Man Without Fear...By The Year: 1978
By Bruno Savill De Jong — It’s 1978. The first human conceived through IVF is born, Roman Polanski flees to France after being sentenced for rape, John Paul I dies 33 days after becoming Pope and the comic strip Garfield debuts in newspapers. People are listening to “I Will Survive,” watching Superman: The Movie, and reading Daredevil.
Written by Jim Shooter (150-151), Gil Kane (151; plot), Roger McKenzie (151-154)
Illustrated by Carmine Infantino (150, 152), Gil Kane (151), Gene Colan (153-154)
Inks by Klaus Janson (150-152), Tony Dezuniga (153), Steve Leialoha (154)
Colors by Klaus Janson (150-151), George Roussos (152), Mary Titus (153), Steve Leialoha (154)
Lettered by Denise Wohl (150, 153), Bruce Patterson (151-152), Jim Novak (154)
By 1978, diminishing sales of Daredevil had moved it to a bimonthly book, having the lowest number of issues covered so far*. It’s a year rarely discussed, lost between Matt’s zanier ‘70s adventures and before Frank Miller arrives. Yet despite its imperfections, 1978’s Daredevil surprised me with its dark themes and art-style. Daredevil has been wrestling with darkness for a long time – almost the entire decade – and these stories show a character-focused anguish which feels startlingly bold compared to what has come before.
Roger McKenzie begins writing here, frequently overshadowed and unfavourably compared to the one who would replace him. Yet McKenzie’s writing strips back the overt and flowery narration of Shooter (and many other writers) to let the scenarios speak for themselves. His characters stutter or are silent in ways rarely seen in Daredevil before, the psychological toll of their suffering seeming to make them crack. McKenzie was known for writing horror titles beforehand, and he brings the same fright and anguish found in those works. Matt Murdock has “quit” being Daredevil several times now, but this time his enraged outbursts and deadened breakdown feel far rawer and more unfettered than previous portrayals.
Even before McKenzie takes over, Shooter’s final Daredevil (the 150th issue) opens with a young man attempting suicide-by-cop. Daredevil subdues and lectures to him how “you’ve just got to keep trying! Never ever give up like that again!” but it feels like he’s talking to himself as much as the kid. Matt’s hidden knowledge of Maxwell Glenn’s innocence has soured his relationships with both Foggy and Heather, and his dogged pursuit of the mind-controlling Purple Man is wearing him down. It results in a surreal dream of Maxwell Glenn’s “trial” where Daredevil reveals his alter-ego, and nobody cares. He is completely powerless. Things aren’t much better in the real world, where the prison calls Matt to tell him Maxwell committed suicide, just as Heather walks in on him dressed as Daredevil.
Daredevil’s worst fears all come true at once. Since Daredevil arrested her father, Heather is exposed to simultaneous shocking truth-bombs that links her boyfriend’s lies with her dear (framed) father’s death. Matt can’t even respond as Heather cries and lashes out, all his “failures” cascading down on him. McKenzie takes over this issue, and writes Heather’s disbelieving sobs and Matt’s emotional breakdown with conviction, bursting through the sheen of melodrama to create (relatively) realistic noir naturalism. If Matt was telling the kid (and himself) not to “give up,” this latest suicide pushes Daredevil to the lowest point we’ve seen so far.
The intensity is helped by the artwork, which is far sketchier and stylised than previous linework. Carmine Infantino is particularly, intentionally, rough and quasi-surreal, with overlapping images and bold dynamic angles. And Gil Kane also makes the dishevelled, half-shaved Matt Murdock seem so vulnerable. The secret ingredient might be Matt’s eyes, which have almost always been hidden by glasses or his mask (Christine Hanefalk has a great rundown of this), but here they poke through his shades or are seen streaming with tears. It’s a new level of intimacy. Klaus Janson (who will stay on Daredevil for many important years) adds to this thin, delicate artwork. Seasoned Daredevil artist Gene Colan finishes off the story-arc, and the shift in art-style only highlights the different approaches.
Daredevil also encounters the mercenary Paladin several times throughout 1978, always clashing with him despite Paladin having been hired to also track down the Purple Man. Their fights are somewhat contrived – as is common in superhero comics – and Paladin contrasts the determined Daredevil with his cavalier, monetary agenda. He even stalls his fight with Daredevil after crashing into the YWCA and flirting with its members. However, Paladin does ultimately come to Daredevil’s aid to save him from the Purple Man’s overrun prison, despite commentating “how’d you get here – before me? I’d understand if you were a professional mercenary like myself – out to make a buck! But you’re only a… super-hero.”
Paladin’s team-up with Daredevil brings the satisfaction of the Purple Man finally being dethroned, and of Matt fighting back against his life’s oppressive forces and reclaiming his conviction of “not giving up.” Although getting to this resolution is a bit contrived, since a kidnapped/brainwashed Heather had revealed Matt’s secret-identity to the Purple Man, who then kidnapped Matt to his overrun prison (populated with various supervillains) for a “Gladiator Fight.”
It’s a very physical conclusion to a previously psychological/strategic problem. Daredevil wraps up the loose ends without having to do much himself, being brought to the Purple Man instead. The Purple Man falling into the ocean to his presumed (but unlikely) death is also anticlimactic, as Matt does not have to deal with him anymore. But in another sense, it’s appropriate. The damage has been done; Maxwell is dead and Heather hates Matt. Nothing he can do can reverse this, and even after the Purple Man is “gone” Matt’s life remains shattered.
1978 does quickly reverse and resolve the other major fallout of the Purple Man; the relationship of Deborah Harris and Foggy Nelson. Debbie has been woefully underrepresented since her creation, and her lingering trauma from her extended kidnapping by “Maxwell'' is an interesting development which Daredevil talks around without her present and does not focus on. Daredevil then resolves her distance from Foggy by physically kidnapping Debbie himself (not the wisest move for a traumatised person) and putting her in front of Foggy. Apparently, the dormant relationship was instantly rekindled by their sheer proximity. The beat doesn’t entirely fail, but more because Foggy has been miserable for so long it’s just nice to see him happy again. Still, it’s an exceptionally simplified conclusion that speaks to this period literally “putting” characters in the right places, however unearned it may feel.
So, 1978 isn’t Daredevil’s most organic storytelling. But in the moment, it can be surprisingly effective. McKenzie accentuates the dim tone and increasing pressure upon Daredevil, somebody incessantly fighting off the sweltering darkness that surrounds him. Daredevil’s journey towards more “mature” stories (for better or worse) has been a winding one – and it isn’t done yet – but 1978 shows it didn’t come from nowhere. If nothing else, this was the year that introduced Daily Bugle journalist Ben Urich, as he narrates Daredevil #153 from a newspaper’s perspective. It’s an odd introduction to a new established Marvel character, since he has no interaction with Daredevil or any of the rest of the cast. But it further demonstrates that 1978 was a year which established things waiting on the side-lines, before they would inch in and take over.
*Daredevil’s first year (1964) also had 5 issues, but that began mid-year. 1978 had 6 issues with Daredevil #155, but since that’s the start of a new story-arc, it will be covered next time.
Check out past installments from The Man Without Fear…By The Year!
Check out Bruno Savill De Jong’s last regular series, Gotham Central Case by Case!
Bruno Savill De Jong is a recent undergraduate of English and freelance writer on films and comics, living in London. His infrequent comics-blog is Panels are Windows and semi-frequent Twitter is BrunoSavillDeJo.
