“There is white, and there is black, and there is nothing in-between.” The deep and wispy voice of Alan Moore, repeating words written by the great Steve Ditko, will forever stay with me. When Jonathan Ross went on his quest to locate the solitary Ditko in 2007, he interviewed Moore with the aim to uncover more about Ditko’s morals and world view through the characters he created. That quote repeatedly with characteristic drama by Alan Moore can be attributed to Mr A, an obscure vigilante whose moral outlook was entirely composed of simple ‘good’ and ‘bad’ – with nothing dividing the two. Few remember Mr A today, but many remember another behatted crusader inspired by the thoughts of Ayn Rand’s objectivism. Created in 1967 for DC Comics, the Question was a Ditko-creation with a softer touch than Mr A. A journalist by day and a crimefighter by night, the Question’s perseverance to clean out the swamp that is Hub City makes him a hardline vigilante. Although – to me – the very idea of objectivism and sheer individualism seems a million miles apart from super-heroism and acts of service, this is not the place to dive into that pit. Writers like Steve Ditko and then Dennis O’Neil have brilliantly explored the morals of the Question and his world oozing with realistic horrors. For years, it seemed that the Question’s legacy was simply going to continue thanks to those two extremely able writers. However, that changed in 2020.
In 2018, DC launched Black Label. This imprint – similar to Vertigo – was DC’s home to more adult longform stories (and swearing), with many of the publications printed in a more large-scale format. Two years after the imprint’s launch, writer Jeff Lemire – alongside Denys Cowan and Bill Sienkiewicz – published The Question: The Deaths of Vic Sage. This four-issue miniseries was released throughout 2020.
Jeff Lemire had made a name for himself by penning numerous stories for the likes of Dark Horse and Image Comics before discovering a new audience at DC Comics. The writer of the Animal Man and Green Arrow titles during DC’s New 52 in the 2010s, Lemire has garnered a reputation as a serious storyteller with his tales reflecting the gritty themes of our own world. Perhaps that explains why The Question: The Deaths of Vic Sage certainly can enjoy a reputation for grim themes and painting a world as ugly as possible. Previously, The Question had only featured as the star in one title – his own late-1980s/early 1990s comic book penned by the giant Dennis O’Neil. This title did more than simply modernise aspects of Ditko’s original work. It transformed Hub City into Gotham’s slightly crueller cousin, while establishing a cast of corrupt characters and amiable allies who readers came to genuinely focus and think about. That era of the Question’s history is remembered with fondness; therefore I’m certain readers were pleased to see Denys Cowan and Bill Sienkiewicz return to this unfriendly world. But above all else, The Deaths of Vic Sage consistently returns readers to that concept of morals, especially through a phrase repeated often – “There is good. There is bad. And if you’re unsure which side you stand on, then chances are it’s the wrong one.” This is a story about identity and morality.
Upon reading the first book of The Deaths of Vic Sage, readers of Dennis O’Neil’s series may experience some mild déjà vu. Cowan’s artwork may play a role in this, but I’d argue Lemire’s sense of storytelling, setting, and dialogue deserves just as much credit. From the Question fighting a corrupt political class involved with underage sexual crimes, to the Question’s taciturn attitude coloured only by occasional wit, to Vic Sage’s direct questioning on live TV, it is as if the world of the 1990s has been recreated with just as much drama and depression. Lemire also helps by reintroducing us to some familiar faces. On TV, Vic Sage interviews Myra Fermin, the sister of Hub City’s incredibly corrupt mayor, about the unsayable wrongdoings of the city’s political establishment. Tensions are high, arguments are had, and mysteries are to be solved. This is a welcome return to Dennis O’Neil’s version of the Question, and Lemire paints that world of the early-1990s with great accuracy through Tot, Vic’s loyal friend and ally, whose wit and humour evokes a laugh even at the darkest of hours. A highlight of The Deaths of Vic Sage is its familiarity to an era loved by many, and a time which was home to many great stories written by a legend of the comic book medium.
