A well-stocked supporting cast can both enrich and, if not handled with care, overwhelm a monthly comic book series. Chris Claremont has long been praised for his ability to weave together complex character dynamics and to elevate secondary figures into memorable characters in their own right. At the same time, his tendency to populate a title with sprawling ensembles has led to criticisms that the intricate backstories and sheer volume of cast members bury whatever actual story he was attempting to tell.
Since Sovereign Seven was in a sense Claremont's "blank check" project, a series sold on his name alone and championed by his previous publisher's major competitor, there is a chance that a voice of reason, someone to question just how many characters could be shoved into a twenty-two page story, was nowhere to be found.
Within the first few issues, the series introduced a team of royalty in exile, each with distinct personalities, traumas, and hidden secrets, while also surrounding them with an ever-growing array of allies, antagonists, and social acquaintances from the small town of Crossroads. The idea of a rich supporting cast was central to Claremont's vision, offering texture and variety, but it also reflected one of his long-standing challenges as a storyteller: balancing an overstuffed cast with a coherent lead story. The result was a book that's often ambitious, but at times a chore to keep straight.
The two main supporting characters we meet early on are sisters Pansy Smith and Violet Jones, proprietors of the Crossroads Coffee Bar. The sisters are an inside joke that only a portion of the fanbase is ever likely to catch. Violet and Pansy are the alter egos of real-life novelists/musicians Emma Bull and Lorraine Garland, who once performed as the folk duo The Flash Girls. The duo created the identities as a joke, the new names they would adopt if they bombed when opening for Warren Zevon, of all people, during an early gig.
Eventually, the duo embraced the personas and even constructed a fictional backstory of a 1920s female Irish folk pair as the conceit for their first record, The Return of Pansy Smith and Violet Jones. There's also a part of this story that has Neil Gaiman promising to hide them away in his basement, but let's not go there. If you remember references to the band Cat's Laughing in Claremont's 1980s work, that was Emma Bull's previous band.
Visually, the two "sisters", sometimes referred to as twins, are distinguished chiefly by Pansy's short reddish hair and Violet's long dark hair. In terms of personality, Violet's the more reserved, formal one and Pansy's more of the rock chick, although at a certain point, they do tend to blur together.
In one telling scene, when the Sovereigns discover a vast, guarded cavern in the inn's cellar and complain about its violent enforcers, Pansy and Violet respond with such blasé amusement that their casualness reads as almost villainous, undercutting their role of genial hosts and seemingly contradicting the affection Claremont has for the sisters. (This would seem to be a case of Claremont not appreciating just how unlikeable the sisters are in that moment, rather than him truly casting them as villains. Then again, when we meet the sisters in issue #1, we discover they can casually get Darkseid on the phone.)
In the three-part Road Trip arc, Violet is annoyed that a coffee shipment was mistakenly derailed to Gotham City, which happens to be in the middle of a virus outbreak, as seen in the Bat-titles' linewide "Contagion" story arc. Violet, picking up her shotgun, stubbornly chooses to go into the city anyway to pick up the coffee she needs, a decision the characters around her know is insane, but her friends support her anyway. This kind of knowing ridiculousness does make the character rather endearing, for this arc at least.
After arriving in Gotham, Violet and her Sovereign friends are stopped by police and ordered off the streets. They find solace in what Violet claims is her home away from home -- a BDSM themed club named Heaven's Gate, which features some provocative satanic themed décor. There's some idea that the club actually does possess a mystical element and simultaneously exists in various locations at once, but it's one of the series' numerous unresolved mysteries. Even though we're told Violet has ties to this naughty club, described as a "den of iniquity," the next issue has her offering compassionate care to the virus victims, guiding them into a peaceful eternal sleep in their final moments.
The Crossroads Coffee Bar, meanwhile, is targeted when Violet is away in Gotham. Three new Claremont creations tied to an enigmatic organization called Dystopia burst into the inn, eager to settle an unexplained score with the sisters. Following the fight, the Sovereigns vow to probe the assault and extract answers, yet Pansy offers nothing, and the reader is given no explanation for the violence.
Adding to these mysteries, the 1996 annual suggests that Violet knows the entire cast's secrets, through some unknown talents or means. The town sheriff, Sgt. Malloy, compounds the mystery by claiming she has known Pansy and Violet her whole life and that they never seem to age, a remark that perhaps hints at cosmic origins for the sisters.
This is never truly paid off, but in issue #30, Claremont teases that Violet could literally be Death, a Grim Reaper figure in disguise. Maybe Pansy is the "Alpha" and Violet the "Omega," if I'm reading the issue's cryptic hints correctly. After three years of never providing true answers, the final pages of the final issue return to the coffee bar, where Pansy and Violet are hosting the creators of this comic, fully aware that it's all been just a story.
There is a cute bit with Pansy and Violet, one that unfortunately drops off as the series progresses. The sisters will engage in ping-pong style debates, often presenting one-word arguments to the other. It’s up to the reader to infer what they’re debating -- "bang" or "whimper" for the world's end (perhaps they have firsthand knowledge), or "Michael" versus "Val" during the summer of Batman Forever.
