I've never read been much of a Fantastic Four reader, and even now I was mostly baited into reading Annual #1 because it contains an appearance by Spider-Man. The appearance in question is just a re-telling of the cross-over from The Amazing Spider-Man #1, but the main story turned out to be a great topic of contemplation. Here, I found some of the origins of what would set Marvel's storytelling (when it was really good) apart from the rest, and the beginnings of narrative dynamics going beyond good guys fighting bad guys.
Fantastic Four Annual #1:
"Sub-Mariner Versus the Human Race!"
- Writers: Stan Lee
- Artists: Jack Kirby & Dick Ayers
- Editor: Stan Lee
- Publication Date: July 2, 1963
- Cover Date: September 1963
I'm used to treating the old Annuals as second-rate products, primarily because they tend to break from the continuity of the main story of the titles they represent: more often than not, it seems like the Annual stories were written with no certainty about what would be happening in the mainline comics at the time of its publication. This exact quirk, however, is why I think I was able to get into FF Annual #1 as smoothly as I was: it didn't matter if I had no idea what was going on in the characters' lives or which foe they just fought, because this was a completely separate adventure, independent of any continuity or expectation of foreknowledge.
Approaching it with an open mind, I found to my surprise that the tight story, motivated by character and circumstance, which I had so adored in issues such as Avengers #1 and The Amazing Spider-Man #3 (but found missing in the Iron Man stories found in Tales of Suspense), was present front and center here in this Fantastic Four story. Based on just this one book, I can't make the assumption that this was always the case with FF, but I took it as an indication that Stan Lee and Jack Kirby were putting more of their effort into plotting and writing this comic than they might have with the anthologies that were there mostly to fill publication slots -- and why wouldn't they, this being the title that broke through and became Marvel's flagship property?
By tightness of story, I don't necessarily mean there's no fluff -- we spend a somewhat indulgent number of panels watching the Thing and the Human Torch brawl around the FF headquarters. The brawl serves a purpose in reminding us that Ben and Johnny don't get along, and also to trigger Reed Richards to suggest they take a cruise to unwind (without considering that maybe it would be best for the two rivals to not be locked on the same ship), but it didn't need to be quite so long to accomplish that.
What I do mean is that it's pushed forward by character agency and organic causal sequences. A weaker story from this era would frequently need to be nudged towards a desired direction by the barely invisible hand of the author, but here each new scene feels like a natural consequence of what came before, and characters make decisions that are consistent with who they are and believable as human behavior.
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| Art by Jack Kirby and Dick Ayers. © Marvel Comics. |
The strength of the writing here doesn't really become apparent until we begin zooming in on Namor, the story's antagonist. I never cared much for Namor, not having any personal connection or a reason to be interested, but this story did a surprisingly good job of selling the character in a way that changed my entire perspective on him. This isn't the first appearance of the character -- in fact, Namor predates even the Fantastic Four itself by decades -- but I'm going to make a guess that this was more or less the time when the character got good.
Namor is dynamic in more ways than one: not only is he caught between humans and Atlanteans biologically and culturally, which comes into play at the end of the story, he's also not as much of a villain as most antagonists would be at this time in comics history. He's not looking to harm anybody, even to serve what he considers the greater good. He just wants to establish a sort of sovereignty and untouchability for his people, and he pushes it just a little bit too much for humankind's liking. He wants peace, but he wants it on his terms, and that's the root of the entire conflict. It's a tale of socio-political friction and mistrust, not good and evil.
Add to this a scene where Dorma, Namor's promised bride, argues that Namor "belongs" to Atlantis despite being a half-breed, and you got a rather profound contemplation of social belonging, cultural hegemony, and selective reasoning to justify political claims. I'm gonna consider it safe to say that this kind of complexity regarding the antagonist of a story was rare not just in comics, but in popular culture storytelling.
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| Art by Jack Kirby and Dick Ayers. © Marvel Comics. |
This story also has one of the most powerful endings of a silver age comic book I've seen. After the Atlanteans' attack on the surface is halted and Namor fights the Fantastic Four head-on, the battle is interrupted by Sue Storm's life being threatened. Namor takes control of his forces' command ship in order to fly her to safety before it's too late. After we wrap up with the Fantastic Four celebrating their victory, we witness Namor returning to his home, only to find the city deserted -- every last one of the Atlanteans who only just professed to being his loyal subjects have turned their backs on him for showing compassion to a human.
What's astonishing about this ending that we sacrifice the triumph of FF's victory in favor of concluding in a moment of loss, regret, and sorrow. It's sad and bitter, and we don't feel good about Namor's defeat, even if we rooted against him in his battle against the Fantastic Four. This was a bold, disruptive ending.
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| Art by Jack Kirby and Dick Ayers. © Marvel Comics. |
Also interesting is the broader structure of the story, where the heroes deflect an invading Atlantean army with a machine developed by Reed Richards that evaporates the vital water in the land-suits worn by the attackers: in many stories, this would happen at the end, but here we still have a third of the story left when the army is driven back. The sequence ends with Namor seizing Sue and taking her to Atlantis, prompting the FF to pursue -- this kind of pacing is familiar from modern action movies, where the second act would culminate in the big battle, which the heroes would win, but a twist for the worse triggers the ramp-up to the final act.
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| Art by Jack Kirby and Dick Ayers. © Marvel Comics. |
Speaking of Sue Storm as a prisoner, that's one of the few elements in this issue that don't quite come together: Sue does nothing the entire story even when she's there, and for the last stretch she's taken out of the action entirely when Namor captures her. I know Stan was able to utilize Sue better when he wanted to, so it's disappointing she was trivialized here. On a positive note, she did have the instrumental role of declaring the thematic core of the story: she repeatedly voices her wish that nobody be harmed, even Namor who is positioned as her enemy, bringing focus to how neither side actually wants the other to suffer.
It's not just the story doing the heavy lifting though -- Jack Kirby's art makes every action scene engaging, exciting, and enjoyable. While I consider Steve Ditko the superior artist in terms of layouting and overall visual storytelling, Kirby's cartoonist chops give the fight scenes a kinetic, mobile, and fluid energy. They're fun, which isn't a given in a comic book action sequence in my experience, and the little weird gimmicks and details -- like Namor using an unconscious Reed Richards as a massive candle snuffer to choke out Johnny Storm's flame (while mid-air of course) -- are some of the precious few times that I have felt the excitement of an action scene rather than just treating it as a vehicle for some funny banter and waiting for the conclusion. The action melds in with the narrative, never interrupting it.
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| Art by Jack Kirby and Dick Ayers. © Marvel Comics. |
The Fantastic Four as characters themselves have never particularly interested me, and to be honest, this issue didn't do much to change that. What it did do, though, is reveal the strength of the writing in Fantastic Four in other departments: the story of Annual #1 is one of the stronger ones I've read from this era, and I'm practically reeling from how hard Namor hit me as a complex, conflicted and dynamic character. In an age where an antagonist not being 100% evil was uncommon, Namor stands out as a uniquely nuanced character: an anti-hero before the concept was popular, and even that feels like an over-simplification of what makes him engaging.
While I'm not hurrying to start a read-through of the entire FF series anytime soon, I have a newfound appreciation for the property -- particularly in Stan's hands -- for the thematic texture displayed here. Even The Amazing Spider-Man didn't always go this hard with a broader message or a contemplation of a complicated subject. I know my path will cross again with Marvel's first family during this re-read, and when it does, I'll be sure to pay close attention to how the strengths and potential shown in this issue have developed.
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