For nearly all of its 1974-1987 run, Doctor Strange was obliged to follow a bimonthly publication schedule, having briefly flirted with monthly issues from April-October of '76 during the height of Steve Englehart's time as scripter on the book. It was Englehart who had announced that, despite the strenuous toll such a schedule would take on both himself (who had other projects he'd hoped to pursue) and artist Gene Colan (who was also doing Tomb Of Dracula at the time), the effort would be made, since all involved (which now included inker Tom Palmer) were "determined to keep at it, and to keep the quality high," in Englehart's words.
Flip the calendar ahead to October, with both Englehart and Colan having departed and writer Marv Wolfman announcing that the book would return to a bimonthly schedule--the reason being that its sales, though good, didn't warrant being published monthly. Early on, however, there were similar bumps in the road for readers of the new monthly series to weather, such as a reprint issue being released so shortly after the book's launch, with bimonthly status kicking in two issues later; then, the departure of celebrated artist Frank Brunner, who made no secret of the fact that he preferred a bimonthly schedule but also had other projects he was interested in pursuing, at which point Colan, who had worked on the first Dr. Strange series in the '60s, came aboard. Englehart would later provide a bit of perspective in that regard:
"When Dr. Strange had his own book in the late '60s, it failed. The insider's official explanation has always laid it off on Gene's panel layout ("you couldn't follow the story"). But it's been my conviction for some time that the real reason is far more basic: in the late '60s, despite all the hue and cry over mind expansion, there just weren't enough spacy people reading comics to support a mystic--while today, there are. In fact, as I say, there are so many spacers around that this book is not just supported. This book is a certified hit. That means there are a lot of people out there who dig Dr. Strange as he now is, and they deserve consideration."
And that leads us to a four-issue story from 1975 which I like to think smoothed the road ahead for our new Sorcerer Supreme and his creative team, and certainly for his readers who despite a two-month wait between issues were demonstrating that they were in it for the long haul. Monsieur Brunner has left us a stunning cover for that story's first installment, featuring Strange facing the unrelenting Umar, the sister to none other than the Dread Dormammu--and while Colan had yet to contribute cover work, we get a sense that Strange, as well as his lover and now-disciple, Clea, are literally about to undertake their baptism of fire!
Even as Colan sets up shop, it becomes clear over the span of this story that it's taking some time for things behind the scenes to stabilize in terms of the workload, as a different finisher turns in work for each installment. It would be Klaus Janson who inks Colan's pages initially, as Umar, a powerful sibling of her brother, appears on Earth to strike at Strange but is driven off, prompting Strange and Clea to investigate such a blatant incursion.
To that end, Strange makes the decision to travel to the Dark Dimension and confront her--while, unknown to him, Clea is contacted by the Earth goddess ("Mother Nature," as we mortals have referred to her), who is in distress and cries out for Strange's assistance. In response, Clea sends her astral form to the Earth's core where she is being held against her will by the last entity Clea would wish to face on her own (this time, with inker John Romita along for the ride).
As we can see, Dormammu, for all his haughtiness, isn't above blurring the lines of "honor" to rationalize his arrival in our dimension--disregarding the fact that his clear memories of his past rebuff his argument of a "previous existence" giving him carte blanche to act and signify that he's the same entity which swore his oath to Strange never to invade our dimension. (You should hear the spin he applied when the Scarlet Witch discovered what he was up to and extracted promises from him to free the Earth spirit and abandon any plans he made to conquer our dimension.)
Fortunately, Clea is able to escape with her life--but for her own reasons which we'll learn of shortly, she refuses to join Strange and inform him of this new development. And Strange is walking into quite the lion's den, where we discover that Umar had only feigned defeat on Earth in order to lure Strange to where she has the home field advantage, as well as a loyal and well-placed aide.
Despite being promised dominion over her brother's realm, it's clear Umar has her own plans in store for her brother's ascendance in Earth's dimension once he recovers his former might. As for Strange, he remains neutralized and worse in the deadly power of the G'uranthic Guardian--or does he?
Strange has inadvertently put his finger on why I grew to be disdainful of the appearance of the Ankh symbol, originally bequeathed to him by the Ancient One as a "symbol of enduring life" with Strange's rebirth* after having faced Death, a scene which felt was poignant and fitting in light of his new status. But later, it would take on the aspect of a warning, appearing on his forehead whenever he face a conflict of "life or death." Yet its nonappearance also serves as a warning to reader--that no matter the deadly nature of the foe he's facing in a particular story, Strange is in no danger.
*Which came hand in hand with Strange's new state of becoming ageless and able to live on indefinitely. As the Ancient One put it, "death [for you] may come only from without, in battle--and not from within."
It's when Umar rejoins Dormammu at the Earth's core (and inker Tom Palmer is passed the baton from Romita) that Englehart brings in a character from a prior story whom he once again makes use of in order to see to Clea's fate (unsuccessfully, as it turned out)--an odd diversion for a story building momentum, and certainly comes off as a task beneath the attention of the likes of Umar. To spill the beans, the character's later act in this story's climax, orchestrated by the Earth goddess, sees to Umar's demise as a threat--but it reeks of deus ex machina, given the setup we're presented with here which for all intents and purposes removes him for the time being.
If nothing else, we now know for a fact that Umar intends to stab her brother in the back (and it appears she's certainly adept at stabbing).
