This column
normally takes a look at obscure comics. For every every sixth month,
instead of taking a look at a comic that nobody talks about, this
special edition will take a look at a comic I feel not enough people
talk about.
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COPRA
by Michel
Fiffe
2012 - Present
Contains
minor Spoilers
If you've
been into comics for a reasonable amount of time, especially
superhero comics, then discovering a story that involves thinly
veiled versions of pre-existing characters will come across as
nothing new. Heck, it's common knowledge by now that Watchmen,
considered by many to be the Citizen Kane of comic books, was
originally conceived as involving a bunch of Charlton Comics
characters that had been recently acquired by DC before Alan Moore
decided to change them in order to tell a more definitive, daring
story.
Still, the
act of 'poaching' characters from other publishing lines and altering
them just enough not to trigger a copyright case is, if not looked
down upon, certainly considered less artistically valid than creating
a cast of unique characters from whole cloth. In instances where the
duplication is more blatant, then the more people view the writer's
legitimacy as suspect (See basically anything Rob Liefeld created for
his Extreme Comics line.)
In this
regard it is somewhat difficult to explain why COPRA is one of the
most fantastic, unique and creative comics out there, because, gun to
my head, if I had to explain it in one sentence it would be "Suicide
Squad with the serial numbers filed off." And to be fair Fiffe
has no interest in disguising these inspirations. The story follows a
top secret government taskforce led by a stern, stout black woman
who's only different from Amanda Waller because she's called Sonia
Stone. Deadshot, Deathstroke, Vixen and more, the line that Fiffe is
willing to walk at times feels almost arbitrary.
Of course
this is all in service on one singular goal; to write the greatest
Suicide Squad story that DC Comics would never allow him to write.
Unburdened by corporate oversight, publisher targets and the cyclical
nature of comic book continuity, Fiffe is limited by only his own
imagination, and folks, let him take you down because we're going
to...
1987 was
the year that John Ostrander's run on Suicide Squad began, and is
considered by many to be the definitive take on the characters and
setting. Hailed at the time for being dark and uncompromising, and
willing to kill off it's characters permanently at a moment's notice,
it's a formula that many later revivals have tried and failed to
replicate, not least because the series has become somewhat of a
Harley Quinn side comic in recent years. DC's own editorial mandates
have ensured that the kind of environment that might produce such a
comic might never be seen again.
And so,
stepping from the shadows like a nebulous government agent, came
Michel Fiffe, a renegade who answered to nobody, seeking only to
bring back that feeling of John Ostrander's comic from 1984. If you
were expecting a simple homage, however, you'd be dead wrong. As dead
as many of the unfortunate characters in this very comic.
While COPRA
lifts the premise and many of the characters from Suicide Squad this
is no simple homage. It is clear from the get go that this universe
is much grittier, much bleaker, and much more surreal than that of
the mainstream DC line. If I had to compare it to another comic, it
actually feels more like Grant Morrison's Doom Patrol at times than
Ostrander's Suicide Squad.
The very
first story involves the shard of ancient power being fought over
with an eccentric mass of brain in a jar called Dy Dy and it only
gets stranger from there. What I find really interesting about the
comic is how it reinterprets the fundamentals of the superhero shared
universe into something more frightening and unknowable. Fiffe
doesn't just pull characters from the Suicide Squad but also brings
in a Dr Strange-like character. Unlike in Marvel Comics, however,
where no matter how dangerous the magic we know the good doctor will
survive, the magic Vincent deals with constantly feels more
threatening and malevolent given that we know his survival isn't
guaranteed.
Additionally,
a form of Apokolyps and the mythology of Kirby's New Gods is likewise
reinterpreted as a strange and unsettling dimension whose inhabitants
are utterly confused and out of their depth once stranded on Earth.
Fiffs' take on a superhero universe feels so utterly unique in what
it decides to explore, to the degree where I'm not really sure it's
accurate to say it actually does takes place in a superhero universe,
given the lack of many of its more traditional archetypes.
Superpowered universe might be more accurate.
The idea of
being surrounded by mystical and para-natural forces that could
change an individual's biology at a moment's notice is treated as
nothing less than harrowing. The fact that multiple crime syndicates
and enemy government forces are made up of unkillable agents and mind
controlling parasites is shown as being as horrific as you can
imagine. The fact that the forces of good have to resort to the most
repulsive methods to hold the world together shows us clearly that
they are barely the forces of 'good' at all.
So COPRA
continues. Characters die, suffer life altering trauma and carve out
lifelong grudges in the wake of failed and barely successful
operations. Yet life goes on, and the pain never goes away. COPRA is
not a happy comic, though it can be laugh out loud funny in it's
comedic moments. Unlike the big two, where a status quo needs to be
maintained, COPRA can genuinely explore the consequences of it's
arcs. It's why, going back to read it, I'm surprised how plot much
unfolds over the course of six volumes.
And I
haven't even spoken about the art yet. If what I have written above
already has you interested, let me just say what Fiffe achieves in
his writing he achieves doubly through his art. I've never seen
another comic artist do it quite like Fiffe. He pulls out every
visual technique in the book. Panels will duplicate and multiply, or
split into mathematical grids. Characters and speech bubbles will
warp with every thrown punch or broken wall of reality. Whole swathes
of story will be rendered in different shades of single colour,
sometimes to represent a mystical forces, sometimes to represent a
character's psychological mood.
Let me be
utterly clear here. Fiffe's art grabs you by the neck and refuses to
let go. His interdimensional forces and eldritch horrors genuinely
feel beyond human comprehension in the way he depicts them, the
structure and consistency of the pages breaking down in front of our
eyes. Yet human frailty and psychological damage is depicted in much
the same way. He understands more than anything that art can convey
emotions in more ways than just drawing a pained expression on a
character's face.
If all that
wasn't enough, even the feel of the pages between your fingers is a
small part of COPRA's storytelling. Right from the get go Fiffe
decided that he wanted the comic published on rough newsprint like
the comics of old, even in the collected editions. There's just
something about that feel, that coarseness, that feels missing on the
shiny laminated pages of contemporary comics. It's why I felt it was
a bit of a shame that COPRA lost that once Fiffe scored the deal with
Image to get it a greater distribution. Then again, I don't blame
him. This is the reality of comics. You gotta' take what you can get.
I hope all
of the above helps to emphasise how calling COPRA "Suicide Squad
with the serial numbers filed off," does it a disservice even
when it's at it's most blatant in it's replication. Just because
Guthie is obviously Duchess doesn't make her story any less heart
breaking. Just because Castillo is obviously The Punisher as played
by Sylvester Stallone doesn't make his fate any less gut wrenching.
What Fiffe
achieves goes beyond simple homage. It is comics uncompromised. It is
storytelling where the rules can be broken. It's a superpowered
nightmare world where no twist, turn or reveal can be predicted,
because the boundaries don't exist. It's the artistic equivalent of
choking down oysters doused in Tabasco and following them up with
harshest of whiskeys. Each turn of the page feels like I'm getting my
teeth pulled out and I am desperate for more.
COPRA is
probably one of the greatest comics out there right now and I
genuinely don't think it's getting the respect it deserves. If you've
been burned out by predictability and the lack of experimentation in
mainstream comics of late, COPRA is the perfect cure. Michel Fiffe
has given us six volumes so far, and I'd happily eat up sixteen more.
Read my lips: Make mine COPRA.
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Jack
Harvey 2023. COPRA is (c) Michel Fiffe. Images used under Fair Use.