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A reading of the first issue of Peter Milligan's Greek Street suggests that the series will showcase much of what is great about some contemporary comics -- an assumed literacy of its audience and the exploration thereof -- as well as everything that is wrong with the rest. Greek Street takes several classical Greek myths -- drawing most significantly from Oedipus -- and retells them within the context of modern-day London. This leads to some interesting imagery, but comes off as forced and pedantic. It is worrisome when a stripper uses the words "eternal recurrences" and "Medea and Agamemnon" by the end of the second page, but this is the world of Greek Street.
This first issue is surely intended to bother. The comic focuses on Eddie, a rough-and-tough guy determined to reconnect with his long-lost mother Jo. (Any similarity to Oedipus and Jocasta are most certainly not in name only.) Before the reader reaches the title page -- which tells us that this issue marks the first chapter in a plot line entitled "Blood Calls for Blood" -- Eddie and Jo reconnect in a scene so truly revolting that, hours after reading the comic, I had to remind myself it did not come from a nightmare.
Vertigo Comics, Greek Street's publisher, has long since developed a pattern of releasing series that set ancient stories in the modern world; with Douglas Rushkoff's Testament, which drew from the Bible; Bill Willingham's Fables, which draws from folk tales and other characters who live in the public domain; and Neil Gaiman's The Sandman, which drew from pretty close to everything. Such a trend is now inescapable in American comics.
The contemporary comic book market is stifled by a reliance on things past. In the mainstream titles -- the ones that have yielded Saturday morning cartoons and now big-budget films -- characters from one book have a living history with characters in another, creating the self-perpetuating and alienating (while at times fun) mess known as "continuity." Last year's blockbuster Batman: R.I.P., for instance, was so continuity-entrenched that DC Comics reprinted a collection of decades-old Batman stories to serve as a reference point for today's readers. An encyclopedic knowledge of comics from the golden age is too-often necessary when trying to read a comic from today.
Enter Vertigo Comics.
The for-mature-readers subsidiary of DC Comics has earned a reputation for producing quality, creator-controlled, sequential stories that rely only on the reader's consumption of each issue and a before-hand knowledge of culture, politics, and society; and not a Batman comic from 1956. (Please refer to the aforementioned Batman collection if you think I'm exaggerating.)
Setting a story firmly within a given culture and setting a story firmly within a convoluted character history are two very different methods, but there may be cause to worry about each one for the same reason. On the first issue's cover, Grant Morrison praises Greek Street as "a reminder that some stories are too true and dangerous to ever die." As a theme, this is fairly limiting and hardly earth-shattering, and one wonders if Milligan has any other goal beyond seamlessly and artfully forcing old stories into new settings.
This is not to say that indulging such a goal produces atrocious or unreadable comics. Indeed, the original myths are so strong that they are as affecting in new settings as they were originally, but this surely has more to do with Sophocles than Milligan. As I say, the opening sequence is magnificently haunting, though Davide Gianfelice's artwork could be better. Jo's Jocastic revelation, for instance, is characterized by brief flashes of anger and overwhelming facial non-expressions, but not shame or disgust. (Not knowing who Oedipus or Jocasta are or what they did to each other will absolutely inhibit you from enjoying a full reading of this comic. Of course, if you're unfamiliar with who Oedipus or Jocasta are, you would likely be better served by reading something else.)
It is too early to tell, of course, if this series will be on par with other fine Vertigo comics, but this issue suggests that Greek Street will be less than genius or visionary. Comic books have for decades oscillated between being seen as Kids' Stuff (a label they earned for sophomoric and pedantic superhero stories) and Stuff To Keep Away From Kids. Greek Street exists firmly on the far side of Suggested For Mature Readers, so much so that the issue warranted an additional warming label when displayed at Comicopia in Kenmore Square. There is an Oedipal immaturity in this story, too, in the reliance of ancient stories and the value placed on the past, which is troubling. It would be dogmatic, though, to say that retelling old stories necessarily leads to Bad Stories or Bad Comics, but it would be nice to see Vertigo step away from a tried-and-true method of making Comics For Grown-Ups. Time will tell if this series becomes the stuff of legend, but with a one-dollar price tag and a handful of compelling images and characters, the first issue of Greek Street is difficult to ignore.
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