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Bowing Down to Our Masters
posted Tuesday, 5 December 2006
I didn't own a single Masters of the Universe figure during my childhood and I can't think of a single good reason why. During my prime playing-with-toys (as opposed to toy collecting) years Mattel's most successful boy-centric line easily ranked with Transformers, GI Joe, Star Wars and Kenner's Super Powers as the most popular toys on the Mee-Yah-Noh elementary school playground. During that time I had a ton of Joes (both characters and vehicles), a vast army of Jedi and Imperial forces and a whole Justice League's worth of DC metahumans, but not one denizen from the land of Eternia. True, my collection of Transformers was almost as bankrupt, as I only had one lone Autobot (and one of the cheap lame ones at that) but at least the line was marginally represented in my bedroom. Not so with the MoTU, as I never once had a single He-Man or Skeletor to my name.
It wasn't that I disliked the brand. I watched the half-hour advertisements cartoons just as studiously as the rest of my peers and frequently played the part of Man-At-Arms (or sometimes Orko) in our recess recreations of our favourite episodes. Whenever I visited a friend who had all of the figures I played with them as enthusiastically as I did with my own action figures; even more so, since they were--to my hands--exotic and unique. Why then didn't I own any? I have no idea, beyond the possibility that they might have offended the sensibilities of my mother, who ultimately decided which toys ended up in my possession.
The reason I'm admitting this to you is to explain the strange sense of detachment I have to this much-cherished part of my generation's youth. I am as familiar with the MoTU universe as any 31 year-old North American male, yet it was never a crucial part of my life. My relationship to the He-Man mythos is akin to Canada's relationship to the United States--I know far more about it than I reasonably should, but only as an observer and not a participant.
Still, despite this detachment, I couldn't resist picking up a copy of DC Comics Presents #47 (July 1982) when I found it in a bin at a nearby comic book emporium. Like Brave and the Bold , DC Comics Presents was a team-up book, but in this case the emphasis was on Superman rather than Batman. In most cases the Man of Steel teamed up with a tradtional DC superhero (for example in issues #18 and 19, which I also recently purchased, he teamed up with Zatanna and Batgirl respectively), but with issue #47 the company decided to depart from the status quo and make the kind of synergistic play that Marvel had been profiting from for years.
By the time this issue came out, Marvel was already publishing Rom (1, 2 and 3) and Micronauts (1, 2 and 3), two series that had originally started out as essentially full-length comic book advertisements for new toylines, but that had taken on a life of their own thanks to the work of writer Bill Mantlo. Ironically both series lasted longer in the marketplace than the toys that had inspired them. Given their success, it comes as no surprise that DC would want to follow suit. The company had previously attempted to launch a title based on a toy back in 1968, but Captain Action only lasted five issues before it was canceled. Clearly in 1982 it was time to try again.
Mattel's Masters of the Universe line had first appeared on toy shelves the previous year and in its original incarnation possessed little of the mythology that would latter define the brand. Originally Mattel had planned on developing a toyline based on Robert E. Howard's Conan the Barbarian, but eventually decided that the character was too violent to be marketed to children. But rather than abandon the concept completely they instead redesigned their main hero into a blonde bodybuilder they dubbed He-Man. During the line's initial launch, each figure was accompanied by a mini-comic that explicated the characters personalities and alliances. In these comics there was no mention of a world called Eternia and He-Man was presented as a heroic wandering barbarian and not the secret alter-ego of an immature prince.
Capitalizing on the FCC's recent loosening of rules regarding the educational content of children's programming, Mattel decided to promote their new line in as many mediums as they could. Filmation Studios was hired to begin production on an animated Masters of the Universe TV show and DC Comics picked up the license for a possible new comic book series, which they would preview through one of their two Team-Up anthologies, as well as a free promotional insert to be included with their other comics. Since the setting and the characters of MoTU made for a poor fit with the dark gritty noir of Batman, it was decided He-Man would join forces with Superman instead.
Since issue #47 of DC Comics Presents was written at the same time as the animated series was being developed, it is unclear how much it is responsible for what would become many of the cornerstones of the MoTU mythology. That said, the fact that it debuted before the cartoon first aired does make it significant. In its 17 pages it not only introduces the land of Eternia, but also the character of Prince Adam, He-Man's ne'er-do-well public identity.
But that's enough of all-that fancy book-learnin' analysis! Let's get to the comic!
Our story begins in "The royal city of the world called Eternia," where the fun-loving prince of the land is being trained in the ways of combat by the stern Man-At-Arms.
The prince's immaturity drives his lifelong teacher into an angry fit, causing him to storm off as his daughter and "the newest member of the Royal Guard," the beautious Teela, arrives to call out the prince as the bitch he so clearly is.
It is here where we get a sense of how different this version of the Prince Adam character is from his descedents. Here he is presented as a scoundral who is far more interested in wenches, ale and having a rousing good time than being an upstanding member of Eternia's royal family, while in later incarnations he is instead presented as either a pampered wuss or--in the most recent case--an actual teenager who bears no resemblence at all to the warrior within him. Of all of these variations of the character, this first one presented above is easily the most problematic. While the Superman/Clark Kent dynamic proves that it is possible for a character to keep a secret identity using little more than a change of confidence and attitude, this version of Prince Adam is far too similar to his heroic alter-ego to credibly stop anyone from determining that they are one and the same. Since they both look exactly alike and evidently possess the same level of physical strength (note the ease with which he knots the iron bar), all that seperates them is a sense of responsibility and that is simply not enough for the deception to work.
