Happy June! Happy Summer! Happy Atari Force Month!
All month long here on Comics Matter, I'm going to be focused entirely on the bizarre and fun-tastic 1984 sci-fi adventure series from DC known as Atari Force. Technically it'll be the second volume of the title, because the first was a five-issue series of mini-comics that were given away with old Atari games and had stories based on the same. The original Atari Force was, therefore, little more than a marketing ploy, a fun little freebie comic designed to sell more video games. These initial five issues are not easy to find, even online, and have such a thin connection to what followed that it matters very little for my purposes. The second volume moved away from the video game tie-in strategy in favor of telling original stories that work on their own, and did so with an almost entirely different cast of characters than volume one. It's not an amazing series, nor is it especially horrible, but it is a book that's a bit unlike anything else, with some great new characters and thought-provoking science fiction concepts.
I plan to publish one post every day in June about Atari Force, beginning with daily reviews of each issue. Once I get through all twenty issues, there is a three-story special from 1986 that I will probably split into three days worth of material, and after that...I don't know. There'll be five or six days at the end of the month left over to look at the series as a whole, and I'm not sure yet what those'll look like. I'll have to cross that bridge once I get there.
Why am I doing this? I'd love to give you a concrete reason, but there ain't one. I like Atari Force but haven't looked at it in a while, so I wanted an excuse to reread it. Also I was looking for something different to do on the blog for a bit, just to shake up my writing schedule. Therefore, Atari Force Month it is!
Before I delve into the meat of the series myself, though, let me direct your attention to someone else's attempt to do the same. Though it no longer seems to be active or updated, the Atari Force Headquarters website is still online and has a lot of good information in its archives. Summaries of every issue, articles and interviews on the series from back when it was first being published, a timeline of everything that happens in the book, creator bios, etc. It's not the best-looking or most well-organized thing in the world, but if you take the time to click its many, many links, you can learn a lot about the details of this series.
Tomorrow, I kick things off more officially with a closer look at Atari Force, volume two, issue #1.
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Friday, May 31, 2013
Finally Reading Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye
Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye has been on my radar since it launched. There was some definite buzz about it at the beginning, and I feel like every so often I still see a new review somewhere praising the book, so in the back of my mind I've been wanting to give it a try for a while. But I'm not much of a Transformers fan, historically, and there are so many other things to read, this particular title remained just outside of my reading list for more than a year. Yesterday, arriving a day late to pick up my new comics at my local shop, I noticed they were having a sale on all of their trade paperbacks. And, having read two different glowing reviews of issue #17 earlier in the day, I figured it was as good a time as any to grab the first volume of the series and see what I'd been missing.
I admit, looking at the info for Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye volume 1, I was a bit skeptical. Containing only the prologue one-shot The Death of Optimus Prime plus the first three issues of the actual series, the slender trade paperback seemed like too little material to give me a proper introduction to the book. I was worried that I would get only the first inklings of what the series had to offer, but not enough of the deep and developed bits to stay invested. Those fears could not have been more unfounded, because by the time I'd finished The Death I was fully hooked on some Transformers goodness.
Because this shit is incredibly dense. It only took one issue to grab me because that one issue had more plot and character work than some whole first arcs. Writers James Roberts and John Barber build a very full, lived-in world for their giant robots, and introduce some extremely interesting and difficult moral, political, and ethical problems into the mix. Now that the Autobots and Decepticons are done with their war, Cybertron is being repopulated by Transformers who have been living scattered throughout the cosmos. But this rebuilding of life on their home world is no simple or easy task, because the war has done a lot of damage and left behind a lot of anger. Also, there are still a bunch of Decepticons roaming around being wicked, and the Autobots aren't seen as heroes in the eyes of their fellow Transformers, either, because they're given equal blame for the war. Obviously, it's a tinderbox, and Roberts and Barber do a remarkably thorough job of exploring the many sticky wickets it creates in The Death of Optimus Prime. By the end of that issue, the Autobots are split into two camps. Some will stay behind in an effort to assist in the rebuilding of life on Cybertron, while another group, lead by the over-confident Rodimus, are going to venture into the depths of space on a quest to find the Knights of Cybertron. The Knights are mythological figures in Transformers lore, supposedly original Cybertronians who left ten million years ago to spread enlightenment throughout the universe. Rodimus' hope is that finding the Knights will help solve the problems on Cybertron, that they will have the wisdom and power to save the day.
