Back & Forth: Gorilla/War

04 Thursday Jul 2013

Tags

30 Days of Night, All-New X-Men, Battlefields, BOOM!, Breath of Bones: A Tale of the Golem, Brian Michael Bendis, Captain America, Criminal Macabre, Dark Horse, Dave Wacher, Doug Murray, Enrico Fermi, Fightin' Marines, Fury: My War Gone By, Garth Ennis, Heart Shaped Box, IDW, Image, Jason Ciaramelia, Jeff Stokely, Joe Hill, Jonathan Hickman, Kurt Vonnegut, Locke and Key, Marvel, Nick Fury, Nick Pitarra, Noel Sickles, Saga, Samuel Jackson, Saving Private Ryan, Sergio Leone, Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos, Simon Spurrier, Six-Gun Gorilla, Steve Niles, Steven Spielberg, The Manhattan Projects, The' Nam, Thumbprint, Uncanny X-Men, Vic Malhotra, war comics, Weird War Tales, Will Eisner

Derek Mainhart: One of the things about the current comics landscape that we here at I&N are really excited about is the sheer variety of material being produced: comedy, drama, memoir, romance, crime, horror, etc. I’ve said it before: if you can’t find something that appeals to you, it’s because you aren’t looking. Having said that, given the reality of the world since 2001, it’s perhaps surprising that there’s been a relative dearth of one particular genre: war comics. So, as we celebrate the birth of our nation, we thought it appropriate to revisit this neglected corner of the comics store.

The heyday of war comics naturally began with WWII. Captain America famously punched Hitler in the face. The heroic exploits of our men in uniform filled the pages of titles like Fightin’ Marines and Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos (that’s right; long before Samuel Jackson’s ultra-cool portrayal of the man at the helm of flying CGI aircraft carrier, Nick Fury was a regular-army fightin’ grunt.) Through the ’50s and ’60s newsstands were replete with tales of grit, patriotism and sacrifice. Their popularity waned however to the point that in the ’70s the most notable war book was almost unrecognizable as such: Weird War Tales (emphasis on the Weird). It was perhaps inevitable that the genre should fade under the shadow of Vietnam. It is somewhat ironic then that the one significant war comic of the ’80s was The ‘Nam. Doug Murray’s fictionalized account of the Vietnam War, drawn partially from his own experiences, was remarkable both for the way it tackled its difficult subject matter as well as for being published by a mainstream publisher like Marvel, of all places. Lately, as we’ve previously noted, Garth Ennis seems to be single-handedly reviving the genre with his superlative Battlefields series, as well as his surprising Fury: My War Gone By, in which he brings the aforementioned Nick Fury back to his combat roots and then proceeds to make him witness and participant to the litany of American military misdeeds following “the good war”.

Well, happily, if this week’s books are any indication, Ennis has some company in the trenches:

We begin, not surprisingly, in WWII, our most eulogized of conflicts, where the lines of good and evil were, it seems, so clearly delineated. This contrast is literally, beautifully rendered in black and white in Breath of Bones: A Tale of the Golem #1 (Dark Horse) by Steve Niles and Dave Wachter.

Breath of Bones: A Tale of the Golem #1

Scott Carney: Yeah, the storytelling here is a cut above. The aforementioned pair–and it’s a magical pair, indeed–harvests horror and hope in an temperately-paced issue that plays out as a promise: evil will get its comeuppance. Noah and his grandfather–generational bookends–are another magical pair, one that personifies the perpetual struggle between wonder and wisdom, which plays out tenderly–affected by the soft lines Wachter employs throughout, especially to craft the grandfather’s expressive countenance–during the debate over what to do with the downed RAF pilot and as the grandfather entrusts the means to salvation to his grandson with an aphorism that teaches the boy a grim reality: “sometimes it takes monsters to stop monsters.”

DM: Niles, best known for clever, over-the-top horror fare such as 30 Days of Night and Criminal Macabre, here displays a more heartfelt touch, especially, as you mention, in the boy’s relationship with his grandfather, but also in his stoic denial, and then acceptance, of his father’s fate. This is echoed by the quiet dread of a village that fears it is doomed by the encroaching forces of war – a fear that, sadly, always has currency, somewhere in the world. And Wacher’s truly remarkable art recalls not only the great Will Eisner’s later work, but even work from further afield – dare I mention Noel Sickles?

SC: While The Manhattan Projects (Image) delivers a tender turn in issue #11, in #12 masterminds Jonathan Hickman and Nick Pitarra return tender to sender and unleash the monster–the one that has been exploiting Enrico Fermi’s identity all this time in order observe humanity–particularly to discover its capabilities as it pertains to some “out of this world things.”

The Manhattan Projects #12

Throughout the book, we’re treated to “drone” Enrico’s backstory, which, outside of how he came to be, clues us into the “other side” of scenes we’ve already encountered; I particularly enjoyed the flashback decked out with a dialogue overlay, which adds a dimension to the drama that unfolded during the scout team’s assault on the Siill, as initially seen in issue #5. (For those keeping score: a similar strategy was recently employed–effectively so–by Brian Michael Bendis in a mini-crossover of sorts between All-New X-Men #10 and Uncanny X-Men #4.) As the tragic tale of Enrico Fermi comes to a close, it’s worth noting that, despite the drone’s programmed prerogative, there remains a hint of humanity in the monster; but all the apologies in the world cannot save it from the monster meant to mete out final justice in this instance: a marvelously maniacal Einstein with a chainsaw cleverly tagged with E=MC^2. My goodness! Has the Cold War ever been any hotter than this?

Thumbprint #1 (IDW), based on Joe Hill’s novella of the same name and brought to the page by Jason Ciaramella and Vic Malhotra, is a well wrought thriller that exploits the more recent and far more politically polarizing Iraq War–specifically the moral suicide that was Abu Ghraib–as a backdrop for one vet’s struggle to reacclimate herself to her far less complicated life in New York, where the problems she’s facing are almost farcical considering what she dealt with and what she did in the infamous prison. Yeah, it’s all par for the course for someone in her situation, really–until she receives by mysterious means a couple of thumbprints: one that triggers a flashback of a routine “soften[ing] up” of a prisoner at Abu Ghriab and another that really seems to soften her up a bit.

DM: Hill, who’s already proven his horror chops in comics (Locke and Key) and prose (Heart Shaped Box) here combines both worlds via an excellent adaptation by Ciaramelia and Malhotra. He’s taken the horror trope of the single, isolated damsel in distress and successfully turned it on its head; readers’ natural predisposition to root for her are tempered, if not wholly undercut, by the knowledge of her wartime actions. She may very well deserve whatever’s coming to her! Talk about “sometimes it takes monsters to stop monsters”!

SC: She responds to this faceless intimidation by carelessly casting threats to the wind–threats that she may very well be able to back up with the gun she’s got; I mean, she handles herself well enough with the all-too-handy John Perry, right? But it’s clear: her bluster belies her vulnerability; it screams she’s scared. Hell, after that last page, I know I am!

Thumbprint #1

SC: But as good as those books are–and they’re really good–not a one can stand up to Six-Gun Gorilla #1 (BOOM!). I’d be lying if I said I expected that to be the case. I pretty much picked it up because of its being a #1 and, well, yeah, that and because of the promise of the title; I mean, let’s be honest, great apes and guns are the Reese’s of comics. Yes, the prospect of some sort of shenanigans starring a side-armed simian guided my first few page turns. But I found myself going bananas over one primate-free panel after another; and in that, it became clear: killa gorilla or no, this book is as fun as a bored-out barrel full of monkeys!

DM: The whirling dervish of a plot, from the mind of Simon Spurrier, involves a soldier, known only as “the Librarian,” who’s volunteered for a suicide mission on a faraway desolate planet. The Deal? He and the other members of his unit have been promised a big pay-out to their loved ones back on earth if and when they die in battle. The Twist? (SPOILER ALERT!) They’re not fighting for freedom, national defense or any other noble cause; the entire enterprise is being broadcast back home as a reality show, with all the demographic pandering and ad revenue that implies. That’s right, they’re dying for ratings. Now that’s a 21st century war! Spurrier’s story, with its multilayered mishmash of wartime violence, science-fiction conceit, and sharp-eyed satire brings to mind some of Kurt Vonnegut’s work. But thanks to Jeff Stokley’s expansive art, it’s Vonnegut as stylistically filtered through Steven Spielberg in army mode (a chaotic early sequence recalling the opening of Saving Private Ryan) and the desolation of Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns. The Result? The most promising sci-fi opening these eyes have seen since Saga. And I haven’t even mentioned that damn, dirty ape…Book of the Week.

Sixth-Gun Gorilla #1

You’ll have to pry this comic out of our cold, dead hands,

Scott & Derek

Back & Forth: Vacation, all I ever wanted!

21 Friday Jun 2013

Posted by dmainhart in Back and Forth

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Tags

Abstract Studio, Akira, Archer & Armstrong, Area 51, Astro City, Brent Anderson, Craig Cermak, Dark Horse, David Mamet, DC, Dean Motter, Dynamite Entertainment, Fleischer Brothers, Fred Van Lente, Fritz Lang, Garth Ennis, Howard Chaykin, Jimmy Olson, Kirby: Gensis, Kurt Busiek, Little Orphan Annie, Lois Lane, Mister X: Eviction, Pere Perez, Peter Pan, Rachel Rising, Red Team, Richard Connel, Sesame Street, Strangers in Paradise, Terry Moore, The Monster at The End of This Book, The Most Dangerous Game, The Zaucer of Zilk, Valiant, Vertigo

Derek Mainhart: Ah, summer; so close you can practically taste the sunscreen! Naturally your thoughts may be turning toward planning a much-needed getaway. What to do, what to do? Road trip? Um, have you seen the price of gas? Well then, maybe you can fly somewhere…Oh sure! So the folks at the NSA can laugh at your body scan? A cruise perhaps? I’m sorry, have you been watching the news? Well then, you say, why bother leaving the house? That’s the spirit! But fret not, our delicate, sensible reader! Grab your margarita mix, break out your thong and relax while Images and Nerds plans the most fantastic voyage you can have without ever leaving the comfort of your own butt-molded couch cushion.

Astro City #1

First stop, sunny, scenic Astro City! (DC/Vertigo) After a three-year hiatus, Kurt Busiek’s own private metropolis is back and open for business with a new #1! If this is a return trip to the award-winning series (about a city populated by all manner of super-folk), you won’t be disappointed; illustrated by series co-creator Brent Anderson, it’s as lovely as ever. If, however, this is your first excursion (like it was for your beloved guide), don’t worry; Busiek expertly leads you through the story, giving you just enough information to hint at the wonder and scope of your surroundings, without ever being in danger of getting lost. Busiek has indeed proven a master at synthesizing large swaths of characters and story, both in the previous AC runs as well as the more recent Kirby: Genesis (an impressive homage to the master that is truly worth a second look). Like Kirby, the plot revolves around the sudden, mysterious arrival of a gigantic, god-like, celestial being who delivers a portentous proclamation to the good people of earth. Unlike Kirby, which very much wore its heart on its sleeve, the tone of the new Astro City has a wry, ironic tone. Whether or not this was true of the earlier series, I can’t say. But this sense of remove, heightened by the charming and trippy narrator’s breaking of the fourth wall, reminded this reviewer of last year’s standout, The Zaucer of Zilk. Then there’s that second-to-last page, with its playful exhortations to the reader, putting me in the mind of nothing so much as that Sesame Street classic, The Monster at the End of This Book. Which is to say, this promises to be fun.

Prefer a more secluded spot? How about Area 51? If so, you could hardly do better than Archer and Armstrong #10 (Valiant). Fred Van Lente’s roller coaster of a comic is so jam-packed with demi-gods, evil ghost-parents and of course, aliens, that you may not notice how whip-smart the writing is; the sequence with the pregnant spy alone is worth the price of admission, as is the hostage who is hysterical in more ways than one (poor guy). It then closes with the flat-out funniest Next Issue box I’ve ever seen. And with Pere Perez handling the art, this book’s never looked better. Believe it: the best blockbuster of the summer is a comic book.

