The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen vol. 4: The Tempest

When this fourth volume was announced, it came with word that it was going to be Alan Moore’s final work in comics.  The writer’s official reason was that he didn’t want to start repeating himself, which is fair enough. Unspoken, I would think, would be his utter disgust at how he’s been treated over the years by the major comic companies — well, really just DC — and fans in general.  I’m not surprised that he’s stopping now, I’m surprised that he managed to stick around this long. So the strand of bitterness that makes its way through this fourth volume of “League” is certainly expected. Along with the dazzling technical prowess of the writer and Kevin O’Neill, the artist.  What I didn’t expect was for this final volume to be the first one where not getting all the references negatively impacted my enjoyment of the story.

If you want an explanation of why this series has been worth reading, I’ve got you covered.  The short(er) version is that Moore and O’Neill had the genius idea of creating a team of adventurers that included some of the most famous figures of Late 19th Century/Early 20th Century Literature:  Allan Quatermain, Doctor Jekyll, Captain Nemo, the Invisible Man, and their leader Mina Murray (formerly Harker). The first volume had them teaming up to fight Fu Manchu, until the real threat presented himself.  The even better second volume pitted them against the Martians in a “War of the Worlds.”

Moore’s confident and witty writing along with O’Neill’s distinctively inventive art made the series an instant hit.  There were a lot of articles by comics literati who talked about how the creators made these characters interesting again, always noting that they were the stars of the books that you were forced to read in school.  One of the key reasons I think this mash-up worked is because it all made sense that these characters should exist in the same world. They all hailed from the same literary period, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to think that they would all exist in the same world as well.  It’s an idea that just felt right to see on the page.

After these two volumes, the creators tried to do something different with the ones that followed.  “The Black Dossier” took the main story into the 50’s while supplements fleshed out the world’s origins and history, bringing in fictional characters from all sorts of eras.  Vol. 3 “Century” took place across three different timelines and worked in more of the worlds of fiction as well. The “League” wasn’t about one specific era of literature anymore.  Its scope had broadened to include all of fiction in all of its mediums.

(In between vols. 3 & 4, we got three “Nemo” graphic novellas.  They were good fun, even if they suffered from the “need to get all of the references” problem that this volume has.  To a much lesser extent.)

It was an ambitious leap by the creators, but a necessary one in order to keep the series interesting.  It’s not hard to imagine some parallel universe where Mina’s League kept fighting different literary threats of their era in the volumes after two and everyone just got bored with it.  To take their original premise and extrapolate from it a world where all of fiction co-exists together is an impressive achievement from a perspective of writing and art. Love it or hate it, you have to respect the level of skill that the creators have invested into this concluding volume.

Note that I said “respect,” not “enjoy.”  What crushes much of the latter out of vol. 4 is how it feels like getting the references is now a required part of the reading experience.  There are lots of familiar faces on display: Mina is back, as is Orlando, and they’re joined by Emma Night (the “League” version of Emma Peel from the 60’s British “The Avengers” TV series).  Nemo’s great-grandson Jack also gets a rather substantial role here, and there are even a couple cameos that I won’t spoil here. Oh, and Jimmy Bond is back. Rejuvenated and ready to make you forget all about his replacements.

Yet there are also characters like Hugo Coughlan, who’s a mixture of comic strip character Hugo Hercules and Irish demigod Cu Chulainn — which is something I had to look up on the “League” wiki.  Where I was also reminded that he showed up in the third “Nemo” book. There are also a ton of thinly veiled references to comic book characters like Martian Manhunter, Doctor Strange, and even Marvelman (who became Miracleman when his Moore-written comics were brought to America).  Some of these characters, like Hugo, have enough personality to overcome their thin characterization. Others only have the tension between their “League” and actual incarnations going for them.

Oh, and then there are characters like “J-R4,” the fourth replacement Jimmy Bond, who looks like Woody Allen.  In order to get that joke, you need to remember that Allen played Bond’s son, also named Jimmy, in the 60’s comedy version of “Casino Royale.”  No, knowing that isn’t necessary to your enjoyment of this volume. The problem is that there are DOZENS of characters like “J-R4” hanging around in the margins of the story.  They’re like jokes that never quite land because you don’t get the reference and they’re all exactly as distracting as that sounds.

As for the story itself, well, it’s probably for the best that it’s as straightforward as it is.  Trying to do any fancy narrative shenanigans likely would’ve caused the story to collapse under the weight of their artistic ambitions and all the references they’ve crammed in.  It boils down to Jimmy deciding that there are too many superhumans in the world and the best way to get rid of them is to cut them off at their source: The Blazing World. Meanwhile, the World’s ruler Prospero has his own plans for how to deal with an ungrateful world  This leaves Mina’s crew to thread the needle of this conflict and make it out with their lives.

If there’s one thing I liked about the story, it’s that it ends as badly for humanity as it can without outright murdering everyone in the process.  Our heroes don’t just fail to save the world… well, to say anymore would be telling. Perversely, Moore and O’Neill send off every member of the main cast either married or in love at the end with the acknowledgement that this makes everything okay.  It doesn’t, but you’re still left gobsmacked by the fact that they went and did it anyway.

That the volume ends with Earth succumbing to an armageddon of fiction, its inhabitants subsumed by the fantasies they once thought were harmless, is just one sign of Moore’s bitterness towards the comics medium.  Other, more pointed jabs include Hugo’s fight in the jungle with proto-Superman Hugo Danner, and his remark that “An age o’ men like you sounds interminable.” Or the Elric stand-in’s assertion that humanity’s fascination with supermen has caused them to think they are incapable of achieving greatness for themselves.  Which I believe is something Moore has actually said.

Again, I can’t hold it against more for feeling this way.  His treatment by the comics industry and its fans has been frankly abominable.  You would think that the writer who brought a previously unseen maturity to the medium and helped start it on the road to respectability it’s still traveling today would’ve received a better deal from the industry.  Better than the one he got with “Watchmen,” or finding himself forced to work again with DC (and suffer their interference) after they bought his America’s Best Comics imprint via their purchase of Wildstorm. If anyone’s put off by this bitterness that seeps from vol. 4 of “League,” just remember this:  It’s there because we earned it.

Yet it’s also worth noting that even after all of his criticisms of the superhero genre, Moore still has some affection for it.  There’s no way we would’ve got the “Seven Stars” story that runs parallel to the main story in this volume otherwise. While it does have some relevance to that main story, it’s mainly just another chance for Moore and O’Neill to have one last bit of fun with the genre.  I may be misreading their intentions, but I find it hard to think otherwise when their story’s climax rests upon a fat giant schoolboy trying to eat a chthonic space mass.

Then you have the epilogue:  Four pages of Moore and O’Neill touring the history of what they’ve built.  Rather than self-indulgent, it feels sweet to see them acknowledge what they’ve created, warts and all.  They mention the good times at the start, talk about when fans started to complain in regards to the series’ direction, and take some playful jabs at each other along the way.  Even if much of “The Tempest” feels like a dirge towards our world and the way in which the creators wish it would end, the epilogue lets you know that they had a lot of fun dishing it up.  I’m glad they did. I just wish I’d had more fun reading it. At least this isn’t their “final” final work for the medium.