When I was a kid, everything in superhero comics felt like the end of the world. Whether
it was a massive fight, a character death or the Earth actually being destroyed, I’d
finish a comic and be thrown completely for a loop. Staggered, stunned and shaken, I’d
reassess everything I read just to make sure this apocalypse truly happened.
“That’s it,” I’d think to myself afterwards. “Nothing will ever be the same.”
That’s what great superhero comics were all about to me. But as you get older, it’s
not quite the same. You might still enjoy superhero comics, but you start to recognize
the tricks they play and the formulas they follow.
Eventually you realize, you’re chasing the feeling you had when you were
a kid. That feeling of everything being an event; of earth-shattering changes to the
status quo; of knowing with every fiber in your body that nothing will ever be the same.
It’s an eternal pursuit for comic fans, and one that can be hard to fulfill.
I found that feeling once again with Invincible #11.
Early on, co-creators Robert Kirkman and Cory Walker established the book as a good one,
and it was something line artist Ryan Ottley, as well as colorist Cliff Rathburn and letterer
Rus Wooton, helped build in those initial arcs as well. Invincible lived up quite well
to the text it displayed above the title.
You remember: “Girls, acne, homework, super-villains.
When you’re a teenager, it helps to be INVINCIBLE.” It wasn’t just a cute thing the book did;
it was a mission statement of sorts.
Invincible was a fun comic about a young man named Mark Grayson who had to balance his
life as a high school senior with newfound superpowers. It helped a ton that his dad
was, secretly, the world’s greatest superhero and that his mom was almost remarkably casual
about what that kind of life entailed, but still, there were complications as there always
were for heroes.
It was exactly what many comic fans have been conditioned to want out of our superhero comics.
If it weren’t for the familiar Image “i” on the corner of each cover, you might have guessed that
Invincible was a Marvel comic even. Mark was every bit the Marvel Comics hero archetype.
Sure, he had superpowers, but he also had relatable problems.
We didn’t see a god, we saw ourselves if our lives had turned
out a little differently. It was a pitch perfect example of what made superheroes so special,
and it established Grayson as a quintessential iteration of that character type.
And that was great. That’s a wonderful thing to be as a comic.
But then Invincible #11 came and ruined everything.
Here’s the Cliff’s Notes of what happened. Up until that issue, we thought
Mark’s dad Nolan – the aforementioned greatest superhero in the world, Omni-Man
– was an alien from a benevolent, peaceful planet. Those origins were where both his
powers and Mark’s came from. While we knew there was a darker side to Nolan, as he had
brutally murdered the super team the Guardians of the Globe,
we didn’t know the reason for that.
Maybe he had an argument for it.
Maybe there was an excuse; we didn't know.
We just knew he did it.
But in issue #11, we discover that his people
weren’t peacekeepers; they were conquerors, and Nolan wanted Mark to join him in taking
over the Earth.
Naturally as a hero, Mark goes with option C: stop his dad, change his mind and
SAVE THE DAY.
That plan does not go well.
What transpires is an absolutely brutal beating – as potently depicted by
Ottley and Crabtree in issue #12 – that ends with Omni-Man leaving the planet in tears, and
his broken and bloodied son left cratered into the Earth. It was savage, shocking and
ended with the status quo forever changed. In short, nothing would ever be the same.
That’s Invincible, though.
It’s a superhero comic created by people who clearly missed the emotions we had as
kids about superhero comics as much I did, so they set out to make a comic built to bring
those feelings back to us. But how did they accomplish that when so many before them struggled?
How did Kirkman, Ottley and the rest manage to succeed not just with the Omni-Man
fight, but Robot’s heel turn, the Conquest battle, The Viltrumite War,
and so many other moments?
Part of it was how Invincible dispensed with an old Marvel staple that is one of the governing
ideas behind most superhero storytelling. Stan Lee called it “the illusion of change,”
or the idea that no matter what happens to our heroes and their world, everything would
return to its status quo eventually. Superheroes are, after all, a place of comfort for us
as readers, and this idea helped ensure we’d get back to where we all began.
Unlike most superhero comics, though, Invincible was one filled with change. And the most impressive
way this attribute manifests itself isn’t in the shocking bits of destruction
– of which there are many in Invincible.
Trust me, when I say - that're on a scale few comics can compare to – but
in how this change is reflected in the interpersonal moments. Look at the titular hero for a perfect
example. When we first meet Mark, he’s a high school senior who is single and working
at a burger joint. By the final issue, he’s married, has children and is even the king
of the alien race he barely knew anything about when we first met him. He actually grew
with us, the readers - a true rarity in the genre.
It isn’t just the lead character who goes through that, though. Every character has
an arc, from Mark’s parents Nolan and Debbie to supporting characters like Allen the Alien
and The Mauler Twins. By allowing for not just change, but growth, we’re given a superhero
comic that is capable of surprising us if only because we truly never know where it’s
going to go.
From day one, Invincible looked the part as a superhero book we could and should love
because of Walker’s ability as not just an artist, but as a designer. Walker and his
costume design for characters like Invincible, Omni-Man, Atom Eve, Robot and beyond paid
dividends long after he departed from the book,
and helped legitimize the book to an audience
who might normally be used to only buying superhero comics from Marvel and DC.
He defined the look of this book, and
every time he returned to the title, he reminded us what we’d been missing since he’d left
by perfectly depicting some of Invincible’s most memorable moments.
And if Walker defined the look of this book, then Ottley was the one who elevated it into
the stratosphere – which is incredible given where he came from. When he joined the title,
Ottley was a relative unknown. By the time the book came to its end, he was on the shortlist
for the greatest superhero artists in comics today. The growth you can see in his work
over the life of the book is staggering. And Ottley was almost as constant of a presence
as Kirkman. Maybe the most underrated part about the series is that in an era defined
by rotating art teams, Ottley was the artist on 127 of Invincible’s 144 issues.
And those 127 issues are filled with exceptional moments from Ottley throughout. I’m not
just talking about the massive fights where it feels like you can feel the punches being exchanged
between characters like Thragg and Battle Beast, either. Sure, Ottley can deliver beats
like Mark literally punching through a planet better than just about anyone, but his abilities
with character acting in quiet moments are underrated and essential to readers loving
this book as much as we did. Without Ottley’s eye for detail and character work, the heart
of the book – its atypical growth and penchant for change – might not have connected as
much as it did.
One of my favorite random parts about Invincible as a series were those little bits of text
above the title each issue I mentioned earlier. While it started with the “Girls, acne,
etc.” line, the most regularly appearing line was some variation of this phrase declaring
with tongue-in-cheek braggadocio that Invincible was, “The best superhero comic in the universe.”
Initially, I found it to be this little charming thing the book did. It both existed as a throwback
to superhero comics of yesteryear, like Fantastic Four being declared “The World’s Greatest
Comic Magazine!” on each cover, and as a bit of bravado from an upstart superhero comic
that wasn’t from one of the two houses most known for them. I liked it. It was fun.
But the funny thing about it was, after a while, it stopped being bravado and just became
the truth. While other titles over its run might have been better for a time, Invincible
was the rare superhero comic in an era of reboots and rebirths that was a singular narrative,
and one that was consistently great throughout. Weirdly, they spent so long telling us what
Invincible was that eventually it just became that: the best superhero comic in the universe.
Ultimately, over the 15 years and 144 issues of its run, Invincible perfectly captured
everything I loved about superhero comics to begin with. That’s a magical thing.
And now it’s over.
But that’s okay. Sure, nothing will ever be the same.
But as Invincible reminded me,
sometimes that can be a good thing.