|We get it, you vape.|
Superheroes have begun careers on lesser gimmicks than sailor Danny Barr, but not by much. While other characters, boasting as little as a knowledge of boxing or a few years with a Far Eastern temple and their arcane martial secrets, at least had a backstory going for them, Danny Barr -- a.k.a. Luckyman (he was!) -- didn't even have that.
What did he have? He was pretty lucky pretty much I guess its fair to say. It's not the greatest endorsement in the history of comics, but it works for him.
|How did your luck get you into that situation in the first place?|
Besides a handful of interior bird garbage, Barr gets around with a typical sailor's suit, a black domino mask, and unsightly yellow stains on his fingertips which, judging by the amount he smokes in this story alone, can probably be seen from space. Hey, I wonder if he smokes Lucky Strikes? Hanh? Hanh? Get it? Because he's, he's lucky, you see? Ahhhhh, you guys...
Luck comes in big and small forms for Luckyman as he investigates a chain of insurance fraud on the high seas. In order: He seems to admit that his wishbone speaks to him, makes a lucky flip of a coin, has his ropes dragged and cut by a ship's motor while he's unconscious underwater (how, um ... how lucky of him), then cuts his wrists free with a nearby tin can that also happens to have an important piece of clue-bearing paper lying nearby, lands a plane in a storm right next to the ship he's investigating and then a guy gets burned to a millions pieces of ash because of acid that was meant to destroy Luckyman but, you know, luck.
Whatever the case, he manages to figure out the crime and see to it that everyone involved is arrested or, you know, horribly burned. Seems like real luck would be that the criminal enterprise in question would fail in the first place and we'd all be better off. Just playing Devil's Advocate.
Still, with a little backstory and some higher stakes, it could have been an entertaining repeat feature worth returning to. Hell, it could have made a pretty passable noir/comic tale, a la Midnight and many of the Spirits. Never came through, though. I guess it just wasn't his ... night LUCK! LUCK! I meant to say it wasn't his luck, not his night. Sorry, sorry everyone, can we start this one over?
|"And my hip bone told me it was connected to my thigh bone!"|