In All Star Superman, Morrison not only highlighted new angles
of the Superman Universe, he also brought many new faces to the
mythology. For anyone who’s ever wanted to know Grant Morrison’s
process for creating new characters, here’s your chance – and a look
into many, many ideas that didn’t find their way onto the
printed pages. First off, we take a look at P.R.O.J.E.C.T’s colorful
director Leo Quintum, and the Bizarro-Bizarro Zibarro (say that five
times fast).
Click here for Part One, and here for Part Two.Newsarama: I’d like to know a little more about Leo Quintum and
his role in the story. He seems like a bit of an outgrowth of the likes
of Project Cadmus and Emil Hamilton, but in a more fantastical, Willy
Wonka sense.
Grant Morrison: Yeah, he was exactly as you say, my attempt to
create an updated take on the character of “Superman’s scientist
friend” – in the vein of Emil Hamilton from the animated show and the
‘90s stories. Science so often goes wrong in Superman stories, and I
thought it was important to show the potential for science to go right
or to be elevated by contact with Superman’s shining positive spirit.
I was thinking of Quintum as a kind of “Man Who Fell To Earth”
character with a mysterious unearthly background. For a while I toyed
with the notion that he was some kind of avatar of Lightray of the New
Gods, but as All Star developed, that didn’t fit the tone, and he was allowed to simply be himself.
Eventually it just came down to simplicity. Leo Quintum represents the
“good” scientific spirit – the rational, enlightened, progressive,
utopian kind of scientist I figured Superman might inspire to
greatness. It was interesting to me how so many people expected Quintum
to turn out bad at the end. It shows how conditioned we are in our
miserable, self–loathing, suspicious society to expect the worst of
everyone, rather than hope for the best. Or maybe it’s just what we
expect from stories.
Having said that, there is indeed a necessary whiff of Lucifer about
Quintum. His name, Leo Quintum, conjures images of solar force, lions
and lightbringers and he has elements of the classic Trickster figure
about him. He even refers to himself as “The Devil Himself” in issue
#10.
What he’s doing at the end of the story should, for all its gee–whiz
futurity, feel slightly ambiguous, slightly fake, slightly “Hollywood.”
Yes, he’s fulfilling Superman’s wishes by cloning an heir to Superman
and Lois and inaugurating a Superman dynasty that will last until the
end of time – but he’s also commodifying Superman, figuring out how
it’s done, turning him into a brand, a franchise, a bigger–and–better
“revamp,” the ultimate coming attraction, fresher than fresh, newer
than new but familiar too. Quintum has figured out the “formula” for
Superman and improved upon it.
And then you can go back to the start of All Star Superman
issue #1 and read the “formula” for yourself, condensed into eight
words on the first page and then expanded upon throughout the story!
The solar journey is an endless circle naturally. A perfect puzzle that
is its own solution.
In one way, Quintum could be seen to represent the creative team,
simultaneously re–empowering a pure myth with the honest fire of
Art…while at the same time shooting a jolt of juice through a concept
that sells more “S” logo underpants and towels than it does comic
books. All tastes catered!
I have to say that the Willy Wonka thing never crossed my mind until I
saw people online make the comparison, which seems quite obvious now.
Quintum dresses how I would dress if I was the world’s coolest
super–scientist. What’s up with that?
NRAMA: Was Zibarro inspired by the Bizarro World story where the Bizarro–Neanderthal becomes this unappreciated Casanova–type?
GM: Don’t know that one, but it sounds like a scenario I could definitely endorse!
Zibarro started out as a daft name sicked–up by my subconscious mind,
which flowered within moments into the must–write idea of an Imperfect
Bizarro. What would an imperfect version of an already imperfect being
be like?
Zibarro.
NRAMA: I’d like to know more about Zibarro – what’s the significance of his chronicling Bizarro World through poetry?
GM: It’s up to you. I see Zibarro partly as the sensitive
teenager inside us all. He’s moody, horribly self–aware and
uncomfortable, yet filled with thoughts of omnipotence and agency. He’s
the absolute center of his tiny, disorganized universe. He’s playing
the role of sensitive, empathic poet but at the same time, he’s
completely self–absorbed.
When he says to Superman “Can you even imagine what it’s like to be so
different. So unique. So unlike everyone else?” he doesn’t even wait
for Superman’s reply. He doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings but his
own, ultimately.
NRAMA: The character is very close to Superman, so what does it
say that a nonpowered version on a savage world would focus his energy
through that medium? Also, does Zibarro’s existence show how Superman
is able to elevate even the backwards Bizarros through his very nature?
GM: All of the above. And maybe he writes his totally subjective
poetry as a reflection of Clark Kent’s objective reporter role. The
suppressed, lyrical, wounded side of Superman perhaps? The
Super–Morrissey? Bizarro With The Thorn In His Side?
But he’s also Bizarro–Home’s “mistake” (or so it seems to him, even
though he’s as natural an expression of the place as any of the other
Bizarro creatures who grow like mould across the surface of their
living planet). He feels excluded, a despised outsider, and yet that
position is what defines his cherished self–image. He expresses himself
through poetry because to him the regular Bizarro language is barbaric,
barely articulate and guttural. And they all think he’s talking crap
anyway.
It seemed to make sense that an interesting opposite of Bizarro speech
might be flowery “woe is me” school Poetry Society odes to the sunset
in a misunderstood heart. He’s still a Bizarro though, which makes him
ineffectual. His tragedy is that he knows he’s fated to be useless and
pointless but craves so much more.
NRAMA: Zibarro also represents a recurrent theme in the story,
of Superman constantly facing alternate versions of himself – Bar–El,
Samson and Atlas, the Superman Squad, even Luthor by the end. Notably,
Hercules is absent, though Superman’s doing his Twelve Labors. With the
mythological adventurers in particular, was this designed to equate
Superman with their legend, to show how his character is greater than
theirs, or both?
GM: In a way, I suppose. He did arm–wrestle them both, proving
once and for all Superman’s stronger than anybody! And remember, these
characters, along with Hercules, used to appear regularly in Superman
books as his rivals. I thought they made better rivals than, say,
Majestic or Ultraman because people who don’t read comics have heard of
Hercules, Samson and Atlas and understand what they represent.
For that particular story, I wanted to see Superman doing tough guy
shit again, like he did in the early days and then again in the 70s,
when he was written as a supremely cocky macho bastard for a while. I
thought a little bit of that would be an antidote to the slightly
soppy, Super–Christ portrayal that was starting to gain ground.
Hence Samson’s broken arm, twisted in two directions beyond all repair.
And Atlas in the hospital. And then Superman’s got his hot girlfriend
dressed like a girl from Krypton and they’re making out on the moon
(the original panel description was of something more like the famous
shot of Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr kissing in the surf from “From
Here To Eternity.” Frank’s final choice of composition is much more
classically pulp–romantic and iconic than my down and dirty rumble in
the moondirt would have been, I’m glad to say).
Next: Morrison on the series’ new antagonists, including Krull, Mechano-Man, and more on Atlas and Samson.