Archer & Armstrong #10

Scott Carney: No, no. You don’t believe in aliens or time travel, do you? You’re someone who likes to keep it real, right? Yeah, you’re straight up street, son. Check it: why not trip your kicks over to Garth Ennis and Craig Cermak’s Red Team #3 (Dynamite), where the hearts are cold and the gun barrel’s still hot to the touch. Your itinerary: holy vengeance. We’re talkin’ old school–no, Old Testament vengeance, ya Sodomites; that’s right, happy heathens, you better believe it: the Son of God is sinfully subordinate to the Gun of God, as blasphemously billed by Howard Chaykin’s irreverently rendered cover:

Red Team #3

Oh, yeah, he nailed it! And that gun ironically speaks the loudest–not in tongues but through a tongue: Father McEwan’s newly pierced tongue, to be exact–in an issue otherwise dominated by Ennis’s celebrated signature: damn good dialogue.

DM: I’m glad you mentioned that. One of the criticisms I’ve been hearing about this book is that it’s too “wordy”. This is, of course, patently ridiculous. You don’t hear this sort of charge being leveled in other visual media, like film or television, especially when dealing with a writer with chops like Ennis’.

SC: Speaking of: three issues in, it’s clear that Ennis is bent on bringing his ethically challenged NYPD to Broadway for a sustained run because this book–surprisingly light on action–reads like a David Mamet play: the Irish scribe relies on carefully composed conversation–at times so naturalistic that a second or third glance is necessary–to develop his God–no, not Mod, but God–Squad. So, if you haven’t yet been to the Great White Way–and you’d like to put a little culture in your Petri dish–here’s your ticket!

DM: One place you probably shouldn’t visit is the normally picturesque town of Manson. Long ago the site of some Salem-type witch trials, the the current townspeople have recently been plagued by a spate of mysterious deaths, rat-filled plumbing, and at least one case of vomiting a live snake. Ah well, at least the snow is beautiful. Locals whisper of a recently deceased young lady, Rachel, who has returned to solve the mystery of her own murder. With her best friend Jet (also recently deceased) in tow, they delve into a story that grows ever more mythic, even as it becomes more disturbing. Read all about it in Terry Moore’s latest tourist’s pamphlet: Rachel Rising #17 (Abstract Studio). Marvel at the art, including a nice callback to Moore’s previous series, Strangers in Paradise…

SC: Man, that was weird. At first, I thought it was an ad for an SIP trade or something. I really liked it, though, especially how Moore shamelessly–and cleverly– worked in the readily recognizable portrait.

DM: …and gasp at the loveliest paean you’re likely to hear about being eaten alive.

SC: Yeah, what I’m hearing is a siren song: the promise of comic book perfection and the ultimate execution–of stereotypical masculinity. The fairly phallic cover is a beautiful warning of the dangers that lie ahead for men.

Rachel Rising #17

This town, Manson–get it: man and son–is not very accommodating to men at all; it’s certainly not a place les hommes can comfortably call home; so proceed with caution, my brothers. I mean, think about it: hunters–who often employ domesticated dogs to point out or fetch their quarry, just not in this case–are generally considered the epitome of manliness, you know, with their killing stuff with lead-launching extensions of their manhood and whatnot; but here, in a little slice of Richard Connell’s “The Most Dangerous Game,” the hunters–not so surprisingly, considering the fiercely feminine tone of the book–become the hunted: the witches wield their power here, unleashing a pair of wild wolves, which they so wickedly command, and showing the misogynist dunderheads who’s boss. This, friends, is a real No Man’s Land.

Ah, but could there be a more welcoming city–a finer final destination–than Radiant City, the seemingly sentient setting of Dean Motter’s Mister X: Eviction #2 (Dark Horse)? Once there, hit the local bars, get caught in traffic, get yourself kidnapped–heck, leap from rooftop to rooftop! Why not? It’s all up to you! But if you’re looking for a truly arresting time, have they got the club for you. It’s called Purgatorium, and it’s got everything: blind guys and no I’s, mugshots and robots, heartbreaking and head shaving, and a lady who looks a hell of a lot like Mister X.

DM: It’s also got a backup story, again by Motter, that loosely ties into the lead; that’s right, you get two trips for the price of one! Talk about economical! Befitting its retro-futurist style, this featurette showcases an intrepid reporter with a knack for getting into trouble getting rescued by a gang of classic, 1930’s-style orphans. The plot, involving the orphan’s home being threatened with destruction by “pilotless drones” (in the form of giant, mechanized robots, natch!), offers subtle, wry commentary on current American military tactics. But the real draw here is the way Motter is able to touch upon so many nostalgia-laden pop-culture motifs in such a small space: Little Orphan Annie, Lois Lane and Jimmy Olson, Peter Pan, even a little Akira. The effect is like a Fleischer cartoon as directed by Fritz Lang. The title of this piece? Rosetta Stone, Girl Reporter in Little Urchin Andy. What comics fan wouldn’t love that? Book of the Week.

Mister X: Eviction #2

Bon Voyage,

Scott and Derek

Back & Forth: Hail the Future Heroes of Yesteryear!

26 Tuesday Mar 2013

Posted by dmainhart in Back and Forth

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2001: A Space Odyssey, 48 Hours, Adventure Time, Archer & Armstrong, Betty Page, Bravest Warriors, Buddy Cops, Chris Samnee, Cliff Secord, Dark Horse Comics, Darwyn Cooke, Dave Stevens, Dirty Money, Emanuela Lupacchino, Eric Stephenson, Evan Shaner, Fab Four, Fantastic Four, Fonografiks, Fred the Clown, Fred Van Lente, Guillermo Ortego, IDW, Indiana Jones, J. Bone, Jack Kirby, Jeff Smith, Joey Comeau, Jonathan Hickman, Jordie Bellaire, kaboom!, Lethal Weapon, Lisa Moore, Mark Waid, Michael Caine, Mike Holmes, Nate Bellegarde, Nate Crosby, Nick & Nora, Nowhere Men, Robert Osborne, Roger Langridge, Rush Hour, Ryan Pequin, Snarked, Stan Lee, Stanley Kubrick, Starsky and Hutch, TCM, Terry Pratchett, The Beatles, The British Invasion, The Da Vinci Code, The Rocketeer, The Rocketeer: Hollywood Horror, The Rocketeer: The Cargo of Doom, The Thin Man, The Thing, Uranus, Valiant, Wu-Tang Clan

Derek Mainhart: Friends, mutants and aliens, lend me your ears! Join us as we travel back to the future, to a time when heroes roamed the sky and science paved the way for a better tomorrow! A time of ancient robots and futuristic gladiators! Atomic monkeys and electric guitars! Beckoned by the spark of a holographic welder’s torch, we hurtle forward into history to meet our retro-destiny! Like sands through the hourglass, so are the Days of Our Future Past…

A 1930s pulp hero created in the 1980s and revived in the 2000s? Who better to exemplify nostalgia for an innocent era that never was than The Rocketeer? Like his contemporary Depression-era adventurer, Indiana Jones, Dave Stevens’ legendary creation peddled in, and paid homage to, the wanton exuberance of classic B-movie serials. Stevens’ buoyant, uncynical cliffhangers (hell, the lead character’s name is Cliff) combined with his lush illustration (its classic draftsmenship itself like a relic from a bygone era) to inspire a devoted cult following. And let’s not forget his masterstroke; making pin-up queen, Betty Page, Cliff’s girlfriend. Stevens’ work was so accomplished, it seemed superfluous for anyone else to try their hand at the character, even after his untimely death in 2008.

Some characters however, are simply too good to fade away. Happily IDW has relaunched The Rocketeer, giving the hero his due: first in an anthology series featuring top-flight creators, then in a four-issue mini by creative team par excellence, Mark Waid and Chris Samnee. Now we have Roger Langridge and J Bone on The Rocketeer: Hollywood Horror. Folks, this may be the best new Rocketeer yarn yet. The previous stories tried (and succeeded to various degrees) to recapture the inherent nostalgia of the character via an innocent, never-say-die tone indicative of 1930s and ’40s Americana, perhaps casting it against a major historical backdrop like, say, WWII. Well Langridge goes five steps further and fully immerses him in the era. This should perhaps come as no surprise from a writer whose past work has encompassed everything from the slapstick of early cinema (Fred the Clown, hysterical) to Carrollian nonsense (Snarked!, inspired) to his current work, the vaudevillian, high-seas adventures of Popeye (a gift to anyone with an appreciation for the history of the medium). For The Rocketeer, he’s not satisfied to present his tale in a typical one-size-fits-all B-movie slang; rather he seems conversant in a variety of era-specific patois and idiom. Further, he entangles our hero with fictional characters specific to that time: first, the minions of Doc Savage (that greatest of pulp heroes), and then, seemingly apropos of nothing, Nick and Nora (and Asta!) from the venerated Thin Man film series. Between this and the multitude of references to old movies and forgotten actors (the narrator himself seems to be one), this book is a dream for lovers of pulp and classic Hollywood. It would be right at home being introduced by Robert Osborne on TCM. And let’s not forget J Bone’s pitch-perfect art. His bold, cartoony rendering immediately cues dirigibles, De Soto’s and dames. His work stands well with Darwyn Cooke and Jeff Smith (one wishes he was handling the covers as well; nothing against the legendary Walt Simonson, but his style, all harsh angles and frenetic line, is simply a poor fit – my one quibble). All in all Langridge and Bone are crafting a Rocketeer comic that is not only worthy of its legacy, but builds on it. Somewhere, I daresay, Dave Stevens is smiling.

Scott Carney: Geez, yeah, all that and– OK, who am I kidding? I’m not as tuned into the history of The Rocketeer as you are. (Is anyone?) In fact, my first experience with the character was The Cargo of Doom.

DM: Oh, trust me; there are people who know way more about The Rocketeer than I do. What about the movie? Ring a bell?

SC: There was a movie?

DM: I can’t even.

SC: No, really, I liked what Waid and Samnee did in their mini. If I’m being honest, I bought the series for them; and for the most part, I wasn’t disappointed; but I wasn’t all of a sudden a Rocketeer fan. As far as I was concerned, it was an act of loyalty–to the creators; and if they were to take on the character again, I’d be there. Wasn’t planning on ever following the further adventures of Cliff Secord. In fact, I passed on this one–initially, anyway. You recommended it–emphatically, if I’m remembering correctly–so I picked it up. Dude, you were so right. What a good time! Through two, I’m thinking, like you, that Hollywood Horror is at a whole other level, thanks to Langridge’s vision and Bone’s fleshing it all out.

DM: Next up in our Canyon of Heroes is Archer and Armstrong #8 (Valiant). Their centuries-spanning pseudo-epic is rich in taste but refreshingly light in calories. Part buddy-story, part sibling-rivalry, part worldwide-conspiracy, this frothy fable features improbable adventure and high satire. It’s like The Da Vicni Code as written by Terry Pratchett. Writer Fred Van Lente (with solid art by Emanuela Lupacchino and Guillermo Ortego) garnishes the high-octane action with Big Ideas and comedic flourish, never failing to entertain. His one misstep here though; in an attempt to counter the usual lighthearted tone with some emotional heft, he has the villain speak of his role in an event that is very like a recent national tragedy. My immediate reaction, for what it’s worth, was a discomfiting “too soon.” Again, this is a quibble, lasting as it does for all of one panel. Month in, month out, we write about the pleasures delivered by Van Lente & Co.’s work on this book. So pick the damn thing up, if you haven’t already.

Scott Carney: I know you’re glad I picked up Buddy Cops (Dark Horse) for you after your initial pass.

Buddy Cops #1

DM: Yeah it was all right I guess…

SC: “All right”? That’s quite an understatement, my friend! Sure, Buddy Cops–an hilarious one-shot from a publisher that has been making its name seem more and more ironic with each passing week–seemed to come out of nowhere. In fact, it was an “Oh, and by the way” recommendation from one of my shop guys. (That’s right: I have more than one.) There was room enough in my bag and a few bucks still smoldering in my pocket, so I went for it; and I was not disappointed. As promised, Nate Crosby and Evan Shaner deliver “da muthaf***in’ ruckus” in this crack-a-panel homage-slash-send up of the buddy cop genre. The ready-to-rumble, Wu-Tang spoutin’ Uranus and the electrode-in-the-mud T.A.Z.E.R. are on the case–three of ’em, in fact–and take on outrageous creatures (including, a ninety-foot-tall orangutan in a monk’s robe, who professes precariously, “da lord iss my sligshot,” while sitting atop a church) and social issues (Gay marriage! Arbortion!) in one giant “monsterswat!” They are Riggs and Murtaugh from Lethal Weapon; they are Carter and Lee from Rush Hour; they are Hammond and Cates from 48 Hours; they are Starsky and Hutch from, well, Starsky & Hutch–the T.V. show, dammit! But despite their being so obviously and so proudly derivative, they’re the freshest pair to hit the funny pages in recent memory. I laughed out loud and profess my love for this book even louder! And, borrowing from George Costanza, I say this with an unblemished record of staunch heterosexuality: I hope this isn’t the last I’ll get to see of Uranus.

