Tag Archives: Rotworld

Back and Forth: Sex & Children’s Books

17 Sunday Mar 2013

Posted by in Back and Forth

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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?

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

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: Fiona and Cake #3

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

Advertisements

Back and Forth: Red, Green & Blue

16 Saturday Feb 2013

Posted by in Back and Forth

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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

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

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: The More Things Change…

18 Friday Jan 2013

Posted by in Back and Forth

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

(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

Sweet Tooth #40 Cover

Turning pages,

Scott and Derek

Back and Forth: DC Won!

19 Friday Oct 2012

Posted by in Back and Forth, Microviews

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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