It is this semi-religious space journey that we follow in More Than Meets the Eye while its sister title (Robots in Disguise, of course) stays on Cybertron. Roberts and Barber also separate, with Barber writing RiD and Roberts getting to helm the space adventure of MTMtE. And as much as I'm fascinated by the doubtlessly tense and slow-going efforts on Cybertron, I'm glad I choose to follow Rodimus' crew as my introduction to this world. Roberts writes a damn fine space soap opera, and juggles his expansive cast with such skill I can hardly believe how many characters I've already met. Rodimus as the cocky and pigheaded leader is just the tip of the iceberg. Far more interesting are characters like Tailgate and Skids, whose backgrounds are still a tad mysterious but have strong and likable personalities already. Roberts finds brilliant and consistent comic relief in Swerve, an intriguing and patient mastermind villain in Cyclonus, and presents solid and well-worn friendships between characters like Rewind, Chromedome, and Ratchet. There's an incredible depth of humanity in these robots, each of them with their own distinct reasons for being on this journey, their own set of skills, and everybody's got some some subtle, personalized character flaws, as well. They are a varied crew with a lot of different dynamics at play between them, and it leads to some truly gripping drama.
It's a talky series, but the dialogue never feels long-winded or unnatural or slow. The conversations carry the plots forward and/or advance the characters, so even though each issue has far more chatting than action, they still feel lively and exciting. A lot of that is Roberts, yes, but artists Nick Roche and Alex Milne are a major factor as well. The humanity expressed in the dialogue would be nothing if the art couldn't match its emotional level, but luckily, it always does. Despite being, you know, made of metal, the Transformers of this title are expressive in very subtle, detailed ways. Tiny facial cues and really carefully-drawn body language breathe life and personality into everyone. Even those characters who don't have proper faces. Also, of course, there is the sheer number of characters these artists are responsible for, each with a unique look and, more importantly, a unique way of carrying themselves. Rewind is light on his feet, Rodimus is chest out and head high, Ultra Magnus is intimidating and rock solid, Cyclonus slinks around. Again, they feel alive, more alive than any number of human characters in any number of other comicbooks.
I already have the second trade paperback of More Than Meets the Eye, and I fully expect to whizz through it tonight and then be forced to go out and do more catching up this weekend. Chances are I'll even read Robots in Disguise before too long, because I'm itching to know how that side of the coin is developing. Also because, someday, I'd like to believe the two books will collide and all of the Transformers will be reunited again. Well, all those who make it out alive.
I know so very little about Transformers continuity. The details of the Autobots' war with the Decepticons are beyond me, but it matters not at all. What's important is that there was a war, whatever the reasons for it, and now that it is over, the soldiers need something else to believe in and fight for. In this series, that means an epic adventure across space to find a mythological group of ancient robots. You can see the potential for things to get silly, but Roberts goes in the opposite direction, writing science fiction drama at its smartest and most dramatic. And it works, because he cares about his cast and so do his collaborators, which means that instead of just being robots that turn into things and kill each other, they're people we care about with complex motivations and goals. It is a refreshingly full, intelligent, and enjoyable comicbook, and one I'm extremely glad to have finally started reading, even if I am late to the game.
I admit, looking at the info for Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye volume 1, I was a bit skeptical. Containing only the prologue one-shot The Death of Optimus Prime plus the first three issues of the actual series, the slender trade paperback seemed like too little material to give me a proper introduction to the book. I was worried that I would get only the first inklings of what the series had to offer, but not enough of the deep and developed bits to stay invested. Those fears could not have been more unfounded, because by the time I'd finished The Death I was fully hooked on some Transformers goodness.
