Disclaimer: Yes, there are minor spoilers in my explaining the plot, but for the most part, they're confined to Issue One. Of a six part miniseries. So, I don't consider it a big deal. But there are spoilers. Enjoy.
With all the big news happening between the Big Two, one of the great things that slipped through the cracks in the past couple of weeks was that Starlight finally ended. Now, I realize that there are several people who didn't bother with this comic once they realized Mark "Put That In Your Shipping Date And Smoke It" Millar was writing it. I also realize there were people who gave up on it at some point because with Mark Millar, it's only a matter of time before you end up waiting three months for the story wrap up. Well, I'm happy to report that those of you who though Millar wouldn't come through on time (myself included) were wrong and those of you who didn't give this a shot in the first place really missed out on some good reading.
No matter how you feel about Millar's work (no, I'm not going to bring up Civil War because everytime you talk about what worked and didn't work with Civil War, you find yourself in an hour long debate about Civil War and I'm way too sober for that), you should take it as a high recommendation on my part in saying that this is some of his best stuff by far. The main complaints that come from a lot of the comics Millar writes is that:
a). They're overly cynical- Remember the time Iron Man, maybe the most irresponsible superhero of all time, was put in charge of the government oversight of all superheroism? Or the time in Ultimate Comics when the Hulk was a black drug dealer named Tyrone Cash? Or when Kick-Ass turned out to be Millar taking a piss at cosplayers, characterizing them as sociopathic jerks detached from reality.
b). They get away from their own points.- Remember when Civil War started off with the Superhero Registration Act in place, putting certain heroes on the run as enemies of the state and then ENDED with the Superhero Registration Act in place, putting certain heroes on the run as enemies of the state.
c). They spend a lot of time deconstructing superhero culture- Wanted: What if the bad guys had already won decades ago and were just ruling the world out of sheer boredom? Civil War: What if the government got involved because superheroes were a bunch of reckless glory hounds breaking shit all the time (even though they've been getting the job done for 40 years prior to Civil War)? Nemesis: What if Batman were the greatest villain ever?
Well, Millar rails against a lot of his worst habits except (c) because Starlight is a deconstruction (and really, only a minor one) of old school, pulp space opera heroes like Flash Gordon, John Carter and Buck Rogers. Duke McQueen is what I imagine Captain America would grow up to be like if he ever aged. A well-meaning, ass kicking old war horse who has a serious problem with bullies. As a young man, McQueen was an Air Force pilot who'd been sucked out halfway across the galaxy to a remote planet, Tantalus. While there, he'd fought alongside the people there to defeat an evil tyrant and liberate their world. He finally went home as their greatest hero. Of course, when he returned...nobody here on Earth believed him. Nobody except his loving wife.
Many years later, his kids are grown adults who ignore him almost completely, sick of his outer space tales, his wife has passed and he finds himself trying to adjust to his life as an old man with awkward results at best. One day, he receives a visit from some kid claiming he's from Tantalus and that his world needs McQueen once again.
In Starlight, Millar finds a more nuanced, mature voice than we're used to from the writer of Wanted. His characters, even the minor ones, even the evil ones, all feel genuine on one level or another with less of his trademark bravado. This is all most notably so in the case of our hero.
I apologize in advance, but for this point I'm making, the best example I can come up with is The Expendables. This movie was one of my least favorite cinematic experiences EVER in my 31 years of owning a pair of eyes because it didn't completely deliver on what was promised. If you'd believed early marketing, you'd have thought you were getting a bunch of old tough guys shaking off the cobwebs, showing the youngsters how it's done. And in fairness, there was some of that, but there was also a LOT of whining. I swear there was a whole five minutes where Jet Li went on a whole diatribe about how much it sucks to be short. The thing a lot of movie writers don't seem to understand (aside from the fact that whining is NOT always the same as actual character development) is that when your lead character can swordfight with space pirates or fly a cargo plane into heavy gunfire, whining doesn't make your character relatable or "an everyman." It kinda makes him a pussy.
Duke McQueen understands this a lot. Granted, he has a hard time believing all of this is showing up right at this time in his life, but he never truly resists. I mean what does have to complain about. He's still pretty spry, he's built like a linebacker and he has a stature erected in his honor. Any reservation he has about taking up the "hero" mantle again fade away fast. McQueen is rarely unsure of himself or a stumbling over his words. You won't find a scene where he's captured by the enemy, void of hope, doubting whether he was ever of sound mind to take this adventure on again. He knows the people fighting behind him can't afford to hear that shit or else nothing will get done. He doesn't just believe in himself but also his ability to inspire other people to save themselves.
Because, ultimately, whether it's Batman always believing there's a way to win even after all options have been exhausted, Superman's tireless belief in the better angels of humanity's nature or Spider-Man's belief in doing what's right even when it sucks and people may hate him for it....belief is one of the greatest abilities a hero can have.
In this same regard, the story itself carries that same virtue. Rarely rude, gory, vulgar or cynical (all of which are things often associated with Millar), Starlight ends up being less of a send-up of an old genre and becomes a worthy successor. Though the tough old swashbuckler never questions his ultimate purpose, Millar, doesn't ask if heroes like this still exist so much as questions whether or not we still have the capacity to believe in them. And, at their heart, this is one of the primary functions of comics (the truly good ones, anyway). And that's what Starlight is: a return to belief. Because we can always use a little more of that, right?