DM: Ok, ok, it was funny. Yeesh! Even so, it wasn’t even the funniest book this week, at least for my money.

SC: Keep your dirty money!

DM: Would that I could. But the biggest barrel o’ laffs this week was Bravest Warriors #6 (kaboom!). This time out, our future science heroes are knee-deep in bazookas, beauty pageants and brain transplants; and that doesn’t even scratch the surface. Joey Comeau’s story takes beloved sci-fi tropes and makes mincemeat out of them. And having his hysterically depraved scenarios drawn by Mike Holmes in the faux-naive, child-friendly style of Adventure Time (saturated in pretty, pretty colors by Lisa Moore) just makes the whole thing seem so, so wrong. (Ditto Ryan Pequin’s giggle-inducing back-up story). The absurdity in this book is so ridiculous, it’s almost profound.

Of course the book that did more than any to bring science adventurers to the modern era was Jack Kirby and Stan Lee’s Fantastic Four. Emphasis on mod. After fifty-plus years of history, it’s easy to forget that these staples of the spinner rack were once downright cutting edge. As Pop Art was breaking the boundaries between ‘fine’ and ‘low’ art, Kirby was exploding the restrictive design of the comics page. In the midst of the Space Race, the costumed quartet were frequent fliers. And at the height of the British Invasion, Lee and Kirby gave comics its own Fab Four. Those early issues still crackle with energy and freshness. As the years wore on however, FF inevitably transitioned from zeitgeist to nostalgia, revolutionary to venerable.

Now Eric Stephenson and Nate Bellegarde have dusted off the elements that made FF great and reconfigured them (along with a whole bunch of other stuff) to create Nowhere Men (Image), a decidedly 21st century comic. The story (with the tagline ‘Science is the New Rock-N-Roll’) concerns four celebrity scientists (bearing more than a passing resemblance to The Beatles) who banded together in the ’60s, forming a mega-conglomerate called World Corp dedicated to the betterment of mankind. In the present however, they’ve long since gone their separate ways, due to ego clashes, differing visions, (sound familiar?) as well as mysterious circumstances that haven’t been fully revealed yet. One or all of them are also somehow involved in the fate of a space crew whose mission has somehow gone seriously awry.

Here the comparison to FF is particularly instructive: where Kirby and Lee, reflective of their age, presented a utopian faith in scientific progress, Stephenson and Bellegarde present a view that is, not cynical exactly, but knowing, tempered by an awareness of human weakness and fallibility. The innocence of scientific discovery for its own sake has been replaced by the reality of serving corporate profit. Technological advancement is understood as at least as destructive as it is creative. For example, in FF the group is testing an experimental rocket when they are struck by ‘cosmic rays’ endowing them with superpowers, which they promptly use to protect humanity (with the monstrous Thing serving as tragic, though still noble, counterpoint). In Nowhere Men, we have a group of scientists quarantined in a space station due to a ‘sickness’ they’ve contracted under mysterious circumstances. The effects of the sickness affect each individual randomly, even capriciously, as some are granted ‘abilities’ (as opposed to ‘superpowers’) while others undergo grotesque transformations that make the Thing look like Michael Caine in comparison. And some are in between (one of the more appealing characters seems to combine the brute strength and appearance of the Thing with the intellectual remove of Mr. Fantastic). Where one offered limitless promise, the other deals in disillusionment; even the title seems to suggest it.

This is far from a hopeless affair however. For one, the sheer inventiveness of the storytelling will not allow it. In addition to alternating between the past and present, Stephenson’s elliptical narrative is fragmented amongst various viewpoints. Only now, in this fourth issue, are its non-linear elements beginning to coalesce (I didn’t even feel comfortable reviewing the thing ’til now). But that’s not all. The very presentation of information is unorthodox. In the current issue for example, Stephenson thinks nothing of inserting three pages of prose – an excerpted ‘chapter’ from a tell-all history of World Corp – right in the middle of the action. This not only serves as a clever transition, but adds visual depth to the story, as the chapter is presented in a specific graphic style that convincingly suggests the late ’70s / early ’80s. Where FF‘s brash, boundary-breaking style was in keeping with the modern sensibilities of its era, Nowhere Men‘s approach is distinctly postmodern, befitting our own fractured time.

Which brings us to perhaps the most notable aspect of the book: its design. FF had the kinetic genius of Kirby’s art. Nowhere Men instead employs the principles of sophisticated modern graphic presentation. The clean, cold concision of Bellegarde’s art is impressive enough. But it is packaged, along with the aforementioned textual pieces, faux ads and information graphics, in a carefully considered manner that takes into account the comic book as an object. The refined aesthetic has been compared, aptly, to Stanley Kubrick’s 1968 masterpiece, 2001: A Space Odessey. Fonografiks, the company responsible for the look of the book, is really to be commended; I only wish the name of the specific designer was credited. The inside covers, the selection of fonts, the credits; all act in concert to create a visually immersive experience that reinforces the incidents of the story. When was the last time the design of a comic played such a concerted, integral role in the narrative?

FF has had any number of interesting runs over the years (Jonathan Hickman just finished up a pretty good one at that). But the true successor to Kirby and Lee’s vision, innovation and cultural relevance is Nowhere Men. Book of the Week.

Turning pages,

Derek & Scott

Back and Forth: Sex & Children’s Books

17 Sunday Mar 2013

Posted by dmainhart in Back and Forth

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Adventure Time, Adventure Time with Fionna & Cake, Animal Man, Aubrey Beardsley, Barnabas Collins, Batman, Batwoman, Bravest Warriors, Catwoman, Dark Shadows, DC Comics, Dynamite Entertainment, Ex Machina, Green Arrow, Hayao Miyazaki, Image, Jae Lee, Janet Lee, Jeff Lemire, Jim McCann, Joe Casey, kaboom!, Lost Vegas, Mike Raight, Nacho Tenorio, Natasha Allegri, New 52, Ocean's Eleven, Pendleton Ward, Piotr Kowalski, Return of the Dapper Men, Richard Corben, Rotworld, Scott Snyder, Sex, Swamp Thing, Watchmen, Winsor McCay, Yanick Paquette

Derek Mainhart: Provocative title, eh? Well, we’ll get to that in a minute. First to some (finally) finished business.

Scott Carney: Finished, indeed–at least as far as Animal Man #18 (DC) finishes anything. And thank the good Lord, too. The Rot was wearing on me, man. It’s no secret: we didn’t care for the big two-part Rotworld finale for an unholy host of reasons. Lucky for us, the finale was only the finale of the storyline as it takes place in the actual Rotworld; and by actual, I mean possible because, in the end, Baker and Holland were presented with the opportunity to keep it all from happening in the first place–and, boy, did they take it! I can’t get into the nitty-gritty of the real finale, however, without first commenting on the ill-conceived cover. Jae Lee’s anguished Animal Man is stunning; and the cover would’ve been, too, had it not been sullied by a tragically-placed assertion that ~~spits~~ vomits in the eye of subtlety:

I mean, come on! Check out this art-only cover; it’s so much more effective:

Animal Man #18–Right?

Add the requisite logo and bar code and we’re still talking about an absolutely killer cover.

DM: Have to agree about the cover. Without the text, completely effective. With the text, it’s like that oft-parodied film cliche of the tragic hero falling to is knees while yelling “NNOOOOOOO!!!!” up at the sky. In other words: laughable. The early front-runner for worst cover of the year.

SC: Once inside, we’re treated to a quick little recap of the end of Swamp Thing #17 and then sucked into what Buddy refers to as “the most unsettling sensation,” while describing his return to the pre-Rotworld present. I found the narration unsettling, as well; it seems to creep toward the edge of profundity, never quite making it there, and, as a result, festers in ineffectuality and leaves behind unintentionally laughable lines–and a hero for whom I had trouble hoping the very best.

(I don’t do this very often: spoiler alert!!!)

I did find a truly touching moment in Buddy’s remembering Cliff’s finger painting different animals when the latter was “a little boy.” I’d have trouble, though, if you were to ask me to “flip the pages and point to another” such moment. Couldn’t do it. See: after that singular scene–in retrospect, the necessary father-and-son set-up for the end–the story dies as quickly and as unceremoniously as Cliff–who passes proudly as a “hero–just like [his father],” which, on a side note, is an interesting counterpoint to something Jeff Lemire’s developing in another one of his books, Green Arrow #18: Komodo, the Bullseye to Green Arrow’s Daredevil, has a daughter who–speaking of unsettling–plays the role of an evil apprentice, who also has a connection, story-wise to fingers, oddly enough; in this case, the little girl is used as a pointed threat against one of her father’s prisoners: “[…], or my daughter starts cutting off your fingers.” (By the way, I’m still not too sure how I feel about it. Kudos to Lemire for that!)

Back to Animal Man and the devolution of the story: with my own fingers dutifully turning pages, I found the dialogue disappointingly reminiscent of #17 (“So just die already!”). And how strange was the splash on page 18, with the guys in the yellow suits shedding their rot? At last! Something interesting! But, despite their presence on the page, neither Buddy nor Maxine react to the seemingly important revelation; and when Buddy finally does seem to notice them–several panels later–he doesn’t seem all that concerned! It was all so very awkward and forced–well, Lemire did have to live up to the promise of the textually explicit cover, after all; couldn’t bring myself to care, though, even with the final splash–and just not what I’ve come to expect from the aforementioned esteemed writer, who is an absolute master at developing sympathetic characters and complex yet relatable relationships. My expectations are still high for him and Animal Man, so I’ll be sticking around for more–especially since we’re headed in a new direction.

DM: Scott Snyder, on the other hand, in Swamp Thing #18 (DC), ties a bow on this story, and his run, in a manner that is satisfying and organic (pun intended–every time!). Amidst Yanick Paquette’s gorgeous leafmotif visuals is a story where the damsel becomes the hero, the demon is rent asunder, and our lovers have their stars well and truly crossed. But not before the creators generously allow them one last (first?) kiss, in which their passion literally burns. A fitting finale to a mostly excellent run.

But Swamp Thing and Animal Man aren’t the only hero-inhabiting-a-new-body-travels-to-a-dystopian-future-to-defeat-unearthly-evil-then-returns-to-the-present-in-order-to-prevent-it-in-the-first-place stories this week. That’s right! The same exact plot is featured in Dynamite’s Dark Shadows #14!

Dark Shadows #14

Ah well, no new ideas and all that; it’s how well you handle them. Writer Mike Raight’s vampiric version involves Gothic plot twists, backstabbing (with wooden stakes, natch!) and enough Grand Guignol action to satiate any horror fan. Artist Nacho Tenorio does a nice job orchestrating the gore, alternating between excess and restraint, the way any 1960’s-influenced horror should. This isn’t all superficial bloodletting however. (SPOILERS!) Raight infuses some depth and existential quandary as the evil that the hero, Barnabas Collins, must destroy in order to save his family, is himself. There’s also a well-wrought, even delicate twist, as Barnabas’ mysterious ally reveals that aiding him and taking revenge upon him are, in this case, one and the same. Solid and compelling, this book is one of the most reliable sources of monthly macabre that you’re likely to find.

So, having been hooked by our attention-grabbing title, you’ve made it this far through our post, and yet you find yourself disappointed by the lack of any content that could be considered truly eye-opening.

SC: Hey! What about my–

DM: Well then, you’ve got an idea of the experience of reading Sex #1 by Joe Casey and Piotr Kowalski (Image).

SC: Oh, I see. Clever.

DM: Mr. Casey means well. In a heartfelt (and rather breathless) afterword, he holds forth on the state of today’s comics; mainly the continued dominance of the Big Two despite the wild variety and quality of other work out there. Well hear, hear! And yet, what does he offer us? A wealthy scion reluctantly returns to run his vaguely defined corporate empire. A seedy underworld controlled by a grotesque mob boss. Words of wisdom from a trusted Man (or in this case, Gal) Friday. And, oh yeah, said wealthy scion is a former superhero. This set up bears any number of resemblances to Batman, the newfangled Green Arrow, Ex Machina (a much better melange of superhero/real world tropes from eight years ago), etc. But wait, this has superheroes and sex. Well Watchmen broke that seal long ago. It’s simply no longer a shocking conceit (I mean even Catwoman’s done it for chrissakes). Now, to Casey’s credit, when the naughty section does occur, despite its fairly graphic nature, it’s contrasted in such a way that it is robbed of nearly all prurient titillation. The participants even call out the reader’s presumed lasciviousness, in a clever use of breaking the fourth wall. Kudos to Casey for subverting the expectations set up by his conspicuous title. But in the end, this is just another superhero comic. And what’s so sexy about that?