Because this shit is incredibly dense. It only took one issue to grab me because that one issue had more plot and character work than some whole first arcs. Writers James Roberts and John Barber build a very full, lived-in world for their giant robots, and introduce some extremely interesting and difficult moral, political, and ethical problems into the mix. Now that the Autobots and Decepticons are done with their war, Cybertron is being repopulated by Transformers who have been living scattered throughout the cosmos. But this rebuilding of life on their home world is no simple or easy task, because the war has done a lot of damage and left behind a lot of anger. Also, there are still a bunch of Decepticons roaming around being wicked, and the Autobots aren't seen as heroes in the eyes of their fellow Transformers, either, because they're given equal blame for the war. Obviously, it's a tinderbox, and Roberts and Barber do a remarkably thorough job of exploring the many sticky wickets it creates in The Death of Optimus Prime. By the end of that issue, the Autobots are split into two camps. Some will stay behind in an effort to assist in the rebuilding of life on Cybertron, while another group, lead by the over-confident Rodimus, are going to venture into the depths of space on a quest to find the Knights of Cybertron. The Knights are mythological figures in Transformers lore, supposedly original Cybertronians who left ten million years ago to spread enlightenment throughout the universe. Rodimus' hope is that finding the Knights will help solve the problems on Cybertron, that they will have the wisdom and power to save the day.
It is this semi-religious space journey that we follow in More Than Meets the Eye while its sister title (Robots in Disguise, of course) stays on Cybertron. Roberts and Barber also separate, with Barber writing RiD and Roberts getting to helm the space adventure of MTMtE. And as much as I'm fascinated by the doubtlessly tense and slow-going efforts on Cybertron, I'm glad I choose to follow Rodimus' crew as my introduction to this world. Roberts writes a damn fine space soap opera, and juggles his expansive cast with such skill I can hardly believe how many characters I've already met. Rodimus as the cocky and pigheaded leader is just the tip of the iceberg. Far more interesting are characters like Tailgate and Skids, whose backgrounds are still a tad mysterious but have strong and likable personalities already. Roberts finds brilliant and consistent comic relief in Swerve, an intriguing and patient mastermind villain in Cyclonus, and presents solid and well-worn friendships between characters like Rewind, Chromedome, and Ratchet. There's an incredible depth of humanity in these robots, each of them with their own distinct reasons for being on this journey, their own set of skills, and everybody's got some some subtle, personalized character flaws, as well. They are a varied crew with a lot of different dynamics at play between them, and it leads to some truly gripping drama.
It's a talky series, but the dialogue never feels long-winded or unnatural or slow. The conversations carry the plots forward and/or advance the characters, so even though each issue has far more chatting than action, they still feel lively and exciting. A lot of that is Roberts, yes, but artists Nick Roche and Alex Milne are a major factor as well. The humanity expressed in the dialogue would be nothing if the art couldn't match its emotional level, but luckily, it always does. Despite being, you know, made of metal, the Transformers of this title are expressive in very subtle, detailed ways. Tiny facial cues and really carefully-drawn body language breathe life and personality into everyone. Even those characters who don't have proper faces. Also, of course, there is the sheer number of characters these artists are responsible for, each with a unique look and, more importantly, a unique way of carrying themselves. Rewind is light on his feet, Rodimus is chest out and head high, Ultra Magnus is intimidating and rock solid, Cyclonus slinks around. Again, they feel alive, more alive than any number of human characters in any number of other comicbooks.
I already have the second trade paperback of More Than Meets the Eye, and I fully expect to whizz through it tonight and then be forced to go out and do more catching up this weekend. Chances are I'll even read Robots in Disguise before too long, because I'm itching to know how that side of the coin is developing. Also because, someday, I'd like to believe the two books will collide and all of the Transformers will be reunited again. Well, all those who make it out alive.
