Unca Cheeks Silver Age Comics Site: Marvel Women 3

Unca Cheeks the Toy Wonder's Silver Age Comics Web Site!

SIRENS & SOB SISTERS, MOSTLY

... OR: "... Out of the Kitchen, and Into the Spandex": The (Sometimes) Muddled Image of Women In Marvel Comics [ PART THREE ]

Now: don't get me wrong, here.

I genuinely enjoyed; admire; and (give the puppy a name, and you get to take it home with you) respect long-time Marvel Comics scribe Roy Thomas' lengthy, groundbreaking tenure on THE AVENGERS.

If you were to (somehow) excise each and every one of the estimable Mister Thomas' contributions from the established AVENGERS continuity... you'd be left with one mondo gaping hole in the canon, overall, fer shure.

Just off the top of my head, mind:

*** ... the incorporation of the Black Panther into the team's roster (making said character the first black super-hero ever ever ever featured as an ongoing and integral member of a flagship super-team title);

*** ... the creation of Byronic android mainstay, the Vision;

*** ... utilizing a run-of-the-mill Iron Man and Giant Man villain as creative springboard, and transmogrifying the concept into the more vital and intriguing (occasional) Avenger: the Black Knight;

*** ... the creation of Native American hero the Red Wolf;

*** ... the genesis and initial explication (along with later auctorial innovator Steve Englehart) of the single storytelling element most readily identifiable with the series throughout the entirety of its halcyonic '70s period: the romance (and marriage) of the Vision and the Scarlet Witch;

*** ... the creation of AVENGERS uberbaddie deluxe: the maniacal Ultron (along with such other significant spandexed stinkers as the Grim Reaper; the Sons of the Serpent; etcetera, etcetera);

... and... and... and...

... well, geez. Ain't that enough, f'cryin' out loud...?

All of the foregoing freely and enthusiastically granted, however:

... "even Homer nods," as they say.

"Come On In... the Revolution's Fine!" [AVENGERS #83; December, 1970; Roy Thomas, author; John Buscema and Tom Palmer, artists] opens up with a shot of Janet [THE WASP] Pym, making her winged and minuscule way through the innermost recesses of Avengers Mansion.

"Voices... coming from our Meeting Room!" the team's founding female member marvels, as she approaches the chamber in question. "I'll just pop in and surprise th -- OHH!"

"Greetings, Wasp!" a powerful voice booms, by way of unexpected welcome. "COME ON IN... THE REVOLUTION'S FINE!"

Seated about the team's fabled oval meeting table, before the Wasp's shock-widened eyes, are (from left to right): the Black Widow; Madame Medusa; and (present-day) Avenger the Scarlet Witch...

... and: looming over the whole, distaff lot of them -- armored; spear-

wielding; and magisterial -- is the blonde and towering figure of: the Valkyrie!

"But... why are you all gathered here," the In-Flight Ingenue inquires, in manifest wonderment; "... in Avengers Mansion?"

"Avengers Mansion no longer, Jan!" a plainly self-satisfied Scarlet Witch primly corrects her. "From now on... this is our mansion, our headquarters! For we are -- THE LIBERATORS!"

"The Liberators?" an incredulous Wasp scoffs, reverting to her regular full-sized (and wingless) state. "Looks like I flew in from Alaska to visit an ailing aunt... and wound up barging in on a powderpuff protest meeting!"

(Geez... only Page Four, mind; and, already, we're charting the trackless wilds of The Land of Hopelessly Mixed Auctorial Signals, here.)

"Ahh," the Valkyrie observes, archly. "I see you lose the tiny wings on your back when you grow! Well, soon you shall lose something else, as well... the invisible shackles which men have placed on you!"

(Shyeah. Right. Incalculably wealthy; staggeringly beautiful; patently white; and conveniently super-powered. She's been marginalized plenty in life, you damn betcha.)

"We had only just begun our first meeting when you wandered in Wasp!" the Norsewoman informs, in ringing and imperious tone. "But perhaps I should briefly repeat the tale of my origin... so you will know who the Valkyrie is... and why I have dedicated my life to the downfall of Male Supremacy!"

Said "origin" tale -- bludgeoningly "P.C." well before the recognized onset of said socio-political malady -- details the trials and travails of a pre-broadsworded Val, being roundly dissed (and dismissed) by her male colleagues within the scientific community; for no more readily discernible reason, apparently, than the visible lack of a "Y" chromosome.

"The old fool," a frustrated Val seethes, after having dry-swallowed her latest portion of workplace humiliation. "The old male fool! He lives in a dream- world, where men have all the brains... and women do all the work!"

This lamentable state of affairs, Our Gal Val promptly attempts to remedy by...

