Darwyn Cooke is a master of the nostalgic comic book. The type of 1950s throwback that manages to take the ideals of the three-colored yarns of yesteryear and modernize them for today's stone-faced, post-The Dark Knight Returns comic book fans. The New Frontier is Cooke's opus, a tale of the emergence of the DC Universe's big guns, broken down by a government scared of superheroes, but brought together and back in to the limelight by the sort of otherworldly, psychic threat, a great comic can really make feel dangerous. They're all here - Superman, Batman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, and more - thrust in to the zippy world of big fun and big emotions Cooke has become so gifted and weaving over the years.
I've always been a Marvel kid in terms of my comic book consumption. As a kid I loved the big epic storytelling that didn't seem as weighed down by the onus of its past. DC has a tendency to get hung up on the fan-boy shit, the various Earth-types, the ten different bearers of each superhero identity and so on and so forth until a new reader can barely find a foothold in their comic universe without an extensive amount of research. Cooke seems to see that here and goes about cleaning the plate, introducing us, quickly and with a aim towards the bigger story, to the big names and then intricately pushing them together. Even with Cooke's huge talent as a writer though, the first half of this series left me cold and confused, the flood of character introductions seemingly shackled by their connections to DC's past. If I had stopped at the midway point, I don't know if I could have given this series a positive review. Yes, Cooke's characters are well painted and in this series especially indicative of the 50s and 60s James Bond-type do-gooders that are as likely to be fighting space creatures as dipping a woman on the dance floor with a cig in one hand and a martini in the other. And yes, Cooke's art is amazing, simple, gorgeous and wearing the influences of all things 60s firmly on its sleeve with each page broken down in to a series of wide-shot, almost storyboard images. This is a superhero epic and Mr. Cooke has no intention of you forgetting it. Toss in the beautifully bright colors of super-colorist Dave Stewart and this book is nothing if not a work of art.
And thus, you forgive the more confusing aspects of the first half and you plunge forward and you're happy you did. You're happy to see the characters that seemed, and intentionally so, shallow cut-outs, defined by their powers and not by their intentions, grow, thicken and come together in the deft hands of the writer. Where the first book is introductions, the second book is getting the band together to face off against yet another DC super-villain re-adapted, this time in the form of The Centre, a seething, living bit of psychic horror that tears at the minds of the entire world. This second book, a near perfect concoction of big action and bigger emotional moments, moves at an exceptional pace, each character getting their moments to shine and doing so in service to the greater story.
This is big-budget storytelling told with the sort of style and aplomb you don't get to much on the big screen anymore. Cooke manages to create a story that embodies the good-natured, emotionally earnest vibe of The Silver Age of comic, one that rattles the long dormant cages of comic optimism but does so in a way that doesn't feel false. In the last few pages of the comic there's an image that if put in the hands of a lesser writer/artist would seem false: the super heroes of the world arms extended flying towards adventure unknown, an errant strand of a JFK quote floating over them. This could be cheesy, this could be a halfhearted attempt to ape a style gone missing, but with Cooke behind the while, this is the capper at the end of a great story, that makes your heart lift and a smile slowly creep across your face.