This collection of Fantastic Four, which covers writer Doug Moench and penciller Bill Sienkiewicz’s brief tenure on the title, is baffling. Moench/Sienkiewicz were the first creative team selected for FF under the oversight of editor-in-chief Jim Shooter (and FF editor Jim Salicrup). They were an unconventional choice, one that had the potential to produce something interesting but ultimately fell short.
While prolific at Marvel in the 70s, Moench had largely avoided conventional superheroes like the FF to instead write pulp-tinged genres like horror, adventure, and kung-fu. Sienkiewicz would later become an industry legend for his experimental, multimedia approach to comics, but FF marked his first major ongoing assignment at Marvel as a professional artist. Given the high praise for their work on Moon Knight (which began during their run on FF), I was initially intrigued to see how they handled Marvel’s First Family.
Unfortunately, Sienkiewicz quickly exhibits that he wasn’t yet ready to spearhead a major title. His skills are apparent in these pages. Many panels demonstrate excellent draftsmanship with naturalistic rendering. The similarities between early Sienkiewicz and Neal Adams, the best draftsman in this era of superhero comics, are well-documented. However, this comparison falters in the storytelling department. From his beginning at Marvel, Adams displays keen instincts for directing readers’ eyes through clever page designs. Sienkiewicz lacks this insight at first, opting for cramped panel layouts that play against his strengths. His characters are often oddly disproportionate as he contorts them to fit awkwardly small spaces. His pacing recalls Silver Age storytelling – for instance, Reed departs to retrieve a device from the Baxter Building, dramatically leaving Sue and Ben to face their enemies, only to return a few panels later with the device in tow.
Mercifully, as the run progresses, Sienkiewicz rapidly levels up. His layouts gain more room to breathe, especially after the page count per issue increases from seventeen to twenty-two. He figures out how to better emphasize important beats and restructures pages to better suit the dynamic action that characterizes the FF.
It also becomes clear that at least some of the shortcomings in these pages are inker Joe Sinnott’s fault. His thick, smooth linework complements Jack Kirby’s direct, heavily stylized pencils beautifully. However, these bold inks struggle to capture nuances of the more realistic style that infuse Sienkiewicz and his peers’ work. The issues with inkers other than Sinnott are a marked improvement – particularly Bruce Patterson’s angular linework in FF #227, which more faithfully preserves the pencils’ naturalistic shading. The final story of this collection features a few pages inked by Sienkiewicz himself and offers a tantalizing taste of what I originally anticipated from his FF. The scratchy lines and deep, eerie shadows are a night-and-day improvement over Sinnott’s stiff inks in that same issue. That story also marks the end of a nearly continuous sixteen-year run for Sinnott as the inker on FF, which began with issue #44. I respect and mostly enjoy Sinnott’s contributions to the book, but I can’t deny it was time for him to move on. (He would later return, but that’s a story for another time.)
Turning to the story conveyed by the art, Moench is as woefully miscast on this title as Sienkiewicz. He never quite figures out what to do with the FF, and his stories fall into roughly three buckets. First, he tries to recapture the magic of Kirby/Lee’s run, an approach that contributed to the book’s stagnation under his predecessors. The stories involving familiar faces like the Skrulls and Namor are entirely forgettable. Second, he ventures into subjects reflective of his previous work with mixed success. One bizarre plotline focuses on Japanese-inspired mechas (with the FF as side characters at best) while another spotlights a Viking society with a half-hearted sci-fi twist to better suit the title. The most effective genre fusion is a backup from FF Annual #15 which shrewdly frames Doctor Doom’s return to power as a horror tale that echoes Frankenstein’s monster. (I struggle to call this an FF story though, as the team is entirely absent.)
Moench’s third approach, which he favors near the run’s end, is an attempt to infuse the FF’s sci-fi adventures with actual scientific concepts. The only real highlight of this run is “The Brain Parasites,” a story built around some amusingly goofy evolutionary ideas that explain strange creatures menacing a quiet lakeside community. Most of the time, Moench’s efforts to educate readers with “real science” devolve into overly verbose exposition reminiscent of seventh-grade science homework. I was particularly bored by his convoluted explanation of how black hole physics relate to a rampaging foe, Ebon Seeker. We get it, you read a book by Carl Sagan.
Exposition is a broader issue in Moench’s scripting. His pages may be even more verbose than Stan Lee’s. He rarely passes up an opportunity to slap an adjective onto a noun or state what is obvious from the art alone. Beyond exhausting readers, these long narrative boxes tend to crowd out the already-cramped art. Moench’s major emotional moments are also cringe-inducingly corny, even for the early-80s. All around, the writing feels confused and frankly dated. The final issue in the run is noticeably more readable and breezy, likely due to Roger Stern’s supposed involvement as co-writer.
So, Moench/Sienkiewicz on FF is a risky creative choice for FF that doesn’t pay off. I really can’t encourage anyone besides the most hardcore fans check out these issues. I’m hopeful that John Byrne’s run that follows will finally bring consistently high quality to the title. While Moench/Sienkiewicz (and every team since Kirby/Lee) struggle and fail to find the “secret sauce” of a good FF story, Byrne makes it look effortless as writer/artist of FF #220 – 221, which offers a preview of what’s to come. The team goes on a fun adventure that takes them to outer space and then to the North Pole, where they help a benevolent alien race called the Flb'Dbi return home. Byrne easily captures the team’s charming dynamic and gives Sue Storm a moment to shine (in contrast to Moench’s eye-rolling scripting of her). Above all else, this delightful story left me asking: why couldn’t Byrne take over this book a year earlier?