The premise of superheroes arriving on an Earth in which they previously existed only as comic book characters is nothing new. In fact, describing it as a common trope in superhero comics would be generous as cliched would provide a much more accurate term. This awareness—one surely possessed by any creator working in the field today—makes the reliance of Olympia #1 on its hackneyed core concept all the more baffling. In spite of an extended length approaching 40 pages, the debut reads as quickly as most barely present installments from DC and Marvel, but without the polish found in most of those similarly tired retellings of ideas that were originally deployed in the 1960s, 70s, and 80s.
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The first issue introduces readers to Olympian, a generic superpowered god apparently based on Jack Kirby’s work on the Fourth World titles and Thor. He is the hero who dominates the dreams of a young boy, Elon, who stays out late reading comics to escape from real world troubles like bullies and the loss of his father. While it’s possible to comment on the superhero genre by leaving such an obvious homage lying flat on the page, this is a problem not restricted to Olympian. Instead, Elon and the many figures barely introduced around him are rendered similarly lifeless. The young boy fits into a familiar role of young nerd, functioning more as a figure for readers to project vague memories of high school failings onto than an individual with his own motives and inner life. When everyone else can be easily summarized and dismissed in a caption like “frazzled single mother” or “understanding school teacher,” it leaves readers without a single place to attach their sympathies or concerns.
Elon’s world lacks distinction on a visual level as well. Each new place is identifiable but fails to provide any of the eccentricities or life required to make them feel real. A child’s bedroom is a place for a bed, bookshelves, and a few small pieces of ephemera on the walls. A classroom exists as a chalkboard with unintelligible scribblings and blank, beige walls before rows of desks. They are scratched surfaces that define a space, but never exist as a place unto themselves. That lack of detail becomes a distracting problem when a map and flags are digitally placed onto the page, creating a jarring effect and calling further attention to the lack of attention found in each new sequence.
The comics that seek to explode Elon’s imagination suffer from a similar absence of detail and attention. Gods, soldiers, and castles—the stuff of great comics inspiration—are all easily summarized as generic. Beyond the oddly-protruding lion on Olympian’s chest, there’s not a single detail of note. That Olympia #1 takes such painstaking efforts to clue readers into its affection for Jack Kirby, snagging a page from The New Gods #1 and clumsily taking on the cadence of Kirby’s idiosyncratic dialogue, only calls further attention to its utter failure to inspire. The professionally published comics of Olympia hold the aesthetic of a high school sketchbook.
Olympia #1 seems to ask if passion is enough to inspire great acts of creation. It’s presentation of a trite “high school nerd gets his big break” story along with lots of reminders that this is a comic by people who love superhero comics serve primarily to tell readers that everyone is very passionate about this idea after all. But there’s nothing beyond that excited call to remember better, past things to carry this comic book. Characters present as absences, designs are hastily assembled, and sequences lack even a spark of life. There’s nothing to be loved on the surface or investigated beneath it. Bland and banal, Olympia asks if passion is enough and the answer is plain: No.
Published by Image Comics
On November 20, 2019
Written by Curt Pires
Art by Alex Diotto
Colors by Dee Cunniffe
Letters by Micah Myers
Design by Ryan Ferrier
Cover by Alex Diotto
