At Play in the Fields of the Multiverse
Thanks to how much I loved the tone of Grant Morrison's Multiversity I picked up a collection of his last big superhero corssover work Final Crisis last night. I hadn't read the series since it first came out, when I picked it up month to month.
I had never read the whole of it in the order he intended--five tie-in issues are included in the trade paperback along with the core miniseries, all for $20--which definitely made for a more coherent read than my first go round.
There are even more tie-ins than what are included in the book, but the problem with Final Crisis is two-fold:
First, it is far too poetic for the literal-minded fanboys of the world to deal with. Fanboys such as myself who like a splash or 9 of philosohical metaness with their adolescent power fantasies eat this stuff up. Unfortunately some of those literal-minded fanboys are also the Powers That Be in the comic book industry. The sweeping changes that a book called FINAL CRISIS should bring done got unbroughten.
Which ties-into the second problem: the damn thing feels truncated. While that's actually written into the text in the back half of the story--there's a line about weeks getting compressed into days--there's whole chunks of the setting that feel like they could have been explored in depth by other writers.
I know that's actually part of the charm of these over-the-top comics: the endless musing about what's going on the gutters between panels, but to see so many fun ideas get placed in the toybox and then be passed over for more of the same old, same old is somewhat depressing.
I don't have much time for people who fixate on realistic critiques of billionaires who dress up in fetishwear to fight crime or whose imagination can't come up with a better solution than breaking the villian's neck. I'm here for the weird ideas and the truths of the human heart that hide behind spandex targets.