SC: I hear ya. Image did have another release this week that I enjoyed more than Sex—

DM: (tee-hee!)

SC: Uh-huh. Anyway, it’s Jim McCann and Janet Lee’s Lost Vegas #1. It came with a little less hype than Casey’s book did, but it was loads better. Though engaging from the get-go, McCann’s writing does prove a bit hard to swallow at times, especially as the Ocean’s Eleven-esque scheme is laid out; but Lee’s artwork is enviably voluptuous, a stunning exercise in sensuality.

DM: Yes, Lee’s work is certainly the star for me thus far. She blew me away on Return of the Dapper Men a few years ago (also written by McCann). There she dazzled with an unorthodox process that combined vibrant expressionistic backgrounds with the sublime precision of Winsor McCay (if you don’t know who that is, look him up. Look him up now.) Here the chameleon-like Ms. Lee seems to be offering something of the sensual loucheness of Aubrey Beardsley, combined with the sci-fi sensibilities of Richard Corben, and even a dash of Hayao Miyazaki for fun.

SC: That’s some company she’s keeping.

DM: Indeed. Like Batwoman, this could become a book that I buy for the art alone.

SC: Well worth the price of admission. I’m certainly up for round two.

DM: Now, returning to our theme, for a nuanced, astute, refreshing exploration of sex, one need look no further than Adventure Time with Fionna & Cake #3 (kaboom!):

Adventure Time with Fiona & Cake #3

Sex, in this case, denoting gender. ‘A childrens’ book?’ you say, eyebrow ever so arched? Well in its brief existence, Pendleton Ward’s magical juggernaut has tackled such concepts as abandonment, existential loneliness, first loves, the bonds of honor and friendship, pride, sacrifice, betrayal, the origins of myth, the nature of evil, the afterlife, determinism, fate, and nuclear annihilation to name a few. It never addresses these issues head-on however (it’s much too smart for that), but from rather more of a sideways angle, (and perhaps, blindfolded). Y’know, Stuff Happens. Each candy-colored episode is wide open to (and the subject of) much interpretation. It’s the type of show that dissertations will be written about someday(if that hasn’t already happened). I ask you, what better place to consider gender and identity issues than the sociological phenomenon that is Adventure Time?

For those who don’t follow the show (losers!) Fionna and Cake was a fan-favorite episode which featured alternate, gender-swapped versions of series’ stars, Finn and Jake. Now Natasha Allegri, who had a hand in that episode, gives the ladies a chance to shine in their own title. Issue 3 is the best one yet. The first two issues established the characters as well the epic, yet tongue-in-cheek tone that AT does so well. The third issue really delves into the gender stuff and shows why this is not your father’s (um, older brother’s?) AT. The story begins with Marshall Lee (the male version of the vampire Marceline from AT) suddenly appearing in the lead characters’ home in a state of distress. But unlike his female counterpart, who is decidedly bad-ass, this vampire is positively sparkly. Needless to say, Fionna has a crush (-and Cake does not approve!) It seems they need to rescue Prince Gumball, who is caught in a ridiculous trap, which I won’t ruin for you. Nor shall I spoil all the loaded symbols, pregnant pauses and hysterical double entendres peppered throughout the tale. These never come across as forced or excessive; they are, indeed the story’s raison d’etre. I will say that they culminate in a visual gag so audacious that I couldn’t believe it was in a children’s comic, even as I barked with laughter. And yet it perfectly encapsulates the major theme of this series. Sound dirty? Well, again, it’s not because all of the above is not so much dealing with sex, as it is gender and identity. I am not suggesting (as I have with AT’s sister book Bravest Warriors) that this title is inappropriate for children. Part of Allegri’s brilliance (in addition to the beautiful art) is that this book is, on the literal level that children tend to read, an exuberant, imaginative adventure/fantasy. It certainly can (and should, to some degree) be enjoyed that way. The storytelling is deft enough that whatever other meaning children take away from it is entirely up to them. And you. Book of the Week.

Turning pages,

Derek & Scott

Back and Forth: Waid to Go!

06 Wednesday Mar 2013

Posted by ScottNerd in Back and Forth

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Brian K. Vaughan, Chris Samnee, Comixology, Daredevil, Fiona Staples, Gerry Alanguilan, Image Comics, Indestructible Hulk, James Brown, Leinil Francis Yu, Mark Waid, Marvel NOW!, Matt Kindt, Mind MGMT, Saga, Thrillbent

Derek Mainhart: Who woulda thunk it? A few months into the overblown hype-balloon that is Marvel NOW!(!!!!) and here we are about to sing the praises of not one, but two Marvel titles.

Scott Carney: Are we eating crow again? How would you like that prepared?

DM: Not really. This particular peccadillo is perfectly understandable when you consider that the titles in question are both written by one Mr. Mark Waid. Care to start?

SC: Well, the Marvel NOW! Revolution has been, shall we say, less than revolutionary. But despite one awful X-book after another and four billion Avengers books, each less interesting than the next, Mr. Waid is single-handedly making mine Marvel again.

This week, for instance, Daredevil #23 opens up brilliantly, with a scene that Waid develops so effortlessly that it seems like this is exactly where we’ve been headed ever since Murdock first donned the double-d. And to let Matt lead us by the arm from panel to panel, page to page, even past the point where we know something’s up, is a stroke of genius–a one-in-a-million, not unlike the circumstances that prove so elusive to the mysterious–and presumed–mastermind behind the toxic attempts to create a DD doppelganger, of sorts.

DM: Waid had a wonderful way –

SC: Say that three times fast!

DM: – of taking the familiar and making it seem new. You’re right about that opening sequence; DD’s well-known origin is told in a manner that is not only incredibly inventive, but also manages to advance the overall arc of the series.

SC: From there, it’s a rollicking good time–even with a hint of mortality in the midst of it all–with a soon-to-be classic Chris Samnee splash setting off a strikingly intimate sequence between ol’ Hornhead and his pudgy pal, Foggy.

DM: The Chrysler Building’s never looked better.

SC: Despite the visuals changing hands a few times on this title, Samnee really owns the art side of Daredevil at this point. He takes full advantage of the opportunity to put the protagonist through his paces–as he’s done so expertly, issue after issue, with issue #19 as a spotty (in a good way) standout–as Waid whips out a horde of hypersensitive newborn daredemons, who prove no match for the man who has had a lifetime to make the best of his chemically-cast curse. The intensity of the fight scene–again, its outcome never really in doubt—is pumped up to a palpable level by DD’s having to struggle with another–in this case intangible–antagonist: time. See, prior to the fracas at the fundraiser, he promised Foggy he’d meet him at the doctor’s office; and we’re left hoping, wondering if, even in victory, Matt will let his friend down again, as he had–even if inadvertently–during the Coyote arc. And while Matt does fulfill his promise, allowing us to breathe easier, if only for a moment, he’s left powerless–despite his superhuman skill set–against the crushing news to come, its deadly delivery amplified by our hero’s hopeful misinterpretation of the heartbeat, which, in the end, leaves him and his best friend heartbreakingly beaten.

DM: Again, Waid takes a well-worn cliche – the doctor bearing bad news – and puts a spin on it that feels completely fresh and organic within DD’s universe.

SC: And that’s only half of it! Now, four books into Indestructible Hulk, it’s clear that Waid knows how to handle the Big Green Guy; Number 4 is yet another muscled-up example of Waid’s superior vision: by highlighting the man, he’s getting more mileage out of the monster. And, on a selfish note: I love, love, love the tack taken with Banner! Wouldn’t you know: it seems I sold Waid short. Ends up, he’s not just building a House (a glorious homage to the late, great Dr. Gregory House–in all his manipulative, wisecracking glory–and his white-coat coterie: an eager yet exasperated team of young experts and one seriously sexy supervisor); he’s building a goshdarn mansion–with plenty of room for the “mightiest creature…on Earth” to thrash about without too much damage. To the story, anyway. If I’m being honest, I kind of shut it down once Banner Hulks out. In fact, the weight of the final splash is pretty well lost on me (despite Leinil Yu’s and Gerry Alanguilan’s impressive art). I just don’t feel for the Hulk–he’s indestructible, for goodness sake!–the same way I do for Foggy. Know what I mean? But it’s a natural flaw in the character, one that necessarily can’t be done away with–one I hope isn’t done away with; because plugging up that hole would mean poking one in his more relatable alter-ego–the one who is, for me, anyway, the star of this smashing show.

DM: Between these two titles, and the plethora of other projects he’s taken on (including his industry-leading experiments on Thrillbent), Mark Waid is the comic industry’s James Brown: not only the Hardest Working Man in Show Business, he may also be the best.

SC: That’s gotta be the first time anyone’s compared Mark Waid to James Brown. Moving on, who woulda thunk this: my hands-down favorite, Matt Kindt’s mind-bogglingly good Mind MGMT #8 came out this week and the only other book I want to talk about is Saga #10 (Image). Saga? Yeah, that’s right: I’m finally on board–full time. And I have you to thank, sir, for your continued celebration of Vaughn and Staples’ astounding epic.

DM: I do what I can.

SC: See, I tried it back in the day, even if only on Comixology. I thought it was OK enough to read through #4. At that point, I was turned off–if I’m remembering correctly–by the whole Sextillion pit stop. At least that’s why I think I kinda gave up on it. Well, I saw #10 on the shelf at one of my shops; and I figured, if I’m willing to drop $3.99 on underwhelming books like the All-New and Uncanny X-titles, I might as well invest $2.99 on a book that readers rave about on a monthly basis. So, I picked it up, knowing that I’d have to click back over to Comixology in order to play catch up. And catch up I did: I read #5-#9 before reading anything else from my big ol’ Wednesday haul. The result: I was hooked. Hooked! There is something absolutely magical about this book; and #10 simply cemented the fact. What an issue. What an experience! Vaughn exhibits such masterful control over his characters that they seem so very real. Every utterance is perfectly tuned to its utterer. Every expression, every gesture, as rendered by Staples, breathe life into the lovers–especially in the bit of back story to kick things off; and here I am, sucked into their plight something fierce and, as a result, left vulnerable to Vaughn’s terrifically-timed twists.

DM: Exactly. I’ve written before about the breadth and fertility of Vaughn’s imagination, but just as impressive is his sense of pacing. His transitions are wonderful. From that first page that literally invites the reader into the story, we are expertly guided through lyrical non sequiturs; text contrasting with images lending greater depth to both – nowhere so powerfully than at the very end, highlighting that other Vaughn trademark: the plot twist / cliffhanger.

SC: I mean, talk about collateral damage. The last three pages? Remarkable. Hazel’s narration, insinuated smartly, builds toward the final page turn with stunning subtlety, even as The Will’s ship shatters around it. Speaking of shattering: turn to that final page and tell me your heart didn’t break into sextillion pieces. Yeah, tell me that, and you’d be lying through your canines. I’ll tell you what isn’t a lie: I’m on this one for good. And, again, I have you to thank; so, thanks, pal. Book of the Week.

DM: Ok, fine, I’ll give Mind MGMT another look. Geez…

Turning pages,

Scott & Derek

Back and Forth: Warriors and Witches

23 Saturday Feb 2013

Posted by ScottNerd in Back and Forth

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Alan Moore, Archer & Armstrong, Archimedes, AvX, Batman, Battlefields, Before Watchmen, Brian Azzarello, Brian Michael Bendis, Chris Bachalo, Comedian, Cyclops, DC Comics, Dynamite Entertainment, Ed Brubaker, Emanuela Lupacchino, Fatale, Fred Van Lente, Fury: My War Gone By, Garth Ennis, Gene Luen Yang, Goran Parlov, Grant Morrison, Greg Capullo, Guillermo Ortego, Harper Row, Heart of Darkness, IDW, Image, J.G. Jones, Jack Kirby, Joe Sacco, Joker, Josephine Baker, Larry Gonick, Mad Magazine, Marvel, Matrix, New Gods, Olive Oil, Popeye, Punisher, Rambo, Roger Langridge, Russ Braun, Samuel Jackson, Scott Snyder, Sean Phillips, Uncanny X-Men, Vince Musacchia, Watchmen, we, white man?

