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.