Oddly, this is made explicitly clear when the next page details the lengths Superman goes to hide his secret identity--as he deliberately trips over a TV camera cable to burnish the illusion of Clark Kent's complete lack of grace.
Now that's how you maintain a secret identity! (Note: It could be suggested that a better link could be made between this version of Prince Adam and the carefree, bachelor playboy lifestyle of Bruce Wayne, but the key difference is that Wayne USES A FUCKING MASK to disguise his true identity, while the only discernable difference between the prince and He-Man is a change of wardrobe.)
Returning now to Eternia, the prince attempts to enjoy himself at a local tavern with his talking pet green tiger, Cringer, at his side, but his reverie is soon interupted by the unwanted attention of a local ruffian named The Crusher, who is fully aware of and not all impressed by Adam's noble rank. Unfortunately their fight is ended before it can even begin.
I just wanted to say at this point that even in 1982 it took balls of steel to unironically write down the word 'mayhap' in a piece of spoken dialogue. My hats off to credited writer Paul Kupperberg--you sir had serious onions.
It comes as little surprise that the person responsible for stopping the fight is none other than Teela, the hottest member of the Royal Guard.
Before the prince has a chance to chide the impudent wench for spoiling his fun, his attention is diverted by the sight of a falcon flying in the distance. Knowing what this signal means, he quickly steals himself away from his lovely protectoress.
The prince makes his way to a (presumably) secret cave where he is greeted by an (at-this-point) unnamed sorceress who transforms him and his pet into their heroic aliases (and by transform, I mean, changes Adam's clothes and gives Cringer a funky looking helmet) and tells them that they are needed to once again thwart the evil intentions of "the demonic Skeletor."
Speaking of Skeletor....
He is, at that very moment, attempting to gain access into the mysterious Castle Grayskull (which has oddly always been presented as being slightly green) with his favorite lickspittle Beastman at his side. Even though the laws of Grayskull demands that he possess both halves of the power sword to enter the castle, Skeletor decides he is above such petty details and proceeds to try and break-in with only one half of the required key. The consequences are, it must be said, completely unintended.
Due to the magical nature of the storm cloud, Superman finds himself pulled out of his dimension and into one he never knew existed.
True to character, Skeletor wastes no time at all to assess the situation before he decides to attack the Man of Steel.
Gee, I cannot help but wonder, what possible reason could there be for the similarity between Eternia's spoken tongue and English?
I'm surprised that they aren't speaking Interlac instead....
For a time it seems like Superman is going to make short work out of his newfound foes, but Skeletor is not Skeletor because he is good at Scrabble. Using the magic of his half of the Power Sword (can you guess who wields the other half?) he is able to send Supes flying off into the Eternian skyline.
When the son of Jor-El finally lands, he is spotted by Eternia's own muscle-bound protector, who is searching for Skeletor at that very moment. After a (very) brief introductory chat (during which we learn that Prince Adam--like Mr. Spock--is half-earthling), the two of them decide to join up in their attempt to take down the blue-skinned, skull-faced miscreant.
Along with Man-At-Arms, who joins them in a very marketable looking flying contraption, they make their way to Castle Grayskull, where Skeletor is still attempting to break inside of its mysterious walls. Unfortunately for our heroes, he now knows that the stranger in the bizarre costume is susceptible to magic and he proceeds to let loose with a whammy that definitely throws a curveball into their plans.
And thusly enzappened, Superman is unable to stop himself from attacking his own ally.
Truly this is a battle meant to give all of the fanboys around the world the most glorious of erections!
Admit it, you're feeling a little tingle in your privates, aren't ya?
Thankfully, Superman possesses a superpowerful will to go along with his other superpowerful attributes and he is able to use his superpowerful heat vision to encase his enemy in "a supertough stone prison" of his own making.
This, of course, turns out to be a futile gesture since no prison can ever hold Skeletor for too long.
But before the villain can do anymore damage, Superman sweeps him off of his feet and into the sky. Thus defeated, Skeletor vanishes in Superman's arms, vowing that he has only just begun to fight and will soon return to his dastardly ways.
Our heroes' victory is short and sweet, since Superman has to return to Earth and this is the last page of the story (the remainder of the issue to be dedicated to answering the oft-asked question "Whatever Happened to Sandy the Golden Boy?"). Using his superpowerful supervision, Superman spots a convenient space warp in the distance and He-Man waves goodbye as he suggests they might someday meet again.
It pretty much goes without saying that a comic like this would never be published today--at least not like this. I could see DC publishing a MoTU/Superman cross over comic (with both a kick ass Alex Ross cover and a Michael Turner varient) today, but it would doubtlessly be an Elseworlds title--that is to say, not meant to be part of the company's regular continuity. But in the bronze-age it seemed perfectly acceptable that so craven a crossover as this could be a part of the DC universe. Had the experiment truly worked out there surely would have been even more similar team-ups in the future--it would have been just a matter of time before Wonder Woman and Teela joined forces and Skeletor and Darkseid banded together to harness the power of the anti-life equation. But t'was not to be. The DC MoTU comic was short-lived and the wonderful multiverse silliness that allowed for both the dark, noirish Batman of Detective Comics to exist alongside with the smiling boyscout of The Super Friends was obliterated in the Crisis of Multiple Earths. A few years later Marvel picked up the MoTU license, but unlike what they did with Rom and Micronauts, they deliberately kept the series out of their continuity by publishing it under their for-younger-readers Star Comics imprint.
And having written all of this, I'm truly amazed by how much I know about a subject I have no real nostalgic connection to. Sure, I got a lot of help from wikipedia, but damn if I don't need to start filling up my brain with some useful information asap!
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