Scott Carney: The year’s most highly anticipated book–Batman #17–danced its way onto shop shelves, into our bags, and into our hands; and with every page turn, the story stumbles, trips and tumbles, and falls–along with the intolerably loquacious and ultimately uninspired Joker–from that lofty height of over-hyped expectations into a chasm of mediocrity–into a downright forgettable yawn. You know exactly what I mean. This stunningly inconsequential storyline–with a title that serves only to describe metaphorically what has befallen the Batfamily–delivers a punchline so impotent that I’m left wondering whether or not I will bother with the next arc; and, to be honest, the decision may not be very hard at all: the promise of more Harper Row has me thinking, No. What is it about this issue, in particular, that has left me even less than lukewarm about where’s Scott Snyder’s headed with Gotham’s grim guardian? Well, let’s start at the beginning. Snyder kicks things off by sloughing subtlety–because the Joker ain’t subtle, son–and serving up an overly vomitous villain, which may be a simple send-up of the blathering bad guy or may be a misstep, allowing the Joker’s words to speak much louder than his actions, which amount to pretty much nothing–unless, of course, you count the Joker’s failed attempts to kill the Batfamily as a success because the Batkids, after recovering from their harrowing ordeal (during a real gassy meal!), make transparent excuses not to meet with Batdad. Ugh! That’s right: in the end–which is also where it seems the Joker wanted it the whole time, if we’re to buy the unnecessary homoerotic insinuations, anyway, all implying, and insultingly so, that the psychotic killer’s insanity is somehow tied to his crush on the Caped Crusader–what’s the big change that was promised from the beginning? When all is said and, well, said, is the Joker any different? I guess we’ll find out when he makes his inevitable return, eh? Is Batman any different? Was he tested anew? Not really. Did he have to solve a mystery or do anything clever to overcome insurmountable odds? No. But one thing–one thing!–is different: Dick, Tim, Jason, and Barbara have been infected with an acute case of moroseness, perhaps a side effect of–ahem–hahnium poisoning. Yeah. Hilarious. Sure, the last page is cute, but it’s also pretty telling: as the story laughs its way to the final panel, it’s clear that the joke, friends, is on us.

Batman #17

Derek Mainhart: That’s a bold statement. My reaction was perhaps both less visceral and more at the same time. Less, because I didn’t hate this conclusion. This issue certainly had any number of cop-outs: after the Joker spent the previous few issues amping up the atrocities to truly absurd levels, why in the world wouldn’t he go the distance now? Twice? And good lord, how many times is this character going to fall off a high ledge? Having said that, even with the eventual cop-out, in those first few pages Snyder builds up a palpable tension. And then he delivers a genuine jolt. In a mainstream superhero comic, chronicling a multimillion dollar franchise no less, that’s no small thing. It was enough to remind me why I like Snyder to begin with. And enough to hope that he’ll rekindle the ol’ Bat-magic soon.

SC: All that said, I can’t wait for my American Vampire trades!

DM: Right. There actually were some good books this week so let’s get the rest of the dreck out of the way. My Book of the Weak: Uncanny X-Men #1 (Marvel NOW!). The plot: there’s a group of mutants with unheard of power levels posing a threat to humanity. Cyclops, a messianic zealot, is their leader. Someone very close to Cyclops is set to betray him. Sound familiar? It should. I’ve just described the plot of Avengers Vs. X-Men, easily the worst book of 2012. Looks like the powers that be aren’t done abusing Cyclops yet. But wait! Maybe this is about his redemption! Doubtful. And considering how Bendis and Co. have woefully mishandled the character up until now, I’m not sticking around to find out. Chris Bachalo’s art is great tho’.

Uncanny X-Men #1

SC: I’m not as down on it as you are. But that’s not saying much. I understand–and agree–with your point about its parallel to the abysmal AvX and Bendis’s epic mishandling of Cyclops. I also didn’t care for the fact that the first issue’s framed by this rather sudden betrayal angle. Why not build toward it a bit, for goodness sake? And the reveal at the end? That was an Ugh moment for me, not unlike–but not as apocalyptic as–the end of Superior Spider-Man #1. Hmm. An ironic turncoat? Whatever. That being said, I’m going to ignore all of that and pick up number two. Why? I don’t know. Well, I guess I know: I think, it’s, in part, because I can’t conceive of a world in which I’m not picking up a single X-book. (As it is, I’m already living in a world in which I’m picking up one–only one of the billion Avengers books; and it’s one without Captain America, for crying out loud!) Another part: this is called my not learning my lesson: I’m giving into the siren song that is Bachalo’s artwork. Yes, I remember what happened with Wolverine and the X-Men. He fell off the book after I got hooked; and it took me twenty-plus issues to realize I had been rooked. We’ll see what happens. But for now, I’m calling this a trial run.

DM: While we’re on the topic of “dangerous undesirables,” there is a book out this week that skillfully tackles one of our country’s most hot-button issues: illegal immigration. The threat of deportation, onerous paths to citizenship, official corruption, placing a greater value on certain immigrants over others; all these are handled with a deft hand therein. What’s that you say? Joe Sacco must have a new book? Or perhaps Gene Luen Yang? Nope, it’s Popeye #10 (IDW):

-Popeye #10

That’s right; Popeye. Here’s the scoop: Toar, a behemoth of a man and good friend of our favorite sailor-man, is being threatened by an unnamed government agency that strongly suggests the Dept. of Homeland Security. In order to stay in the good ol’ U.S. of A. Toar must prove he possesses a valuable skill that no other American has. Panicked, and none too bright, he blurts out “TOAR ONLY FELLA WHO KIN BEAT POPEYE IN FIGHT!!”. A rare gift indeed. The government agent in charge of his case fairly salivates over “the potential military applications” of Toar’s boast. Sound a little too heavy-handed (pun intended) for a Popeye comic? Fear not! Writer Roger Langridge has been working wonders with this title, and this installment has all the jokes, antics, roughhousing and romantic misunderstandings (via Olive Oyl) any Popeye fan could want, all in a scant fifteen pages. His light touch seamlessly interweaves the social with the shenanigans. And Vince Musacchia’s retro stylings keep the tone at a safe, 1930’s remove. Most satisfyingly, although Toar is clearly the sympathetic character here, Langridge refuses to be one-sided in the debate. In fact, it is ultimately the viewpoint of the government agent, unsavory though he most certainly is, that carries the day. There are some forces, it seems, even Popeye can’t vanquish.

A bunch of ruffians fighting against menacing global powers though they’re desperately outmatched? That’s Archer and Armstrong‘s bag baby!

Archer & Armstrong #7

Archer, a recently un-brainwashed religious militant, and Armstrong, an immortal lout, have teamed up to save the world from…nothing. That is, an ancient secret sect (aren’t they all) called the Null that has been working for centuries to return reality to the mathematical purity of nothingness. Issue 7 (Valiant) finds that our heroes have been joined (or thrown together more like) by the Eternal Warrior, who happens to be Armstrong’s straight-arrow (pun intended) killing machine of a brother, who’s also a bit of a pill. These two take sibling rivalry to mythic proportions. Rounding out our group is a Geomancer, a sort of earth-goddess-wizard-type. In a delicious twist, the latest incarnation of the Geomancer is a young corporate shill, the type that would be at home as a talking head on Fox News, who’s chosen by Mother Nature (a monkey, natch) for her excellent P.R. skills. Fred Van Lente’s whip-smart writing riffs on a wide swath of sources, both pop cultural and historical: the Anti-Life Equation from Jack Kirby’s New Gods, the Matrix films, ancient Roman history, Archimedean mathematics and World War II espionage, among others. For all its erudite underpinnings, the book maintains a breezy tone, ably abetted by the crisp artwork of Emanuela Lupacchino and Guillermo Ortego. Van Lente’s writing is the star here though, equal parts Grant Morrison, Larry Gonick and Mad Magazine, as he gleefully skirts the line between high adventure and high satire.

SC: Umm, I liked it, too. And, wouldn’t you know, for all of those exact same reasons.

DM: Interesting Factoid Dept.: Both Archer and Armstrong #7 and Comedian #5 make use of the old “We, white man?” joke in the same week.

But there the similarities end. If you want to talk similarities however, it has been fascinating to concurrently read Comedian (DC) and Fury: My War Gone By (Marvel Max). Both books take firmly established characters and place them in the cross-hairs of war and the realpolitik considerations thereof. Comedian would seem the better fit, given Alan Moore’s deliberate infusion of 20th century history into Watchmen (does it need to be said that this was a watershed series at this point?). Nick Fury, on the other hand, carries decades of comic book baggage. And while his origins are tried-and-true war comics, his character has become so diluted and utilitarian over the years that I can’t even tell what he looks like in the Marvel U anymore (classic cigar-chomper or head-shaven Samuel Jackson?). Well, trust Garth Ennis to remedy that. Ennis, simply put, is the best writer of war comics around. (Hey there’s a reason this book was #9 on our Top Ten of 2012). This series, with appropriately visceral visuals by Goran Parlov, puts Nick right in the middle of some of the most nefarious military imbroglios of the last sixty-some years, from the Bay of Pigs to Vietnam. The intrigue abounds as Nick is placed in situation after impossible situation due to sordid behind-the-scenes machinations that he knows all too well, but has little influence over. As such, an appropriate fatalistic air hangs over the series. In fact in the latest issue, (in which our suspension of disbelief is unfortunately tested by the inclusion of the Punisher doing his best Rambo impression) Ennis suggests that Fury wouldn’t change things even if he could. As he descends upon his target, a Vietnamese commander, we’re left wondering who the “bad guy” really is. And if, in Fury’s world, such questions aren’t strictly academic.

SC: Wasn’t my favorite issue of Fury, probably because it was more of a shoot-’em-up this time around. Oh, and because of one of the more awkward time-collapse transitions–signaled more arrogantly than cleverly by Fury’s “No time to f___ around”–I’ve experienced of late. (Sneaky suspicion: a page or two had to be lost in the final edit, and chopping this scene seemed the safest bet.) I do appreciate, however, the fact that Ennis drives home the point–especially in the two scenes with the smug Pug McCuskey–that Fury’s true nemesis isn’t to be found on foreign shores at all. In those scenes specifically, the real war–a war of words reminiscent of Othello–is waged; and, for now, anyway, Shirley DeFabio and Fury are left on the losing side. No matter: as long as Ennis forges ahead with this book, we’re all winners.

DM: For the Comedian, questions of morality don’t even exist. In issue 5 Brian Azzarello and J.G. Jones go straight into the Heart of Darkness. Again, the setting is the Vietnam War. As events spiral out of control, the Comedian takes matters into his own deadly hands. As he does, he bluntly explains the rationale behind his actions. It is a belief system that will support any violence, excuse any atrocity done in its name. It’s easy to imagine something similar going through the minds of soldiers of any stripe, in any conflict, as they perpetrate acts of gross inhumanity. It is simple and it is chilling. And the Comedian makes the Punisher look like a saint.

The whole Before Watchmen franchise has been largely, and justly, maligned. The titles suffer most from a quivering fealty to the source material (much as the movie did) that results in highlighting the most superficial aspects of the original, thus rendering the unique, cliche. But Comedian is the exception. Azzarello and Jones have crafted a book that can stand on its own. And a damn good one at that.

But the best war comic being produced these days is undoubtedly Battlefields (Dynamite)– again, by Garth Ennis (surprise!). Issue 4 begins a new arc entitled The Fall and Rise of Anna Kharkova, in which Ennis returns to the title character, a WWII female Russian fighter pilot (from a previous arc, The Night Witches) and one of his most winning creations. This issue presents the Fall as Anna’s plane is brought down behind German lines. She is taken prisoner, but due to circumstances that Ennis skillfully explains, she is being cared for by Chris Cohen, a medic, a British officer, and a Jew. This issue is largely a character study of the two, taking place in a single room during Anna’s long convalescence. Ennis’ writing is wonderful as the characters get to know each other; one could almost imagine this as a one-act play. He suggests the passage of time merely through tonal shifts in the dialogue. His immense knowledge of history is on full display, but never overwhelms. And then there is the dialogue itself: natural, revealing, funny, angry, human. The tragic Russian and the reserved Brit do occasionally talk like avatars of their respective cultures and historical circumstance. But wouldn’t war naturally engender such conversations amongst its combatants? (Kudos must also be given to Russ Braun: no harder task in comics than drawing pages and pages of two characters talking to each other in the same room.) Given the ending, I suspect we’re going to see a bit more Fall for Anna next issue before her Rise.

