Superman/Wonder Woman #15

You know the one thing I kept hearing from both Charles Soule and Tomasi in interviews about this series? “There will be romance, but that’s not to say it’ll be the only focus,” or something to that effect. In hindsight, all that sounds like trying to preempt imaginary critics of the Superman-Wonder Woman relationship—or maybe Soule and Tomasi were subtly saying they have no idea what the attraction between the heroes is either. One thing’s for sure: this series has done almost nothing to explore Clark and Diana as a serious couple.

I’m not saying I want the title to turn into a superhero version of Marry Me, but then again, why not? It’s not as if the market is oversaturated with romances; quite the opposite, in fact. Besides, Tomasi’s first issue definitely pulled off Clark and Diana navigating the usual pleasures and annoyances of couplehood, which in turn gave them dimensions of personality the icons have been missing for some time. And then WonderStar entered the picture and the usual superheroic craziness hijacked the story.

It’s impossible to discuss how labored the plot’s construction is without spoilers, so spoiler alert! WonderStar, who transformed into Magog last issue, was originally a little boy named David Reid, who lost his whole family—mom, dad, sister, plus some of his friends—during Darkseid’s invasion. Naturally, he’s more than a little upset about that, but for some reason channels all his anger toward Superman and Wonder Woman. This makes no sense, not just because he unfairly blames them for not leading the action away from his family, but also because his rage should then be directed to the whole Justice League, not just two of its members.

Tomasi forces us to give David a pass, though, since he’s both an unhappy kid (and God knows unhappy kids aren’t famous for their rationality) and being manipulated by Circe, revealed as the woman and man-hating voice that opened #14. She’s of course responsible for David becoming Magog, although Tomasi puzzlingly has her rely not on traditional sorcery, but on a “fusion stone…composed of a transmutational element that has all but disappeared from this universe[.]” Circe also mentions the stone’s consciousness, which gives David an easy out should he ever return to his normal self.

But you know the one question that keeps popping out at me amidst all this nonsense? Where did the WonderStar identity come from? It’s important to note that when Circe first uses the stone on David, he turns into the young hero with the golden highlights first. So why the intermediary transformation? Some kind of Pokémon-esque evolution? A way for David to ingratiate himself to Clark, Diana, the world while his memories are kaput (since Magog isn’t exactly family-friendly)?

All this to get Clark and Diana going at each other once again about their different approaches to superheroism. After recovering from Magog’s first blow, Clark is all about saving the innocents and Diana is all about destroying the threat at hand. It’s a conflict so old that you can’t bring yourself to get too worked up about it.* Besides, Magog’s entire goal (and probably Circe’s as well) is to prove they can’t handle both tasks at once, to prove that even together, they’re not infallible. This is a pointless endeavor; what they’re trying to prove is an inarguable fact.

Not helping matters is having dual artists on board. Now, Mahnke and Benes both have commendable styles, but incredibly different ones. Mahnke is bold, full of drama and outsized action; Benes has a more conventional, sexy look. The two styles don’t exactly play well together, especially with variations in inking and coloring muddling things up further. It’d be one thing if Benes handled a certain sequence and Mahnke the other, but sometimes the art changes from page to page in a single scene, which is as disconcerting as some of the plot developments in the script.

Some Musings:

* Also, I just don’t understand why they can’t decide, “Okay, you minimize casualties while I take the big guy down. Boom. Nailed it.” But if all characters handled conflict that appropriately, there’d be no fiction. By the same token, however, fiction would have fewer idiots.

– I just can’t believe Mahnke decided to keep Magog’s ridiculous design intact, down to the gun perched at the front of his waist and the spare bullet strap wrapped around his bicep. Blergh.