... well: by doing all the work, thereabouts (that'll show 'em!); until -- at weary length -- she slumps, exhauusted, into blessed unconsciousness; " [...] a smoking vial still clutched in my outstretched hand!"

Upon awakening from her vapor-enhanced slumber, however: the (formerly) put-upon petite discovers that she has been blessed with " [...] fantastic strength! Unbelievable power!" (Not to mention -- inexplicably -- a costume.)

"Male chauvinist pigs... BEWARE!" the bellicose belle bellows, in full-throated, Helen Reddy-esque roar. "Beware... the VALKYRIE!"

"Well told," a (overly-)generous Madame Medusa grants, charitably. "But you said, earlier, the Avengers were our foremost enemies! You've not yet proven that to my satisfaction!"

"Then watch the screen, Medusa," the woman warrior offers, by way of unsmiling response; "... and I soon shall!"

We see a shot of Hank [YELLOWJACKET] Pym and his winged wife both hurtling towards a tommygun-toting mobster; with the far larger, more pugilistically-inclined YJ delivering the telling knock-out blow.

"See, for instance, Yellowjacket and our own Wasp in action," the Valkyrie avows, accusingly; "... with the male, as usual, grabbing all the glory for himself!"

(As opposed -- one presumes -- to simply stepping to one side, and letting his wife do all the heavy lifting for the team. And this is the Avengers' fault how, precisely, again...?)

"And you, Wanda," the Valkyrie continues, as the next snapshot details Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch standing over a brace of unconscious gangsters. "When you helped arrogant Pietro to capture those Maggia hoodlums... do you recall the headlines which followed? 'Quicksilver and Sister Capture Gangland Thugs'! Written by a man, of course!"

(And this is the Avengers' fault how, precisely, again...?)

Jabbing an accusatory finger towards the Russian-born Black Widow, the Pig-Tailed Potentate snarls: "How many times in the past did you try to become an Avenger... only to be rejected, for no good reason?"

(Other than having spent the majority of her adult life as a Communist spy, that is; and having attempted to bump off the Avengers two or three times, over the years, as well. And this is the Avengers' fault how, precisely, again...?)

"While you, Medusa," the Valkyrie smugly concludes; "... with the living tresses of incomparable power... you are the greatest slave of all! Your precious Black Bolt does not even speak... yet you hang upon his every non-syllable!" (AND THIS IS THE AVENGERS' FAULT HOW, PRECISELY, AGAIN...?)

"You... are right, Valkyrie!" a now-angry Medusa agrees, eyes narrowed in sullen resentment. "I know that now! I will aid you against the Avengers... if the Inhumans shall be the next to fall!"

(Lest the greater point, overall, be lost in all of the sarcasm foregoing -- and that yet to come, to boot; it's that sort of story we're dealing with here, you see -- Unca Cheeks' argument is scarcely with the [then-]

topical subtext, per se; just the hysteria and ham-fistedness of its execution, is all.)

Leading her hand-picked handmaidens to the mansion's roof: the Valkyrie manages to widen a few mascara'd eyes with the sight of a massive bronze chariot; with two powerful white chargers yoked in tandem to same, pawing and snorting.

"Nor shall we depart in vessels built by mere men," the eager Norsewoman instructs; "... but in this gleaming chariot, which I myself designed... drawn by two mighty stallions, which I myself have bred!" (Ewwwwwwww -- !)

The scene shifts (mercifully) to scenic Rutland, Vermont; site of what is (perhaps) the single longest-running "in-joke" in all of recorded comics history: the "Marvel (or DC) Super-Heroes Showing Up For the Annual Halloween Fanboys-Tarted-Up-In-Spandex Parade."

(... and, believe you me, campers: if there's any sight more blood-

curdlingly appropriate to the Halloween season than the prospect of a whole lotta comic book fanboys bursting, sausage-like, from the ill-

stitched confines of store-bought spandex -- !)

Said parade's "guests of honor," this year, are none other than a quartet of (who'da thunk it?) The Mighty Avengers; specifically, the regal Black Panther; brawling Goliath; speedster Quicksilver; and moody android, the Vision.

Also in shadowy attendance (alas), is a snarling, vengeance-minded foursome of former Avengers foemen: Klaw (murderous "Master of Sound"); the Melter (low-grade Iron Man baddie); the Radioactive Man (even lower-grade Thor nemesis); and Whirlwind (the only known Marvel Comics super-villain with headgear even dopier than that long made infamous by the taste-challenged Magneto).

It seems the aforementioned gaggle of gooberoids has schlepped itself all the way out into the Vermont boonies in order to put the pinch on one "Dr. T. W. Erwin, eminent mathematician -- now bringing fame to nearby Miskatonic University with his theories and research on parallel time! And that innocent-looking apparatus, which never leaves his sight -- !"