Battlefields #4

Dare I Hope? Dept.: With Ennis, along with Azzarello, producing such stellar work, could we be witnessing a Renaissance of that classic genre, the war comic?

From Night Witches to real witches: Fatale #12 (Image). I’ve simply run out of superlatives to describe this book. Would you care to take a shot?

SC: A shot? Heh. You motif monger! In this case, how about a stab?

Fatale #12

Of all the books this week, nothing stands out more than Fatale #12–and not just because of Sean Phillips’ gorgeous cover. Yeah, it’s becoming a bit of a routine now: read Fatale, write about Fatale and name Fatale Book of the Week and then, eventually, Book of the Month. You’d think we’ve been paid to praise it! (Disclaimer: we haven’t been paid to praise it–not that we’d be against such an arrangement.) This time around, Ed Brubaker and the aforementioned Mr. Phillips cement their status as the hands-down Masters of the One Shot. I mean, it’s no secret: #11 was our Book of the Month for January and a stunning example of single-issue storytelling. While that storytelling skill is on full display in this issue as well, the creators take a bit of a risk here: they break from Josephine’s journey and jump across the ocean and back in time to 1286 A.D. Our heroine, Mathilda’s got what Josephine’s got: a mojo she can’t quite explain and that men can’t resist. Bearing this cross, she’s branded a witch and suffers for it–suffers but never dies. She meets Ganix, a kindly old cyclops–one actually worth caring about!–who cares for her, who fights for her, and who ends up suffering for her. Mathilda races to save Ganix and embraces her power over men as she descends upon those who have “come to drag the demon witch away.” Sure, she takes them all down–just as we expected her to; but Brubaker’s better than that: he knows what we’re expecting–because he’s made us expect it! Instead, we’re left with a Wow!, which is exactly what we want to walk away with after the final panel–which is exactly what we expect from Brubaker, a writer at the very top of his game. So, to make it official: Book of the Week.

Turning pages,

Derek & Scott

Back and Forth: Red, Green & Blue

16 Saturday Feb 2013

Posted by dmainhart in Back and Forth

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Alberto Ponticelli, American Vampire, Andrea Sorrentino, Animal Man, Brian Bolland, China Mieville, Dan Green, DC Comics, Dial H, Essex County, Green Arrow, Jar Jar Binks, Jeff Lemire, New 52, Rotworld, Sarah Connor, Scott Snyder, Severed, Swamp Thing, Sweet Tooth, Terminator

Scott Carney: While never done in a ceremonial manner–certainly never hand to heart–I think it’s safe to say, as evidenced by my weekly What’s Up? posts, that I have publicly pledged allegiance–in a case or two, unabashedly blind allegiance–to an exclusive club of comic creators. Two fellas who fall into that illustrious legion of superscribes are Scott Snyder (Severed, American Vampire) and Jeff Lemire (Essex County, Sweet Tooth).

But I fear–as I do fondly while reading the best of Snyder–that I no longer hear the deliciously shuddersome voice that drew me to him in the first place. Certainly not in Swamp Thing #17.

Swamp Thing #17

And, I no longer hear Lemire’s refreshingly veracious voice, either, if I’m being honest–as heartwrenchingly honest as he is when he’s at his best. Certainly not in Animal Man #17.

Animal Man #17

It seems, here, in the two-book Rotworld finale, that each–a true master of his craft–has been thwarted by a wholly unexpected villain: the run-of-the-mill comic book hero. (Don’t get me wrong: on both fronts, the build up to the finale was just fine. If I’m being fair, however, Snyder’s work on Swamp Thing was more effective than Lemire’s on Animal Man–most assuredly because Snyder was living closer to home: the terrifying creatures littering the landscape of Rotworld are natural notes for him to play; and he played them well enough–again, until the end of this corrosive crossover.) What irony, eh? After laying a foundation–spanning several solid issues– upon which the defenders of fauna and flora fight alongside a surviving set of superbeings, what happens to Snyder’s signature horror? It’s foiled by the hero. What happens to Lemire’s signature honesty? It, too, is foiled by the hero. Foiled by the heroes’ hailstorm of shockingly silly lines–one more horrifically ridiculous than the next. Foiled by the heroes’ lack of believable layers, leaving them flat and cold, leaving them decidedly devoid of emotion; leaving them an unbridgeable distance from the ones they supposedly love–and from us.

So, as each creative team shoves its protagonist closer to the end–in this case, toward a portal to the past, which will allow the pair “to stop Arcane” from establishing Rotworld in the first place, kind of like a couple of Terminators after Sarah Connor–the cracks widen, deepen; and the finale collapses under the weight of the concept, resulting not in the presumably successful symphony for which we paid admission, but, instead, in a cacophony of defeat.

Derek Mainhart: I have to agree. What was so interesting about these two titles was each writer applying their own distinctive voice to the superhero trappings; Snyder’s almost clinical way with horror and Lemire’s naturalistic rendition of family dynamic amidst trying times. That they were able to do this while simultaneously working different sides of the same story was even more impressive. Now though, both of those strengths have been subsumed by the perceived requirements of epic storytelling: wooden dialogue, numbingly explosive action, and awful sidekicks (in particular, the character of Shepherd suggests Lemire is a part of that small, but distinctive demographic: the Jar Jar Binks fan). Yes, Animal Man has fared worse. As you say, Rotworld is more in Snyder’s wheelhouse; in fact, as I’ve said, the previous issue of Swamp Thing was quite good. And so, despite the unholy mess that was these two issues, I still have (some) faith that Snyder might be able to tie this all up with some sort of fitting coda, in what will be, after all, his last issue. Now that our heroes our back in the present, I hope that Lemire, who is continuing on Animal Man, will return to his strengths as well, tripping the light fantastic between the everyday and the extraordinary. Because the overweening superhero stuff is simply not him.

To wit: Green Arrow #17. This was billed as “jumping on point” due to the new creative team of Lemire and Andrea Sorrentino. And it delivers, in a ‘by the book’ (‘buy the book’?) sort of way: the hero’s status quo is violently dismantled by a new villain who seems to know everything about him. A new mystery is introduced regarding said hero’s past. Confidantes are killed, and cryptic utterances, uttered. All the notes are hit. And yet, to continue your musical metaphor, it doesn’t sing. It’s like a robot playing Beethoven; a rote exercise. Now I’m obviously not a regular reader of Green Arrow. Perhaps to fans of the emerald archer, this issue provided a new direction, a sense of excitement. But I picked it up because it was a Jeff Lemire book. Sadly there is nothing of his voice in this. Anyone could’ve written it.

SC: I hear you, sir! If anything, it’s a three chord ditty: it’s listenable, sure–likeable, even, for what it is; but in the end, what is it, really? One thing’s for sure, it’s not what we love from Lemire.

DM: What we love, indeed. But what’s all this talk of “voice” and “music”? In a superhero comic? We’re expecting too much you say? Shame on you, you should know better by now. Any genre can achieve stirring crescendo given the right creator.

I submit: Dial H #9. This issue, indeed the entire series, has served up an aria of imagination by writer China Mieville. His unending cavalcade of absurd, sublime heroes is itself worth the price of admission–not to mention this ridiculous cover by Brian Bolland:

Here, we are treated to the monstrous Minotaura, and her singular method of ensnaring her prey. (Kudos also to artists Alberto Ponticelli and Dan Green who are quickly finding their feet on this title.) And then there is The Glimpse, a hero whose inspired power is to stay forever at the periphery of your vision. You see a glove here, a boot there, but the hero himself is just beyond your reach, always teasing you with his promise, but ultimately leaving the panel empty. If there’s a better metaphor for the never-ending, epic-obsessed, hype machine that is the current state of the superhero industry, I’ve yet to find it. Want to say it together?

SC: Sure! Yeah! Let’s harmonize. Ready, on three. One…Two…

SC & DM: Book of the week!

Turning pages,

Scott & Derek

Back and Forth: Conspiracy Series

02 Saturday Feb 2013

Posted by dmainhart in Back and Forth

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Adolescent Radioactive Black Belt Hamsters, Dark Horse, Dennis Hopeless, Dial H, Erik Burnham, Geriatric Gangrene Jujitsu Gerbils, IDW, Liz Lemon, Madman, Mateus Santoluoco, Matt Kindt, Meru, Mike Norton, Mind MGMT, Shredder, Steve Ditko, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Answer, The Mask, The Question, TMNT: The Secret History of the Foot Clan

“I’ll take Superheroes for $100 Alex.”

“This 2013 Dark Horse comic by Mike Norton and Dennis Hopeless featured a lead character with an exclamation point on his face.”

“What is The Answer?”

Derek Mainhart: What indeed? This romp of a first issue involves conspiracy theories, pseudo-philosophies, and other trivial pursuits dressed up in whizbang! superhero tropes. The action revolves around everywoman Devin MacKenzie, as she unwittingly gets embroiled in deadly intrigue replete with brain-teasers and begoggled, gun-toting assassins. Well, ‘unwitting‘ is perhaps the wrong word; Devin is a garden-variety genius whose propensity for puzzle-solving is what gets her into this fine mess. Bursting in to save her is the eponymous hero, his earnestly goofy mask the perfect expression of good ol’-fashioned costumed action. And ‘bursting’ is the right word, as Norton’s art evokes the bombast of the Silver Age greats, like the artist whose work partly inspired this book, the legendary Steve Ditko. Indeed it is difficult (damn near impossible for this reader) not to relate this comic to Ditko’s own quirky anti-hero, The Question. That singular man of mystery had an unflinchingly black and white view of morality, and served as a vehicle for its creators idiosyncratic brand of Ayn Rand-inspired philosophy. This book, by contrast, casts the villain as a soul patch-sporting motivational speaker selling ersatz-Randian jargon to the desperate masses. So, though the admiration of Ditko’s work is clearly evident, there also seems to be a touch of gentle parody at play. (There is also something of the anarchic spirit of Madman and The Mask in these pages, though not quite so over the top. But here’s hoping.) A comic book parody of a semi-obscure series from a famous recluse? Sound a little too comic-book in-jokey for you? Well luckily, Norton and Hopeless have crafted a book that can be enjoyed in a straightforward manner as well. The action is propulsive, the mystery, intriguing, the hero, just the right side of preposterous. And in Devin, they’ve created an engaging, brainy, and downright funny lead character (Liz Lemon comes to mind) who is sharp enough to quip at her ever-increasing peril, and sensible enough to be terrified.

Is this comic a conspiracy-driven plot with metaphysical undertones? Or is it a lighthearted satire of one? The Answer: is fun.

TMNT: The Secret History of the Foot Clan #2 (IDW): Now here’s a book that snuck in under the radar. I’ve never been a big fan of the Turtles. I was a tad too old for them when the craze hit in the late ’80s. Honestly, what little I know of them is from their sheer pop cultural ubiquity. The only reason I picked up this book is because of how much I dug Mateus Santolouco’s art on Dial H. I fully expected to be one-and-done on this. Yet here we are, two issues in and I’m fascinated!

TMNT: The Secret History of the Foot Clan #2

Scott Carney: And I’m pretty fascinated, too. I had no idea that I’d like this as much as I do. Like you, I don’t have an investment in the Turtles; I mean, I haven’t purchased a TMNT book since #2 way back in the day. Hmm. Maybe I should go find where that is. Memories. Flooding. Back. Mini-regret: I abandoned the Turtles after one book but bought a few of the many rip-offs: silly parodies that featured gerbils and hamsters, if I’m recalling them correctly. Annnnnd a quick Google search reveals that I am. Check ’em out:

So, thanks to Santolouco and co-scripter Erik Burnham , I’ve scored more Turtle books in the last month than I have in the past twenty-eight years or so. What works so well here? It’s the secret history that‘s doing the bulk of the work for me; I was drawn into a fresh story that unapologetically pulls, in part, from the spectacular period pieces of the Beijing New Picture Film Co., renowned for their epic stories, lush settings, and unparalleled action sequences. As it turned, I didn’t have to worry about the Turtles and their cartoonish rep too much: they’re used more so to keep Dr. Miller’s compelling history lesson in some sort of context–not that it needed it to be effective, mind you. Heck: toss out the Testudines–leave ’em spinning on their shells!–and you’ve got something more effective than most of what I’ve read from Marvel of late.

