The Man-Thing receives little notice on the blogosphere these days, unless someone starts sniggering uncontrollably like Beavis & Butthead over the monster’s name …
Well, to be fair the “Most Startling Slime Creature Of All” does have a few things going against it.
Unlike the other swamp guy at Marvel’s Distinguished Competition, Man-Thing was never written by Alan Moore, didn’t provide the basis for a well-regarded brand of mature-themed comics and never got to lug Adrienne Barbeau and Heather Locklear around in schlocky - but admittedly fun - B-movies.
Still Fortress Fans, it would be a mistake to dismiss Man-Thing as Alec Holland’s trailer-trash cousin. First and foremost, the creature’s greatest stories were penned by an individual we consider every bit as brilliant as the justifiably acclaimed Mr. Moore - Steve Gerber.
Other bloggers are more qualified to extol Gerber’s talents, but we feel strongly enough about Howard The Duck’s creator to say he’s the best comics writer of the ’70s - a true pioneer in the movement to create “adult” - as opposed to “adult-themed,” thank you Ragnell for the distinction - comics for a mainstream audience.
Driven by a willingness to tackle just about any subject - no matter how taboo - Gerber invested his tales with elements of surrealism, satire, and social commentary.
Gerber comics weren’t necessarily pleasant reads, but more often than not they were memorable.
Which brings us dear friends to Man-Thing #19, yet another Marvel comic that freaked the @#$%^ out of your friendly host back in the day.
The issue opens with the muck monster and his ally, Gerber everyman Richard Rory, on the run due to events depicted in previous issues - a complicated story that involved book burnings and an insane viking.
Complicating matters, a young woman who runs off with Rory and the Man-Thing turns out to be a minor. (Marvel comics meets the Mann Act!)
As Rory’s life grows more chaotic, the Man-Thing slips off unnoticed. Drawn to a strong sense of sadness emanating from a home, the empathetic monster observes a dissatisfied housewife quietly - and mournfully - packing her bags. Gerber - aided greatly by Jim Mooney’s expressive art - quickly paints a compelling portrait of a woman compelled to abandon dead end marriage, even though the very act rips her soul apart .
Then, from out of nowhere, the woman is brutally attacked.
The Man-Thing’s intervention saves the woman’s life, but her mind is left in a vegetative state.
The assailant, infuriated by the interrupted, swears vengeance on the swamp monster and seeks out another victim to replenish his strength.
At this point, it would be natural for the reader to assume the unnamed villain is a “psychic vampire” or some other variation on an accepted sci-fi/horror trope.
However, Gerber isn’t interested in depicting a conventional or cheap shock. When the story’s antagonist - who calls himself, appropriately enough, The Scavenger - finds his next victim, the subsequent attack is brutal and disturbing …
There is a decidedly sexual component to this murder, and Gerber does not shy away from its implications. For all intents and purposes, the woman is raped emotionally and physically. She is stripped of her identity, dignity and very life.
At no moment is the act portrayed as anything other than tragic and disgusting. The artwork does not glamorize the violence, nor does the hero dramatically swear vengeance over the victim’s remains.
It is an awful act portrayed in an unflinching manner, and is infinitely more horrific than the brutal violence comic-book readers regularly find these days.
Meanwhile, the Man-Thing has caught up with Rory at a seedy motel. The monster’s appearance naturally causes a ruckus, but matters quickly go from bad to worse as the Scavenger also appears on the scene.
Intending to destroy the Man-Thing, the villain begins to torment bystanders and expresses his utter contempt for the world. He then unmasks, not to reveal the face of a demon but …
The crowd’s resulting emotions - fear, hatred and even sexual attraction - nearly paralyze the Man-Thing. Yet, as the Scavenger moves forward the monster detects yet another feeling - fear.
Underneath the insanity and hatred, the Scavenger still fears the Man-Thing. Anyone who has ever read a Marvel Comic in the ’70s knows what happens next …
The issue closes with a weeping Scavenger expressing his thanks, a bizarre note that adds yet more complexity to the story.
In later issues, the villain is shown to be a man who cannot experience physical sensations. The Scavenger’s curse drives him to a bargain with demons that grants him horrific powers.
That additional information is not Gerber’s way of making Scavenger sympathetic, though. We gain understanding of his acts, but there is no scene where the villain repents or even garners much sympathy.
It is just another example of the world Gerber’s characters inhabit, a world that is much too complex for standard “good vs. evil” philosophies but also holds more accountability to individuals than the “it’s a world of greys” stance adopted by most modern comic-book creators.
Justice, in the form of the Man-Thing’s touch, is delivered. The readers receive their catharsis, but are also left with questions that go deeper than whether or not Skrulls will appear in the next issue.
Although it doesn’t receive the (just) acclaim of Marvel’s fondly remembered Tomb of Dracula, Gerber’s Man-Thing is easily one of the greatest horror series of the ’70s.
In our minds, it wouldn’t be equaled until Alan Moore began scribing the adventures of the Swamp Thing years later. To our knowledge, Gerber’s series never received anything near the acclaim of Moore’s effort.
It’s a true shame, but like many of the writer’s work Man-Thing is probably too personal and iconoclastic to be honored/ripped off by later generations of writers.
Too bad. It’s a good example of the true “adult” comic that Marvel and DC strive for, but invariably fall short.
