S:TAS reviews: The Prometheon

The story plods along like the lumbering star of the show, the giant Prometheon, whose every feature has the cumulative look of craggy terrain. A plotless, entertaining connect-the-dots giant-monster extravaganza, The Prometheon is a much-needed chapter in Superman. Not every episode can be nuanced or explorative; if the series is to acknowledge its hero’s lengthy history charting back to the early days of simplified sci-fi monster brawls, then surely another small-scale narrative can be postponed for something so appealing to that raw human desire for spectacle.

Many fans slight this episode not necessarily for its subject matter, but for its lugubrious pace and the absence of any riveting physical confrontation. For me, the appeal lies in the creature’s extensive animation, how every cast shadow across the ravines of his face or bodily craters moves in correspondence to his hulking motions. By nature that this monster is so meticulously animated he is made to fully embody his voluminous physical presence; see Justice League’s Metamorphosis for an example of a giant monster whose monumentality is underplayed by a dearth of detail. He isn’t merely a separate entity squeezed into a preexisting landscape, two different masses of image unconvincingly rubbed against one another. Every step makes the earth tremble and a gust of gravelly smoke emit from the impact.

Of course the creature is a tribute to Jack Kirby, whose allegedly gruff personality already has a vessel in Dan Turpin. Hallmarks of Kirby’s dynamic style manifest in the Prometheon’s protruding brow, fluorescent eyes nesting within thick black outlines, and rough, rocky exterior. His defined lower lip is characteristic of all of Kirby’s brutes, from The Hulk to The Thing to everyone in between. The star of The Prometheon is this design, a grueling labor of love that occupies a daunting physical space and hearkens back to a great era in adventure serial comic book art.

Besides this animated feat is a narrative strand that is both referential and foreshadowing, one General Hardcastle who stands for all of the prejudicial political and military higher-ups of Marvel Comics, most recognizably General Ross of The Incredible Hulk. At the same time he is a seemingly isolated homage to yet another element of a typical Kirby comic book tale, he does reappear sparsely throughout the rest of the DC Animated Universe for more complex political commentary on the relationship between superheroes and government. Charles Napier is ideal for the general, drawing out each tangential statement and self-absorbed command with passive-aggressive relish.

I will never understand the popular hatred for The Prometheon. In addition to what I have already mentioned, there are tremendous, stellar set pieces. A subjective glimpse of Metropolis renders it a dazzling dreamlike lightshow, a mirage-like Las Vegas resting amid a dry and desolate landscape. From the monster’s nosedive into the harbor comes a deafening quake that extends the animators’ skill at putting homogenous elemental entities into motion to the foamy tidal wave that comes crashing down on a nearby yacht. The finale is abrupt and thusly concentrates the catharsis into a powerful shot of the alien’s frozen arm reaching out of the reservoir; for whatever reason I find this instantaneous incapacitation an inevitably haunting conclusion.