Space Age Bachelor Pad

We Hate The ’90s

It’s no secret. The decade that brought us Nirvana and Goodfellas was less kind to comics.

Sporting plots that were little more than random acts of violence, gimmicky “collectors item” covers and krappy-kewl artwork, the era was a vast wasteland somewhat ameliorated by such relatively obscure efforts as Supreme and Untold Tales Of Spider-Man.

The one comic, though, that best sums up the ’90s for us is Eclipso #13 - an undeniable turd that managed to outdo Jim Lee’s X-Men for pointlessness and Rob Liefeld’s Brigade for stupidity.

The series was a follow-up to the equally awful Eclipso: The Darkness Within crossover that dominated DC’s annuals one fateful summer.

Why do we hate this comic? Let us count the ways …

1. It took a perfectly decent Jekyll/Hyde-style villain and portrayed him as a bloodthirsty demon sporting an over-sized codpiece.
2. The Creeper - Steve Ditko’s friggin’ Creeper - is brutally murdered! Thankfully, it didn’t stick.
3. As seen above, Eclipso #13 marked the ignoble end of DC’s previous attempt to add diversity to its pantheon of heroes. Let’s hope Ryan Choi, Jaime Reyes, Jason Rusch and Kate Spencer have brighter futures ahead.
4. The awkward and ugly art resembles Bart Sears’ work, but it’s actually an imitator! You can’t get much worse than that.
5. We really don’t want to think about number five.

Ahhh, it’s no use. The Keeper can’t continue.

It’s all in the past, right? DC is wiser now. They would never commit to such tripe again.

Or would they?!?

Digging In The Dirt

Perhaps we already forfeited any claim to good taste by defending Brother Voodoo, but it’s time to reveal another deep, dark secret: The Keeper is a big fan of Dirt, the trashier-than-trash tabloid drama starring Courteney Cox.

It’s not because the show is particularly edgy or insightful. Although Dirt aspires to be the Nip/Tuck of the Enquirer nation, Cox (the former Friend is one of the program’s producers) lacks the guts to truly go for the jugular.

The symbiotic relationship between celebrities and tabloid journalism is acknowledged but barely explored. Complicating matters, the actors portraying Dirt’s fictional celebrities do not possess enough charisma to convince viewers they’re anything more than soap opera wannabes.

So why follow Dirt? Two reasons: Ian Hart as schizophrenic paparazzo Don Conkey and Cox herself.

Although Hart has the misfortune of wading through a series of pretentious dream sequences, he inhabits the quirky character with enough skill to give the show a genuine heart, if not a moral center.

Cox will never be confused with Meryl Streep, but she’s a better actress than critics acknowledge.

The Artist Formerly Known as Monica is believeable as the tough, take-no-prisoners Lucy Spiller - a tabloid editor who’s somewhat admirable even though she behaves reprehensibly throughout the series. At the very least, Spiller is honest about her ruthlessness - a trait noticably absent from every other character on the show.

Cox, who appears eager to shed her Friendly persona, delves into the role head-first - taking visible delight in walking over has-been starlets and would-be moguls.

The season finale, which aired Tuesday, left open a few possibilities for improvement if the series returns.

Although the much-hyped kiss between Cox and Jennifer Aniston was barely worth noticing, the presence of another strong star illustrated that Spiller’s character desperately needs a foil.

Aniston’s rival editor - all sugar to Cox’s spice - added a necessary degree of tension to the story. You just knew Jen wasn’t as nice as she appeared, and when her character finally stabbed Spiller in the back it was all the more satisfying.

Although Aniston and Cox are two of Hollywood’s more notable BFFs, you know that “Rachel” has bigger fish to fry. Still, Dirt would do well to find another TV icon capable of going one-on-one with Cox.

Is Heather Locklear available, by chance?

Which leads us to our second point: how Dirt’s big cliff-hanger evoked the glory days of Dynasty and Melrose Place. Rather than try - and fail - to match Nip/Tuck’s scandalous chic, the program should just abandon any pretense of quality and head straight to the soaps.

We already have a Nip/Tuck, after all. What this generation really needs is another Melrose.

Whack A Mole

Everybody hates Iron Man …

Even Iron Man hates Iron Man!

The Trouble With Tobor

Inspiration is a funny thing.

Plenty of blog-worthy items emerged last week - a controversial Supergirl appearance, that ’70s meme and the triumphant return of It! The Living Colossus to name but three - but nothing prodded the interest of yours truly.

Fortunately, the Internet is a vast and mysterious realm that holds many surprises. Just as your Friend in the Fortress was set to take few days off, a Blog@Newsarama item managed to ignite our rusty synapses.

Buried beneath a “no-duh” entry on Willam Moulton Marston (He enjoyed unconventional relationships with women? Who’da thunk!) was a brief mention of 8th Man - a robotic super-hero with a human brain.

The reference doesn’t go much beyond the character’s reliance on cigarettes (!) to recharge his batteries, but was enough to jog the memories of an old-school anime fan weened on Astro Boy, Kimba The White Lion and Gigantor.

Years before Paul Verhoeven stumbled acrosss a similar concept, Kazumasa Hirai and Jiro Kuwata spun the tale of a police detective who was brutally murdered by gangsters and resurrected as an android.

The detective - now known as “8th Man” - possessed super-speed and could shape-shift at will. Rather than reveal his new identity to family and friends, the hero returned to the police force in disguise and waged a lonely war against crime.

According to Wikipedia, Hirai and Kutwata’s manga series ran from 1963-66. We remember the character, though, from the black-and-white cartoon series that was imported to the United States a few years later.

(The newly Americanized hero also received the name “Tobor” - a typical touch of Silver Age subtlety.)

Of course, the young Fortress Keeper was, amazed by Tobor’s predicament. A reluctant hero who kept himself isolated from those he loves? For a child who had yet to read a Spider-Man comic, the concept was revolutionary.

Plus, 8th Man was a robot - a fact that is simply awesome in any day and age.

There were also mad scientists, damsels in distress and killer robots that disguised themselves as briefcases. (Take that, Transformers … )

Clearly, the cartoon played a major role in our socialization - or lack thereof.

Even after we had grown and dedicated ourselves to more “mature” pursuits (such as … um … collecting Machine Man comics), we fondly recalled the hero’s adventures and wondered why others didn’t share our enthusiasm.

In fact, Mrs. Keeper didn’t even believe 8th Man existed until we found a VHS recording of the series a few years ago at Le Video in San Francisco.

The show was definitely dated (i.e. the hero’s cigarette-shaped “energy pills”) but - much like those groovy Spider-Man cartoons of the ’60s - 8th Man served as a welcome reminder of why your humble host originally fell in love with super-heroes.

You can’t ask much more from nostalgia, right?