Ever since Crisis on Infinite Earths kicked off the concept of line-wide crossovers, it has been common practice to use these “event” titles as launching platforms for new characters or retweaked fallow ones. The vast majority of these attempts fail miserably, as it extremely difficult to foster and sustain a viable level of interest amongst the comics-buying public on something that doesn’t feature Wolverine, Spider-Man, Batman, or another established favorite.

That hasn’t stopped the Big Two from optimistically launching squadrons of “ALL NEW! ALL DIFFERENT!” kites into waning hype-storms and hoping against hope for a bona fide lightning strike. Yet for every Starman, there are countless issues of Primal Force, Penance: Relentless, and the short-lived series featuring this week’s Nobody’s Favorite languishing in quarter bin limbo.

Pity the middle-tier franchise which had one bright (or overfondly remembered) shining moment, for it will never know the rest it deserves. DC has deforested continents in vain efforts to convince readers to give a damn about Hawkman and Aquaman on a monthly basis, but their Sisyphean struggles include lesser known heroes…like Manhunter, cursed with a “cool” name and a series of half-assed relaunches.

The goodwill for the Manhunter franchise largely centers around a backup feature which ran in Detective Comics during the early 1970′s. Archie Goodwin and Walt Simonson put an international espionage spin on the superhero concept with a Luger-and-martial-arts weapon toting crimefighter out to stop a vast criminal conspiracy, and the results were one of the high points of the Bronze Age of Comics.

If the conclusion to the Goodwin/Simonson Manhunter arc felt a little rushed, it did provide closure, with the character sacrificing himself to stop his enemies’ sinister plan. Superhero comics being a haven for creative scab-pickers, however, the name and concept was picked up again, first by Jack Kirby (who worked on the 1940s incarnation of Manhunter) who tried to return it to its Golden Age roots, and then by others who linked it into a cult of android predecessors to the Green Lantern Corps who used human agents at tools for their schemes and a former acolyte who turned on his masters and became a bounty hunting super-spy and where did I put my gun because I really could use it right now…

By the time the mid-1990s rolled around, the DC editorial powers at be decided to make a clean break from the tangled continuity with a whole new kind of Manhunter, spun out of 1994′s entirely unnecessary Zero Hour event miniseries. As the Goodwin/Simonson one was emblematic of the 70s, this fresh new take would embody the terrible glory of the Chromium Age of Comics.

Behold, MANHUNTER! Tremble at his unadulterated Nineties-ness!

(Considering the trouble I have finding a pair of 30W 36L jeans, I wonder where all these 1990s superheroes managed to locate pants with legs that tapered from telephone pole at the thigh to toothpick at the ankle.)

Chase Lawler (no relation to Dr. Chase Meridian, though both are paid members of the Stupid Names Society) is a low-key rock musician, too committed to the music, man, to grab the brass ring of superstardom. He has seen the pitfalls of that lifestyle firsthand, dude, through his metal-god-turned-meth-addict brother, and no way is he going down that road, so would you like to take a flyer for his upcoming show? He’s opening for a Christian jam band at this weekend’s farmers’ market and its going to be the bomb, let me tell you.

At least he spelt my name right, which is an improvement over most of these I get.

Lawler’s estranged singer girlfriend is less enthusiastic about artistic integrity as expressed though a diet of ramen noodles and boxed wine, and takes a first class ticket on the Courtney Love Express to self-destructive excess. Her cravings get her tangled up with some shady characters, leaving the besotted Chase with no choice but to consult a not-sinister-at-all “wizard” for assistance.

The wizard (who has no ulterior motives, honest) offers to help Chase get the supernatural help he needs to rescue his junkie lover, help which can only be summoned with THE POWER OF ROCK…

Chase’s heavy shredding conjures up the “Wild Huntsman,” a mythical baddie Chase’s grandmother once warned him about when he was a child. (This would explain why the summoning ritual to find my missing car keys, conducted with a wax paper and comb kazoo, conjured up the Monster Who Eats Bad Little Boys Named Andrew Who Cross the Street Without Looking Both Ways.)

In a totally unexpected and novel turn of events, the Huntsman demands a steep, yet vague, price for his assistance. Chase isn’t happy about it, but the totally on the up-and-up wizard poo-poos his concerns and helps outfit chase in an Unholy Thrall of The Wild Huntsman designer ensemble (featuring the requisite spikes, tassels, and oversized shoulder pads) he just happened to have lying around his apartment.

The Huntsman’s price turns out to be the privilege of following Manhunter around, tossing around metaphors about rabbits being hunted while occasionally killing the people that Chase alternates between beating up and protecting from being eaten by demonic hounds.   Chase also discovers that in order to defeat the Huntsman, he must become the Huntsman, though it is also shown that a bunch of inner city residents rushing to their windows for a peek can make the entity explode in a giant mushroom cloud.  Hey, you take whatever advantage you can get when facing against ponytailed 1990s spiritual evil.

If the above synopsis sounds more than a little familiar, it’s probably because it is. From the costume, to the thematic exploration of unholy pacts and spiritual corruption, to the artwork that apes Erik Larsen’s early efforts to ape Todd McFarlane, the 1994 incarnation of Manhunter is for all intents and purposes Spawn retooled for the PG-13 confines of the DC Universe…a shameless bit of pandering that lacked the mercenary clarity of the (already derivative) source material.

To paraphrase Harry S Truman, “People would rather read a shitty Image book than read an opportunistic attempt to mimic a shitty Image book.” As such an attempt, the post-Zero Hour incarnation of Manhunter is a tragic artifact of a tragic age, and a textbook example of Nobody’s Favorite.

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