Category Archives: Microviews

Little reviews of the week’s books.

Back and Forth: DC Won!

19 Friday Oct 2012

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Derek Mainhart: Well here we are closing in on Halloween, but for comics, the summer-style blockbusters from the Big Two keep on comin’. I guess I should start with the one I actually read.

Batman #13 – The Joker? Issue 13? Perfect set up for some Halloween frights. If only it were just that; but this much-hyped return of Batman’s nemesis is also the next epic crossover. Having just come off the whole Court of the Owls storyline (which was largely excellent) I must admit to feeling a little epic-fatigue. I do wish this was contained solely within Scott Snyder’s Batman instead of spread out across the whole Bat-family (not that I intend to buy all the other issues). Having said that, Snyder gets things off to a solid start. We get all the classic Joker beats in one issue: Joker assaults a police station? Check. Joker stages an elaborate, announced plan to kill a public official? Check. Joker lures Batman into an over-the-top deathtrap? Check. Having cleansed his palette, we can assume Snyder will be off and running with some new wrinkles next issue right? He certainly hints at it. He seems to be setting up a bigger, badder Joker. Harley Quinn spells it out: “He’s not the same Bats. He’s not my Mr. J. anymore…” I suppose this is tied into the whole getting-his-face ripped-off thing from Detective #1. (This begs the question: whose idea was that? Tony Daniel’s? The editors’? Or was Snyder setting this current story up a year ago?) But really, how much more twisted can the Joker get? Is Snyder suggesting that this version is somehow more monstrous than the Joker of Alan Moore’s character-defining turn in The Killing Joke? Trying to make this character more extreme seems to be just a way to fulfill the parameters of an “epic event”. Why not just give us an awesome Joker story? But, like I said, there’s much to like. The story-telling by Greg Capullo and Jonathan Glapion is excellent. Most of all, Snyder really excels at developing an underlying sense of dread through the entire book (his mastery at this was established in Severed (published by Image) which was practically an exercise in keeping your skin crawling over seven issues. The best horror book of recent memory. Get the trade for Halloween.) Speaking of which, how about that back-up? I only wish we could have read that before the events in the lead story!

I’ll let you handle the honors on this week’s other blockbuster: Uncanny Avengers #1.

Uncanny Avengers #1

Scott Carney: Oh, joy.  Your generosity knows no limits!  Must be your mutant ability.  For the record: I’m looking at Batman #13 as I would the first ten or so pages of The Great Gatsby–which means, in my mind’s monotone: “Now that that’s done with, let’s get on with the good stuff.”  Like you said: the back-up was pretty sweet–like cyanide.  Damn thing should’ve been part of the story proper.

OK.  I’ve put the “honors” you so benevolently bequeathed to me off long enough.

Now, I know you didn’t read UA #1, which is why you’ve lobbed it over to my side of the net.  But I’ll tell you all you need to know by analyzing one page: page one.  Picture this:

First panel: an eye held open a la the brainwashing scene of Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange; glowing in the iris is Cyclops as the Phoenix.  Speech bubble: an unknown spouting anti-mutant babble.

Second panel: zooming out, we  see two eyes held open a la the aforementioned a la, a trickle of blood between them, and some more babble, rousing some rabble about “evolution” and “competition”–which, interestingly enough, put me in a certain mind.

Third panel: the voice gains a scalpel-wielding hand, which is slicing into the exposed brain of the now Phoenix-free eye guy.  As unnamed character–he of the hand–blathers about the world’s having “felt the mutant boot on its neck”; and I was like, “Mr. Remender, you’re talking about AvX, aren’t you?”

Fourth panel: the voice digs itself deeper into a villainous vat of nonsense as its two hands pull part of the poor fella’s–the eye guy’s–brain out of his head.  And I was like, “Mr. Remender, you’re crafting the perfect Marvel fan, aren’t you?”

Fifth panel: the voice–now clearly Remender, in my mind, anyway–hops into a heap of “hatred[, which] protects a [comic company, like Marvel] from complacency in the face of [its more successful] rivals[, clearly DC].”  As he does, he shoves some device into the empty space in the eye guy’s head.

And that device, my friend, is Marvel NOW!

What a way to begin this glorious new initiative: with Remender’s mocking Marvel readers by making them out to be an easily-led legion of lobotomized zombies–zombies willing to buy into the reactionary ReEVOLUTION, which, apparently, isn’t much of a revolution at all.  In fact, according to Axel Alonso, Marvel’s editor-in-chief: “The only change is some subtle tweaks to some costumes.”  Indeed!

Phew.  I’m exhausted after that.  I’ll leave the rest to you!

DM: Yeah, dude.  Take a deep breath–or a nap or something.

I’ll jump into another book tying in to a crossover event is Frankenstein: Agent of Shade #13. This book also pairs well with our October fright-fest, as our favorite, tragic zipper-neck gets knee-deep in the Rot from the current Animal Man/Swamp Thing epic. Tie-ins like this are usually superfluous and best-avoided. And truly, nothing integral to the Rotworld story seems to happen in this issue. But not picking it up would mean depriving yourself of the stirrings of undead/amphibian love! Frankie riding a talking horse through post-apocalyptic Metropolis! And Matt Kindt’s freewheeling revisiting of Mary Shelley’s Modern Prometheus with Daddy issues! In terms of the larger story, this issue is indeed tangential and probably unnecessary. It is also one more thing: wildly entertaining.

Archer and Armstrong #3 may not be part of any crossover event, but with its globetrotting antics and millennia-spanning conspiracies, it sure feels like a blockbuster (and a pretty one too, as drawn by Clayton Henry and Pere Perez). But no mindless action spectacle this. The swordplay and martial arts are merely dressing for the big ideas that Fred Van Lente is playing with here (no surprise from a scribe who co-created a comic called Action Philosophers). Van Lente is an interesting, idiosyncratic writer; conversant in popcorn archetypes, he exploits them to plumb deeper thematic territory. If he has a weakness, it’s that his character’s reactions sometimes seem unearned. Archer’s about-face rejection of his lifelong indoctrination doesn’t ring true. And Armstrong’s response to the killing of a character he calls “the best woman I’ve known for ten thousand years” is simply “Bastards.”  Still, this is fascinating stuff. The rollicking action and effortless odd-couple, cop-buddy banter make a breezy read out of what is, after all, a thoroughly-researched satire about nothing less than the nature of faith.

SC: You know, that’s exactly what I was gonna say!

Turning pages,

Derek & Scott

Back and Forth: Dialed In

10 Wednesday Oct 2012

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Scott Carney: Where to start, where to start?  I know where I’m not going to start; I know where I’m not going to go period: to AvX #12 or Rorschach #2.  Each reads like a refund.

I guess I’ll start with a couple of books that were rotten as a rule: Swamp Thing #13 and Animal Man #13.  Mirror images of one another, these two books build the foundation for Rotworld–the former focused on the Green, and the latter, its locus, the Red.  Even though the stories follow almost identical arcs, in round one (as if this is a boxing match between flora and fauna), I’ve got to give the edge to the walking compost heap.  Scott Snyder’s story grows a bit more organically; and Yanick Paquette’s art–especially the layouts–is at its series best.  In terms of where each ends–a decided difference, indeed–it’s an absolute fact: I’m more interested in Abigail’s fate than I am in Ellen’s.  I’m pretty sure Abby’s not dead, despite what the Parliament professes; but I’d still like to see how the situation plays out.

Derek Mainhart: I had a mirrored reaction to yours: I liked Animal Man better. The endangerment of Buddy’s family seemed to raise the stakes higher than in Swamp Thing (though I could have done without the return of Shepherd, the Red’s answer to Jar Jar Binks). But then it almost seems odd to contrast the two books, since they really are different chapters of the same story. I admire the level of craft going into the writing, as the books are nearly symmetrical; a level of synergy rarely seen in crossovers. “Organic” applies in every sense of the word.

SC: Thanks to the last two pages of Daredevil: End of Days #1, I’m pretty sure I don’t know if Daredevil’s a dead devil or not.  I mean, the dude should be dead: Murdock’s murdered in full view of a mob of indecent flashers; and it’s the mob of Awful Samaritans’ impotent images that bring the bloody end game to life, providing the proof of Bullseye’s coring of ol’ Hornhead.  So who the hell is that at the end?  Does the Hand have a hand in this?  (I deserve a high-five for that one!)  The big four hands involved with putting this tale together have crafted something graphic and gritty: Klaus Janson and Bill Sienkiewicz deliver on the viscerals–I mean, visuals; and Brian Michael Bendis bends DD backward–essentially turning a blind eye to what Waid’s doing right now on Marvel’s best book, hands down–toward the the darker tone of his own successful run on Daredevil (Vol. 2).  Where’s David Mack’s hand in all of this?  It’s not where I was hoping it would be, that’s for sure.  I guess this storyline isn’t exactly where I was hoping it would be, either: it seems to rest outside of continuity.

