Uncanny X-Men #700: Radiant, With Open Arms

With so many writers and artists working together on a piece, it’s easy to imagine some of the gears getting sticky and popping off, but this script ticks along like the well-made watch it is, neatly tying off nearly five years of loose plotlines and returning the World of X to a status quo that feels both comfortably familiar and tantalizingly new.

All the major players get at least a moment in which to reassert their characters. Wolverine gets to throw himself, claws first into danger, Nightcrawler (more on him, in a minute) gets to philosophize and crack a truly awful, God tier level dad joke. Apocalypse reverts to villain (albeit one with the very best of intentions), Storm thunders, Magneto’s broken heart is mended, and Xavier completes his transmogrification into a truly dangerous villain. 

Thanks to timey-wimey interdimensional shenanigans and the intervention of The Phoenix, this ending is the very definition of having one’s cake and eating it too. Krakoa is gone, returned forever to the difficult, utopian desert of the White Hot Room (remember that Utopia means, literally, ‘no place’) but at least all of the Genoshan mutants have been returned to life and an undisclosed (and therefore mutable) number of exiles have been permanently returned to life. Long live Krakoa. 

The book had a touching postscript, written by Chris Claremont. He doesn’t play well with others, so he wasn’t a part of the main script, but oh does he ever write beautifully all by himself. His story examined the effects that the revelation of Mystique and Destiny’s abandonment had on Nightcrawler and Rogue, and it was absolutely perfect. Kurt tries so hard to love, despite his wounds, and neither Irene nor Raven are capable of healing him. The issue is worth purchasing for this story alone. 

The art, delivered as it was by so many different artists, should have been jarring. However, each artist was carefully chosen so that their strengths matched their scenes. For example, Opeña’s art was grim, verging on disgusting (befitting the cajones joke), while Vecchio’s cheerful lines reflected the requisite happy ending. Larocca’s clear, photorealistic art was deeply fitting for the more grounded, emotional story he was given.