#jughea

In “The Hunger” Jughead discovers he’s a Werewolf and that he’s been killing people...

Bughead shippers be warned, reading these pages might be disheartening...

In July of 2015, Archie Comics relaunched its brand with a fantastic new series written by Mark Waid with art by Fiona Staples, two brilliant comic creators with more awards than Archie Andrews has had awkward dates. This “new,” “contemporary yet classic” take on the Archie stable of characters remains a confoundingly entertaining, touching, exuberant, and entertaining series. Both Archie Comics and the creators behind the new series seem dedicated to telling wonderful stories about youth in America, about good people trying to be good, and the wacky shenanigans that can result from the best of intentions. The art, changing hands frequently from Staples to Veronica Fish to Joe Eisma, is consistently relatable, endearing, and empathy-inducing, even for characters that have been around since 1941. Breaking News: Mark Waid is good (and by that,I mean he is a legend and might be the greatest writer of superhero comics to ever live but WHATEVER).

When Jughead #1 debuted in October of the same year with a similar rebooting philosophy, I found myself instantly in love. While it may have seemed incongruous to have the artist from the hilarious, observant, poignant yet decidedly R-rated Sex Criminals, Chip Zdarsky, to write the very PG-rated world of Riverdale teenagers, his acerbic wit and gleeful celebration of an idiosyncratic life is a perfect fit for Archie’s Best Pal. Combined with the charming and one-of-a-kind art of Unbeatable Squirrel Girl artist Erica Henderson, Jughead has been a hilarious and imaginative take on comics’ most notorious eater of hamburgers. Zdarsky and Henderson’s run saw Jughead fight the good fight for proper school lunches, imagine himself time-traveling-while-grounded, and even declare his own asexuality. While the mountains of food and fantastical daydreaming led to an altogether more freewheeling and sillier book than its sister titles, the latter revelations (or long overdue declaration) of Jughead’s disinterest in romantic entanglements provided some unexpected poignancy to the book.

However, it is one thing for a character to make such a declaration, but developing that feature into a compelling story is another. Chip Zdarsky had the vision to make Jughead’s asexuality a known quantity in the Riverdale Universe, but it fell on the (very tall) shoulders of Ryan North to make readers see how such a young man would function in that world, how he could love his friends very deeply, just not be in love with any of them. The story actually begins with Jughead meeting what could be considered his dream girl: a girl with a cheeseburger for a head. Well, it’s a young lady dressed in a hamburger mascot costume working at Pop’s Chok’lit Shoppe in an attempt to advertise Pop’s scrumptious wares.

Jughead, of course, hits it off immediately with the anthropomorphized object of his culinary desire and she with him because he actually treats her with respect and dignity. After all, this unique wonder, this Human Sized Hamburger, is the most beautiful unique thing in the world. Like a glimpse at a previously unknown work of Vermeer or a newly discovered species of deep-sea fish, Sabrina-as-Burger-Mascot is a wonder to behold. Then she takes her head off. Jughead is now forced to deal with her as a person, take into account her feelings, to deal with his own emotions when it comes to friendship, romance, and dating. He cares for Sabrina, wants her to be happy, but even with drafting in his friends to help, he can do nothing but cause chaos in both of their lives. His choice of Relationship Consigliere is dubious, however, as asking Archie Andrews to help with one’s dating life is as good an idea as asking the Incredible Hulk to assist in composing a Shakespearean sonnet. Still, Jughead does his best, and his utter failure at romance, going against his own natural instincts, results in some remarkably hilarious madcap antics. The madness is assisted by the magical interference of Sabrina when she mistakes Jughead’s haplessness for indifference (or even malice).

Because this is Riverdale, of course, even the powers of witchcraft, fast food, and teenage awkwardness cannot keep two good friends apart. Jughead comes to the very real, very mature realization that it is hard to communicate emotions he knows the other person will not and cannot be feeling. Not only that, but he must somehow comprehend how to process the emotions of others that he is incapable of feeling, all while making the other party feel loved and accepted. It’s a tall order for anyone, but with Ryan North’s insightful writing and hilarious joke-telling, along with Derek Charm’s adorable characters and delicious depictions of Pop’s cuisine, we can believe in Jughead’s journey. Imagine that, an Archie character with a completed arc. It’s pretty great.

Jughead’s asexuality also has an affect on his relationship with his best friend and walking teen hormone faux pas, Archie Andrews. Both friends only want what is best for the other, but their mutual bafflement at the other’s behavior sometimes brings them into conflict. During Zdarsky’s run, this manifested in the pair venturing on an oft-visited trope in the world of Archie Comics: a camping trip during the eternal Riverdale Summer (between the eternal Riverdale School Years). Archie sees girls and must peruse them because he is Archie and must cause chaos. Jughead sees Archie pursue girls, rather than his best friend and a good meal, and cannot help by feel rejected. It is really up to Jughead to forgive his best friend his boorish behavior, both to Jughead himself and to Betty and/or Veronica... because Archie is never not dating one of them, so the mere fact that he is trying to flirt with women he meets in the woods is a disaster of double-quarter-pounder-with-cheese-level proportions waiting to happen. It is only through their mutual willingness to understand one another, to love each other for their differences, that the two friends are able to emerge from the ordeal with their friendship stronger than ever.

When this susceptibility for misunderstanding collides with modern technology, and the Archie Gang at large, it only results in disaster for all of Riverdale. After the Awkwardness Avalanche of trying to date Sabrina, Ryan North pens a tale of video game bets gone awry and viral video shenanigans that is as on-point a  commentary on Internet culture as it is a poignant tale of youthful friendship. It provides some unexpected pathos from perpetual antagonist Reggie Mantle, as well as Jughead bending over backwards to try to please his friends but only making things worse. After all, what brings Internet mockery faster than unrestrained, genuine earnestness? And of course, the denizens of Riverdale are nothing if not earnest, even Jughead, who can fawn over the condensation on the glass containing his milkshake.

Our titular character might cultivate an image of aloofness, might want others to believe he is not to be swayed by emotions, but this is only to make himself feel safe, to make his peers feel as if he is unhurt by the many pricks he kicks against. In fact, he is deeply affected by how his friends feel. Not romantically, surely, but in a way that makes him eternally loyal to the people he cares about. Hell, in the brilliant (and non-canonical) Afterlife With Archie, he enlists Sabrina’s help in raising his dog from the dead, thereby ushering in the zombie apocalypse. Jughead defies to laws of God and the Universe to save his dog! Even more remarkable, in the main Jughead title, he invites Internet ridicule just to make his friends feel better! If only everyone had a friend willing to sacrifice so much, so determined to live a joyful life, as Jughead Jones.