I know so very little about Transformers continuity. The details of the Autobots' war with the Decepticons are beyond me, but it matters not at all. What's important is that there was a war, whatever the reasons for it, and now that it is over, the soldiers need something else to believe in and fight for. In this series, that means an epic adventure across space to find a mythological group of ancient robots. You can see the potential for things to get silly, but Roberts goes in the opposite direction, writing science fiction drama at its smartest and most dramatic. And it works, because he cares about his cast and so do his collaborators, which means that instead of just being robots that turn into things and kill each other, they're people we care about with complex motivations and goals. It is a refreshingly full, intelligent, and enjoyable comicbook, and one I'm extremely glad to have finally started reading, even if I am late to the game.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Monthly Dose: May 2013
Monthly Dose is a semi-regular column where I reread one issue each month of long-completed series.
100 Bullets #7: Basically this is just the latter half of one man's very rapid spiral toward rock bottom, and since last issue didn't grab me, this conclusion to the same story doesn't, either. Chucky and Pony kill each other at the end, which sounds about right to me. Not that they deserved to die, just that it's no great shocker that they take one another out in the end, the inevitable conclusion for two men who have been playing at friendship while truly being arch-rivals since childhood. And that inevitability is why this story doesn't do much for me. Both of these characters are such absolute scumbags that I don't give a shit if they live or die, and I'm not the least bit surprised when the answer is, "they both die." I will give Brian Azzarello credit insofar as I think it was his intention to have both Chucky and Pony be wholly unlikable asses, and he pulls it off with pages to spare. It's just that, personally, I was bothered by these characters to the point of being entirely disinterested in their story, which is a shame. Anyway, I won't harp on this any longer, because it is essentially the same as what I said last month, but more. Eduardo Risso and colorist Grant Goleash are still steadily killing it, but all told this issue did the least in terms of visual showmanship. It told the story well, building tension and helping to underline how completely lost Chucky has become by the end. There just aren't a lot of specific panels or pages I'd point to here as examples of how incredibly talented Risso and Goleash truly are. The job gets done, and it's better than average by a lot, but compared to the previous issues, it's the least artistically enchanting. Definitely my least favorite 100 Bullets read so far, but still not a failure, just not for me.
The Intimates #7: So I did what I said I'd do this month and read the entire issue first, then when back to the beginning and read through all the info scrolls. And I must say, it's better that way. I thought reading the scrolls one after the other would become tedious, but it actually moves more quickly when you're not inserting them into the middle of a largely-unrelated story. The real bonus was that the reading of the issue itself wasn't interrupted, so the narrative flow never broke, which was especially nice this month when the story was told out of order, jumping in time from page to page or even panel to panel. Also, the info scrolls became self-referential and even a bit self-deprecating a few times toward the end, which I appreciated more when I was reading them all at once than I think I would have if I'd taken them in one at a time. Anyway, there's the result of that experiment. The issue itself was not astoundingly good or bad, basically a straightforward end-of-the-school-year story, pushing all the pieces forward a half-step so they're ready for their next big moves. The best part was Vee hanging out with cool hunter Della, particularly the ending when Della tries to get Vee to try out and/or support Vibe cola only to discover that it's already considered disgusting and undrinkable by pretty much everyone. Just a nice, simple, new way of saying something The Intimates has been saying all along: adults don't get teenagers (and vice versa). I'm also a big fan of Duke being hired by the government for secret work over the summer, because it's the perfect kind of inescapable responsibility for his character. Duke is the one kid who wouldn't push back against an offer like that, and it's likely why he was selected as the ideal candidate. Finally, we see Destra acting more like Punchy than ever before, determined to uncover The Seminary's secrets even if it means alienating everyone else. The Punchy-Destra dynamic, where they basically want the same things out of life but she won't give him the time of day, has always been key to this book, and gets a boost here when he sees her trying to recruit Duke (by all accounts his best friend) for a mission Punchy himself would die to be part of. Joe Casey has done such a solid job of establishing and developing these kids, he can take an issue like this to just expand on who they each are and set them up for a summer vacation without it ever feeling boring or slow. Not a lot actually happens this month, but it's still a funny and entertaining issue front to back. Giuseppe Camuncoli (whose name I can finally spell without looking it up!) continues to deliver solid art, just as comfortable in this world as Casey is by now. It's a strong, right-down-the-middle issue overall, and certainly leaves me excited to see what a summer away from The Seminary will look like for this cast.