DM: Yeah this seems superfluous. It read like “What If…..Brian Michael Bendis continued writing Daredevil????” It’s a shame because the ending that Benids did supply to his run was just perfect. I was also expecting some David Mack art. As it was, the art seemed as muddled as the story. Klaus Janson is a wonderful artist, but generally stronger as an inker in my view. Bullseye? The Kingpin? In light of Waid’s current, excellent work, this reads like a re-run.

SC: Even still, I’m prepared to give it another issue or two.  I mean, I was down on the idea of Spider-Men, and, boy, did I end up with web on my face with that one!  Time to dial up the expectations!

Dial H #5 certainly lived up to expectations–expectations that were sky high after a dialed in #0.  China Mieville continues to untangle the wires, allowing us to learn along with Nelson about his dial–one without a phone, without a booth; one he dials while calling on “a Superman.”  Even Superman, however, couldn’t have seen this one coming: Cock-a-Hoop?  I was cock-a-hoop myself as I witnessed this next round of wackiness, this epic battle–drawn up epically by Mateus Santolouco–that leaves some victims in its wake and presents a new challenge for our hero and his elderly sidekick Manteau.

DM: I still can’t believe this freak show of a comic is a DC book. The New 52 can be marked a success if for nothing else than this book’s existence. Mieville’s writing, though occasionally hard to follow, is never less than inspired. To wit: “When nothing eats nothing? It leaves anti-nothing behind. Somethingness.” Brilliant? Claptrap? Whatever man, I’m lovin’ the ride.

SC: Indeed. Mieville’s got it goin’ on–and he knows it: as Nelson remarks on how the shadow “used its dial…like it’s supposed to be used,” Mielville slyly whispers that he’s writing comics like they’re supposed to be written–that he’s writing them like Grant Morrison on Action Comics.

Action Comics #13 Cover

Action Comics #13 certainly doesn’t–it couldn’t possibly–meet the otherworldly standard set by #0.  It does, however, have an exciting–if not slightly confusing–reimagining of the Phantom Zone, with phantastic art from Travel Foreman, who set a phreakin’ high bar over on The New 52’s Animal Man–one not yet met, despite some good work from Steve Pugh et al.

DM: It was good to see Foreman’s work again. He does a nice job. But given the sparsity of the interdimensional setting, I think the colorist, Brad Anderson, deserves a lot of the credit for the overall look of the book.

SC: Noted.  But what really struck me–what drew a tear of joy from me–was the page turn from page 23 to 24: there’s Krypto, who “waited and waited for what felt like a thousand years–for Kal-El, his Kal-El, [I’m tearing up just typing this] had promised he would return”; and–turn the page–wouldn’t you know, “Kal-El never broke a promise.”  No, he doesn’t break promises.  That’s what makes him Superman.  That’s what makes us love him–whether we’re 9 or 90.

DM: Don’t hold back man! It’s ok! I’m right there with you. Morrison, more than any writer in recent memory, knows what a Superman story is supposed to be. Month-to-month continuity concerns, cosmetic changes, new villains, etc.; all of that is secondary. Superman exists for the big, goose-bump inducing, awe-inspiring moments. And that’s what we get here.

SC: Morrison is making magic–and is conjuring up a showdown with Mr. Mxyzptlk to prove it–which makes his impending exit all the more difficult to deal with.  Maybe if we get him to say his name backwards…

Turning pages,

Scott & Derek

Back and Forth: Laborious Bastards

04 Thursday Oct 2012

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Scott Carney: Looks like I’ve finally hit the wall.  Or the bag.  Or something.  I’m staring at the stack for the week (all used, one abused) and I’m struggling–struggling because not a single comic struck me enough to make me bleed words.  So let me cut myself…

Derek Mainhart: I feel your pain. I was really excited about this week’s books. Two Grant Morrison books? Lots o’ Allred art? Sign me up! And yet I’m similarly uninspired. I guess we need to start with the book that seemed to have the most potential to make me Happy….

SC: Maybe an allusion to Clerks will make you happy: Seventy-two?  Seventy-two?  Grant Morrison used the f-word or some form of the f-word seventy-two times!

DM: In a row?

SC: Well done.  Can you believe it, though?  That’s how many times an f-word flies off the pages of his effusively offensive, belatedly offbeat, and finally fun Happy #1.  From the first c-word, Morrison, a true super scribe–and pen-point sniper–in his own write, makes it clear that he’s happy to be writing a book for Image and that he’s, sadly, no Garth Ennis when it comes to four-wheelin’ it with four-letter words.  As a result, I really had no use for this book–this is until Happy the Horse reveals who he is and why he needs Sax, our prostrate protagonist.  That bit hooked me hard.  That’s right: I’m going to accept the fact that the explicit language is meant to exaggerate the dour song of experience of the X-rated adult world and to set up the bizarre yet greatly appreciated arrival of an–as far as we know–innocent child’s hyperbolically-cartoonish imaginary friend.  So, despite my initial doubt, I’m going to ride the crazy premise of a loyal My Little Pegasus and its looking to swoop in and save the day with a soiled sidekick; I’m going to trust in Morrison and am going to grab #2.

DM: Yeah, I had a similar reaction. Those first few pages read like a bad impression of Ennis (a true impresario of invective – see below). But I guess that’s the point: Morrison’s satirizing gritty, foulmouthed, hyper-violent crime stories. One of the goombahs even says “We can do this without all the (effin) language.” But the problem is that, in satirizing the dreary, grim and gritty milieu of many a mediocre comic (and movie for that matter), he has created a story that is, in fact, all of those things. Darick Robertson really sells the contrast well; he renders a world that is positively grimy to heighten his rendition of Happy, who looks like a Fantasia character designed by Tex Avery. Unfortunately, that stark visual contrast isn’t matched by the story. In order for the satire to really work, Happy needs to be utterly guileless, standing in counterpoint to the cynical drudgery that surrounds him (think Roger Rabbit). But Happy only looks ridiculous. He’s as wise to the sleaze as anyone; more so, in fact as he informs Nick of his own predicament, “You’re in a mob hospital, they took your weapons, sedated you and now they’ve sent a torture squad to screw some kinda password out of you.” So, no, I’m not buying into the whole hilarity of the situation. Even the conceit (protagonist-goes-on-quest-with-imaginary-friend-or-are-they..?) is something Morrison recently explored in the far superior (thus far) Joe the Barbarian. Sigh. Like you said, it’s Morrison. I’ll always give him the benefit of a doubt (and my 3 bucks for #2).

SC: While Morrison’s f-bombs seemed awkwardly wired, Ennis’s are timed to go off at just the right moment in Fury Max #6.  But that’s just Ennis playing to his–and the “one-eyed [a-hole’s]”–strength.  The expected explosion of expletives isn’t the only reason why this book wears its warning like a Medal of Honor, however; Goran Parlov goes for the gore with a crushing depiction of a head in a vise and with Fury’s straight-out-of-the-headlines mouthful of face.  (I can hear the creators cackling during the process of putting this scene together: “Yes, I’ll have el Cubano, please.”)  And how about poor Elgen?  This brave soul–this patriot–takes a knife to the nether regions, is tossed to the sharks, loses a couple of limbs, and welcomes a benevolent bullet from the coldly caring colonel.  It’s clear: War is hell; and Fury and Heatherly are left to sail the Styx together.  Overall, this issue carries a terrific and oft terrifying tune–though, and I think I’m being fair, this time, the Shirley Defabio scenes don’t necessarily reach the height of perfect harmony.  Hey, it’s gonna happen.  You know what shouldn’t happen?  I’ll tell you what shouldn’t happen: the biggest flaw I found stands defiantly on the last page–the very last page–of the book: #7 comes out on 12/5?  Really?  Really?  Bastards.

DM: Nobody writes war comics better the Ennis. Military history is obviously a passion of his and he captures it in all its awful glory. His Battlefields series from Dynamite is even better than this one. I’m eagerly awaiting the next installment, Battlefields: The Green Fields Beyond, due out in November. If you like Fury, you could do worse than picking up a trade. They’re standalone stories and are a great display of Ennis’ true range (Dear Billy being my personal fave).  Don’t be a bastard. Check it out.

