Aquaman #60: The Kid is Alright

Aquaman continues to be the strongest book DC’s publishing that nobody’s talking about. In writer Kelly Sue DeConnick’s hands, it’s quietly become a meditation on fatherhood and adult responsibilities, coupled with a healthy dose of palace intrigue. It’s easily the most mature take on Aquaman we’ve seen in years, too – light on superheroic shenanigans (barring the odd Mecha Manta fight) and heavy on theme, tone, and narrative. DeConnick’s Arthur Curry isn’t about running around bopping bad guys on the head; he’s a three-dimensional, complex adult (I keep coming back to that word) with real, relateable concerns. This is an Aquaman for grown-ups.

Case in point, in “Echoes of a Life Well Lived,” his concern is getting his daughter back, who was kidnapped by unknown parties (well, unknown to Arthur any way – we know it was Ocean Master, but he’s currently managed to bamboozle and misdirect his old foe). He doesn’t go around trolling the underworld and beating information out of lowlifes. He doesn’t spend countless issues fighting spandex-clad bad guys and yelling bland platitudes. Instead, he worries. Because the world is a big place, and he has no idea where to start. It’s the same response any sane parent would have in the real world, that feeling of helplessness that their child is somewhere out there, unprotected. It’s a welcome response to a stressful situation that reflects a maturity in both writing and characterization, and a major tonal shift away from standard superhero tropes. In its way, Aquaman defies the odds and becomes more than “just” a superhero comic (although there’s nothing wrong with that) by coming down to earth, planting its feet firmly on the ground, and telling the story of Arthur Curry the man, more than Arthur Curry the superhero. And that sets it apart from both previous runs of this title and other books on the shelf in a noticeable way.

And that extends to the art, too. Miguel Mendonca carries the torch from Robson Rocha this issue without missing a beat, conveying a world that feels real and lived-in. There’s a lush beauty to his linework that is highly detailed, but never flashy. It suits DeConnick’s grounded script to a T, and really gets at the heart of the characters, both in expression and body language. Blocking characters on page is a real skill; it takes a keen understanding of posture and emotional projection. I’m happy to say Mendonca cannily employs both, and should he remain on the book, DeConnick has a more than capable artistic partner for conveying her vision.