The first time I saw Dr. Stephen
Strange was the first time any reader saw him. I was 8 when the magician arrived
unheralded in the back pages of Strange
Tales 110 in July 1963.
Astral projection, entering
people’s dreams, battling a shadowy horror-movie figure named, appropriately,
Nightmare — in a mere five pages, this character proved himself to be a
superhero who was different and distinct, yet another from a comic book
company, soon to be called Marvel, that somehow kept turning them out.
As the series continued, we’d see
just how strange his milieu was, as the sorcerer visited other ominous dimensions
where weird, twisted and ominous shapes hung suspended, obeying vastly
different laws of space and time.
“(H)is otherworlds were vast open spaces with no up or down,
no horizon or vanishing point, only floating pathways linking one aerial island
to another,” wrote Gerard Jones and Will Jacobs in their excellent book The Comic Book Heroes.
“These pathways were impeded by
doorways set in space, where disembodied snake-jaws waited to snap down on the
unwary traveler, guarded by legions of mindless, horrid creatures harkening to
the commands of dark lords. Battles were never fought with fists and feet, but
with incantations… with plasmic blasts of mystic force, with undulating webs of
magic, with hypnotism and astral projection. The effect of these brief, tightly
plotted stories was an eerieness that bordered on the hallucinatory, a
genuinely disturbing air very rare in comics books.”
Looking back, I can see that those
scenes also represented an interface between artist’s Steve Ditko’s bizarre,
powerful imagination and the ordinary world (a contrast you can also see in his
later work for DC on Shade, the Changing
Man).
A"meta" panel from a later tale, somewhat akin to "The Tempest," in which the magic turns out to be the artist's imaginative power over the audience. |
His origin, when we learned it,
was equally fresh. An arrogant and egotistical surgeon whose steady hands had
been ruined in an accident, he sought out the Ancient One high the mountains of
Tibet for desperately selfish reasons. It was only as he gained his arcane
powers that he also gained compassion, enlightenment and purpose.
The romance and tragedy of Dr. Strange’s
situation was well expressed by director-writer Philip DeGuere near the close
of the 1978 Dr. Strange TV pilot
movie, when Stephen Strange, played by Peter Hooten, asks his mentor Lindmer,
played by John Mills, what choice he has.
“To serve yourself, or all of mankind,”
Lindmer replies.
“Is that a choice? What will I be
called upon to do?”
“Become more than a man,” Lindmer
replies. “And to renounce such earthly pleasures as are given to men who are
only mortal — the pleasure of ignorance, or offspring, or an easy death.”
“Will I be asked to give up even
love?”
“The universe is love,” replies
the ancient one. “That, you shall have.”
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