SC: Hmm.  Guess I’ll have to check that out.  Speaking of bastards: I love Jeff Lemire’s take on John Constantine.  (I love Lee Garbett’s take on Zatanna, as well; “Raeppa,” indeed.)  In Justice League Dark #0, the hellblazing S.O.B. is shown to be an insatiable magic whore with a heart–a heart probably plagued with plaque from all the cigarettes he sucks down over the course of the issue.  (Hmm.  I wonder if Zatanna could help him with that with a simple, “Euqalp eb enog!”  That little witch is a keeper, son!)  Story-wise, the book is split in two: there’s the well-developed and snappy slow burn of the first part, which ends with Nick Necro’s fully transparent flytrap of a phone call; and then there’s the rest, which lacks any heat at all, thanks, in part, to the aptly named Cold Flame.  But it’s OK; it’s all good: the darn thing’s a one and done; and next month, we get back down to business with “The War for the Books of Magic.”  Can’t wait for that.  Wait.  Why wait?  Why not try—this: “Htnom ylf yb!”

DM: I gotta disagree with you here. Constantine is a very singular sort of scoundrel. Ambivalent to the point of maddening. Distinct Liverpool accent. Deadpan, world-weary sarcasm. It’s not every writer that can nail the trenchant rhythms of his speech, or his enigmatically contrarian attitude. And, sadly, Lemire is not up to the task (though I commend him for not resorting to using “bollocks” every two panels). His rendition of Constantine has been serviceable within the team format of this book. But in a solo tale like this one, his flawed grasp of the character becomes glaring. A trench coat and a cigarette do not a bastard make. Yes, I realize this is the New 52 version of the character.  A good thing too. The Vertigo version would eat this guy alive.

SC: Something for Garth Ennis to explore in a new series: Constantine Max.

DM: I’m already looking forward to it!  But–and here’s another one you may not have picked up–a book that has no problem capturing the idiom of its lead characters is Steed and Mrs. Peel #1 (published by BOOM!). What is odd, initially confusing, and finally intriguing about the story (Caleb Monroe’s script working from Mark Waid’s plot with art by Will Sliney), is that it immediately takes those two beloved leads completely out of their comfort zone. A post-apocalyptic London, complete with irradiated mutant zombies? Hardly what we’d expect for our avatars of the swingin’ sixties. Indeed, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop (you know, hallucination, elaborate hoax, etc.), but apparently Waid and Monroe are sticking to their guns. Here (unlike in Happy) the study in contrasts works: no matter the mind-numbing horror they now face, our heroes imperturbably maintain their stiff upper lip and all that. End of the world? No excuse to lose one’s cool. Good show! (Sorry. I’ll stop.)

Another book making gleeful fun out out of the annihilation of mankind is Mars Attacks #4 (IDW). I do think writer John Layman makes a mistake in portraying the Martians as slightly  sympathetic. Still, each issue has been a scorched earth snapshot of the havoc those bloodthirsty, brain-exposed bastards are wreaking, rendered in equal parts comedy and gore by the always engaging John McCrea. The disparate snapshots seem to be coming together at the end of this issue. Not sure how I feel about that. But ancient Aztecs? Giant fleas? Buzzsaws to the noggin? High-octane hilarity.

But even that doesn’t come close to the near-sublime, spasmodic absurdity that is…Wolverine and the X-Men #17. Yes. That’s right. Wolverine and the X-Men. I’ve steered clear of the X-books for quite a while now. Their convoluted, insular story lines have rendered them seemingly impenetrable. But Mike Allred and Doop reunited for the first time since their glorious run on X-Force and X-Statix (written by Peter Milligan)? It was the kind of gift I didn’t realize I wanted until I saw it. Any reservations I may have had about deciphering labyrinthine layers of X-history were quickly dispelled on page 3 with the merciful announcement: “Previously – Lots of things happened, but don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Enjoy.” Reassured, I sat back, relaxed and did enjoy a true MIKE ALLRED COMIC. Certain writers, (Neil Gaiman, the previously mentioned Morrison and Ennis) seem to bring out the best in the artists they work with. Well Allred is one of the few artists who does that with writers. It’s as if they realize they need to up their game, channel their inner anarchist, and let it fly. And happily Jason Aaron (never a timid writer) is up for the challenge. The set-up: Wolverine hires Doop to protect the Jean Grey School For Higher Learning (which I guess is what it’s called now) from the myriad threats lurking, well, everywhere. His haphazard duties include, but are not limited to: ambushing a bowling league, seducing various members of a school board, and teaming up for an interdimensional adventure with the most unanticipatedly awesome guest star of the year, whose identity I won’t ruin. (Suffice it to say, my inner-geek had a heart attack.) Doop – truly an intrepid hero of the people. Really, the book this most resembles in its wondrous lunacy is Bob Burden’s legendary Flaming Carrot (check out his recently successful Kickstarter campaign for happy news on that front – http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/592668574/flaming-carrot-hardback-and-digital-comics). And that is rarefied air indeed. And so, at the end, I was left in a Doop-shaped pickle; was I wrong about my X-aversion? Did I need to start picking up this book? And then I turned to the Next Issue box featuring a Phoenix-enflamed Cyclops tie-in to the monstrosity that is AvX. Thus I find myself in the unique position of declaring: Book of the Week. I have no intention of picking up the next issue.

Wolverine and the X-Men #17 Cover

SC: I wouldn’t pick it up if I were you.  Thing is, I’m not; so, I’ll be picking it up as a loyal reader might be expected to–even with the seemingly never-ending AvX tie-in hanging over it like something you really don’t want hanging over something you like.  (I’ve already explained–in the previous Back and Forth–how I feel about that whole thing.)  Aaron’s sashayed around the silliness well enough; he’s even played it for a laugh or two–done particularly well in #16, with the focus on the snarky Kilgore kid.  And, you know, that’s what I’ve liked about this series: the “we’re superheroes, sure, but we’re not super serious” vibe.  This issue, however, seems waaaaay over the top–which is fine; I mean, it does focus on Doop, for God’s sake.  Thing is, it felt forced at times, like it had to be pushed and shoved–dragged, even–to the apex of wackiness.  Don’t get me wrong: I thought the Nazi bowling team was a strike; I laughed heartily at Doop’s daliances with members of both genders; and, oh, how I dug the cameo to which you referred.  I don’t know.  I don’t know why I didn’t fall into it as much as you did.  Maybe it’s because you’ve got the experience with the Allred/Doop tandem that I don’t have.  (Thanks for letting me borrow the X-Force trade, by the way.)  Maybe it’s because I’m a grumpy bastard who finds comfort in continuity.  Speaking of continuity: with all the stuff going down after AvX #12–with titles getting axed and added–I’m left wondering if Wolverine and the X-Men will be a thing of the past or if it’ll be a part of Now!  Now, speaking of Now!: I’m pretty sure you’ve got something to get off your chest about the Marvel revamp.  Care to share?

DM: Later.

SC: Bastard.

Back and Forth: The Long Goodbye

26 Wednesday Sep 2012

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Derek Mainhart: So this week was marked by the end of three series I enjoyed (in addition to The Shade from last week – sniff!) Let’s start with the one I liked in spite of myself:

Spider-Men #5: I was all set to not like this series. It seemed pointless – why kill Peter Parker if you’re going to introduce Miles Morales to…Peter Parker? (The fact that he’s from an alternate reality just seemed like splitting hairs.) The only reason I picked it up was that Brian Michael Bendis has created a compelling character in young Miles. And then, about midway through, I found myself getting caught up in it. One of the things that make for a good story are memorable moments. And this series, especially in the last two issues, was full of them. The scenes with Peter “reuniting” (for the first time?) with Aunt May and Gwen Stacy were touching and understated, the reactions of all involved perfectly calibrated. Mysterio almost willing himself to be defeated was wry and knowing. (By pointing out the cliche, Bendis milks it for humor turning a potential weakness into a strength.) And it ended on a wonderful note: a cliffhanger that was organic, inevitable and completely earned. The art by Sara Pichelli was knockout; a touch of Kevin Maguire in the facial expressions, some Brian Bolland in the refined linework. (Yes, she’s keeping that kind of company.) I was still left with a slight, nagging feeling of “having your cake and eating it too” by the whole concept. But when that concept gives rise to a series this good, my reservations (unlike this book, as it turned out) were pointless.

