slobbovia -- !"
B.) "... then you'd better step back a couple'a yards... 'cause when someone as big as I am wets 'em in stark, unreasoning terror -- !"
C.) "... then, I gotta tell ya: those things generally come off a whole lot more menacing, overall, coming from guys who haven't gone crazy nutty overboard with the poofy, nancyboy hair gel! I mean: what's the deal with the funky Schwinn handlebars on top of your head, anyway...?"
D.) "... then the engagement's off, you... you savage brute, you! And, by the way: I faked all of those orgasms, Mister 'Faster-Than-the-Speed-
of-Foreplay' -- !"
Thankfully, the relentlessly competent Captain America is on hand to put a quick end to this issue's second Pointless Fight Scene (and us only up to Page Five, mind); and -- once some semblance of auctorial order has finally been restored, courtesy of a star-spangled shield right smack dab in the ol' kisseroonie -- the melancholy mutie opens up for his fellow mesomorphs.
"As you know," the fleet-footed freakazoid confides; "... my sister lost her mysterious hex power, months ago! What you do not know is that we have combed the libraries of Europe, in a vain effort to restore it...!"
(The "we," in this particular, being Quicksilver, himself; his morose mutant sibling, the aforementioned Scarlet Witch; and their former criminal hench-thing, the Toad, whose own unique super-powers -- i.e., Hyper-Enhanced Whining and Groveling -- pretty much made him the Andy Rooney of the Marvel Comics super-villain set, actually.)
"It's no use," a glum Scarlet Witch grouses, in flashback. "We have failed again!"
"No, fair one," the Toad reassures soothingly, glancing up from his Sanskrit version of IT'S INOPERABLE, CHARLIE BROWN; "... not failed! We shall succeed... with time!"
"The Toad is a blithering fool, Wanda!" an intemperate Quicksilver points out. (Like it's a big newsflash, or something.) "Your vanished power was yours because you were born a mutant! What musty book can bring back a birthright?"
Unaware that her brother has just slammed shut the cover to a book entitled BRINGING BACK YOUR MUTANT BIRTHRIGHT MADE E-Z in large, bright block lettering, the Witch casts her disconsolate gaze downward and murmurs: "I... I'm not certain myself, my brother! And yet... somehow... I feel that we are so very close -- !"
As blind chance would have it, ultimately: they're a mere one page "close," thanks to the Toad's suddenly remembering " [...] an old cloister near here... one I had forgotten, 'til now!"
Long story short: the tights-clad trio arrives at said cloister, in the very midst of a menacing midnight monsoon; and are greeted, in turn, by a doddering and arthritic greybeard, who steers them in the direction of a fat, glowing and title-less tome of arcane power, filed under U, for "UH-Oh..."
"Let the time-winds whip from world to world," the Witch chants, reading from the section helpfully sluglined PLOT COMPLICATIONS; "... let them batter down all cosmic walls... let the bold, brave banner be unfurled... and, at last, great Arkon walk these halls!"
"Something's happening here, Witch," an observant Toad keenly intuits (what with all the weird, Buscema-esque lines and color holds and suchlike undulating across the page like a bunch of carnival belly dancers in heat, and what all. No flies on this one, boy.) (... probably because he'd end up eating 'em, anyway, is my guess.); "... but I don't know what it is! It's like... a hole in space... and someone coming thru it!" [sic]
Now: I dunno if it's the big, dopey Bullwinkle J. Moose antlers; the furry, poofy codpiece; or the musculature so ludicrously over-amped that he ends up looking like nothing so much as Conan the Barbarian's profoundly inbred second cousin...
... but: good golly, what a geekazoid -- !
"I am power incarnate," the swollen Charles Atlas wet dream thunders, flexing and bulging to beat the proverbial band; "... the lord of warlords... first among the warlords of a universe! I am... ARKON THE MAGNIFICENT!"
[UNCA CHEEKS' ASIDE: the very first time he read those fateful
words, nearly thirty years ago... your befuddled Unca Cheeks woulda sworn
the final line in question had read, in fact: "I am... AKRON
THE MAGNIFICENT!"; leading him to pause and ponder on precisely why,
for goodness sakes, author Thomas had named the villainous master menace of
his piece after a city in Ohio. True story.]
"Then you are also Arkon the Fool," a stiff-backed and imperious Scarlet Witch snaps back; "... if you think a mere entrance and a few high-flown words will cow us into silence!"
"Hah!" the burly Arkon Hahs. "Ever have I desired a mate with spirit... and, at last, I have found her!"
"I... your MATE?" a startled Witch exclaims; her perfectly rounded... ummmm... spirits heaving majestically against the flimsy restraints of her costume.