Hanging around Crossroads is a male cat named Lucy, an homage to Claremont's actual cat at this time. There are also some mystical hints regarding Lucy, and there's one arc that has two supporting cast members searching for the missing Lucy throughout the dimensional gates on the top floor of Crossroads. We never discover why Lucy has a girl's name, or just what makes him magical. As the issues go on, Lucy makes fewer appearances. Which is a shame, because this playful side to Claremont's writing is one aspect his imitators could never capture.
As the Crossroads Coffee Bar exists at the junction of countless realities, there's naturally a temptation to use it as an excuse to stage cameos from anyone in fiction, comic books or otherwise. Issue #5 contains a nod to the 1994 film Wolf, as the characters played by Jack Nicholson and Michelle Pfeiffer stroll in for a latte. They stick around as series regulars. Only, it isn't quite Pfeiffer's character Laura Alden who becomes a regular. Instead, the series names her "Mitch," a thinly veiled stand-in who runs the local bookstore/lending library. The library's location, a renovated movie theater, also has a computer capable of navigating this newfangled internet deal, which is a plot point in a couple of stories. A few issues after her debut, we learn Mitch moonlights as the headmistress of the town's only school.
Toby Merlin makes his grand debut in the very first issue, sprinting for his life from both the demonic War Boys, and then becoming a target of Darkseid's Female Furies. He has some connection to a brooch that looks suspiciously like the Siege Perilous from X-Men lore, which seems like it should be a pretty big deal for the series' mythos. You would think this would go somewhere. It doesn't.
By Sovereign Seven #3, Toby discovers that the Sovereigns' misadventure in that mysterious cavern/dam has somehow dropped the legendary sword and stone of Arthurian legend right into his basement. He's furious; presumably because these Sovereigns are mucking around in mystic forces they have no business, well, mucking around in. It's the sort of tantalizing setup the more naive of us would expect to pay off later, yet it becomes one of the series' numerous dangling plot threads. And this is only the third issue.
Toby then fades into the wallpaper. In the book's third arc he's suddenly introduced as a college professor, a detail tossed out like we should have known it all along. Fast-forward to issue #16. We learn Toby is living in a government compound called Camp Camelot. His personal bodyguard is Croyd, a hulking brute with razor claws who appears without introduction, again, as if we should already be on familiar terms.
Toby is still grumbling about his missing sword, the sheriff has turned up nothing, and by the way, what happened to the pendant from Sovereign Seven #1? It's another unresolved mystery. To make things worse, Toby can't physically leave Camp Camelot -- he's bound there, somehow, even when Earth's about to collapse thanks to the latest DC crossover event and Cascade offers an escape route. The government has its claws in him too, and Sheriff Savoy is explicitly warned not to ask questions about what happens inside those walls.
The 1997 annual twists the knife a little deeper. We learn Mitch the schoolmaster once lived at Camp Camelot, but she flatly rejects Toby's plea to return. Croyd has left by this point, meaning Mitch has no protection beyond the gates, or so Toby warns. What follows is a murky, half-formed conversation between half-defined characters, leading -- like so much else in this series -- absolutely nowhere.
Issue #18 brings Croyd back into the picture, once again written as if we should already know exactly who this guy is. No introduction, no backstory provided -- he simply rolls up on his motorcycle, ready to whisk Cascade out of town after she quits the team.
Croyd doesn't look much like Wolverine beyond being short (when some artists draw him), but he talks an awful lot like the ol' Canucklehead. The clipped sentences, the tough-guy phrasing -- you keep waiting for him to toss in a "bub" as he lights a cigar. And just as Claremont occasionally dangled the possibility of Storm and Wolverine as more than "good friends," the book drops a few hints that Croyd and Cascade might have a connection that goes deeper than a shared road trip.
Sheriff Molly Savoy grabs the spotlight in issues #4 and 5. The problem? We still know next to nothing about the supposed main cast, but the narrative abruptly pivots, giving the sheriff center stage. She comes with a backstory that feels suspiciously Claremontian in its vagueness, plus an unexplained feud with a federal agent named Bobby Barrymore.
To be fair, Molly is usually one of the better-written characters. In issue #15, she raises perfectly reasonable objections to Cascade, regarding the role of unsanctioned superpowered beings who seem determined to involve themself in police matters. Not an unreasonable stance for any sheriff if a squad of costumed superhumans suddenly planted themselves in her jurisdiction. By issue #17, though, she's practically a cape herself, running around in Network's old costume and swinging her grandfather's samurai sword.
The sword's history goes back to Sovereign Seven #5 when out of nowhere, Molly whips out a magical sword. Yet another blade to throw on the pile. Is this connected to Toby Merlin's basement sword-in-the-stone? Finale's sword? Network's? Who knows.