However, the setting isn’t all that entices the reader in the first book. What is a setting without a plot. In this case, the Question’s focus is on a ring, specifically a ring worn by a corrupt councilman. At first, such a detail would be easy to ignore, but when it’s revealed that Mayor Fermin’s lawyers – men in dark suits not at all pleased with Vic Sage’s comments on live TV – wear the same ring, the cogs within the behatted detective’s mind begins working away. Lemire captures the sheer relentlessness of a hero like the Question – this mission he has placed himself on is almost impossible to decipher, but his persistence suits the characters created so brilliantly by Ditko and pioneered so flawlessly by O’Neil. The Question’s search for clues brings success, but at a cost. The mystery deepens infinitely as he finds the remnants of a long-dead underground cult which used the mark from the ring as their symbol. All the cultists have been transformed to dust and bones, but what sticks out is that one of them continues to wear a face mask – specifically a face mask worn by the Question! What’s more, a voice speaks from a deep dark pit, with the most terrifying of faces. This devilish face haunts the Question throughout the miniseries, as do the faces of characters yet unfamiliar. Lemire writes this element of The Deaths of Vic Sage incredibly cryptically – very little is given away. However, in keeping with the drama of Hub City, everything goes wrong at once. Just as Vic’s world is given a shake, a police officer kills an innocent black man on the street, and Mayor Fermin is held to ransom by a mysterious political figure. Riots break out on the streets of Hub City over the death of the innocent man. Again, this reflects the city pioneered by a writer like Dennis O’Neil, the social warrior who strongly believed in social justice, and that comics should aim to inform and impassion the politics of the reader. Although much of The Deaths of Vic Sage was released the event, comparisons with the murder of George Floyd in May 2020 – the injustice, the racism, and the protests – have relevance here. Lemire wants the terrors of Hub City to reflect the social problems of our time, a consistent theme during the Question’s history. It is yet another reason why Ditko created such a great character.
All this kind of chaos is familiar to readers of the O’Neil era, but where Lemire sets out a unique path is when Vic Sage – instead of attempting to calm down the riots by making another of his forceful broadcasts – locates Richard Dragon. Another creation of Dennis O’Neil’s, Lemire writes Dragon as a former tutor to a once cocky and arrogant young Vic Sage. Okay, he is still cocky and arrogant, but slightly older. Nevertheless, the Question wants advice – he needs to know how a facemask of his could have been used by cultists in the past. There are even more questions about why this facemask has a huge bullet-hole on its forehead. So many questions – what are the answers? The truth begins to come out once – through a kind of drug trip – Richard Dragon thrusts Vic Sage into the past.
The year is 1886 in Hub City, and the Question is patrolling this wild western city from bandits and paranoia. The Question is suited to this world of the nineteenth century, but that’s perhaps because it isn’t very different from the present. The racism of 2020 is still as distressing as the discrimination of 1886, with Vic Sage – or Viktor Szasz as he is called here – coming to the aid of Irving Booker and his wife. Irving – a black man – is accused of theft, despite little evidence and the word of a priest condemning him to death.
Ever the hero, Szasz does all he can to rescue Irving and his wife from danger, but unlike it most other comic books, Lemire is no fan of a happy ending. The tale of the Question of 1886 is a tragic one – the angry locals of Hub City kill the Bookers, and Viktor Szasz nearly gets an early death for helping the disadvantaged. However, the story takes yet another unusual turn when a bow-wielding horse-riding cultist appears and takes Viktor to a hidden location. All discussion returns to that evil face from earlier, with Viktor noticing the priest’s face transforming into this monster. This monster seems to embody evil itself, and it has been present in Hub City for centuries. These cultists have been waiting for Charlie – or Viktor, or the Question – to banish this evil for good. Before Viktor can even ponder a response, the cultist places a trademark blank facemask on him and he’s off to face evil. We return to the lair of the cultists from earlier. This time, Irving Booker is alive and well, but it is all merely a trick. This isn’t Irving, but the devil – that priest from earlier. One bullet to Viktor’s face lands him in 1941.