Spider-Men #5 Cover

Scott Carney: Yeah: I agree.  I, too, was lulled into a sense of “Who shoots a web?” about this series.  I jumped into it for a pair of reasons: the creative team–as you’ve said–is top-notch; and wouldn’t you know, I’m kind of caught up in Miles, clearly the most compelling character kicking around any of the Marvel universes.  After the first couple of issues, I wasn’t very impressed.  To be honest, I stuck with it only because it was a five-issue run.  And I’m glad I did: as I’ve described at length in a “Scottlight on” post, I absolutely loved #4.  Oh, I could’ve called it quits there, at the highest of highs, but there was only one chapter left; so I picked up #5 with amazingly low expectations.  And, as one might–and as I did–imagine, those expectations were met–until the end, of course.  What a final page!  Peter’s searching for Miles on the–ahem–World Wide Web–is pitch perfect and honest.  Plus, I think Bendis is making the ultimate statement here: that even Peter Parker–the Marvel hero–is interested, just as much as we are, in Miles Morales, the spiderling who would replace him, more or less.

DM: Which brings us to Miles’ regular book Ultimate Spider-Man #15. As mentioned above, Bendis has more than justified the decision to kill off Ultimate Peter by crafting such a refreshing character in Miles. This book shines when it concentrates on its young protagonist’s private life; his interactions with his best friend (the irrepressible Ganke), his chilling interactions with his murderous uncle (quite a change from Ben!) and especially the ever-growing complexity of his relationship with his father. In Miles’ Dad, Bendis has created a character that is completely decent, full of integrity, and utterly fallible. (It’s a shame that Mom is still a bit of a cipher). The interactions between father and son have been the highlights of the series. Methinks tragedy lies ahead, and not the simple kind caused by burglar’s bullet. Paradoxically, the least compelling scenes are the ones with Spider-Man. The wisecracks seem to have come too easily to Miles and make it difficult to discern any difference between him and Peter Parker, at least when he’s in costume. So if I have on a quibble here, it’s that developments from the “UNITED WE STAND” crossover (there it is, stamped right on the cover, see?!) seem to be pushing the book in a direction of less Miles, more Spider-Man. Hopefully I’m wrong. (Crossovers. Ugh.)

SC: I feel your pain when it comes to crossovers.  I think it’s time to look at any “stamp” or banner or threat of a crossover or tie-in as a sign–a desperate warning sign, like, I don’t know, Bridge Out.

In terms of USM #15, I couldn’t have said it any better.  The book itself is better when Miles is just plain Miles–and when he bands together with his super-free coterie–Ganke and the family–to take on the wicked, and infinitely patient, antagonist Adolescence.  I mean, come on: Ganke’s premature discharge (art by the solid David Marquez)–with Peter’s web shooters in hand–is a all-too-relatable teenage tragedy that calls down the comedy with every web cast toward the ceiling.  With a chunk of ceiling dangling from a strand in his hand, Miles admits, “I gotta have my webs”; but he’s had plenty from the get-go, including the stickiest one–how his dad feels about Spider-Man–which plays out here some, but to no great effect.  Speaking of no great effect: if Spider-Men #5 has a perfect ending, this one has, well, not that.

DM: As good as USM has been, Marvel’s best book (with the Eisners to prove it!) has been Daredevil. Mark Waid has infused, not only the character, but the entire series with personality and style to spare. In this he’s been abetted by some stellar artists including Chris Samnee this issue (Waid and Samnee are quickly becoming the new team supreme – check out Rocketeer: Cargo of Doom). Issue 18 though, is a bit of a letdown. What bothers me, I think, is the shift in tone. Waid’s run has distinguished itself (mostly) from DD’s usual morose proceedings by injecting a good dose of healthy, swashbuckling fun. The somewhat forced conflict between Matt and Foggy in this issue, and now the re-introduction of a tragic character from the ol’ gloom-and-doom, pre-Waid days, is threatening to let the air out, sending DD back into the deep, dank basement from which he so recently escaped. Ah well, Samnee’s art, as I said, is fantastic, with the best bits having to do with DD riding up and down an elevator.

SC: OK, so, I think I know what you’re saying without your saying it outright.  Hidden there in your pristine prose is exactly how I felt about this issue, too: it’s boring.  Like you, I didn’t buy the B.S. rift between Matt and Foggy as it was “developed” in #17, and I certainly am not reaching into my pocket this time around–except, obviously, to pay for the book.  I will say that my spirit was lifted as I turned to page 8, which is where I found Matt and Kirsten, thank God, outside of Matt’s apartment.  Their conversation–two panels’ worth, anyway—whisked me back to the wonderful DD #12; unfortunately, I wasn’t left there very long.  I’m blindly banking on the fact that this issue is a transition into something decidedly more daring and devilish.  If it’s not, I’m going to be darned disappointed.  Despite my display of displeasure, I assure you that I’m not down on the artwork.  Samnee is one of my favorites right now, and I’m happy to see him back here, no matter how dank this month’s delivery may be.

DM: Speaking of dank places: Batwoman #0. The story by J.H. Williams III and W. Haden Blackman is wildly uneven. It further explores our hero’s origin and begins with some quite insightful, sensitive reminiscences of her sister and especially her father. This section fleshes out her character’s past motivations while exploring her bond with her father (lots of Daddy issues – get it? issues? – this week!) We then get an extended Kate-in-training montage. Here the writing goes from heartfelt and specific to numbing and cliche’.  This is followed by an elaborate exercise in cruelty that, it turns out, was a final test of her readiness set up by – SPOILER ALERT! – her father. First problem – this reads like a second-rate version of Evey Hammond’s transformation in V for Vendetta (right down to Guy Fawkes-like devil mask that dad is sporting). If this reference is intentional, it’s a mistake. You shouldn’t highlight a work that is superior to yours; it can only suffer by comparison. (Do you hear me Jeff Lemire on Animal Man? Leave Grant Morrison’s run alone! – ahem.) The second, and larger problem, as far as this book goes – the premeditated masochism of the plan not only runs counter to what we’ve seen earlier in this very issue, it defies everything we know about her father’s character dating back to Greg Rucka’s original, excellent conception. To say his actions are out of character is an understatement. It reads like a friggin’ supervillain origin. The ending however, is a partial return to sanity, and William’s art, it must always be said, is just gorgeous. He employs the same David Mazzucchelli-inspired style he used for the flashbacks during Rucka’s run, and he nails it. He can pretty much just do anything, art-wise. Take page 13 – he utilizes both the simpler flashback style and his more lush, rendered technique in the same splash page. The visual tension between the two is a show-stopper.

SC: Without question: Williams III’s art is the thing here.  But even though his shift in style provides an unexpected and equally as stunning anchor for the pieces of the past, I found myself still somewhat lost in the origin story–and not in a good way.  I may as well have been blindfolded like Kate when she first became involved with the “Murder of Crows.”  What I was reading, for the most part, meant nothing to me.  Could’ve been the Perez-esque (circa New 52 Superman) wordiness of the captions, or the layout of the captions, which was unnecessarily awkward at times; in fact, the gorgeous splash to which you referred is marred only by an almost unreadable caption–red writing on a gray background–to the left of the beautifully rendered Batman.  I had to tilt and turn the book; I had to move into the light and out of it again in order to follow the damn narration!  That’s unacceptable!  It’s something I’d expect from a Marvel book, for goodness sake!  I don’t know.  It could’ve been–as you stated–that the story of how she came to be a hero is an all too familiar one.  Hey, it happens–unless, of course, you’re Azzarello on Wonder Woman #0.

