Lately, I’ve been completely and irrationally sucked into the realm of high-end collectibles. Whereas a 4” tall action figure of Wonder Woman might have once sufficed, some remote part of me requires that I now possess an 18” tall replica of her, complete with gold-plated bullet-deflecting bracelets, fabric clothing and a lasso woven from the finest silk available to mankind. Signed and numbered in an edition of 150, of course, and not even remotely inexpensive. Maybe this taste in the fancier end of collecting indicates a passage into adulthood and maturity, but there’s also the very real possibility that it indicates a decline into far darker and less rational places.
The worst, most horrible monsters that perpetually attack my better sensibilities are Sideshow Toys, who produce some of the most amazing museum-quality statues and replicas of all things pop culture and exciting, from enormous Star Wars figures to action-packed sculptures of epic comic battles, screen-accurate movie monsters and art prints. I blame Sideshow for this month’s plunge into debt, but I still blame last month’s plunge entirely on goats and latex gloves. It’s a long story. I was sucked into them by collecting their 12” scale Monty Python Holy Grail figures, and I’ve never been able to break free.
Sideshow Toys has been producing 1/4 scale replicas of essential comic book costuming props for a few years now under the banner of ‘Marvel Archives‘. They’ve explored Captain America’s mask and shield, Thor’s hammer and helmet, and have only just explored Dr. Doom’s metal mask and gloves. The future (as we know it thus far) will hold Archangel’s metallic wings and Doc Ock’s extra four appendages. These all run at about 100 dollars each, and some have only been available when attending a particular comic convention. How one is expected to lug around a six-pound block of metal and polystone in a crowded convention is another story.
So, Dr. Doom, known for both his technological prowess and his ability to summon forces paranormal and unknown, archenemy to the Fantastic Four, has had his hands and legendary mask replicated in genuine metal and superbly displayed on a stand that mirrors the semi-Victorian appearance of his castle in the made-up land of Latveria, over which he is lord and master. Available only at San Diego Comic Con 2006 and for a very, very brief window on their website (for a few extra dollars, plus shipping), Doom’s costume pieces have been my gateway drug into that world of prop replicas. I had to pass on Sideshow’s 1/4 scale Dr. Doom figure (in his entirely) due to finances, but that’s a big Doom folks. Thirty pounds of Doom. The sculpture itself comes in four pieces, as both gloves and the mask are removable from the base. They’re slightly magnetized to hold them in place when the item is fully assembled. It’s majestic, it’s iconic, and it’s almost fetishistic in its presence. It owns any display that you might put it in.
The mask has beautiful detailing on the inside also, showing the mechanisms that might operate the mask. In a better world, where men wear crazy masks and shoot tiny robotic minions from their eyes,
Dr. Doom was my very first supervillian love. Before the Joker, before Darth Vader, there was Doom. The disfigured man in the iron mask, with a psychotic vendetta against someone who was once his best friend, unspeakably vain and arrogant and powerful. And he wore a huge belt buckle. What’s not to love?
