Christopher Marlowe – Man of Action

I love a good spy story, and history’s full of them – especially the Elizabethan period.

You’ve got Sir Francis Walsingham, who ran a huge network of spies for Queen and country – he had agents across Europe, moles in embassies, staff cracking ciphers in diplomatic letters, a small army of forgers. This was serious intelligence work, and it was needed, because there were dozens of plots against Elizabeth. Usually these were to get rid of Liz and install Mary, Queen of Scots as Queen of The Rest Of Britain As Well, with the help of an army of French/Spanish/Dutch sympathisers, depending on who happened to be behind each particular plot. Seriously, there were loads of very similar schemes. I’ve always liked the Throckmorton Plot, with all the intrigue of the Spanish ambassador, Don Bernadino de Mendoza (who also has a great name) organising a coup from within the palace itself. (One day I’ll get round to writing an SF version of that plot, it’s crying out for it…)

Of course, Walsingham’s M needed some James Bonds. Much has been made of John Dee, who in addition to being Elizabeth’s resident Clever Bloke at court, is speculated to have done a bit of spying as well. The idea that he was the ‘original 007’ because of some dodgy handwriting in a few letters is a bit much, but he was clever, and well-travelled, and probably would have brought back useful information even if he wasn’t leaping heroically off rooftops and punching bad guys.

But then there’s Christopher Marlowe. Playwright, agitator, poet, spy. A lot of his life is a mystery: many scholars have spent many years arguing over just how many of the sensational stories about Kit’s life have any basis in fact. But a lot of them converge on the idea that he was a Bond-like spy – too busy with “matters touching the benefit of his country” to finish his degree properly in 1587, hanging out with other known agents of good old Sir Francis, and spending much of the rest of his time getting arrested for flamboyantly beating people up when he wasn’t writing plays. None of it’s certain, but it seems likely.

Christopher Marlowe (maybe)

But what if I told you that Marlowe really was a secret agent? What if I told you he was recruited at Cambridge in 1586, to be the lead operative of a new secret British government agency? What if Marlowe, unlike Dee, really did have a cool codename? And what if that codename was…

Action Man.

‘England, Half-English’, Action Man #2 (IDW, 2016)

That’s right: this has been a ‘Comics Are Stupid’ post all along. Because in the background of IDW’s short-lived Action Man comic, the official timeline has the Action Man programme established in 1586, with Kit Marlowe as the original plastic toy hero.

All the key events of the period. ‘Crisis Intervention’, Revolutionaries vol. 1 (IDW, 2017)

(As there are no confirmed paintings of Marlowe, we cannot be sure whether or not he had Flocked Hair, Eagle Eyes or Gripping Hands.)

For those unfamiliar with this stalwart of every British child’s toybox, Action Man started life as the British version of G.I. Joe: big soldiery action figures doing adventures. By the time I was a kid, Action Man had moved away from the military stylings of his American cousin and become basically a more child-friendly James Bond, driving around in ridiculous vehicles, throwing gadgets, and fighting against the evil Doctor X and his plans for world domination. (There were actually several official James Bond Action Man toys, too). There was even a (rubbish) direct-to-video TV series. Many a sandcastle’s battlements were staffed by a small army of Action Men in my youth, though it was the one with the working parachute who saw the most action, because throwing toys out of windows and not having them break is always great fun.

This guy was awesome. Action Man ‘Air Surfer’ (2001)

This version of Action Man hasn’t actually been around since 2009 – the actual toys have gone back to the classic 60s style for collectors – but in 2016, there was a last hurrah for the silly secret agent in IDW’s Hasbro-Verse period, when they decided to mash every other Hasbro property they could into their ongoing Transformers series, with surprisingly not-awful results. In the comic, young Ian Noble is forced to step into the big (rubber) shoes left by his predecessor – clearly meant to be the Action Man of my childhood – and go off and save the world from his own Doctor X. It’s a light-hearted romp of a comic, and though the solo series didn’t last long, Ian stuck around in the Hasbro-Verse, going off on further adventures with an elderly robot who turns into a car, as you do.

‘The Iron Klaw’, Revolutionaries #4 (IDW, 2017)

The lineage of Action Men in this version just tickled me so much. The comic does a great job of rationalising the various incarnations of Action Man toys as different Men in different periods: WW2 Action Man gives way to G.I. Joe-style Action Man (who, this being a crossover comic universe, is of course mates with G.I. Joe himself), who is succeeded by the version I grew up with, who passes the mantle to Ian Noble, the only modern Action Man unlucky enough not to have a toyline. This works well. But because Comics Are Stupid, of course IDW had to go back and make the Action Man programme 500 years old. Of course they had to made Christopher Marlowe take time out from writing Doctor Faustus to become the first Action Man.

Kit Marlowe on a mission in Brazil, c.1590. Action Man ‘Jungle Explorer’ (2000)

But even though it’s a throwaway mention, it looks like the writers did their research, because Ian Noble’s becoming Action Man actually mirrors Marlowe’s own (theoretical) recruitment as a spy: both are young men, studying at college/university, pegged as skilled and intelligent by grander spymasters and brought into the fold to become agents. I love it when silly jokes are well-researched.

Action Marlowe is only an aside in a timeline but the possibilities it conjures are amazing. Did Kit Marlowe have his own Doctor X? Did he soar through the skies on a Da Vinci-style glider? Was his doublet full of secret compartments for his range of accessories? Did his arms only bend at the shoulder for some reason?

If by some chance anyone from Hasbro or IDW (or I suppose Skybound, now) is reading this, please write an Elizabethan Action Man series. (Man of Action?) Even just a one-shot. It would be one of the most stupid, greatest things ever written.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try and find a ruff that will fit a big action figure.