DM: You hit the nail on the head.  With Wonder Woman #0, we have a writer in full command of his craft; not surprising when that writer is Brian Azzarello. Check out how he effortlessly establishes theme and tone on just the first page: We see a pubescent Diana climbing to reach a giant egg while the accompanying caption box announces: “The monthly monster strikes again!” This ostensibly refers to comic book deadlines (wink, wink) but offers, of course delicious counterpoint to the image. We are then informed of the conceit that this is a reprint of that classic (apocryphal) series, “All-Girl Adventure Tales for Men”! So there you have it: a tongue-in-cheek, coming of age tale tackling gender issues through the retro paternalistic tone of a comic of yesteryear. Again, that’s just the first page! This is simply writing on another level. (Cliff Chiang’s art complements the tone with bombastic panel compositions, though perhaps not the retro style that the story seems to call for. Oh well, we can’t all be J.H. Williams.) So, young Diana manages to steal the egg from a shrieking harpy (‘natch!) in order bake a cake (‘natch!) for her birthday. After an altercation with one of her Amazon sisters, she runs off feeling misunderstood and isolated (that common teenage malady) She even asks, weeping, (in a panel worthy of Lichtenstein) “Why must I be different?” A god suddenly appears proclaiming in most manly fashion “I be blood! I be iron! I be guts! I be WAR!” (That he does so while wearing what appears to be an outfit from an S&M flick just adds to the fun.) He offers to train her to be the world’s greatest warrior, once a month, under the full moon (‘NATCH!) By now you may be thinking, “Gender issues? Old-fashioned dialogue? S&M outfits?! Maybe I’ll steer clear of this one…” But NO! Here there be battle! Here there be the Minotaur! And despite the inherent irony in the writing, here there be…pathos. As Diana, in the end, must defy her bloodthirsty trainer, Azzarello defines, with utmost sincerity, the essence of his rendition of Wonder Woman: not her strength, not her prowess in battle, but her compassion, her mercy, her love. That he ties this in implicitly with her womanhood might seem, itself, paternalistic, even condescending. I call it revelatory.

SC: I found Wonder Woman #0 to be a clever combination of a writing style that is clearly aware of itself and a retro art style that proudly profits from its roots.  Overall, I liked it a lot, perhaps more than USM.  I particularly liked the relationship between Diana and Ares, despite its being one we’ve seen a thousand times.  Every panel in which we find them together reflects their powerful connection–until, of course, on page 27, when Ares lets Diana have it after she defies him.  That connection, however, is never actually severed: the Minotaur is obviously a doppelganger for Ares.  (Check out the final panel of page 21 and the first panel of page 26.  How about the last two panels of page 27?  Accidents?  I think not.)  And, in that, it’s clear that Diana, in being merciful, has passed Ares’ test after all.  Ah, the “Merry Men” have done it again–even if it is for the first time.

DM: Another book conjuring impressive literary tricks is Courtney Crumrin #5. This issue takes some time to explore the Crumrin ancestral tree. It does this by employing a story-within-a-story-within-a-story; no mean feat and Ted Naifeh pulls it off with aplomb. With its mixture of folklore and personal history, it put me in the mind of some of Neil Gaiman’s  work, especially the great Sandman (though less subtle, and perhaps not quite as precious). The atmospheric artwork; some Kevin Nowlan influence I think, with just a dash of P. Craig Russell (though I hate the way Naifeh draws hands). If the writing lacks some of its usual irreverent buoyancy, it’s only because the title character takes a necessary back seat this issue. So all in all, another impressive effort in a title that is YA in name only.

Moving further down the age bracket, we have Peanuts #2 from kaboom!, BOOM’s excellent all-kids imprint. I have mixed feelings about the existence of this series. Should the exploits of Charlie Brown et al., be understood as highly individual vehicles of personal expression for their creator, the master, Charles Schulz? Or do they, like Disney characters, now belong to the world, necessitating new stories for a new generation of readers? It’s a matter for legitimate debate. But it makes it harder to complain when the stories (by Alexis E. Farjado, Shane Houghton, Vicki Scott, Bob Scott, Mike DeCarlo and Paige Braddock) are as charming as they are in this issue.

And now, returning to the aforementioned goodbyes, Merciless: The Rise of Ming #4 (by Scott Beatty and Ron Adrian) brings the Flash Gordon spinoff to a close (sidebar – I get annoyed when limited series like this aren’t explicitly advertised as such. I had no idea this was the last issue. Maybe it was mentioned in Previews or elsewhere, but it should be right on the front cover. Perhaps not listing it allows for some editorial wiggle room if something is a hit, or not, but as a customer I like to know what I’m getting into (grumbled the old man)). While I do think more of his depraved rise to the top could have been explored, it was still great fun watching Ming go from backstabbing prince to Despot of the Universe through sheer ambition, callousness and relentless force of will. A true Randian hero.

And finally Snarked! #12 (another unexpected last issue, grumble grumble!). This well-deserved Eisner-Award winning series represents comics at their most exciting; idiosyncratic work by a cartoonist (the inimitable Roger Langridge) at the height of his powers, putting them in the service of a singular, fantastic vision. In this case that vision is a heady brew of Lewis Carroll, W.C Fields, Laurel and Hardy, the Fleischer Bros., Segar’s Popeye, and…and I don’t know what else. This book had it all: high adventure, slapstick comedy, classic art and undeniable heart. If, over the course of twelve issues, some of the comedic bits fell a little flat, it’s only because Langridge’s previous work set the bar so high (What? You haven’t read Fred the Clown, equal parts Charlie Chaplin and Monty Python? One of the funniest comics ever. Get it. Get it now. And while you’re at it, pick up his current Popeye series by IDW. And, oh, just get anything with his name on it!) The final issue of this crown jewel of the aforementioned kaboom! imprint provides a fitting close to the yarn, full of suspense, laughs and a lump in the throat (who knew the sentence “I like bananas.” could be so touching?) In a comic strip afterword, the lead character Wilburforce J. Walrus states that you should always leave them wanting more. Mission accomplished. Book of the Week. Well done sir, and good night.

Back and Forth: A Stitch in Time

16 Sunday Sep 2012

Posted by in Back and Forth, Microviews

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Scott Carney: With a first page that leaves two-thirds of We3 in pieces on lab tables, Frankenstein: Agent of S.H.A.D.E. #0 skulks its way toward a violent origin, one that plays out–thanks to the way Frank is depicted–like the birth of a pre-Atomic Age Hulk.  What a fun book!  Just turn to page 11.  I know what you’re hearing while looking at that scurvy bunch: you’re hearing a salty Obi-Wan Kenobi say forcefully: “Mos Eisley spaceport. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.”  Glorious!  The rest of the story reads well enough.  Necessary comment: Kindt’s father-son showdown–an expected but wholly appropriate climax–makes the mutant patricide of AvX look pedestrian in execution.  Just sayin’.  And, come on: a Nazi robot spider?  That’s right up there with gorillas with guns.  I’d like to also celebrate Ponticelli’s cover, which is my favorite of the zeroes.  Every time I look at the damn thing, I feel like that sword’s gonna come down and cut off something I might need.

Frankenstein: Agent of S.H.A.D.E. #0 Cover

Derek Mainhart: Yeah that cover is really something. Best use of the whole “tearing through the page” conceit. For a book that initially seemed like it was going to be DC’s version of the Mike Mignola’s B.P.R.D., this title has really established itself as one of the most fun corners of the DCU. Jeff Lemire’s initial run was characterized  by  a wanton sense of absurdity, grounded (well, semi-grounded) by Frankenstein’s grave demeanor (pun intended!). Frank’s unwavering character anchored the stories allowing Lemire to introduce whatever wild sci-fi / horror tropes he could come up with. Matt Kindt’s run has continued in that vein but, in exploring the monster’s past, has introduced a level of pathos to the proceedings. This extra wrinkle, combined with Kindt’s refined appreciation of the ridiculous, have produced stories that thrill on a level that I would call epic, if “epics” didn’t take themselves so seriously. (To wit: your apt contrast of this with the “epic” AvX, which is simply awful. But that is perhaps grist for another discussion.) Alberto Ponticelli has visually really made this book his own. Some standout scenes, in addition to the ones you mentioned: page 6 as the freed mental inmates tear through the mansion past the Doctor’s poor sainted wife; and the palpable, kinetic action of the big fight scene in pages 17-20. I’ll be sad to see him go, as he moves over to Dial H (I’m also sorry to see Mateus Santoluoco leave that book). My one quibble about this issue was that it really should have ended at page 26, with the line “You can call me Father”. How apropos, no? The final two pages seemed tacked on for the benefit of new readers, I guess. Still, I’ll forgive it since those last pages include the aforementioned GIANT NAZI SPIDERS! Book of the Week.

A close second however was Rocketeer: Cargo of Doom #2 by Mark Waid and Chris Samnee (IDW). After a shaky first issue, Waid really seems to have found his footing here. There isn’t a wasted moment as the story propels from one improbable action scene to the next. Samnee draws a particularly effective sequence right away on pages 2-3 as the villain of the book is shown incapacitating the dangerous cargo of the title without revealing what the cargo actually is; a neat visual trick. Samnee’s visuals perfectly complement Waid’s retro tone, which is a gleeful combination of Indiana Jones, King Kong and perhaps a touch of Looney Tunes. Like Indy, its an homage to the propulsive movie serials of old, complete with the requisite, exquisitely unbelievable cliffhanger. Don’t miss it.