For now, however, we return to the Dark Dimension, where Clea has decided to join Strange to warn him of what Dormammu is planning but knows she faces the uncomfortable prospect of running into her father--Orini, one of Dormammu's disciples who is aiding Umar in this endeavor, a fact which ties her hands when fighting at Strange's side. Yet she does her part in helping Strange by using pagan rituals to recover his power from the G'uranthic Guardian, a process which has the side effect of establishing a mystic link between them when they wish to pool their minds and act as one. But have they acted too late?
A significant event that now leads into this story's final act (inked by Frank Chiaramonte), which sees Dormammu finally having achieved the means to invade and conquer our dimension unimpeded. Obviously, Dormammu is awash not only with power but with the satisfaction of seeing Strange's world fall into his hands--perhaps too elated to realize that with his next action, he plays into Umar's hands, suffering the very fate he'd intended for her in a plan patiently and well executed.
Orini's appearance is both timely (as we'll see) and an uncomfortable reminder of times past, when it's revealed that they both had a brief affair which produced a daughter--none other than Clea, a secret which Orini has kept until this moment when Umar has once more behaved dismissively toward him. In response, she takes possession of him (and not in the good way) and makes use of him against Strange, who acts on a suggestion of Clea's to distract their foes while she races to free the Earth goddess.
It's only upon their return that we learn of the words shared between our drug addict, at death's door, and his "mother," the Earth goddess--granting him a peaceful death, in exchange for bringing down the giantess and paving the way for the end of her demonic brother. All things considered, it's a fitting ending where banishment is the order of the day for Strange's adversaries.
In my opinion, the high point of the Englehart/Colan collaboration was the epic which follows, one which would unfortunately later be completely retconned by Wolfman's arrival on the book. Are you sure you're not masquerading as one of the Mindless Ones, sir?
9 comments:
I still recall my feeling of amazement when I saw Gene Colan's art for the first time, decades ago; there's a fluidity to his style, a sense of movement, quite unlike any other artist. Truly one of a kind. As good as he was on Doctor Strange and Daredevil, I think he really found his home on Tomb Of Dracula.
Nice one, Comicsfan - the Englehart era Dr Strange, with Brunner (including the Premiere stories) and then Colan, is one of the best comic runs of the 70s imo.
It was really annoying that Marv Wolfman immediately retconned everything about it. Even Clea's uh, encounter with Ben Franklin.
The 'Ankh' symbol never bothered me like it did you, since it was always obvious Strange was never in real danger... because the cover of the comic had the title 'Doctor Strange' on it!
Seriously though, back in the newsstand era you knew even as a kid that the hero of a book was always going to survive, and Englehart found more ways than most writers - at least in Dr Strange - to create interest anyway.
Like the way he uses the 'Mother Nature' figure to comment on ecological crisis, and that junkie character to draw a parallel with the self-destruction of addiction, so the story is about than just will Strange beat Dormammu and Umar this time or not (because of course he will).
Plus, Englehart was great at conveying a wider reality beyond the mundane world, and playing around with your perception of the story. I loved the way #9 ended with someone finishing the issue, and putting the comic away.
-sean
I agree on all points, charliedogg. (Though as highly as I hold Colan's work on TOD, I honestly find it difficult to make a choice between the three titles mentioned! I suppose we'll have to flip the Eye of Agamotto for it. :) )
Slipped in under my guard there, Sean. :D All I can say about the "Franklin encounter" is that I'm still petitioning the Doc to use whatever mystic forces he needs to bring to bear to wipe that encounter from my memory in its entirety!
Hey, let's not forget that Gene the Dean was the regular artist on Howard the Duck back then too!
-sean
Dr Strange's origin has always been my favourite origin of any Marvel character partly because I love all the Tibetan mystical mumbo-jumbo and partly because I find it genuinely moving that a heartless, selfish rich b*stard like the surgeon Steven Strange is redeemed and devotes his life to the service of Mankind.
Agreed, Colin. While there have been other characters who turned their lives around (Kyle Richmond comes to mind... Hawkeye... the Black Widow...), Strange may top the list as the character whose scope of responsibility, dedication, and foes in his new vocation far outstrips what others could lay claim to.
It's an interesting idea, that the Doc Strange comic was maybe successful in the '70's because of the zeitgeist. It was a spooky decade.
It was to me anyway; I was in grade school. I was positive something supernatural was going to get me.
I'm still positive something is going to get me, only now I suspect it will be easily explainable by science.
Englehart, Colan, and Palmer. Whatta line-up. It seems to me like Colan was going for, uh, ambiguity, maybe? Mystery? (for want of a better word) Colan's depiction of entity Eternity is a good example. He knew when to show something and when not to show something, and even then, the reader wasn't quite sure what he was looking at, in the eldritch, reality-shifting world of Dr. Strange. Just like in ToD.
The reader's mind would wonder about what was going on in the shadows. What was suggested, rather than simply depicted.
Helluva magic trick, if you ask me! (no pun intended) Not every artist can pull that off.
Great post!
M.P.
You're not alone in your sense of the overall spookiness of the 1970s, M.P. As I recall, during that time the supernatural was prevalent in film releases as well as late night/early morning television programming. It was a grand time to be frightened out of your wits by whatever was waiting in those shadows. =:O
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