The adventures in books two and three come strongly out of the blue, but it’s those themes which Lemire carefully places within them that make them relevant and enjoyable. The story of Vic Sage in a Hub City riddled with industrial strife and direct action is a plot oozing with O’Neil’s style. A private detective in this era, Vic Sage is hired by Margaret Fuller, a worker in a garment factory whose brother has recently gone missing. She asks for his help, and Vic – with a love of redhaired women – can’t resist. This is a story which could easily take place in the present of Hub City, but Lemire does create some contrasts. For instance, Pop is a police officer here and one of the few in the force who isn’t corrupt. As with the tale in the second book, it is as if the world of the present has been recreated in the past with only a few scant differences. The quest for Margaret’s brother lands Vic into more trouble, but as the Question, he fights the mob and gets entangled in a tale whereby Margaret and her comrades fight against the establishment of Hub City in protest over the working conditions in the factories. This very much reflects the era of the story’s setting, and Lemire writes it with the power and impact of an O’Neil story. Vic Sage fits this era better than the nineteenth century, and perhaps even the present. With his dress sense, style, and the use of his brain as a private detective, Lemire paints the perfect picture of the Question. In the end, the Question’s trail takes him back to the cultists – all organised mobsters. It’s here where the Question finally realises that he has existed before, he has lived before, and he has died before. Events repeat when Margaret Fuller appears from the blue and stabs Vic Sage to death. It is the work of the mysterious devil yet again – the priest. After what feels like a rollercoaster, Vic wakes up back in the company of Richard Dragon.
So, what was that all about? The Question’s journey through time is an idea far removed from much of the usual concepts readers get with stories featuring Vic Sage, but I believe the purpose of it is to paint a picture. Similarly to Batman and Gotham City, the Question and Hub City go hand-in-hand. But more importantly, the hero and the setting are linked in a triangle with an unstoppable force – evil. Crime and corruption haunts Hub City in the same way that insanity seems to haunt Gotham. The evil within Hub City is composed of the very worst of our own world – racism, discrimination, the well-off gladly stepping upon the cold corpses of the disadvantaged. This was the case in 1886, in 1941, and in 2020. Hub City needs the Question to fight for justice, even though the duel may be unending. Glueing the time periods with such powerful and gritty themes is done brilliantly, but when it comes to explaining the whys and how’s of The Deaths of Vic Sage, readers will find few answers. Is Richard Dragon simply giving the Question a fictional drug trip, or is Vic Sage reliving a past that actually happened? That must surely be the case, since the ruins of the cultists in their lair – with a damaged mask belonging to a previous Question, exist in the present. But how could they? How could the Question be reborn so many times? Jeff Lemire pens a great mystery, but it’s in desperate need of answers. Sadly, answers aren’t forthcoming in the fourth issue.
We return to the present. Finally, Vic Sage gets his act together. With the race riots ongoing, it’s revealed that Mayor Fermin is being held hostage by none other than evil himself – the priest from the past. This character has followed the Question from childhood – we are treated to a flashback whereby the young orphan Vic Sage is met with the priest, who pledges to be his best friend for life. This evil has been following the Question for decades. Vic Sage believes it is time to end this evil once and for all. How does he do this? Live on his TV station, Vic Sage denounces the political establishment before revealing himself to be the Question. The firing gun has been started – the Questions storms the Town Hall (somehow defeating dozens of armed guards all by himself) and enters just in time to witness Mayor Fermin blow his own brains out. Conveyed with such shock and drama, sadly for Question readers the drama would be ignored by the nagging questions of continuity. Mayor Fermin died towards the end of the O’Neil run – surely this must mean The Deaths of Vic Sage isn’t canon. People could speculate about chronology for hours on-end; let’s just enjoy the moment of sheer shock. The Question’s confrontation with the devil of Hub City is short, and slightly underwhelming. Aside from some predictable dialogue from both parties about how much they loathe one another, the greatest surprise comes when Myra shoots the devil in the head. The devil is given no time to explain it all, and everything returns to normal. Well, actually, no it doesn’t. The Question leaves the Town Hall and finds the rioting continues. What’s more, he notices the spirit of the devil still haunting Hub City. The Question has no choice but to continue his battle against evil. Frustratingly, that is where Lemire ends the story.