That's what he said, and that's what he meant; because an elephant's faithful, one hundred per --
... well: no. That's just me being a big silly, really.
It is, of course, one of the eternal verities of the mainstream comics medium (re: the Bronze and Silver Ages) that No Super-Villain May Ever, EVER Pass Up An Opportunity To Spout Off Regarding His Origin(s); His Latest Master Plan; Or (Preferably) BOTH...
... and Arkon, here, has (apparently) read the training manual from
front to back.
"Know you this, then," the big WWF wannabe windily pontificates (and showing a decided preference for faux Shakespearean stylings, while so doing); "... that I am Arkon the Magnificent... Imperion, or ruler, of a world that exists only a heartbeat away from your own! Mine is a universe which has ever known but one way of life... one reason for existence... and that is WAR!"
Apparently, however -- whilst Arkon and his two-fisted, battle-happy troops
were out annihilating this and vanquishing that, and suchlike
-- "the energy ring which orbits our planet" (and provides the requisite
portions of heat and light necessary for their own civilization's
survival) has been undergoing some sort of cosmological decay;
which (obviously) falls squarely under the heading of Very Bad Things, Indeed,
so far as Mr. "Call-Me-Magnificent" is concerned.
However: a routine atomic bomb testing on our own plane of existence (briefly) re-kindles Arkon's far distant area code; and Bright Boy, therefore -- once tumbled onto said fact, by his own realm's scientists -- decides to take matters into his >own muscular hands; specifically, by be-bopping over to our world, and kidnapping eighty or ninety of our top nuclear physicists, so that they can spend their remaining allotment of years cobbling up atomic bombs for all the Arkonites over in ArkonVille.
Mind, now: he (Arkon, I mean) still wants all of said warheads detonated
right here; where WE all live.
"... and so, maiden," the big windbag finally concludes (all of this took a whopping, everlasting five pages to render manifest and plain for the reader -- !); "... I watched your world for two decades, and more... learned of words and phrases that might bridge The Great Barrier... if they were spoken by mutants... creatures born of the atom's rampant power!"
"Then... you somehow made that book appear here!" the Scarlet Witch
exclaims. (Never mind how, apparently.)
Arkon's response is to use one of these big, funky thunderbolt-thingies in his quiver to teleport a protesting Wanda back to sunny, carefree Arkovia --
("For, first, I shall send my chosen bride back to my world!"; Arkon, it seems, has a decided "taste" for redheads tricked out in scarlet-hued pantyhose)
-- and then -- before a frantic Quicksilver's horriified gaze -- follows suit, his own bad self!
"... and that's the cock'n'bull story you expect
us to fall for?" a plainly incredulous Goliath scoffs (now that we've
returned, once more -- dizzied and well fatigued -- to the present day).
"There's holes in that yarn even I could walk through, Whitey!"
(Yeah; like that whole bit about the big, glowing book, f'rinstance.
I'm still trying to puzzle that one out.)
"If this Arkon cat was so keen on blowin' up our world," the grumpy giant continues; "... how come we haven't heard from him, while you were hot-footin' it here?"
That's a natural born "cue," if your jaded and world-weary Unca Cheeks ever heard one...
... and, from all indications: he and author Thomas are as Damon
and Pythias, in this regard.
"... we INTERRUPT this program for a SPECIAL BULLETIN!" aa television blares, from a nearby store window. "A man armed with strange LIGHTNING BOLTS has just invaded a meeting of the world's foremost SCIENTISTS!"
(What do you suppose "a meeting of the world's foremost scientists" must be
like, anyway? I mean: is there some Ramada or Red
Roof Inn out there, with a big, cheery "WELCOME, WORLD'S FOREMOST SCIENTISTS"
sign out front? Do recognized Nobel Prize winners get complimentary juice
and sticky buns for breakfast, in the morning? And what the heck
are they all getting together for in the first bloody place, anyway?
To hammer out the final details on matching shirts for their bowling league,
f'chrissakes -- ?)
Well... anyway: it's You-Know-Who, all right; merrily absconding with Our World's Bestest and Brightest, nuclear science-wise...
... leading us, inevitably, into the pages of AVENGERS #76.
Hold onto your hats, troopers'n'trooperettes.
Everything, up 'til now, has been by way of (necessary) prelude.
This is where things really get Mondo Ugly, Scarlet Witch-wise,
in one great, gallumphing hurry.
"The Blaze of Battle... The Flames of Love!" [AVENGERS #76; May, 1970; Roy Thomas, author; John Buscema and Tom Palmer, illustrators] opens up with a shot of the Mighty Avengers -- in the persons of Captain America and the Black Panther -- a-laborin' and a-sweatin' over a convincingly Kirby-esque frammistat referred to as "the D-Machine" (had to call it something, I s'pose); by means of which, they intend to jaunt on over to Arkon's hyper-dimensional crib, and retrieve the purloined Scarlet Witch.