DM: I agree. What’s most intriguing about this book is the way Sanatlouco and Burnham are presenting the history as being discovered in an almost archeological sense. Combined with the interweaving elements of folklore, this gives the story a real sense of breadth.

SC: As is, that first issue was certainly good enough to warrant my picking up number two; and wouldn’t you know, the second issue does a fine job tying together the Turtles and their conflict with the modern-day Foot Clan–established energetically in the initial knock-around–with the still-unfolding background of Shredder’s band of bad guys. In the final panel, Saki, with book in hand, turns pages intently to learn of his mysterious legacy. That’s how I’m gonna look when #3 comes out: I can’t wait to see where Sanotloucco goes with this! And, having said that, I still can’t believe I’m buying a TMNT book!

One book I believe in more than any other being published right now is Dark Horse’s Mind MGMT. After a bit of a break, it’s back with issue #7; and Matt Kindt clearly hasn’t skipped a beat. In fact, he’s added an extra beat just to jazz things up a bit: Meru resignedly compares herself to Kerouac and Lyme to Dean Moriarty as the two hit the road, as she tries to make sense of what she’s heard and seen–what’s she’s learned about Mind Management.

The artwork is just as terrific as ever, with Kindt’s trademark watercolors splashed across every page, amplifying and tempering tones enough to stir up an undertow that sucks the reader in and refuses to let go. And while Meru’s interrogation of Brinks–during which he spills his brains–is gripping enough on its own, Kindt doesn’t stop there: he once again plays up the extras–including, quite literally, a side story served up with Verve; an illustrated and informative footer, which tracks the evolution of a killer tool: the assassination letter; and an incredibly smashing case file–to add even more value to the already complex narrative, which insists upon the reader’s complete attention. It also demands to be named Book of the Week. To be honest, I can’t think of another book that deserves it more. Wait. I, umm–I can’t even think of another book. Geez, I could’ve sworn I read something else this week. Hmm. Guess not. So, yeah: Mind MGMT #7 is our Book of the Week. If you haven’t jumped on board yet, what are you waiting for? A letter? Gosh, I hope not.

Turning pages,

Derek & Scott

Back and Forth: Infernal Affairs

26 Saturday Jan 2013

Posted by ScottNerd in Back and Forth

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Abstract Studio, Alan Moore, Alberto Ponticelli, Batman, Brian Michael Bendis, Charles Perrault, Chris Samnee, Court of Owls, DC Comics, Death of the Family, Devil, Dial H, FCO Plascencia, Frankenstein: Agent of S.H.A.D.E., Greg Capullo, House, Indestructible Hulk, Jeff Lemire, Jock, Jonathan Glapion, Justice League Dark, Leinil Francis Yu, Lilith, manga, Mark Waid, Marvel, Marvel NOW!, Matt Kindt, Rachel Rising, Scott Snyder, Sleeping Beauty, Strangers in Paradise, Sweet Tooth, Terry Moore, The Killing Joke, The New 52, Ultimate Spider-Man

Batman #16 Cover

Scott Carney: I kinda feel like I’m about to break the law or punch my ticket to hell or something with what I’m about to say about Batman #16 (DC); but I’m going to say it anyway because it’s my honest-to-goodness opinion, and that’s what Images and Nerds is all about; so here it goes: dude, I ain’t feelin’ it. And what I am feeling–if this qualifies as a feeling–feels forced, kind of like “How can I take a character who is so far over the top by nature–and by cinematic nurture–that even he can’t see the top anymore and make him over-the-top-er?” Maybe it has nothing to do with Snyder’s storyline at all. Maybe it has nothing to do with his take on the Joker. Maybe it has everything to do with the over-the-top expectations–especially after the revelation that was The Court of Owls arc. Well, whatever it is, Death of the Family has been decidedly underwhelming. This issue, in particular, seems to be all about the shock value–and knowingly so–all the way to the electrifying final panel of the story proper, where Batman plays the role of a Tesla plasma lamp. (He sat so quickly that he must have a trick up his sleeve–or rubber drawers on. I’m leaning toward the latter; I mean, you know he’s prepared for this; he had amazingly absorbent balls in his belt, apparently, which he used to rescue the Arkham Asylum Dancers. By the way: I did like the dancers, so it wasn’t a total disappointment!) How does Batman get there in the first place? Simple: he fights his way through a bunch of armed inmates over the course of three less-than-spectacular–more so muddled and surprisingly, for Greg Capullo, meager–pages; he “RRRAAAAAHHHH”s his way past a royally horrific–in concept, but, sadly, not in execution–tapestry depicting a history of Bat-tragedies and comprised of, umm, well, people sporting PEG-tubes, which is clearly meant to ratchet up the creepiness, all of them stitched together by the Dollman and rendered–ironically–lifelessly by Capullo and–to be fair–inker Jonathan Glapion and colorist FCO Plascencia, who collectively fail to provide the “pop” as promised while the Joker waxes nostalgic about his equal parts woeful and awful living “love letter” to Batman; he walks through three Rogues (Mr. Freeze, Clayface, and Scarecrow) with ridiculous–almost pointless–ease, as if he’s being guided expertly by some geek through yet another level in some Batman/Arkham video game, and knocking off sub-bosses on his way to the final boss, the Joker, who is flanked, unnecessarily, as it turns, by three more anemic antagonists: the Penguin, the Riddler, and Two-Face; he seems to lose his will to live after watching video footage of the members of the Bat-family getting their Bat-butts handed to them; and, finally–maybe even mercifully–he sits. Yup: that’s how it goes; and I couldn’t care less–especially since the back-up story just inexplicably continues the primary story, but with a co-writer and a different artist, who nudge the hanger back up onto the cliff for a few pages, only to confuse him by offering him another chance to test his grip. Oh no! What’s under the cloche? Come on: does it really matter what’s on the platter? Credit where credit is due: Jock’s Joker is exceedingly more terrifying than Capullo’s; and, wouldn’t you know, the story’s undeniably better, perhaps thanks to James Tynion IV’s hand in the telling. That ain’t how it should be, but that’s how it is. And here’s another “how it is”: as good as Owls was, its end was pretty darned awful. So, color my expectations low for the conclusion of this claptrap.

Phew. OK, well, I guess I’m ready for the comic Geekstapo to come cuff me and cart me away.

Derek Mainhart: Yeah, I’m completely with you here. The whole point of this seems to be Snyder turning the Joker dial up to 11. Between the human tapestry bit (which I was even less impressed with; what’re we, drawing inspiration from Human Centipede now?) and the goofy Bat-gadgets for every occasion, this whole exercise is steering dangerously close to camp. This makes Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke (its claim to definitive Joker story still unchallenged) seem positively restrained by comparison. (Perhaps such comparisons are unfair, but when your publicity machine ramps up expectations this high, they’re inevitable.)

Frankenstein: Agent of S.H.A.D.E. #16 (DC): Now here’s a book that could’ve used some publicity. (Hey, we tried.) This comic is not only the latest casualty of the New 52, but also the second Jeff Lemire-related book we’ve lost in the last couple of weeks (after the elegaic Sweet Tooth). If you wanted over-the-top action mixed with a generous amount of high camp, then this book was for you (emphasis on “was“). Series writer Matt Kindt (like Lemire, an emigre from the indy world) brought a distinct, knowing sensibility to the proceedings; this was well-orchestrated chaos. That being said, this issue seemed a bit of a rush; understandable given that it’s the final issue. Still, Kindt gives fans of the book everything they’ve come to expect: arcane conspiracies, outlandish tech with ridiculous acronyms (B.I.G.F.O.O.T. – you’ll have to read it), explosive violence, and wading through it all, the tragicomic figure of Frank, equal parts determination and reluctance. Kindt frames the story from the point of view of a garden variety secret agent from Homeland Security who witnesses Frank and his fellow monsters wreak havoc upon his well-laid plans. At first I thought this was annoying, even superfluous, taking away precious space in what is, after all, a last issue. Then, at the end, said agent submits his account of the action to his superiors. They recommend he take a leave of absence. Further, they inform him they will be editing his report because it is too “…insane”. Could this be sly commentary on the book’s premature cancellation? Either way I’m saddened that this ragtag misfit of a book, like Frankenstein himself, couldn’t find a place in the world. I’ll miss Alberto Ponticelli’s visceral renditions of viscera. I’m glad to see him on Dial H, a book even odder and better than this one. I hope it doesn’t soon suffer the same fate.

Goodbye Frankenstein!

SC: Yeah, this is a major loss–not just because we’re losing a consistently clever book, but because we’re also losing another forum for the considerable talents of Matt Kindt. Was I happy with this hastily-stitched-together goodbye? Not really. While I liked Frank’s matter-of-fact well-timed bomb–“That’s why I brought explosives”– and a depressed Frank’s knowing countenance as carved out by Ponticelli in the first panel of page 11, I was put off–as you were initially, anyway–by the insinuation of Agent Martin. Unfortunately, unlike you, I wasn’t able to analyze my way toward any sort of appreciation. But, ultimately, that’s my fault and my right, right?

DM: Or maybe you’re just lazy.

SC: Luckily, Frankenstein, the character, isn’t suffering the same fate as the monthly that carried his name: according to Lemire, he’ll be a part of the “core” four of Justice League Dark. So, in a way, he’s Hrrm-ing his way home.

DM: JLD? Color me less than excited.

SC: But if you like your heroes big and green, they don’t come much bigger or greener than the big green guy in Indestructible Hulk #3 (Marvel). What a smash hit this series has been through its first three issues! Looks like Mark Waid has found another perfect partner in Leinil Yu. But while Chris Samnee, Waid’s daring better half on DD, finds success in humorous subtlety, Yu is all about power–both the potential for and the expression of. The Hulk’s rage has never been captured as well as when Yu unleashes it in massive splashes–in this case, two ridiculously outrageous splashes: one, page 13, will be a classic rendering of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s newest W.M.D.; and two, page 23, Hulk’s Shining moment: Heeeeeere’s Hulkie! Great stuff. But that’s all fluff compared to my favorite part of the book: I mean, I could be wrong, but it looks like Waid’s taking a page from the prescription pad of television’s recently retired Dr. House. By building a team of quirky scientists around Banner, Waid is, like Yu, playing with potential: the door is now open for witty dialogue–one of Waid’s strengths–and complex human interaction, which will most assuredly balance out–or, more likely, outclass–the inevitable monster moments that may tend to ring hollow no matter how spectacular the visuals are. (See Bendis’s Miles-heavy issues of Ultimate Spider-Man for the ultimate example of secret identities besting their costumed alter-egos when it comes to compelling narratives.) And even though the final few panels petered out with an all-too-familiar–and much too goofy–punch to the gob of R.O.B.–a silly Skeets wannabe and instantly obsolete version of a monitoring device assigned to Banner–this is the superhero book I’m most excited about right now.

Indestructible Hulk #3 Cover

DM: From superheroes to the supernatural: Rachel Rising #13 (Abstract Studio). Okay, so I’m late to this party. But I’ve been hearing the accolades (not to mention your constant badgering, Scott), so I gave in and picked up the first trade. Then the second. And now I’m picking up the single issues, such is my craving for this unholy thing. And unholy really is the word. Creator Terry Moore (of Strangers in Paradise fame) has concocted an intoxicating brew of simmering supernatural suspense set against the seemingly quaint town of (the tellingly named) Manson. The story follows Rachel, a young woman who was recently murdered, and who has since, inexplicably, risen from the grave. Not quite alive, not quite dead, Rachel searches for answers behind her death and current state. She doesn’t have to search very far though, because the answers are also looking for her.

The story has a leisurely, atmospheric pace, with entire passages told wordlessly, that owes something to manga. But the narrative itself is firmly rooted in Americana. Rachel’s predicament has some connection to horrific witch trials that took place in Manson 300 years past. Biblical figures (who often play an outsize role in the American imagination) such as the Devil (or a devil) and Lilith are invoked. And then there’s that most American of fiends (judging from TV and movies), the serial killer.

The current issue (13, how apropos) widens the scope of the mythology with the inclusion of Charles Perrault and the “true” story of Sleeping Beauty (you’ll never look at the fairy tale the same way again). Meanwhile Lilith’s dread agents begin putting her nasty plan for the town in motion, in revenge for the witch trials. The reader may ask, as Rachel does in an earlier issue, what relevance could such long ago events have on the present? In fact, one of Moore’s themes is the insidious way acts of violence reverberate down through history. Furthermore, the type of violence he’s exploring is specifically, intimately, brutally, violence against women. Just a cursory glance at our world of honor killings and gang rape will show that this theme could hardly have more currency.

