Wednesday, July 24, 2024

Trojan, Trojan, Trojan-cats Ho!: Potential Classical References in Cheetara #1

 Cheetara #1 is the initial issue in a prequel series to the main and heretofore only series in the reimagined Thundercats universe, one of many childhood franchises adapted, updated, and streamlined for a modern audience. The writer is Soo Lee; the artist Domenico Carbone; the letterer is Jeff Eckleberry.

Thundercats was not a childhood franchise with which I was obsessed, although of course I was aware of it, so this reimagining does not break my almost non-existent sense of canon, nor do I cry how any change has ruined my childhood. Let us ignore the Johnny Quest promotional stinger interpolated herein!

This prequel takes place on the alien planet Thundera before its destruction. The most obvious comparison would be Superman's home planet of Krypton, especially if you choose not to believe that Lion-O's original name Lionel was in reference to a train rather than the Big Blue Boy Scout. The presentation of Thundera does remind me a Silver Age Krypton or a more aggressively furry Space Wakanda. This is a bright and wonderful world, full of promise, at least from the perspective of our protagonist Cheetara. 

Since Krypton has not been portrayed in this manner since the icy planet of the Christopher Reeve movie (the best Superman movie) usurped the utopian vision of the World of Krypton backups with their primary colors and many headbands, a more apt comparison is Troy before its fall. Thundera is prosperous and powerful due to its control of the endemic mineral power source Thundrainium. Troy is prosperous and powerful due to its control of access to the trade routes into the Black Sea; the beginning of the Iliad involves Agamemnon, king of men, who is besieging Troy, offending the priest of Apollo, "Goldman," father of "Goldie," from "Goldtown." The different Great Thunderans, Thundera's aristocrats (or Aristocats?) are based on different feline species. The original motivation for this was visual distinctiveness, a key quality in animation but also in epic, since all important Trojans and Greeks receive epithets which may not be applicable in the immediate circumstances, but nonetheless provide personal characteristics with which to imagine them. Cheetara, as one of these nobles, is an biased observer; in the Iliad, Odyssey, and Aeneid, the perspectives of the Greeks and the Trojans differ markedly. 

Both Thundera and Troy are treated not just as places, but as characters, and as characters, both are positioned as tragic heroes. According to Aristotle, a tragic hero must be at the height of their power, yet the conditions for the fall have already been set. This necessity is best illustrated in Oedipus Tyrannus, where the same qualities that made Oedipus a great king guaranteed his downfall. The causes of Thundera's future reckoning are not presented in Cheetara #1, but there is only one issue and Cheetara has a enormous privilege as a noble. Troy, on the other hand, despite being blessed by the gods, had broken its agreement with the divine builders of its current walls, as well as the laws of hospitality. Troy was the head of a Bronze Age empire, with subordinate princes such as Aeneas, Briseis' father Briseus, and Cassandra's suitor Coroebus. The Thunderan ruler is blind from the last war (details as yet unrevealed) and therefore unfit to rule, so he has selected an elite squadron of Great Thunderans to raise his only son as ruler of Thundera. Priam, king of Troy, has no such externally inflicted infirmity, but he is very old and he was the only surviving son of the last Trojan War. Perhaps one could connect king Claudius of Thundera's disability with Anchises, father of Aeneas, rather than Priam, due to the savior complex surrounding the child prince Lion-O. Priam has a squad of sons, royal cousins, and client kings on which he can rely. 

Cheetara is framed as a warrior, a priestess, and a mother figure. The gender equity of the franchise and perhaps felines in general allow Cheetara to fight alongside the male Thunderans, a true Andromache. She accompanies the Regent Jaga to the temple of the ancestors. While it is true that the temple has an aesthetic between that of the Jedi and that of Black Panther, the facelessness of the ancestors provides a point of comparison. Many of the oldest idols in the Classical and pre-Classical times were not statues as we conceive them, with carefully defined faces, but rather sacred stones to which divinity and sometimes facial features were attributed. One can still visit the Aphrodite of Paphos, a stone where the characteristics of the goddess would suggest greater detail. The Thunderan Sword of Omens, which guarantees the safety of Thundera as long as it remains in the temple, is not just a Chekhov's gun, but also an easy analogue to the Palladium, a lumpy sacred statue which Odysseus had to remove from the Temple of Athena in the citadel of Troy before Troy could fall.

