This review originally appeared at Green Man Review.
Dennis O’Neil details in his introduction to Volume One of the compilation of Green Lantern/Green Arrow how he was enlisted to revive the character of Green Lantern, who had fallen on hard times but whom DC was not quite ready to retire. O’Neil, like the rest of America, was still in the thrall of the 1960s, that watershed period of American history in which social relevance became of overriding importance, not only in the culture at large but in its arts, both high and vernacular. O’Neil took as his central question, “What would happen if we put a super-hero in a real-life setting dealing with real-life problems?” And so the new Green Lantern was born, and took as his sidekick the likewise recast Green Arrow, co-opted from the Justice League of America series, DC’s holding pen for second-string super-heroes, and already displaying some signs of the rebellion of the ’60s. This event was also marked by the enlistment of Neal Adams to draw the series, and, as O’Neil relates, it was a perfect meeting of minds. O’Neil notes that Adams consistently developed images that were better than what he’d imagined as he was writing the script. (Ironically, when the two met on a PR junket in Chicago, they didn’t agree on anything.) The current volumes are a compilation of the series from 1970 until its cancellation in 1971.
The story is necessarily episodic, as different arcs begin and develop, but the consistency comes from the character development in both Green Arrow and Green Lantern. In the first episode we get a good, clear layout of Green Lantern’s central conflict: he’s always had a very clear-cut, black-and-white picture of good vs. evil, and has never learned to question authority or the status quo. As he’s rescuing a well-dressed man from a bunch of punks, Green Arrow makes his appearance — on the other side. It turns out that the “victim” is a slumlord making money off the misery of his tenants, whom he’s about to evict because he can make more money putting the land to other uses. Green Arrow convinces Green Lantern of the right path to follow, which he does — and immediately lands in trouble with the Guardians, for whom he works. Having found his moral compass — or at least, the beginnings of it — Green Lantern defies them. After an impassioned confrontation between Green Arrow and the Guardians, he’s assigned an observer, as the Guardians are getting the idea that maybe they don’t know everything. The three set off on a cross-country road trip that brings them face to face with real problems faced by real people. (Well, OK, some of the problems aren’t all that real, such as the little girl who can control people’s minds, but take that as a metaphor, and a very effective one, on how those in power, both politicians and corporate elites, operate.)
The main issues that this series deals with are race and the environment, certainly two hot buttons of the ’60s, although we also get a glimpse of the results of overpopulation, corporate greed, drugs, and corrupt systems of justice. O’Neil’s handling of the issues is somewhat blatant, but never quite heavy-handed: these are, after all comics from a period in which one cannot realistically expect a great deal of subtlety. He gets better as the series goes on: the episode on the drug problem, centered on Green Arrow’s ward, Speedy, is exceptionally well done.
What’s more interesting is the development of character as the series progresses. Green Lantern soon loses most of his respect for authority and actually starts to think for himself on questions of right and wrong, and as Hal Jordan finds himself facing the same things that most of us face — earning a living and making a way through the world as it is. Green Arrow, as the newly impoverished Oliver Queen, former billionaire playboy, has a somewhat grittier take on life: he lives in the slums. We are also presented with some of the protagonists’ emotional tangles, first when Green Arrow’s sweetheart, the Black Canary (Dinah Drake Lance) falls under the spell of the cult leader Joshua, and later when Green Lantern’s love interest, Carol Ferris, is revealed to be the head of a company that values corporate profits over the environment or, for that matter, human life. Both men wind up questioning their attitudes, their beliefs, and themselves, and it’s pretty well done.
As for the drawing, I have to second O’Neil’s assessment — it’s perfect. Adams’ style fits comfortably within what I can only call “classic DC,” and it’s polished, fluent, and right on target. It’s been awhile since I’ve enjoyed just looking at a Western comic this much.
Aside from its virtues as entertainment, Green Arrow/Green Lantern is a fascinating historical document for anyone interested in the development of comics in America. The two super-heroes are not the anti-heroes that came to the fore in the 1980s, but they’re a good beginning. This one’s a winner.
(DC Comics, 2004)
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