Every few issues, Molly drops cryptic hints about her past. She wasn't always a sheriff, she says, and she has inside information on Meridian, the shadowy island nation controlled by Shogun, the Claremontian criminal organization du jour. How does she know any of this? The story treats it as another shrugging mystery. John Byrne has joked about Claremont's inability to just write normal characters in the past, and Sheriff Savoy is a decent example of what he was referencing.
Then there's Ruth. Early on, Molly makes vague remarks that Skin Dance once killed a woman named Ruth, but the sheriff's dialogue is so hazy it's impossible to tell if Ruth was a relative, a friend, or a lover. The 1996 annual references Ruth again, claiming she was someone Molly "loved with all her heart." Meanwhile, the supposed larger twist from this origin story, that Skin Dance was working for a more powerful force, remains a dangling thread.
By the end of the book's second year, Molly is making regular appearances in full superhero mode, armored up in a skintight, latex-y getup that's reminiscent of Image Comics' Ant. She ventures into the reappearing massive underground cavern, accessed by a hidden stairwell in Crossroads, and feels overwhelmed with joy at being there -- because, of course, she has some mysterious connection to the place. We're also told she's been plagued her entire life by nightmares of Kratos, Bia, and Zelus, the shadowy villains introduced in the second issue, villains with some connection to this cavern.
The twenty-fifth issue finally reveals she's Japanese-American, along with some references to a mixed cultural background. (Savoy is a French last name.) Naturally, Claremont waits until we're years into the run to drop this sort of basic biographical detail.
Molly has a teenage son, Conal, who sports a half-shaved hairstyle that actually was fairly edgy back in 1995, before every haircut in the mall food court went for a half-shave. Conal works with the Sovereigns at Crossroads, and has a teenage puppydog romance with Network. He's not so bad as a reader identification character, but his appearances become sparse as the issues carry on.
Issues #7 and 8 introduce us to Henry Duggan, a small-time hunter with an even smaller regard for game laws. He's more than willing, especially after a few beers, to shoot at anything that moves, license or no license. Naturally, the comic punishes him by having the spirit of the forest possess his body. Suddenly Henry is no longer just a backwoods poacher -- he's sprouting antlers, speaking in one of those distinctively stylized Tom Orzechowski fonts, and loudly proclaiming himself the official protector of the woods around Crossroads. The book never quite decides whether to treat him as a serious figure of ecological vengeance or just another colorful side character passing through the revolving door of the Crossroads Coffee Bar.
In issue 10, page 7, Daisy Miller appears for the first time, crammed into a blink-and-you-miss-it panel. She's supposedly the cousin of Violet and Pansy…because why stop that flower theme at two? Daisy is said to have a foul mouth and a bad attitude, and she makes a point of telling everyone that her family connections don't give her any special insight into Crossroads' endless mysteries. Strangely enough, for a stretch of issues, the comic starts paying more attention to Daisy than to half the main cast. It's a bizarre imbalance. Why all this focus on a teenager who's materialized in such an undramatic way? If she's meant to be so important, why is her debut literally one tiny panel?
Around the same time, we meet Casey Rassendyll, another local teen who quickly bonds with Daisy, despite their contrasting personalities. By issue #11, the two are functioning as a teen duo and cropping up regularly. The trouble is, this book is already overloaded with characters, and Casey muddies the waters further by looking suspiciously similar to Network. The characters really shouldn't look alike, as Claremont reveals in a letter column that Casey and Daisy are around the age of thirteen, making Network a few years older. Distinguishing subtle age differences like this isn't a skill you can expect from the average superhero artist cranking out a monthly, however.
Then comes issue #31, and a shocking revelation that answers a question no one was asking. Casey suddenly announces that she is Katherine Cecelia Rassendyll of the royal house of Elfburg, hereditary monarchs of the kingdom of Ruritania. Our helpful Wiki friends explain: "Ruritania is a fictional country, primarily known as the setting for the novel The Prisoner of Zenda by Anthony Hope. It's often used as a generic term for a quaint, small, and romanticized European country, or as a placeholder name in discussions."
Up until that revelation, Casey has been written as nothing more than a regular teenager. So when she suddenly claims royal blood from a Victorian adventure novel, you get the sense yet another tangent is on its way. Yet, we're soon sidetracked from this diversion by other diversions.
In the home stretch of the series, yet another mystery character wanders onto the stage, then takes it over as if she was the title's star and someone simply forgot to change the logo. This one is Captain Natalie Rosen, a spunky, freckle-faced Russian fighter who can literally conjure machine guns out of thin air.
She feels suspiciously familiar, and for good reason. Natalie seems modeled on Deb Levin, another tough young Russian Claremont wrote in his X-Men days. He was apparently so fond of Deb that he swiped her wholesale from Larry Hama's non-continuity series Nth Man and folded her into his mutant universe. Natalie comes across like another variant of the character, and her abrupt introduction highlights the series' late-stage sprawl: new characters tossed in without explanation, as if the audience has some privileged access to Claremont's notebooks.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comment. Please. Love it? Hate it? Are mildly indifferent to it? Let us know!