SC: I liked Winter Soldier #10, too.  Loved Guice’s layouts from the get-go; he gives stunning and shadowy life to the Widow’s unexpected awakening and to Jasper’s selfless final act.  Brubaker brings Captain America, Wolverine, and Hawkeye to Bucky’s side, creating a formidable cavalry to face down an increasingly formidable foe.  The romantic Parisian flashback, juxtaposing the rain and the pain, is tenderly rendered, and rounds out a seriously solid issue.  If this storyline  is Brubaker’s kiss goodbye to Marvel, it’s a French kiss, indeed.

DM: Big fan of Butch Guice’s artwork as well (this book has been blessed with some stellar artists), but this issue just seemed to be treading water to me. Brubaker spends the first nine pages rehashing events that the reader could have surmised from last issue (including a beloved SHEILD agent getting killed a la The Avengers movie). Then some expository dialogue explaining her brainwashing in more detail than is needed. And then the guest stars show up. (Wolverine seems kinda forced. Doesn’t he have enough to do?) It even ended on an awkward beat. Hopefully things will pick up next issue.

SC: Wouldn’t you know, with Wolverine and the X-Men #16, Aaron has pulled another one out of the Phoenix fire.  This time, he’s out of the damn crossover frying pan and into the Hellfire.  This Kilgore kid is bad-ass and has a killer back story to prove it–specifically a black and white one that Bachalo just absolutely blows up.  This is wicked fun that seems to be headed in the right direction–back to where it all started; back to what drew me to the book in the first place.

DM: Glad AvX didn’t ruin this book for you. (Did I mention it was awful?)

SC: The Shade #12 isn’t bad for a final issue.  Too often exceptional story arcs fall apart at the all-too-crucial end; but not this one.  Robinson mixes up some magic with an Oliver twist.  The art’s no joke: when the Scrooge-lookin’ Simon summons Scathach, Ha hits a high note driving the darkness into Dick.  Oh, I’m sure–well, I hope I’m sure–this isn’t the last we’ll see of the good Mr. Swift.  I mean, where else is Robinson going to shine but in The Shade?

DM: I’m going to miss The Shade. If the final two issues weren’t completely satisfying, it’s only because Robinson set the bar so high with the first ten. The roster of artists has been stellar, but the star of this series was the writing. Something about playing in the Starman universe seems to bring out the best in Mr. Robinson, and here we were treated to roguish imaginings in various eras filtered through the arched eyebrow of an Oscar Wilde dandy. Interesting that for this last issue the Shade’s teamed up with Charles Dickens. (It brought to mind the final issue of Sandman featuring William Shakespeare, right down to the lush period illustrations of Gene Ha.) My main quibble is that this didn’t feel like a last issue. The reintroduction of Simon Culp as his arch-nemesis, the mystery of why the goddess chose the Shade to receive his powers, the friendship with Dickens; all of these seem like plot threads of a series in mid-stride, not one that is winding down. Let’s hope you’re right and Robinson returns to this material soon. It’s the best stuff he’s written in years.

SC: The Valiant books were all right.  I wasn’t too impressed by the introduction of Ninjak in X-O Manowar #5.  But I did enjoy Aric’s arrogance; it reminds me so much of myself.  Harbinger #4 was a bit better with Pete’s almost losing Faith and then his really losing it over Joe.

DM: As someone who was, shall we say, less than enthused about the whole Valiant relaunch, I gotta say X-O is growing on me. I’m enjoying the artwork by Lee Garbett and Stefano Gaudiano (a touch of Hal Foster, no? A little Prince Valiant in Valiant?  Have I taken things too far?). And Robert Venditti’s tale of Roman slaves, time travel and pseudo-religious space invaders has never been less than a good time. (The grenade bit on page 12 alone was worth the price of admission)

SC: I may be done with Comedian after #3.  I may be nuts, too, but is there any doubt that Azzarello’s been dropping little hints about how he feels about this whole Before Watchmen venture.  The first hint pops up in Rorschach #1, when “Crime” tells Rorschach that he doesn’t quite live up to the myth.  Here, it’s not-so-hidden on pages 22-23, where Blake watches a dog take a dump on the sidewalk and then tosses a piece of crap at a police chief’s face.  Is it possible Azzarello’s not doing this on purpose?  Is it?  No, really, is it?

DM: Comedian was a bit of a letdown for me as well, though I think I liked it a little more than you. I enjoyed his moral ambivalence as he played all sides against each other simply because, well, he could. (And the art by J.G. Jones certainly doesn’t hurt.)  Having said that, I was disappointed that this is starting to read like an overly comprehensive flashback – “this happened, then this happened, then this, and so on” – an aspect that has been endemic in all of the Before Watchmen books. How about focusing in on just one compelling story and seeing what it reveals about the character?

SC: I am done with Suicide Squad after #0.  My soft spot for the book killed itself a few pages in.  That’s right: the Glass has finally cracked.  What a disaster.

Re: Batman #0: When does #13 come out?

DM: Yeah, what was the point of this issue again? After the laser-like focus and highwire tension of the Court of the Owls arc, this issue and the last one (which was better, a little) have meandered into territory that seems trivial at best. A lost opportunity for a zero issue.

To end on a high note I’d like to show some love to the following:

Stumptown: The Case of the Baby in the Velvet Case #1. (Oni Press) The title alone grabbed my attention. In his end piece, writer Greg Rucka extols the pleasures of the 70’s PI show, highlighting The Rockford Files. This first issue shares that show’s laconic tone and wry humor. No end-of-the-world stakes here. Just a seemingly routine mystery that begins with a missing guitar. Solid art by Matthew Southworth and Rico Renzi. Fans of detective fiction should check it out.

Dark Shadows #7. Speaking of the 70’s, Guiu Vilanova’s art, with it’s shaggy hair, handlebar mustaches and big-honkin’ police cars, captures the era of this book perfectly (This is a compliment. Really). Unlike the recent Tim Burton movie, writer Mike Raight, focuses less on the camp (which is inherent) and more on the horror. Fans of Dark Horse’s line of arcane horror books (Hellboy, et al.) should give this a try. Another solid book from Dynamite.

And finally, Punk Rock Jesus #3, the story of Christ’s second coming via cloning (story and art by Sean Murphy.) The art features a harsh, expressionistic (but never unreadable) line well-suited to its punk rock ethos. The character development and pacing may be a tad forced (I think this is Murphy’s first crack at writing), but this is more than made up for by the anarchic energy and send-up of modern society that the title so ably suggests. Definitely worth a look.

SC: Hmm.  You’re inspiring me to think outside my bag.  (I could hate you for it; but I don’t.  Not yet, anyway.)  Just when I thought it was safe to go back to the comic shop.

Turning pages,

Scott & Derek

The 100 Percent

11 Tuesday Sep 2012

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Not to sound all sappy and stuff, but I’m really going to miss this stack.  I liked–no: I like-llked every book in my bag.  It’s like they say: like-like comes round when you least expect it; or maybe I was just lookin’ for like-like in all the wrong places.  As it is, to quote the Lard, “I’m busting, Jerry, I’m busting!”

I took off with Action Comics #0 and realized right away that this Zero thing wasn’t some silly gimmick–at least not here.  Morrison promises, “You’ll see”; and, boy, do we!  The Super Scribe is magnificently crisp and coherent throughout as he unfolds the majesty of the impossibly powerful Prince of Metropolis.  Oliver, who left me wanting on Batwing, matches the grandeur of the story panel for panel, page for page–shining especially on the spread on pages 10 and 11 (the fall) and on the turn from 25 to 26 (the stand).  The latter example is simply stunning in the way it reflects perfectly the wonder of a child and the might and compassion of the world’s greatest hero, who, after a somewhat uneven treatment in the New 52, finally gets the turn he so justly deserves.  Bravo.

After that, you’d probably figure that Action was my favorite title of the week; but it wasn’t.  That distinction goes to a book with a decidedly different tone: Swamp Thing #0.  I’m saving my take, however, for the Scottlight.  Check back soon for that.

