“American Psycho, conclusion”
Writer: Christopher Priest
Artists: Dan Jurgens (p), Tom Palmer (i)
Publisher: Marvel Comics
Plot: Cap and the Anti-Cap in final battle, while Falcon is nowhere to be found.
Comments: For story purposes, the Anti-Cap was more of a co-star of this series than Falcon ever was. He was there from the first issue, and unlike Falcon, he’s here in the last. What’s the purpose of having two versions of Captain America in one story if not to contrast two disparate strains of symbolism about our schizophrenic country? If our time-lost Cap represents naïve and simplistic irrelevance, and Anti-Cap represents the current paradigm of pragmatism over morality, then what did Falcon represent?
He’s not despairing and befuddled like Steve Rogers in most of the stories on this short-lived title, and he’s not psychotic like Steve’s drug-addled analog. What he is, from before his first appearance and presumably even now in his absence, is angry. Sam Wilson is an irritant, a goad, a guilty conscious and an uneasy friend to Cap throughout each step of the Anti-Cap story, from the drug-busting Cuban cartel that began the series, to the hasty frame-up that confronted Sam on their return to the states, throughout the sci-fi and spy fun of the MODOK story, and especially in the final kiss-off last issue.
Sam seemed the least puzzled by Steve’s interlude with a suddenly promising Wanda, which coincided with odd flashbacks that showed his loyalty to the new Anti-Cap came from seeing the murderer as a victim of the same forces that forever altered Steve’s life back in WWII. Anti-Cap, of course, turns out to be no Bucky at all, choosing expedience over honor at every turn.
It’s tempting to look at race in this story, though hard somehow to directly confront it. Sam’s anger makes him lash out at a Harlem civilian, dominating him to the point that a violent reprisal is the only way to regain self-respect. He takes a pot shot at Robbie Robertson, who I’ve always read as a Marvel analog for Sidney Poitier-esque peaceful assimilation (definitely more MLK than Malcolm X). He ultimately tells Cap that their partnership (a relic of the Blaxploitation seventies after all) is impossible, untenable for either because of their social and moral divergence. He allies himself implicitly with the Anti-Cap, as Steve’s replacement, at least until Steve’s life is endangered.
There’s not much fun to be had in Falcon’s life in this story, which reads as loss after loss for Cap, who ends up more alone, though no more insightful, than when he began. It’s frustrating when your heroes don’t see their own flaws, and when their dark passages don’t lead into the light, but into a void, or at best into a grim and rainy twilight.
Also interesting: It’s a shame Priest wasn’t matched by old-school talents like Jurgens and Palmer from the beginning of this series. Their clarity and complete command of super-hero anatomy would have worked both to clarify Priest’s complex plotting and as an ironic contrast to his story about how old values are beautiful but misplaced post world-wide terror. Jurgens’ Cap and Anti-Cap are startling contrasts fighting across rooftops and subways, and his morbid Paris a Gothic and moody treat.
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