The biggest compliment that I can give Danger Street is that it doesn't go right up its own ass. It is a DC comic book and as such is stuffed to the gills with important characters and lore from the DC universe, but I want to say up front that a lot of that sails right the fuck over my head. My DC knowledge basically extends to anything that was in a Bruce Timm cartoon, with assorted bits and bobs gathered from osmosis. Applied to this book, that means I vaguely recognize characters like the Creeper or Metamorpho, and of course know things about Darkseid and Apokalips, but then look at characters like Starman or Warlord with a reaction of "Who the fuck is this asshole?". All of these elements are combined as a tribute to some 70's thing called 1st Issue Special. I have no idea what that is and don't mean to seem like an incurious critic, but I'm just taking these 12 issues on their own terms as best as I can. No, what impresses me about Danger Street is the way that it weaves all these disparate elements together, and it does it by using a particular craft in the old alchemical toolbook: as above, so below. The personal and intimate nature of a microcosmic story about a bunch of ordinary kids on Danger Street is contrasted and mirrored by a macrocosmic one about the New Gods of Apokalips. Both of them are intertwined in the same inciting incident, in which a bunch of heroes who want to be on the Justice League accidentally summon and kill Atlas The Great, and one of the ordinary kids is caught and killed in the crossfire. Darkseid and his ilk react to the falling of the great titan, and the kids and the police react to the loss of an innocent child to this magical battle. As above, so below.
This gets at a point that I once realized when doing my coverage of Twin Peaks, a year and a half ago. I was delving into the spinoff novels from co-creator Mark Frost, in particular The Secret History Of Twin Peaks. That book uses the broad tapestry of American history itself to weave a grand narrative of conspiracy and mysterious happenings, and it was the book which made me realize that the macrocosm is not inherently evil. It is a tool. Used poorly, it can lead to the kind of shit that drove me up the wall in sci-fi and made me flee to Quantum Leap. Used with care and craft, however, as Frost did, it can be an effective tool for revealing a grand scope. Danger Street manages to do this by using the power of the shared universe of DC comics as a tool and not a means in and of itself. It looks out on the grand scope of the continuity created over decades, selects a few useful pieces like Apokalips or the Danger Street kids or the Green Team, and crafts a story using each element in parallel. It has a great and grand story to tell, and it does so with real purpose. It feels like real and important human things happen in this book that sometimes cuts to a planet far away with a large and imposing grey alien man, and that's no mean feat. With careful attention to detail, Danger Street proves that a shared universe can be special, a treasure trove of tools and story elements that can be rearranged into something unique and meaningful, an infinity of storytelling possibilities out there so long as you remember to keep one foot grounded.
Grounded it is, because Danger Street once again feels like a Dark Heart Of America book. The microcosmic antagonists of this book, the Green Team, prove that. I don't know the lore behind them but they're a bunch of rich and powerful kids who have gone absolutely mad with what influence they have, treating all below them with disdain. There's some backstory where what might be an embodiment of chaos gave boons out to kids based on how well they did at a playground game. The winners got to be rich and powerful while the losers became outsiders and monsters. To me it feels like a bit of social commentary on the arbitrary nature of wealth and power in modern America, and how there's no meritocracy. They got to the seats of power just because of the whims of fate, not because they're truly worthy of it. When fortunes are reversed at the end, and the outsiders are brought back in while the rich kids lose all they had, you see just how lowly and pathetic they truly are without their power behind them. The most telling moment of this in the book is a scene where one is almost killed by an assassin sent from Apokalips to hunt them down. This kid begs for his life, and when the assassin shows mercy this child who was pissing his pants and crying suddenly gets bold enough to shittalk him as a coward. Little fucker. The kids also have employed Jack Ryder, the Creeper, as a right-wind pundit to go on TV and bitch and moan about the Outsiders to kick up a hateful frenzy over the Not-We. Batman shows up for a hot minute, the only major superhero to really do so, to complain at Ryder for this and Ryder dismisses him as another little rich kid as well. The Dark Heart Of America beats strong in this one.
There's so much more at play, and I want to highlight one or two more elements which tie all together, but let me talk about the actual art first. It's quite good, and it does this wonderful thing that I've not seen before. On some occasions, the onomatopoeia of an action will be the panel: the art is inlaid within the very large word of the action, BAAAAAM or CRAAAAASH or what have you. It's a very smart trick. Structurally as well, I'm fond of the comic being narrated by Dr. Fate's helmet in a fairy tale style. There are knights and princesses, but in the antagonists is something quite interesting. Darkseid and his ilk are called "Dragons". The Green Team and the rich kids? Monsters. Something to chew on. Another highlight is the issue which consists entirely of the Green Team's bodyguard and the assassin trying to kill them having a sword fight while giving a philosophical debate about not just their ideologies and missions, but the very theme of the comic itself. It's absolutely stellar, and completely compelling.
So too is the finale, which deals with a core theme of the book: the absence of Superman. The lady cop investigating the death of the kid at the start of the book has a tragic backstory where she hid under a bed in college while a madman did murders, and she whispered for help from Superman but he never came. Come the end of the book, through shenanigans, the dead child is revived and has the power of Atlas with him, the power to hold up the world and maintain stability. It's unfair to ask it of him, but his friends join him and take on the burden. Why? Because Superman isn't here. At the very end of things, in this DC book, we are reminded that the superheroes aren't going to solve the real problems of the real world. The macrocosm won't save you. The microcosm, however, can. It's up to you to step up against the Dark Heart of the world, to make a difference, to stand for what's right and support those you love and care about. It's up to you to be Superman. Superman never appears in the book, and I almost wish Batman didn't just to hammer the point home that the Justice League are not the ones who are showing up to save the day. The lady cop had to step up and protect and serve in her own way (Yes, I know, ACAB, but we'll play pretend with the theme of the book for one moment) and the kids have to step up and protect the world. The microcosm helps the macrocosm. As above, so below. Danger Street has a lot more going on under the hood than this, and I may have gotten some things wrong. If I did, I did. I'm just trying my best here, and feel free to gently correct me. This book gets it, though, and I wish more superhero comic books and media had its spirit and drive.
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