Power is a tricky thing. I’m not even talking about the responsibility or corruption that comes with it; I’m talking about writing about power.
A common complaint about some superheroes is that they’re too powerful. Can a Superman story be truly compelling when the protagonist can do nearly anything? (Answer: Yes. Proof: All-Star Superman.) It usually comes up in those silly Marvel vs. DC debates: DC superheroes are super-duper-powerful, while Marvel heroes are more human. How, exactly, this still holds up when Wolverine has been shown to regenerate his entire body from a single strand of DNA is rather beyond me, but let’s ignore that for a moment. Let’s also ignore the fact that in 99% of superhero stories published by Marvel and DC, the hero can’t lose; it’s not like the Green Goblin is actually going to kill Spider-Man any time this century.
Instead, let’s look at the latest story starring one of those too-powerful characters: Doctor Strange. Strange is even trickier than most super-superheroes because he’s all about magic. His powers are both all-encompassing and vague. While anyone’s powers might shift a little for story purposes from book to book depending on the writer, at least the basics will be consistent; maybe Spider-Man’s a little stronger here than there, maybe his spidey-sense works a little differently from time to time, but he’s still a guy with the proportional sense of a spider.
Magic, on the other hand, refuses to be pinned down. At least, few people seem willing to pin it down. So if Doctor Strange can alter reality in one book, it’s kind of difficult to explain why he can’t do anything about Stilt Man in another. For that matter, it seems like half the stories I’ve read featuring the character spend most of their time talking about why he can’t do anything: There are mystical wards; he has a headache; he’s out buying milk and forgot to bring his cell phone.
All of this brings us to Doctor Strange: The Oath, by Brian K. Vaughan and Marcos Martin. Vaughan has effectively broken the story into overlapping but separate elements: There’s the mystical hocus-pocus that’s necessary for a Doctor Strange story, and there’s down-to-earth detective work and fistfights to anchor the story into reality. Vaughan hasn’t made an extensive list of what his protagonist can and cannot do, but he imposes certain limits on the character’s abilities; if they’re more-or-less arbitrary, they’re also quite sensible and enable the story to progress logically on a level that everyone can understand.
The basic premise is fairly simple: Strange’s manservant Wong becomes sick; Strange finds a mystical cure; the cure is stolen by a burglar who also shoots Strange, near fatally; Strange tries to get it back.
It’s the shooting that gives the story its first bit of grounding, and adds an element that will ground the character even further. Obviously, one doesn’t expect the Master of the Mystic Arts to simply get shot, let alone in the first issue (the third page, even); the fact that it’s a gun with some bad mystical mojo only detracts slightly.
The shooting also leads to the addition of a vital element of the story: Night Nurse. The 1970s romance comic protagonist has been recently reincarnated as a medic to the superhero community. (She is, in fact, a doctor, but continues to got by Night Nurse because it’s “catchier than Night General Practitioner.”)
Night Nurse is a welcome and necessary source of skepticism and dry wit for the story, as well as an important character element. Doctor Strange is the super-important magic guy, but he’s not exactly on top of his real-world responsibilities. That’s why he needs Wong, who makes sure the hydro bill gets paid and Strange can always find his Cloak of Levitation. But while Wong is more rooted in the physical world, he’s also a bit too reverent of his master.
That’s where Night Nurse comes in. She’s not so skeptical that she doesn’t believe in magic or superpowers, but she’s also not afraid to tell Strange when he’s being a ninny, or when there’s a simpler way to do something than casting a big spooky spell. “For most of my adult life, I’ve run a back-alley hospice that cares for every vigilante in the city,” she tells him. “You honestly think I haven’t picked up a few tricks of the trade?” Night Nurse adds a great dynamic to the book, complementing Strange perfectly; she works perfectly as a legitimate partner to Strange; while it’s obviously his book, Vaughan quickly elevates her above the level of “sassy sidekick.”
Vaughan sets up various roadblocks between Strange, his would-be assassin, and that man’s employer. There are mystical wards, robots, monsters, and possibly the least-expected sort of confrontation between Strange and his adversary that comes with a great payoff and one of Vaughan’s trademark Awesome Moments. Doctor Strange is unquestionably the Magic Master guy, but Vaughan has structured the story so his less-powerful co-stars each have roles to play; Strange is the most powerful guy around, but the story’s not merely about having the most power.
I’m not familiar with any of Marcos Martin’s previous work, but he’s on my list of “Artists To Watch” now. (Admittedly, it’s more of a concept than a “list”, per se.) He matches Vaughan’s talent for mixing the real world with the other-worldly; he shows some imagination with the big spooky monsters and earth-shattering conflicts, but he also pulls off some great character moments. Also like Vaughan, he seems to enjoy the addition of Night Nurse to the cast: She doesn’t entirely look dressed for action and adventure – she looks something like a turn-of-the-century doctor – but Martin gives her plenty of life, character, and intelligence. Not to mention a sensible hairstyle.
It probably shouldn’t surprise anyone by this point that Vaughan can write a great story. Doctor Strange may have been an unusual choice for his talents, but it turned out to be a pretty good one: Doctor Strange: The Oath is full of the snappy dialogue, plot twists, and great moments that you’d expect from him. He’s also managed to avoid most of the problems associated with the character, suggesting (proving, even) that the problem with writing Doctor Strange lies not with the character, but with the talent and imagination of the writers telling his stories.
