Fantastic Four #14

 "Why don't you go get a job as a food tester in a poison factory!"

Another strong issue here, and fascinating in many ways. But the sexual politics? Ouch, the 1960s were certainly another time... 

The opening is cool- the FF literally became the first to land on the Moon last issue, that should be a big deal, and so it is, with huge, adoring crowds and lots of publicity. It's a fun little scene, complete with what can only be described as Reed-mania, a full year before the Beatles, already establishing themselves in the UK as Macmillan's premiership is fading away, arrive in the USA.

After an amusingly hi-tech exit, though, it's back to the Baxter building, where they all relax... except Sue, who does some cleaning, because, er, naturally no one questions that it's women's work. And, after a moment where we're reminded of how Sue is torn between Reed and the Sub-Mariner, she types up Reed's notes for him!!! 

We now turn to the actual threat, as the Puppet Master decides to control Namor, who is still searching for his people, to indirectly seek revenge against the Fantastic Four. Of course, it would be far easier to just control the FF directly, but no, apparently not, because "my revenge will be all the sweeter". Ok then.

So what's the plan? He gets Namor to lure Sue to him, alone, and then uses her, the only female, as a peril monkey. Oh dear. So the FF take the bait... alongside Alicia, whom the Thing decides to bring her along, ostensibly to stop her crying (sexual politics again with the hysterical woman trope!), but in reality because the plot will later require to suggest her father may be controlling Namor. Naturally, no one objects to putting a blind young woman in danger, because, er, all hail the almighty plot. 

After the Thing conducts some petty vandalism in the car park it's down into the depths of the ocean, where the FF seem to find the Sub-Mariner rather easily. We end, after some enjoyable and creative combat scenes, with the FF suspecting the truth, following Alicia's inevitable prompt, as the Puppet Master is undone by- and I can't believe I'm tying this- Chekhov's octopus.

Bonkers. Utterly bonkers. And magnificent.