("Murderous 'Master of Sound'," my plush li'l red hinder. This fellah's the Murderous Master of Clunky and Indigestible Plot Exposition -- !)

(... AND: holy geez! What kinda cockamamie "parade" features some weirdo mathematics geek as its primary "float attraction," anyway? I mean: who organized this frickin' get-together, f'chrissakes... Miss Grundy -- ?!?)

Well: one plot contrivance tumbles, headlong, into another; and -- before the reader can mutter the words "Mandatory Fight Scene" --

... voila! It's the Mandatory Fight Scene!

Wringing every last situational drop from the damp sponge of Surprise, then: the four costumed cutthroats quickly place one real and severe hurting on Our Startled Heroes. (Which is -- take Unca Cheeks' word for it, on this one -- pretty much the only way a guy publicly answering to [say] "The Melter" might even conceivably NOT end up being cruelly kicked to death by any random gang of street urchins, really. I'm just sayin', is all, here.)

Quicksilver finds himself out-muscled by the equally hyper-

accelerative Whirlwind.

The Black Panther -- zigging when he should have zagged -- ends up wearing a brick wall for a chapeau, courtesy of Klaw.

Goliath is pinned down, courtesy of the Radioactive Man's "cement gun." (Has anybody else ever wondered just what the @#$% cement has to do with radioactivity, anyways...?)

... and the doleful, luckless Vision -- having drawn the short straw -- is made helpless and humiliated at the hands of (*snicker*) the Melter.

If only to spare the foursome any greater degradation than that, really:

... it's time to shift our attentions back to the ladies.

"The town of Rutland should be directly below us, Valkyrie!" an eager-

to-please Scarlet Witch informs her newfound leader and role model.

"But... I see some sort of battle going on in the streets," the eagle-

eyed Medusa adds; "... and the Avengers are involved!"

(Well... yeah, Little Miss Mensa. Rutland being kinda on the short side, super-teams-wise, and all -- and seeing as how you all PMSed your collective way down there in order to confront them in the first bloody place, mind -- you were expecting, maybe, The Inferior Five...?)

Taking no more than two panels, apiece -- tops -- the four ladies (sans Valkyrie; who's still... I dunno... parking the chariot, or something) promptly swing into action; and... and...

... well: and beat the holy living snot out of the four slack-jawed and uncomprehending baddies, quite frankly.

(Boyoboyoboy. Getting your muscular, meta-human hinder booted up and down Main Street -- in broad daylight, mind -- byy a perennial seventh- or eighth-rater whose only "super-power" of note is a non-stop Bad Hair Day...

(...well: that's just gotta be a one-way ticket to Prison Shower Room Hell, in ANY comic book universe.)

"Bravo, Wanda!" the normally irascible Quicksilver lauds his super-

sibling. "In fact... you've all done wonderfully! But... I don't understand what you're doing here!"

The fleet-footed mutant -- along with his equally startled spandexed fellows -- finds out the 4-1-1 on that score, quick enough.

"Come on, Widow!" a firey-eyed Wasp exhorts her Russian comrade-

in-arms. "Let's take the Panther together!"

"Stay back!" a perplexed King of All Wakanda warns, crouching warily. "I don't know what's going on here... but I don't fight women... even super-powered ones!" (Now, there's a man all but bloody destined to end up scarfing up some serious pavement someday, courtesy of -- oh, say -- the Dazzler, or Jubilee.)

"Then you had better learn to, Avenger," an attacking Widow counsels; "... if you wish to survive!"

"Yeah?" an enraged Goliath snarls, lumbering forwards into the fray. "Well, don't hand out the Purple Hearts yet, lady! You still got the two toughest Avengers to tackle, and we -- !"

"Goliath... look!" the android Vision cautions, gesturing off-panel. "There... stepping out of that alley... another costumed female!"

"Not just any female, Avenger," the powerfully... ummmmm... lunged Valkyrie thunders, striding forward with a grim and implacable purpose: "... but the most powerful one of all!

"You have uttered your famous 'Avengers Assemble' for the final time! From now on, the war-cry to remember shall be [Pick One] -- ":

A.) "Up Against the Wall, Male Chauvinist Pigs!"

B.) "For OPRAH! For LATIFAH! ForEVERRRRRRRRRR -- !"

C.) "Bring Us the Severed Head of BOB PACKWOOD -- !"

D.) "Do These Slacks Make Me Look FAT? Be HONEST, Now -- !"

Having thus shrieked the two Avengers remaining into unconsciousness: the Valkyrie turns to face her assembled anti-male armada once more.

"Bind them!" the woman-warrior commands. "And... have you accomplished your other task?"

