An Open Letter To 3-D Man

Dear 3-D Man,

You don’t know me. And admittedly I haven’t known you for that long. Truth is, I really only managed to acquaint myself with you this past week after reading a few issues of Marvel Premiere from way back in 1977. You probably remember? Issues #35 thru #37? You origin story? Ring any bells? In any case, said issues of MP were sitting on top of a long-box in my garage/office for a year or so, remnants of an aborted attempt to get my comic book house in order. Each time I entered my office, I’d pass your red and green visage on the cover of #35 (drawn by Jack Kirby), pause for a moment and then go on with my day. Okay, I admit it; I was ignoring you because you seemed sort of dated and sad. No offense. Just keeping it real. I’m not sure what ultimately prompted me to finally pick up your issues and read them, but something did and I willingly immersed myself in your story and your world.

To begin with, let me just say that the fact that your story takes place in the 1950s is really cool.  Who doesn’t love the 50s?  I was a big Happy Days fan back in the day and the setting of your book took me back to a simpler, more innocent time when fearing the Russians and the troubling influence of rock-n-roll music on America’s youth was all the rage. It was a wonderful era of paranoia and conformity, plus there was Fonzie. Something sort of odd about reading a book from the 1970s that is set in the 1950s in the year 2012, but that’s just sort of how it played out.  So as far as having a nostalgic setting in which to have your adventures, I give you my stamp of approval, for what it’s worth.

The other thing I didn’t know was that, as a result of your deadly encounter with a group of Skrulls, you are comprised of essentially two people, namely yourself, Chuck Chandler, and your brother Hal Chandler. Hal is crippled from polio, so he puts on these special glasses that bring you back to life, thus allowing you to fight crime, capture Russian spies, defeat sneaky Skrulls, etc. Having never had a brother of my own, I can only imagine how nice it must be to accomplish things together, even if you guys never actually get to see each other because Hal goes into a three-hour coma any time you’re manifested into existence by his wearing of the magical glasses.

But while you seem like a really nice dude in that straight-laced 1950s military pilot kind of way, and your brother Hal also seems like a genuinely good egg who was dealt a bad hand, I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps there are some things you could do that just might elevate you from the comic book hero D-list.  Sorry to be harsh here, but let’s face it, aside from the occasional appearance in What If and the Avengers over the a last few decades, you’re not exactly setting the world on fire these days.  A household name you are not.  That being said, I have a few suggestions that might help you if you’re at all interested at taking this whole superhero thing to the next level.

First off, to put it bluntly, your name blows. “3-D Man” just doesn’t quite connote anything in terms of your personal powers or super-heroics, unless you think being three-dimensional is somehow special. Aren’t we all really three-dimensional when you think about it? I think there’s something to be said for a name that actually tells us something about what it is you can do. For example, Superman is…well…super.  Spider-man is all spidery.  And Aquaman is all about fish and water.  But what the heck does it mean to be 3-D?  Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the desire to have “man” in your hero moniker. I really do. Makes a lot of sense. As a child, I used to think that all comic characters should have “man” in their names, even going so far as to suggest to my parents that Shazam be renamed “Shaz-Man.”  Don’t judge me.  I was five.  But what I’m getting at here is the idea that maybe a name change would help jumpstart things.  Have you ever considered some sort of “Mister plus an adjective” take on things? Mr. Fantastic, Mr. Terrific and Mr. Miracle are all taken, of course, but “Mr. Superlative” has a nice ring to it.  Maybe “Mr. Tenacious”? One might argue that 3-D technology is sort of trending right now, but generally speaking, the phrase “3-D” really just makes me think of headaches and inflated movie ticket prices.  My advice: drop it.

To give credit where credit is due, your ability to detect Skrulls is pretty darn useful.  I mean if there are shape-shifters around, I want you by my side. That’s a superhero power if there ever was one.  But on the flipside, the fact that your other powers involve being three times as strong and three times as fast as regular human beings is…well…sort of unimpressive.  So I can bench press a hundred pounds and you can do three hundred? How does that help you save the world? You can run a one-minute mile? Not exactly “faster than a speeding bullet,” don’t you think?  Also, the fact that you can only fight crime three hours at a time seems to me a major hindrance. If you’re in Los Angeles and you’re needed in New York, then you’re absolutely screwed because of the time change.

Finally, we need to talk about the costume. Simply put, the red and green look is doing nothing for you and it leaves you wide open to all sorts of Christmas jokes.  And as indicated by your violent reaction to the first people who make a Christmas crack in your first face-to-face encounter with a band of crooks, it’s a real sore spot. I know the suit your wear is fused to your body or some such, but that doesn’t mean you can’t invest in some superhero duds to wear over what seems to me to be a costume that makes it very difficult to take you seriously.

I know this is a lot of unsolicited advice for you and your brother to take in, but I feel like I need lay it out there. Whatever you’re selling, people are not buying. If you look in the mirror and genuinely feel happy with what you see, then by all means roll with alternating red and green of it all. I just fear that without some re-branding and rethinking, you run the risk of remaining trapped in superhero obscurity. Don’t decide now. Think about it and then get back to me.

-G.

Gabe Roth is a TV writer and producer trapped in the suburbs of Los Angeles, CA.  He enjoys cooking and playing pretend.  He’s @gaberoth on Twitter.