BRAT PACK
Rick
Veitch
King Hell Press
If you�ve ever sat through an episode of the old Batman TV series, or read one of his old comics, you might be forgiven for thinking that there�s something a little bit...odd about a thirtysomething confirmed bachelor who spends all his time with a suspiciously smooth teenager.
I mean, really. What use is a spunky youth in a jerkin and tights against the likes of The Joker? When you can fight off hordes of goombahs using only your little toe and the ancient art of Bat-Fu, why would you need a brightly dressed junior partner, other than to draw a little fire?
Legend has it that all these Boy (and Girl) Wonders were invented to give the readership � in those days, kids themselves � a character to aspire to, or identify with. But I don�t buy that. Why would anyone want to be squire to the Batman when they could put on the rubber nips themselves?
Rick Veitch has the answer to all these questions. And every single one of them will scare you.
Brat Pack opens with a phone call. In the city of Slumberg, protected round the clock by great heroes like Midnight Mink and Judge Jury, and their acne-riddled, drug/drink/hormone-addled sidekicks, the Brat Pack, a shock jock poses the question:
"Do you want the Brat
Pack to die, horribly? And how?�
It�s a phone-in poll that echoes the one that led to the death of Batman�s cherished Robin, and it would be a great addition to the knackered old Big Brother format (�Tony, to die by peacocks!�).
By a landslide, the city votes to annihilate the titanic teens. Meanwhile, on the other side of town, somebody does just that. Finding themselves short of shortarses, Slumberg�s heroes set out on a recruiting drive.
But when an altar boy from the local church is chosen to be the next �Chippy,� partner to the�flamboyant Midnight Mink, the truth behind the heroes� reliance on (multiple) kid sidekicks begins to come out.
Brat Pack is a terribly cynical book, twisting the innocence of the original superhero stories into something insidious. Satire aside, it�s an extremely clever, and a not entirely unsubtle exploration of the ways in which adults can exploit children.
And in the days of manufactured teen, �tween and preteen pop bands (S Club Juniors, anyone?) bilking the nation�s youth out of their hard-begged pocket money, Brat Pack has special relevance. Although, I can�t see the half-cremated zombie of Darius turning up to the Pop Idol auditions, any time soon.
Brat Pack also explores the generational nature of superheroes. Each of the adult �heroes� are inspired by, or born out of, close association with an older progenitor, in much the same way as they inspire young children to follow in their path. The apple falls further from the tree with each generation, of course, so that by the time the Brat Pack are brought together, the poor little sods don�t have a chance.
While many readers will find Veitch�s story a bit distasteful (especially those of you who have fond memories of West and Ward rappelling �up� a wall), Brat Pack is a genre classic. The conspiracy of elder heroes unravels with steady tension. The adult characters are weak, degenerate people, and the junior partners descend into the mire (literally) with terrifying speed and realism.
Veitch�s art, all grey tones and ink washes, is grimy and loaded with decay. However, it manages to be eerily reminiscent of the more innocent hero comics of the 1940�s. Each sidekick�s initiation runs alongside the others, forcing home the notion of manufacture and conspiracy. The most surprising part of the book comes during the �origin� stories of the older heroes. It parallels the sidekick selection process, and yet is much more tender. It stands out in stark contrast to the rest of the book, and yet makes it all the more powerful.
Brat Pack is one of a very short list of superhero books that can genuinely be described as �must-read.� A pageturning commentary on, and mean-spirited satire of, classic superhero clich�, Rick Veitch�s novel inadvertently lampoons the modern culture of celebrity, and the growing economic power of (and I hate the phrase) �tweenagers.
Intentional or not, it�s an adept piece of writing, and deserves your attention.
Review text (C) Matthew Craig
Originally published in the pop culture magazine Robot Fist