While all of the really smart Avengers are thus gainfully occupied,
however: the gargantuan glandular case known as Goliath is experiencing
his own technical difficulties, re: affairs l'amour.
(Literal translation: "... his affair with film actress Dorothy Lamour.")
"You seem startled to see me here in Avengers Mansion," the curvaceous former Commie spy known as the Black Widow purrs, swinging down from the rafters and perching coquettishly on her paramour's Plymouth Rock-sized lap.
"Lady, when you turn those deep, dark peepers on me," a goggle-eyed Goliath stammers, in response: "... I even forget my name!"
(This would be a good deal more impressive, true love-wise, were it not for the demonstrable fact that hamsters; Hamburger Helper; and old re-
runs of CHARLES IN CHARGE also make this big bonehead forget his own
name. I'm only sayin', here.)
"I've come to speak," a heartbroken Widow murmurs, eyes downcast; "... the most difficult words I shall ever utter!" [Pick One]
A.) "After today... we must never see each other again!"
B.) "Rubber baby buggy bumpers. Rubber baby buggy bumpers. Rubber baby buggy bumpers."
C.) "These aren't fishnets, actually. I just have really lousy varicose veins."
D.) "I'm really Spider-Man. In drag. Take me."
"What're you talkin' about, 'Tasha?" an incredulous and disbelieving Goliath stammers. "You come outta nowhere, after all these weeks... and read me a Dear John letter, just like that? There's gotta be some reason... something!"
(Well... yeah, actually, dude. The lady's finally taken a long, cold, hard gander at your respective sizes, and realized that -- like as not -- any of the ol' boom-boom-boom with big, behemoth-y YOU would end up leaving her a mile-long swath of runny red across the freakin' bedsheets -- !)
(Oh, yeah. Right. Like none of you guys never ever
thought of that one.)
Meanwhile, On the Dorky Side of Reality: groom
apparent Arkon is busy showing off his own sensitive-caring-and-sharing side
to bride elect Wanda, by lovingly referring to her as "beauty" and "female."
Good news/bad news awaits Ahhnuld Junior, however, upon his (ostensibly) triumphant arrival to Big Goober Gulch; in the crooked and crotchety form of one of his aging Grand Vizier.
"Then... the secret of the atom is ours?" Arkon inquires of his liver-
spotted vassal.
"Hurl this globe down at the decreed site on the Earth-world," said geriatric genius replies, proffering a glowing Pokemon ball towards his lord and liege; "... and the resulting blast will light our universe for untold ages!"
"The Earth, of course, will be nothing but a
smoldering cosmic corpse," the oldster adds, in murmured afterthought.
(That would be the not-so-good news, I'm thinkin', here.)
"That concerns me not at all," a stolid Arkon harrumphs. "What matters is that Arkon's world shall live... and my beauteous bride need never know the cost!"
("Men Who Shanghai Their Lovers Into Really Sucky, Backwater Alien
Dimensions, and Then LIE To Them; and the Women Who
LOVE Them"... Coming Up Next, On LATIFAH -- !)
"... then, you've learned a way to save your world," a pleased and excited Wanda later burbles, once Pinocchio the Magnificent , here, finishes serving her up some of the bologna de jure; "... without destroying mine? That's wonderful, Arkon! I am almost as happy for this dimension as I am for the Earth!"
"Now, if you will but return me there..." the lady continues, expectantly.
"Alas, fair one," the lying lothario silkily demurs, greedily eyeing her heaving... gratitude; "... that is out of the question! You are the chosen bride of Arkon! You must remain here... 'til the end of time!"
Arkon escorts a glum and (in all likelihood; this being a Marvel Comic, circa 1970, after all) virginal Wanda to Ye Olde Palace Garden; whereupon the sigh-wracked siren plucks herself a single blossom, and promptly embarrasses herself virtually beyond all human hope of redemption, by reciting Some Not Very Good Poetry...
... and then (THEN!) coughs up the following Harlequin Romance inspired hairball (believe it or don't, campers):
"Oh, Arkon... Arkon... you are so brave... even noble, in your own way! Perhaps I could love you... could even be happy as Queen of your world... if only you weren't so cold... as distant as the stars...!"
Say WHAT -- ?!?
So... as per "Rascally" Roy Thomas (author) and "Smilin' " Stan Lee (editor), then: kidnapping powerless and terrified women is "brave"; lying to them, immediately afterwards, is "noble"; and -- ultimately -- it's all a big turn-on for the silly little dears, to boot...?