Cheetara's preference is holy orders, but martial duty takes precedence. Cheetara's physical gift of suitably themed speed, "swift-footed Cheetara," overshadows her psychic gift of precognition. This precognition, which in the service of the story involves the ineluctable doom, aligns her more with Cassandra than Achilles. Cassandra was cursed to speak the truth which none would believe. This conflict is a way to build tension when the outcome is already known - as in a tragedy. Cheetara is also the replacement mother for the young prince Lion-O, whose own mother is no longer around, although once again there are no details. Since Priam's wife Hecuba and Hector's wife Andromache are prominent in the Iliad, a more apt comparison is Anchises, who begot his son Aeneas on Aphrodite, a conspicuously absent mother. Lion-O may be special, but it remains to be seen if his bloodline is what passes for divine in the Thunderan cosmos. If Cheetara's maternal role aligns her with Andromache, then Lion-O is Astyanax, the doomed son of Hector, presumptive heir of Troy. Andromache's name means "she who fights like a man," while Astyanax means "lord of the city," both of which are applicable to the Thunderans.

Cheetara's story also involves romance. Tygra, a male Thundercat not to be confused with Marvel's Avenger, the engineer and builder of the core characters, is smitten with her. His obsession with ships is not only a narrative necessity, but also provides a link with Troy and the infamous thousand ships. The reality of noble families, however, demands arranged marriages, and Tygra and Cheetara is not one such. In this aspect also, there is a comparison between Cheetara and Cassandra. Cheetara is reluctant to accept her arranged match, else there would be no story. Cassandra also had a suitor, Coroebus, a prince of the outlying territories. His tale appears in the second book of Aeneid, when Aeneas is reluctantly recounting the fall of Troy to an insistent Dido at the Carthaginian court. Coroebus visited the city and was enchanted by Cassandra. Her brothers discouraged Coroebus, but Priam, king of Troy, could not pass up an opportunity for extra military assistance and allowed it. On the final night of Troy, Coroebus joined Aeneas' suicide squad and perished as Cassandra was carried off to be Agamemnon's booty. Tygra and Cheetara survive the fall of Thundera, so the parallel is not exact, but the number of similarity between Cheetara and Cassandra, as well as other women of Troy, is suggestive, Cheetara, as the girl Thundercat, must encompass far more roles than the more abundant male characters.

Although it is not possible to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Troy has provided an inspiration for the first look at prelapsarian Thundera, the multiple parallels condensed into a smaller cast and narrative structure suggest that it is worthwhile to use such an approach. The land, the king, the heir, and the royal retinue show points of similarity, but they also reveal potential differences. The interest in both lies in the path to the inevitable.

Monday, July 22, 2024

Girl Power on Apokolips: Ngozi Ukazu's "Barda"

 The YA graphic novel Barda by Ngozi Ukazu is a solid introduction to Jack Kirby's New Gods mythos via female-centered first romance, albeit one suitably distorted for a protagonist raised on a planet suitably named Apokalips. The graphic novel, first locally promoted on Free Comic Book Day, aroused some skepticism on how such heavy matters could be adapted for a younger audience in a world of sensitivity readers. One would hope that the name of the planet, Apokolips, would be a sufficient clue to the unpleasantness to come!

The first line of the graphic novel honors the epic tradition of immediately establishing the topic of the tale; at the end, both the first and the last sentence are true, Each Female Fury, the elite force of Apokolips under Granny Goodness, herself under her lord and master Darkseid, illustrates a different aspect of the continual abuse Apokalips offers. Mad Harriet's experience in the X-Pit has broken her mind entirely; she laughs loudly and inappropriately. Stompa, the "big guy" of the group, is driven by anger and sorrow fed into anger from the loss of a sibling who did not survive the X-pit. Bernadeth, the sister of Darkseid's lieutenant Desaad, has channeled her love of learning into the service of her tyrant; she can learn new things, but only inside a narrow field. Even here, much of her love of learning must have been extinguished, since Stompa is functionally illiterate and the rest of the Furies do not read the mission papers. Lashina is not from an Apokalips, but rather from a world conquered by Darkseid; this is colonialist trauma, reflected in Lashina's non-white skin, which contrasts with Kirby's original model. Auralie, the acrobat, indulges her kinetic freedom by secretly dancing.

Barda, although the most emotionally stable of thegroup, is not free from trauma. Her upbringing on Apokalips in the orphanage of Granny Goodness, whose own traumas are not the focus of this work, has warped her understanding of the world.

This graphic novel is a tale of trauma and war, and therefore at least one of the band must die; in a world called Apokalips, it will not be a pleasant death. The doomed member perishes here in a more effective way than in her original post-mortem appearance.

Barda, the protagonist - almost entirely avoiding the epithet "Big," although there are plenty of panels contrasting her size with the diminutive Granny Goodness - undergoes substantial emotional growth as the plot continues. Since the ending point was preestablished, the starting point is different from the Kirby run; or maybe not, since Barda's point of view was not centered there and she first appeared on Earth in her beau's book. Barda is the New Gods graphic novel equivalent of the feminist updates of Classical Mythology such as Circe or Stoned, a well0written companion to the male-focused original presentation.