Sound too heavy? In lesser hands it might be. But Moore displays a light touch; first in his art, with its delicate interplay of line and texture, positive and negative space, and perfectly balanced use of black and white (I wouldn’t want to see a color version of this book). And, just as importantly, in the relationships of his characters: the warmth, resiliency and wry humor of Rachel’s makeshift family, so reminiscent of Strangers in Paradise, offers a refreshing, necessary tonic to all of the awful things that happen to them.

As I said, I’m late to this party. But, as Rachel herself is ample proof of, better late than never. Needless to say, Book of the Week. And one of the best books being published period.

Rachel Rising #13 Cover

Turning pages,

Scott & Derek

Back and Forth: The More Things Change…

18 Friday Jan 2013

Posted by ScottNerd in Back and Forth

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

A.I. Artificial Intelligence, Ales Kot, Amazing Spider-Man, Animal Man, Archer & Armstrong, beat poetry, Bloodshot, Change, Chris Eliopoulos, Cormac McCarthy, Dan Slott, DC Comics, Essex County, H.P. Lovecraft, Harbinger, I Am Legend, Image, Jeff Lemire, Jose Villarrubia, Justin Jordan, Lily Tomlin, Marvel NOW!, Morgan Jeske, New 52, On the Road, Patrick Zircher, Rotworld, Ryan Stegman, Scott Snyder, Shadowman, Steve Martin, Superior Spider-Man, Swamp Thing, Sweet Tooth, The Road, The Underwater Welder, The Walking Dead, Valiant, Vertigo, Watchmen, X-O Manowar, Y: The Last Man, Yanick Paquette

(From On the Road to The Road in one comic review? Read on…)

Scott Carney: Two pages in, I knew that Change #2 (Image) would be my favorite book of the week. This trippy little thing is big on bouncing to the beat of an earlier generation. Oh, we’re on a road, all right; I’m just not entirely sure where that road–or where writer Ales Kot–is taking us, and I’m pretty sure that Google Maps isn’t going to help me. And, you know what? That aspect, which could easily be a deal breaker, is actually one of the endearing qualities of this enigmatic issue–along with the poetry that pulses like poisoned blood through the veins of the sharply shifting vignettes, which all lead back, apparently, to the newly-revealed lungs of the book: New Atlantis. Another draw comes in the form of the fresh characters, whom I still hardly know two issues into the series, but about whom I care more than the hopeless heroes of of the Avengers Arena and more than the trite assemblage of assassins in the frivolous Thunderbolts. (Each of those NOW! titles is now a THEN! That’s right: El Droppo. Would you say I’ve dropped a plethora of books?) Sure, yeah, I felt lost; but isn’t that what I’m supposed to feel? (Isn’t that what the characters feel?) Damn it! Isn’t that what I want? Isn’t that what I’m paying for? For an escape from the grind? For a change of pace? Appropriately, “YESSSSssss.”

Derek Mainhart: I agree that this is one idiosyncratic little book. The analogy you make to beat poetry is good one; this book has an evocative, rambling cadence that seems as much the point as the actual events that take place (whatever they are). The experience of reading an experimental, seemingly stream-of-conscious work like this can be an engaging, highly personal one. Like beat poetry, I appreciate the unorthodox immediacy of it (not to mention Morgan Jeske’s Paul Pope-inflected artwork). But it is simply not my groove. (Or maybe between this, Fatale and Locke and Key, I’ve just reached my quotient of Lovecraft-inspired comics.)

The Superior Spider-Man #1 (Marvel)

Speaking of change, this was billed as a BIG one. As regular readers are aware, I’m among those who are appalled by Spidey’s recent history. So when the rumors started flying about this book’s premise, I started picking up Amazing Spider-Man again for the first time in years. And I have to say, I was intrigued by Dan Slott’s story: having ol’ Doc Ock mind-swap with Peter Parker, then letting Parker die in Ock’s enfeebled body did, in fact, feel like a shake-up of the status quo. Letting a megalomaniac muck about in the life of an icon seemed to have potential (It says volumes about the mess Marvel’s made of Peter Parker that killing him could actually improve the book). So I was on board. And for the first twenty-one pages I was not disappointed (SPOILERS!): Doctor Spider-Pus fighting the new Sinister Six, not so much out of moral obligation but because he’s indignant that they’re sullying his legacy. Then, in true supervillain fashion, he defeats them by leading them into a meticulously prepared, elaborate deathtrap. With great ego, it would seem, comes great responsibility. That ego is again on display in a scene in which the brilliant Doctor starts fraying at the edges with the knowledge that all of his future accomplishments will be credited to Peter. And finally, in the best sequence in the book, Otto Parktavius goes on a date with Petey’s beloved Mary Jane. In a hilarious tour de lettering, Otto’s self-absorbed narration is “pasted” over MJ’s dialogue while he blithely ogles her (I assume this was Slott’s decision, but kudos to letterer Chris Eliopoulos anyway for an effect I’ve never quite seen before). Ryan Stegman’s aggressive artwork, all sharp angles, blocky shadows and speed-lines, perfectly matched the irreverent tone of a story that held the promise of deconstructing super-hero tropes by turning them on their head (not that this is Watchmen or anything, but there is a gleeful audacity in doing this sort of thing to Spider-Man).

And then page twenty-two. Who should show up to ruin the fun? Why, Peter Parker of course! (or his ghost, or whatevyawn…) Now, I’m not naive; we’re talking about a super-hero comic. Of course Peter’s coming back. Nobody stays dead, silly! But so soon? The first issue of the much hoopla-ed big change? Maybe it was Slott’s plan all along, but this reeks of corporate hand-wringing: God forbid Peter Parker doesn’t appear in a Spider-Man comic for even one issue. (Slott even goes to the extent of having Petey verbalize the Game Plan: “I am Peter Parker. And I swear I will find a way BACK!“) Never mind that this retroactively robs AMS #700 of even the illusion of poignancy less than a month after its publication; in one fell swoop, an edgy, promising, even satirical premise has been rendered safe, predictable and pedestrian – the very opposite of a change in status quo. I, for one, am not looking forward to watching Peter play Lily Tomlin to Otto’s Steve Martin. (Name That Reference! Win a prize!) I haven’t been this deflated by an ending since A.I. Artificial Intelligence.

SC: Yeah. Me, too! No, really: you took the web right out of my shooter. But I–may I vent? Come on! They couldn’t’ve given us three issues–just three issues!–to savor this stroke of genius. No, sir! Gosh, I wish I were a spider on the wall during the pitches and the planning and any of the other processes that led to–to–this! I mean, seriously: was this Slott’s plan all along? Was there some directive from on high to not let this linger too long? I’ll tell you what I wasn’t thinking after reading the page that shall remain numberless: Oh boy, I can’t wait to see how Peter comes back! So, yeah, it’s quite possible that as quickly as they won me over, they’ve lost me. I’m not too sure how far I’ll follow this not-so-superior turn.

OK, then, well, really speaking of change (you’d think it’s a theme or something): a big change is coming for one of our favorite titles. And, it’s a bag-shattering change, too. That’s right: Scott Snyder’s almost done with his run on Swamp Thing (DC); so I guess that means I’m almost done with my run, too. Aye, and it was a good one.

DM: Yeah, talk about change you can’t believe in. It really is a shame; with issue 16, Snyder has recaptured some of the aura of the first year of the book. The extended build-up to the current Rotworld storyline distinguished itself with a steady baseline of unease, intermittently punctuated by surreal spasms of horror (especially when rendered with skin-crawling effectiveness by sometimes-series artist, Yanick Paquette). The series began to lose a little mojo with the introduction of Anton Arcane as the villain of the piece. The terror went from chillingly existential to almost cartoonish super-villainy (Anton would twirl his mustache if he had a face.) When Rotworld kicked into high gear a few months ago, the book seemed to further strain under the expectations of “epic” storytelling. But here Snyder once again hits his stride with a tale split between the struggle of the past to prevent the nightmarish present. The two strands also serve as emotional counterpoint, traversing the oh-so-short distance between hope and despair. In the (alternate?) present, Swamp Thing valiantly struggles to save, not the world, nor reality itself, but the only thing that matters to him in the end; his love, Abigail. More’s the pity then that Abigail’s quest in the past seemingly renders Swampy’s heroics utterly futile. This is the stuff of tragedy–and of terror: without giving too much away, let’s just say that when Snyder promises a shock (unlike Superior Spider-Man), he doesn’t back down.

Only two more issues of Snyder and Paquette? Now that’s tragic.

SC: Hell yeah it is! But, come on: do you really think Abigail’s gone for good? I have a sneaky suspicion that Mr. Thing is going to use some of his bio-restorative formula to bring her back to life–to some form of life, maybe even as a Swamp Thingess. That’d be a fitting finale, wouldn’t it: another out-of-step ending for the otherwise superior Scott Snyder. (See the end of his Batman: Court of Owls arc if you don’t believe me.)

Moving on, I’m willing to admit it: I’ve changed my mind about Shadowman (Valiant) with #3. A little background: I don’t have any background with Shadowman as a book or as a character. I figured I’d give it a whirl since Valiant’s revamp was 4-for-4 with two home runs (Archer & Armstrong and Harbinger) and two triples (X-O Manowar and Bloodshot). The first issue really didn’t do it for me, and I pretty much called it quits there. Then, during a trip to a more well-stocked shop than my home base, I saw #2 and decided to pick it up because I had a few bucks left over. (Yeah, I’m still working on the whole willpower thing. Getting better, though!) I still wasn’t too taken by it. Flash forward to another trip to my shop on the side: the proprietor offered up #3 as one of his favorite covers of the week. Yup. That was enough for me. And wouldn’t you know: I really liked it: I finally bought Mr. Twist as a terrifying villain. I dug the descent into the Deadside; more specifically I was taken–along with Jack–by Jaunty, the talking monkey with the sweet hat and the sweeter Cajun ‘tude. I appreciated the obvious allusion to King Arthur: Jack, in this case recognizing his responsibility, his destiny, draws the scythe from the shadow and becomes the new Shadowman. And with that, Justin Jordan and Patrick Zircher have earned a new Shadowfan. Bring on the big baddie: bring on Master Darque!

DM: And finally (and finally), Sweet Tooth #40 (DC/Vertigo), a book that’s all about change. Throughout it’s run this book has always seemed an odd, at times ill-fitting addition to the post-apocalyptic literary landscape. Jeff Lemire’s take on the end of man seemed to lack the visceral drive of The Walking Dead, the gravitas of I Am Legend, or the pointed political commentary of Y: The Last Man (to name but a few well-known exemplars of the genre). The story seemed to have a narrow focus: the young hybrid boy/deer, Gus and his grizzled protector, Jepperd fight to survive against malevolent pursuers, endlessly chasing them through the woods, determined to discover the mystery of Gus’ creation and, they hope, the key to mankind’s survival. And though the cast expanded, the scope of the narrative was never itself expansive in the way stories like this generally are. The same, however, cannot be said of the art. Nobody does desolate landscapes like Lemire (praise must also be heaped upon series colorist par excellence, Jose Villarrubia, he of the muted earth tones and washed out firmament). The setting and spare nature of much of the writing created a lyrical tone of atmosphere and ache. This restrained aesthetic, which is Lemire at his best (see Essex County) is ultimately what separates this book from the rest of the genre. In fact, with its devotion to craft, the work it most resembles is perhaps Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. Both are about fathers and sons (a recurring theme in Lemire’s work, from The Underwater Welder to Animal Man). And both find hope in the passing of the torch to the next generation. But whereas McCarthy’s hope is a flickering candle in unremittant darkness, Lemire’s is a bonfire of celebration. Though the territory covered by the series may not have broad, this generous, and alas, final issue is expansive in perhaps its most important measure: its heart. Book of the Week. Good Night, Sweet Tooth.

Sweet Tooth #40 Cover

Turning pages,

Scott and Derek

Images and Nerds

~ We're turning pages–and writing about them!

Category Archives: Back and Forth

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Back & Forth: Hail the Future Heroes of Yesteryear!

Back and Forth: Sex & Children’s Books

Back and Forth: Waid to Go!

Back and Forth: Warriors and Witches

Back and Forth: Red, Green & Blue

Back and Forth: Conspiracy Series

Back and Forth: Infernal Affairs

Back and Forth: The More Things Change…

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