Oh, yeah. That works.
One of Arkon's armored sentinels -- nauseated, doubtless, by the sheer dopiness of all this wistful sighing and soulful eye-gazing and go-ahead-
and-just-take-me-you-big-sick-animal-you whimpering and suchlike -- elects to burst his way in from Stage Left just then, shrieking:
"WARLORD! Invaders approach... thru [sic] a hole in space itself!"
"It can only be... THE AVENGERS!" Arkon growls, casting a quick, surreptitious glance towards the masthead.
"Arkon... let me talk to them!" Wanda frantically counsels; "... reason with them!"
(... and, boy: what your wide-eyed and giggling Unca Cheeks wouldn't have given to be the proverbial fly on the wall for that stirring li'l heart-to-heart, huh...?
[CAPTAIN AMERICA: "Don't worry, Wanda! The Avengers are here, now! We'll take care of 'Conan Lite,' by thunder -- !"
[SCARLET WITCH: "Cap! NO!! I... I... I love the big galoot!"
[CAPTAIN AMERICA (incredulous): "... but... but... he kidnapped you, you freakin' airhead -- !"
[SCARLET WITCH: "Granted, it was something of a whirlwind courtship, yes..."
[CAPTAIN AMERICA (spluttering): "He lied to you about blowing up the planet Earth, for Christ's sake! He plans on annihilating billions of people, just so he can keep getting basic cable -- !"
[SCARLET WITCH (demurely): "He has trouble opening up to people. He's still trying to get in touch with his gentle warrior, within."
[ARKON (eyeing Thor, hungrily): "Saaaaaay... who's the hot li'l blonde number, over there...?"
[SCARLET WITCH (to Thor): "Gimme the hammer for
a sec, all right...?"]
Well: the Avengers quickly settle down to the jolly business of kicking
greater amounts of hinder, more severely, than any of the so-called "warriors"
on this dinkwater world have ever seen or heard of, really; promptly
causing a muy cranky and put-out Arkon, in turn, to fall back on the
battle tactics he knows bestest of all: lying and cheating.
"The awesome atom-sphere shall save the day for Arkon!" the big sissy sneers, shifting (inexplicably) into the third person singular. "When it is exploded in the Avengers' world... their triumphal cries shall change to dire laments!"
"Then... you lied when you swore... you would
not destroy the Earth!" a startled Wanda exclaims. (Oh, dear; the
penny's dropped, then.)
"Foolish female!" Arkon gruffs, yanking her by one scarlet-gloved hand
and yanking her like a plow. "An Imperion is above mere truth and
falsehood!" (Ah. I see. So: they're like presidents,
then...)
"Don't let it get you down, Witchie!" an onrushing Goliath roars, helpfully; rushing to her rescue, alongside the Black Panther. "After all, yer only a female!"
No. Seriously. Jesus whack me with a stick if I
lie.
(Clearly: somebody's ill-stay a wee little bit anky-cray
about being unceremoniously d-u-m-p-e-d by their former Commie spy irlfriend-gay.)
The story -- poor, palsied thing that it is -- finally limps its arthritic
way to a close with Thor and Iron Man utilizing their talents for (respectively)
high magick and high technology to "restore the life-giving rings which
once lit our world"; thereby pretty much removing any real incentive
for the warriors on either side to keep punching their opponents in the head,
over and over again.
The final sequence shows us a wistful (and slightly teary) Wanda, musing pensively over the still-cradled posie from Arkon's garden, and --
(Ladies: please, please don't hit me. I didn't write
the bloody gawdawful thing, all right...?)
-- wondering, in her feminine and innermost heart of hearts, what might have been; if... IF...
... and may the Good Lord have mercy on the souls of
everyone in any way even remotely involved in the production of
this comic book.
Be here next time out, people.
We're going to be taking a long, horrorstruck gander at the first (and only) canonical, four-color appearance of Marvel Comics' all-women super-team: The Liberators!
The Black Widow. Madame Medusa. The Scarlet Witch. The Wasp.
... annnnnnnnd: one other, as well.
Oh, yeah.
This one's gonna hurt.
The (Sometimes) Muddled Image of Women In Marvel
Comics (PAGE ONE)
The (Sometimes) Muddled Image of Women In Marvel Comics (PAGE THREE)
The (Sometimes) Muddled Image of Women In Marvel Comics (PAGE FOUR)
The (Sometimes) Muddled Image of Women In Marvel Comics (PAGE FIVE)
The (Sometimes) Muddled Image of Women In Marvel
Comics (PAGE SIX)
The (Sometimes) Muddled Image of Women In Marvel
Comics (PAGE SEVEN)
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