Review: American Alien #3

Superman: American Alien is not, according to writer Max Landis, a typical superhero origin story. Instead, it is something of a coming-of-age tale for young Clark Kent- a Perks of Being a Wallflower with superpowers, if you will.

Landis is already on record, via his 2012 short film The Death and Return of Superman, as saying that “no one cares about Superman”. And that really encapsulates this character’s struggle for so long. In many ways, Superman is a difficult character to relate to for a modern audience: he’s overpowered, his power set is less than unique, and there is often a dearth of personality or conflict that the reader can identify with.

American Alien resolves this by getting in touch with some of the fundamentals of Superman’s origin in a way that any teen or twenty-something that’s ever used the phrase “finding myself” can immediately contextualize. However, Landis brilliantly manages this without pretension or the “gritty realism” that is so increasingly popular in the superhero genre.

This Clark Kent is earnest, with deeply ingrained beliefs of what is right and wrong; yet he is completely unsure of where he belongs or what his life should be. He’s dealing with feelings of abandonment because he doesn’t know where he comes from- a struggle many adopted kids have dealt with in their time. He’s not sure what he should do with his life, which about 90% of the readership is going through as well. And he’s not above a night of partying, drinking, spilling his guts to a stranger, and impersonating Bruce Wayne.

The best thing Landis does while making the character of Clark Kent so accessible is to do it with so much humor. Drunk Clark Kent taking out Deathstroke with a chest flick and a slurred one liner is absolutely the best thing I’ve seen so far this year.

Joelle Jones, of celebrated Dark Horse series Lady Killer, brings a high degree of expression to the characters in this issue. Oliver Queen (pre-Green Arrow, presumably) looks so perpetually smug you want to punch the page. Minerva, our erstwhile romantic interest, fluctuates between an affected cynical, mysterious air and a tentative openness which is almost immediately identifiable by the way Jones draws her eyes. And yet, Drunk Clark Kent is once again my favorite. His body language and expressions are so in sync with the scene: the dialogue and layout flow smoothly to the perfect, perfect, perfect shot of Deathstroke hurtling into the upper atmosphere.

Even if you’re not typically a Superman fan, this is definitely a series you don’t want to miss out on.