"We've found Dr. Erwin," the Widow responds; "... and taken him into custody!" (God only knows on what grounds, mind. Apparently, possession of a "Y" chromosome is illegal, now. All of a sudden, like.)

"But... where are we taking them all, Valkyrie?" the Wasp inquires.

"To the university!" the Norsewoman barks. "There is something there... that I must see!"

That "something," as it turns out, happens to be said professor's previously referenced "Parallel Time-Projector"; a-glowin' and a-hummin' like the world's gaudiest and most gargantuan atomic-powered goldfish bowl.

"But, thus far," an eerily compliant Dr. Erwin explains to an expressionless Valkyrie; "... it's untested... untried! When it's turned on, I don't know if it will prove my theories... or explode!"

(Apparently, the option of the damned thing simply not working isn't a wholly viable one, engineering-wise. And people wonder why Unca Cheeks shudders uncontrollably even at the prospect of having to change the batteries in his Walkman, f'chrissakes.)

"This is what I desire!" the sword-wielding she-warrior gloats, caressing the device with a less-than-altogether-wholesome desire. "Your parallel time device itself!"

"But... why, Valkyrie?" a perplexed Medusa wonders, aloud. "When we four agreed to help you -- !"

" 'Valkyrie?' " the woman snarls, whirling about with feral suddenness. " 'VALKYRIE?' Do not call me that... not any longer! The time for pretense is PAST!"

"And now," the brawling barbarian(ette) continues; her form subtly... shifting, in a sudden, coruscating fireball of other-worldly energies; "... while a simple spell holds you motionless... you shall learn, at last, that there is no 'Valkyrie'... but only... THE ENCHANTRESS!"

"Fantastic!" the captive Black Panther murmurs, sotto voce, to his fellows. "That immortal is one of the Avengers' oldest, fiercest foes!" Just in case they weren't already... you know... painfully aware of that, or nothin'. Being Avengers themselves, and all, I mean.

Speed-talking madly in order to shoehorn in every last little bit of plot that had been brushed savagely aside, earlier, in order to make room for all the fighting an' jingoism an' stuff: the (now revealed) Enchantress explains, to all and sundry, how she and long-time Asgardian paramour -- the sullen (and ot-nay too ight-bray, if you take Unca Cheeks' meaning, here) Executioner -- were wandering the dismal and vapor-enshrouded wilds of Some Weird Place Or Another, a while back; courtesy of the unforgiving Grand Exalted Poobah of Asgard, Odin, himself.

"But then," the sorcerous she-cat fairly spits, in re-lived anger; "... one day...!"

Well: "one day," the Executioner stumbles across an even hotter hottie, out there in the mists; Much Heavy Breathing Ensues, on both sides; and the Asgardian seeress' balding bohunk beau is... like... Past Tense, bay-bee.

"In that hour," the Enchantress seethes, in full-bore, present-day Gloria Swanson-In-SUNSET BOULEVARD mode; "... that moment... I vowed all males should one day feel my wrath supreme! [...] To gain all my ends, I disguised myself [as the Valkyrie]... and used subtle, secret spells to win you four to my cause!"

(Wellllllllll... it hurts marginally less if only you don't think about it for too terribly long, really.

(Note, please, that I do say: marginally.)

There's a fast, desultory "Dueling Spellcasters" bit of business, then, betwixt the Enchantress and a not-quite-ensorcled Scarlet Witch; a shrill, panicky "NNNOOOOOoooooo!" from the former; annnnnnnnnd --

... wave buh-bye to this issue's super-villain(ess).

"Then you held your Hex Power in reserve," the Vision later exposits, helpfully; "... because you suspected 'the Valkyrie's' secret?"

"Yes," the Scarlet Witch confesses; "... but only after she called Jan 'wench' in a tone she once used on me!" (Thomas wasn't even pretending to give a damn, by this point in the storytelling proceedings.)

"Well," the gruff Goliath rumbles, by way of SCOOBY-DOO-esque final summation: "... at least I'm glad of one thing... you birds finally learned your lesson about that Woman's Lib bull!"

"That's what you think," a flushed Wanda retorts, heatedly. "Male chauvinist PIG!"

You can almost hear the television-style WAH-wah-wah-wahhhh in the background, can't you...?

EVERYthing Roy Thomas ever wrote -- during the entirety of his lengthy and (justly) storied comics career -- was better than this mess.

Judge the man by all of that, please:

THE INVADERS.

THE ALL-STAR SQUADRON.

CONAN THE BARBARIAN.

"The Kree-Skrull War."

Anything -- ANYthing -- but this.

Next time out, people:

... the equally "legendary" (*kaff*kaff*) NIGHT NURSE.

You only think it's been hurting, up 'til now.