Sticking with the Zeroes: I really enjoyed Animal Man #0 and Dial H #0, too.  Sure, Lemire’s treading on sacred ground, but he’s doing so respectfully and adeptly.  He has Buddy unwittingly assume a supporting role–suiting his name, no?–in a reality cast by the ever-desperate but unflinching reps of the Red.  To make the transition that much more startling and fun, Lemire cleverly has Buddy evolve from a flightless “Chicken Thief” to a soaring hawk–to a superhero who doesn’t mind a few flashbulbs popping his way.  But despite it all–all the power, the adventure, and the fame–he’s not the man; his unborn daughter is.  Even if he had the eyesight of the hawk, he’d never see it coming.  Great stuff!

In Dial H, Mieville spiritedly yanks back the curtain and effervescently reveals the secret behind the powers summoned by the dial.  There’s no mystery here: it’s all about Bumper Carla.  Ah, yes: Bumper Carla; she is simultaneously WTF? and Hell yeah!–and is everything you need to know and to love about this carnival ride of a read.  This is some fine China.

Ultimate Spider-Man #14 was quite a thwip, with Bendis delivering yet another touching moment as May gifts Peter’s web-shooters to Miles.  That leads to miles of fun as the newest Spidey gets into the swing of things over the city.  The battle with the Rhino is OK, nothing special; but it is certainly buoyed by the young Webcrawler’s sticky wit–which makes sense, really, because, as we all know, with great power comes great banter.

I saved the Valiant books for last.  And even though it’s still early, they’re cranking up the volume.  Bloodshot #3 is without a doubt the best issue of the series thus far.  It steps beyond the bullets and sinks into Bloodshot’s brain, almost demanding the end, which sees Dodge fire a bullet into Bloodshot’s brain.  Go figure.

Archer & Armstrong #2 is a terrific follow-up to a solid series starter.  Sure, it ramps up–and “profits” from–the humor built grossly upon the One Percent’s corporate jargon.  And, sure, the incorporation of the magic of Michelangelo is artful, indeed.  But the real selling point is showcased on the final page: The Sisters of Perpetual Darkness.  Ninja Nuns?  Yes, please.  Oh, I’m thinking that issue #3 is going to bring a little cloistered T&A to A&A.  Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that in my comic book!

Now that‘s what I call a week of books.

Turning pages,

Scott

Sealed with a Kiss

01 Saturday Sep 2012

Posted by in Microviews

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My Microviews for the week of 8/29:

Excitement was high in some alternate–and assuredly opposite–comic reading universe.  Some humanoid out there was bristling as he slipped his books from his bag.  The skin on his hair was probably sitting down.

Here, in my page-turning reality, however, my stack read like a bottle of Xanax.  With a cap that gives you all sorts of crap.

Speaking of:

I was watching So You Think You Can Dance but I wanted to crack open a book–you know, to read something during commercials and the pre-dance packages.  Figured I’d go with something mindless.  Luckily I had picked up Justice League #12–for the kiss, of course.  Duh.  Why else would I return to this title?  I was reminded immediately of why I dumped it after issue #5: God Almighty!  It’s awful!  I won’t bother with Johns’ writing; I haven’t been following the story.  On the art side: Jim Lee has taken the most iconic characters in comicdom and turned them into languid lookalikes, into blah B-listers.  Oh, it’s painful to see them rendered so!  The layouts lack life, a spirit; they seem to stubbornly avoid inspiration, as if inspiration were illegal or something.  By the way: while thumbin’ through the book, I could’ve sworn the guy givin’ it to the League was Helspont.  Turns out it isn’t, but this guy’s just as compelling.  But what about super-hyped kiss?  To be fair, it’s a smart turn–an easy one at this point, but smart, nevertheless.  Ever hear of a slow burn?  Yeah, neither have these guys.  Hmm.  Felt a little forced, no?  Kind of like they had to shove it into #12 even if it didn’t fit too well?  Whatever.  This was a one-and-done return to Justice League for me.

I waited for a little quiet time before wading into Winter Soldier #9.  Boy, oh boy.  If it weren’t for the twist at the end, I would’ve thought Brubaker was mailing it in on his way out.  I mean, from the get-go, this one felt right out of the most recent run of Captain America, which has been unpatriotically poor–so much so that I ditched it, despite Cap’s being my all-time fave.  A really microview: James hangs out in front of a vid screen for a while then goes into action and then snaps the Black Widow out of her trance all too easily–“Nat!  It’s me!”  “Oh.  OK.”–and then TAH-wist!  Boy, oh boy!  I’ll be soldiering on, for sure.

I read The Flash Annual #1.  It was all right.  The story was fine.  My biggest gripe: I didn’t care for the kitchen sink approach to the art.  In fact, for five bucks, I feel kind of ripped off–especially since it wasn’t a one-shot annual, which I could’ve passed on.  Don’t get me wrong: the art was fine; but since I’m an issue-at-a-time Flash fan at this point, I’m practically Patrick Henry: Give me Manapul or give me a break!  No gripe here, though: the last page.  Who doesn’t love an army of pissed off gorillas?  Who doesn’t believe in Grodd?

Next up: Wolverine and the X-Men #15.  It starts off on a solid note, but then gets a bit too jokey for its own good down in Beast’s lab.  Iron Man, in particular, is insufferable.  But Aaron works it out with the Xavier/Quire thoughtdown and delivers a satisfying issue that ultimately doesn’t feel too overburdened by AvX.  Thank goodness.  Be honest: you welled up a little bit while rooting for Mortimer.  Don’t you go blaming it on sawdust, too, you big baby.

I closed out the week with X-O Manowar #4.

X-O Manowar #4 Cover

Solid book all the way around, with a huge draw at the end.  One thing worth noting: as I admired Aric’s aerobatics during his dogfight with the Italian air force, I couldn’t help but think of the beginning of The Rocketeer: Cargo of Doom #1.  Anyone else?  Quick unsolicited comparison: Samnee’s work conveys more energy, more urgency than Nord’s.  Super unsolicited comparison with a twist of grudge: They both, however, have it over Lee.

Easily.

Undeniably.

Turning pages,

Scott

All Thumbs Up!

26 Sunday Aug 2012

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If there were a Like button at the bottom of my bag of books for the week, I would have clicked it.  Or maybe there was and I did—which may explain Matches Malone’s thumbs up on the cover of Batman Incorporated #3.

Or whatever.  I read Batman Incorporated first and sure as heck got the quirky I had wished for.  Oh, that Grant Morrison!  Ask and ye certainly shall receive.  But just because you receive it, it doesn’t always mean you’ll understand it–or that it’s understandable.  So, after the ominous opening–which could totally happen, by the way–Morrison strikes with Matches and had me happily sinking in quirksand through page 10.  My head never quite made it under, but that’s all right; at least I got to see the bad-ass birth of Redbird, who got all LL Cool J on Alfred after knocking the old butler out.  “Bring it,” indeed.

I moved on to The Flash #12.  Read through it quickly.  Boy, does Barry come off as a little red whiner.  Luckily, the Rogues are a fun bunch, and Manapul manages them very well; he avoids the muddiness that multiple villains could have brought to the flow of the book.  His art, too, is solid throughout with a couple of nifty layouts thrown in for good measure.  Overall, I liked it enough to forge ahead with the flashy one: I’ll pick up the annual and #0; and then we’ll see if it’s time to put the book back on the pull list.

Next up: Justice League Dark #12.  Houses of Mystery and Secrets!  Lemire and Janin housin’ it–making a magical book out of a wacky bunch of magical B-listers.  (OK, it’s true: I may be a bit biased here; after all–and I’m not afraid to admit it–I do have a comic crush on Zatanna.)  Looking forward to seeing how this plays out.

Revved it up with The Rocketeer: Cargo of Doom #1.  I liked it plenty.  Story-wise, I love the vibe; Waid’s got it down, even where it’s so down its up and over the top.  The mystery?  It’s a bit wait-and-see, which pretty well means it is what it’s meant to be; but what I’ve already seen of Samnee?  Pow!  The first five pages are sky high!  And the splash goodbye, leaving me verily vexed?  Like Betty, I’m hangin’ on happily to Cliff, till the next.

Yeah, I read Dr. Manhattan #1.  What I thought while: Why am I still reading this?  After: “What’s inside the box?”  Nothing, you dumb blue bastard!  And then I bagged it and put it in a box.  Ugh.  Straczynski completely misses the mark, which, sadly, was expected.  He was unable to take apart this complex character and put him back together to any positive end even here at the beginning of his story.  There are a couple of moments–including the drawing of partners’ names in the context of the quantum universe–that are OK; but that’s it: OK.  We’re looking at fewer highs here than in JMS’s own inconsistent Nite Owl.  Hughes’s work seems to live down to the story he was given.  Not surprisingly, his best moment–on page 9–is finely built upon a finely-built coed.  Yeah, I read Dr. Manhattan #1.  What I’m thinking now: What won’t be inside my bag in a month’s time?  #2.