It’s certainly odd to read to a comic book which has such a grim and depressing end. However, that obscures the true problem with The Deaths of Vic Sage. While Jeff Lemire’s dialogue, cast, and use of settings is absolutely spot on, that lack of clarity really brings the story down. We can assume – even if we aren’t told – that the evil spirit is the embodiment of Hub City’s crime-ridden history, and that the Question is the defender of justice through the decades, but the story seems to make such an idea appear like a realistic prospect which actually happened. The cultists, their remains, and the facemasks of previous Questions are present in the real world, surely suggesting that the events in this tale aren’t illusions, but reality. Lemire provides little explanation to the devil’s purpose or why Hub City has become its home. The trouble is that there are too many answers left undisclosed. This isn’t always such a bad thing – often mystery can be a positive, but in this circumstance, clarity and explanation would have been very welcome. It’s a shame because Lemire has captured Hub City flawlessly, the persona of the Question excellently, and the cast, characters, and morals of the O’Neil era with great relevance and success. Tying the tale to social issues goes to the heart of the Question’s plight for justice; it’s just tragic that mysticism must get in the way.
It goes without saying that Jeff Lemire’s great attempts to recreate the world of the 1990s are aided by the artwork. After all, Denys Cowan created the modern aesthetic of the gritty and depressing Hub City. It is impossible to deny the talent of Cowan as a storyteller – his page layouts and panels ooze constant drama, action, and fluidity. The storytelling’s pacing corresponds flawlessly with the fast-moving writing of a plotter like Lemire. However, the quality of the artwork itself is abysmal. Inkers can easily make or break a comic book. The likes of Rick Magyar may have delivered scratchy styles of inking, but that suited the gritty attitude of the title. Here, we have Bill Sienkiewicz. Despite the high acclaim he is held in, his inks are woeful. Aside from adding a suitable layer of darkness to this depressing tale, his other acts are messy, sloppy, and often seem lazy. The scratchiness is overwhelming, the smoother textures rendered by Cowan are ruined, and any clarity or sense of style is messed up by the worst inking I have witnessed in a modern comic book. It may have one or two redeeming qualities, but I can’t help but think it is the most amateur artwork I have seen in a modern comic book.
VERDICT
Overall, there is good and bad to say about The Question: The Deaths of Vic Sage. Lemire renders a world perfect for the Question. With a focus on social issues, and flawlessly capturing each of the personalities of Vic Sage’s world, Lemire writes a story that readers of the 1980s/1990s Question series would feel so nostalgic for. Although the story explores some intriguing concepts, that is often where Lemire is bogged down. The story’s greatest asset – it’s mystery – becomes its prison, especially as the writer does little to explain or develop it further. It is certainly worth a read for those who dearly miss the Dennis O’Neil stories of the Question; it comes as no shock that the creative team dedicate this tale to the wonderful writer and editor who changed the perception of comic books.
Next Week: The Flash: Emergency Stop (The Flash (vol 2) 130-135, Green Lantern (vol 3) 96, Green Arrow (vol 2) 130). Written by Grant Morrison, Mark Millar, Ron Marz, and Chuck Dixon, with art by Paul Ryan, John Nyberg, William Rosado, Sal Buscema, Paul Pelletier, and John Lowe.
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