Saturday, July 20, 2024

Hypermetricals False and True: Aeneid Book 6.560-1, 602-3

 The use of hypermetrical verses in Vergil's Aeneid is rare; but when it occurs, one should consider its effect. The Aeneid is written in dactylic hexameter, which consists of dactyls (long-short-short) and spondees (long-long). The last two feet of the hexameter, with rare exceptions, consist of a dactyl and a spondee. In any poetic meter with predetermined line length, it is important that the final feet return to the default pattern. If this were not the case, then it would be challenging to recognize the particular meter. The other component one must consider in a discussion of hypermetrical verse is elision. In Latin poetry, the final vowel or final vowel plus m elides, or disappears, if the next word begins with a vowel or h. The quantity (short or long) of the final vowel is irrelevant. This is the default situation; if it does not occur where one would expect to occur, this is called hiatus. Elision, however, does not occur between the sixth foot of one line and the first foot of the next line. The sentence or thought often connects the sixth and first foot through enjambment, the delay of a critical word until the beginning of the following line; but this is a literary device rather than a sound-based one. A hypermetrical verse is one in which the last vowel of the last syllable in one line elides due to the first word in the next line beginning with a vowel. It cannot be stressed too much that this is not the default situation! The existence of a hypermetrical verse is dependent on the final vowel of the preceding verse rather than the initial vowel of the following verse.

Aeneas' journey through the Underworld in Book 6 features examples of both false and true hypermetrical verse; in each case, its presence or appearance thereof reflects its context. The first case, the false one, occurs at line 560, while Aeneas and the Sibyl are experiencing the terrifying cacophony of Tisiphone, one of the Furies whose job it is to guard the door to Tartarus, where the truly evil people go. This passage (6.557-561) is filled with words for noise (exaudiri, gemitus, sonare, stridor, strepitum, effare, plangor) and instruments of noise, especially in reference to punishment (scelerum, poenis) and torment (saeva, sonare, verbera, ferri, tractaeque catenae, exterritus). The few words not subsumed in these categories are mostly proper names and function words. Two of these words are verbs of hesitation (constitit, hausit) applied to Aeneas. The overall impression is one of abundant and discordant noise to such a degree that it is disruptive. Aeneas stops to address the Sibyl because he is affected even though is not a prisoner in Tartarus.

"Quae scelerum facies, O virgo, effare quibusve

urguentur poenis? Quis tantus plangor ad auras?"

"Tell me, o maiden, what manner of crimes, and by what punishments are they confined? What is this so great clamor which reaches to the skies?"

Aen. 6.560-1

At first glance, these verses seem well balanced against the chaos of the passage. The vocative "O virgo" is in the middle of the line after the caesura. The three qu- clauses form a triad but they all are ultimately one question. The discordant element in this couplet is the enclitic -ve. The enclitic is necessary, but its presence disrupts the flow of the clause. Without the -ve the phrase would be "quibus urguentur poenis," in which the verb is centered between the adjective and noun, and in which the the verb and the noun participate in enjambment, while the less critical adjective does not. Such a phrase, however, does not meet the requirements of the meter. The addition of the enclitic -ve satisfies the grammatical structure of Latin and the metrical structure of the poetry at the expense of the smaller harmony. The constraints are in irresolvable tension to match the mood of the passage.

The second case, the true extrametrical verse, occurs in the Sibyl's description of Ixion and Pirithous' punishment (6.601-606). The two mortals never enter Tartarus, but the Sibyl's patron goddess, Hecate, taught her the secrets of the realm. Their punishment is to have a rock suspended over their head forever and to have a feast they can see but never reach. Both Ixion and Pirithous had desired congress with goddesses married to other gods.

"Quid memorem Lapithas, Ixiona Pirithoumque?

Quos super atra silex iam iam lapsura cadentique

imminet adsimilis."

"What shall I recall about the Lapiths, Ixion and Pirithous? Over whom a black rock, about to fall any minute now and is alike in threatening the falling person."

(6.601-3)

These verses contain only two qu- words, commensurate with the two sinners. The future participle "lapsura" combined with the reduplicated "iam" creates a prospective effect of future never accomplished. The key phrase, "cadentique imminet adsimilis," once again displays the verb in enjambment, although its companion here is adjectival rather than nominal. Here the hypermetrical verse connects "candentique" and "imminet," and therefore the entire phrase "lapsura cadentique imminet adsimilis." This connection is unifying through its use of transgression inherent to hypermetric verse, yet the same hypermetric verse prevents resolution and reflects its lack within the action of the text.