Next Wednesday can’t get here soon enough!

Turning pages,

Scott

Quite a Weak

17 Friday Aug 2012

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I just polished off my pile for the week.  Rounded out my reading with Daredevil #17, which left me a little underwhelmed.  Prior to reading it, I read a few tweets about it that spoke of the tweeters’ wading in tears.  Well, my eyes, if they welled up with anything,  welled up with bitter beads of disappointment as the back cover settled into its protective position.  I found myself losing interest in the Matt and Foggy backstory and longing for another DVR-ed episode of Franklin and Bash.  (I still have one more to get through before I’m all caught up.)  I’m generally a sucker for father-son stuff, but there was something missing here.  Something genuine, I suppose.  Whatever.  Plus, I wasn’t all that impressed with Allred’s work here.  I mean, it was fine and all; it capably continues the brilliant old-school vibe Waid’s embraced in his storytelling.  I don’t know.  Maybe following Samnee–especially so soon!–works against him here.  Doesn’t matter, really; I’m already looking ahead to the next arc.

Wouldn’t you know: Daredevil wasn’t the only letdown I didn’t anticipate.  Wonder Woman #12 kinda crapped out for me, mainly because of the unimpressive, uninspired transition from one perfectly fine mission statement—save Zola and her unborn baby from the power hungry old gods—to another, all too similar one: save Zola’s baby, yada, yada, new gods.  You know what?  I don’t care.  (Wow.  I can’t believe I just typed that.  A first for my experience with WW, which has been one of my faves since The New 52 kicked off a year ago.)  I’ll buy #13 and will reassess my relationship with the leggy Amazon—who, by the way, had an effective turn in Batwoman #12.

Oh, yeah!  There’s the transition I needed.

Batwoman #12 Cover

Batwoman #12 was–and I know this will shock some people–my favorite book of the week.  J.H. Williams III’s return to the art side is a triumphant one, with his stunning and unexpected layouts and his attention to detail.   I mean, come on: pages 6-7?  Williams III runs circles around his peers with this spread.  The conversation between Batwoman and the shards of Bloody Mary?  Smashing!  I even like the reason for dragging Diana into the storyline.  In fact, I’m excited about this title again–just like I was from the start of the series—and, brimming and bubbling, I’m definitely on board for #13.

I settled into The Shade #11 and got burned by the bad James Robinson.  I’ll admit: I enjoyed the first five pages.  The Beaumont sequence alone is worth celebrating as heroic and hilarious: the signature of this series right out of the chute.  However, the conversation between The Shade and the pharaohs and the explanation of where the pharaohs came from smacks of the convoluted confabulation of Robinson’s Earth 2. Irving’s art doesn’t do it for me, either.  It’s a bit too, I don’t know, artificial?  There’s something soulless about it, which can be blamed, I suppose, on the computerized aspect of it.  As much as I hate to say it, I really didn’t like this arc very much.  Worth noticing: the slip in quality of The Shade parallels Robinson’s involvement with Earth 2.  Coincidence?

The Valiant books were solid reads.  I like the blood and bullets of Bloodshot #2 and the cerebral happenings of Harbinger #3.  Quite a balance!  The former has already established a classic moment for the burgeoning reboot: Bloodshot’s literally having a cow.  Tasty!  The latter continues to impress in its exposition–except in a pivotal moment where Peter turns the tables on Daniel, shouting, “You chatty tool!”  Yikes!  That could be the silliest line I’ve read in a long time–well, at least since Earth 2 #3.

I fell for Fatale #7; but that’s no surprise: Brubaker’s been bringing his best to this book.

That leaves Rorschach #1.  Know what?  I didn’t enjoy it as much as I had hoped I would.  Azzarello’s story simply didn’t knock me out–and I left my chin out there for him and everything.  I think Crime says it best, really: “Dude, you don’t measure up to your myth.”  (That can apply to almost all of Before Watchmen at this point. Hmm.  I wonder if Alan Moore is finding some sort of joy in that.)  I can’t deny this, though: Bermejo’s art is stunning–from the cover to the final panel.  (By the way, I must address this point: I’ve never seen clothes so meticulously rendered.)  I will give Azzarello some credit: he handles sex better than any of the other BW writers thus far.  Unlike his colleagues, who seem to be clumsy virgins when it comes to carnality, he inserts it and it feels right.  You know?

On paper, this stack seemed like a can’t miss.  But that’s why we read the books, friends.  That’s why we read the books.

Turning pages,

Scott

It’s no secret…

11 Saturday Aug 2012

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I went right for Batman #12, as most probably did.

Cover to Harper Row #1

Sure, in wrapping up the Owls, Snyder fell prey to the monster that stalks every storyline from its beginning: its end; but he had been remarkably consistent up until then, turning us and twisting us like a bat in frenzied flight.  So, it was no surprise that I opened the book with the highest of expectations.  I turned the first page, the next—the next, even—and got all twisted up.  I looked back at the cover, went back to the story, la-di-da, got a fleeting fix of the Bat, was like “OK, whatever” about Harper’s bizarre fixation on Batman’s grip on the grid, and was ultimately distracted by the sudden change in the artwork.  But again, whatever.  So what do we have with this book?  An out-of-the-blue–but undeniably cleverly framed–origin that essentially reveals a secret Snyder’s been keeping since issue #1 and teases out in issue #7–not one that I had been thinking of, at all, really, if I’m being honest.  (I pulled #7 to see why the whole Harper Row thing didn’t necessarily resonate with me.  Seems that it has too many stand-out moments–including a few stunning splashes and the shocking panel in which Batman strikes Nightwing after Nightwing rips Bruce for keeping “[his] secrets,” which leads to Bruce’s revealing one doozy about Nightwing’s owly destiny–one that spurred conversation among Batreaders everywhere, leaving, in my case anyway, the mystery girl, Snyder’s  own heart-charging secret, forgotten in the shadows.)  A second read of #12 proved helpful in my overall assessment of the book.  I don’t dislike it.  I understand it’s a buffer between storylines and a set up, one with some sort of payoff somewhere down the line.  When it happens, it happens.  Until then, bring on the Joker!

So, then I read Suicide Squad #12.  Looks like I’m on board for the next few, at least.  That’s not what I was thinking at first, though.  From page one, I wanted each of the the Squad members to be sacrificed to the god of comics that had run their course.  But, the draw of the series–the fact that you can’t see through to Glass’s plot twists, even when you expect them–was drawn up well enough at the very end of this issue, even after what felt like an otherwise rushed story.  Hey, I’m a sucker for sleeper agents.  Got a problem with that?

Frankenstein #12 is a helluva fun ride.  I’m telling you: Kindt can’t miss with the route he’s running here–not when he’s got Frank critiquing poor pyromaniacal poetry: “Work on your rhyme and meter.  Frankenstein does not kill the inept.”  Great stuff.

Well, then Daredevil Annual #1 has nothing to fear from Frankenstein.  It’s a billion pages of blech.  I don’t know; perhaps Alan Davis fans will see something in here worth celebrating. Hey, howzabout the Haitian Jar Jar Binks with the “gris gris and the ‘pwen”?  Maybe?  I suspect, however, that even they are wondering what good they could have done with the $5 they turned over for this disaster.  Ugh.  Maybe I should’ve bought Ozymandias, after all.

I enjoyed Archer & Armstrong #1.   Henry’s art is very good.  It’s clean, kinetic, and carries the story of A&A’s coming together well–even if it’s a story we’ve heard before in some form or another.  Am I’m willing to invest in the idea of The One Percent and their Nazi-esque occultist bent?  Yeah, why not?  And, come on: the bull and the bear masks are pretty funny–maybe too funny, actually, especially for the now-turn-the-page-and-dun-dun-dun-here-are-the-villains-for-the-first-story-arc moment.  I mean, I’m half expecting an opposite-of-erotic orgy scene to erupt out of nowhere and half expecting to see the leader of The One Percent unleash the Horns and the Claws on NYC to take down the cowled and caped soul of the city.  Am I the only one?

And that leaves one book for the Scottlight: Spider-Men #4.  Check back soon to see which way I go with this one.

Turning pages,

Scott