X-Force (vol. 1) #7: Despite the ending being spoiled by the cover, this was possibly the best issue to date. Having X-Force actually fight against villains instead of each other allowed the action to open up a bit, which in turn gave Rob Liefeld license to draw the kinds of things his style's actually suited for. Shatterstar battling Sauron in the sky, Cable unloading two guns at Phantazia, Feral and Thornn trying to tear each other to shreds, Shatterstar reappearing covered in armor and big ass weapons, half the team posing intimidatingly when they discover intruders....Liefeld really brings his A game to all of these moments and more, and instead of the issue feeling like it's too full of shoulder pads and muscle to fit any story, the story this month is the shoulder pads and muscle. That means Fabian Nicieza has a bit less to do here, but he handles it well, writing pretty decent battle banter for everyone. Feral and Thornn's conversation isn't always the most natural-sounding, but it works more often than not. Shatterstar, Siryn, and Warpath I thought worked well together and each sounded distinct. The best character in terms of the writing, though (and maybe the weakest visually) was Toad. I've always been a Toad fan; I like how he has all the making of a dismissible, low-level villain but has managed to stick around and do some high-level wickedness anyway. Here, he addresses that very thing, showing up Siryn with some new tricks and his same old ruthlessness. As a leader, he is sinister and smart, but not hyper-intelligent or evil on too wide a scale. It's a nice balance for the character, and Nicieza displays it well in his dialogue. But the strongest aspect of X-Force #7, when you get right down to it, is the scenes of fighting in the dark. Not only is Liefeld better than usual in those moments, but colorist Steve Buccellato brings a great deal to the table, too, blacking out the characters' skin so their other features can be highlighted. It's a very stylized approach, and heightens the drama and excitement of the action in those scenes tremendously. In the end, the only thing that really bothered me this issue was that Warpath says Blob tumbled down a ravine, but we never get to see it. Damn Marvel Method means Nicieza can think of something as obvious yet hilarious as that and be forced to lose the idea to a throwaway line. Not a huge detraction, though, just a wee bummer.
100 Bullets #7: Basically this is just the latter half of one man's very rapid spiral toward rock bottom, and since last issue didn't grab me, this conclusion to the same story doesn't, either. Chucky and Pony kill each other at the end, which sounds about right to me. Not that they deserved to die, just that it's no great shocker that they take one another out in the end, the inevitable conclusion for two men who have been playing at friendship while truly being arch-rivals since childhood. And that inevitability is why this story doesn't do much for me. Both of these characters are such absolute scumbags that I don't give a shit if they live or die, and I'm not the least bit surprised when the answer is, "they both die." I will give Brian Azzarello credit insofar as I think it was his intention to have both Chucky and Pony be wholly unlikable asses, and he pulls it off with pages to spare. It's just that, personally, I was bothered by these characters to the point of being entirely disinterested in their story, which is a shame. Anyway, I won't harp on this any longer, because it is essentially the same as what I said last month, but more. Eduardo Risso and colorist Grant Goleash are still steadily killing it, but all told this issue did the least in terms of visual showmanship. It told the story well, building tension and helping to underline how completely lost Chucky has become by the end. There just aren't a lot of specific panels or pages I'd point to here as examples of how incredibly talented Risso and Goleash truly are. The job gets done, and it's better than average by a lot, but compared to the previous issues, it's the least artistically enchanting. Definitely my least favorite 100 Bullets read so far, but still not a failure, just not for me.
The Intimates #7: So I did what I said I'd do this month and read the entire issue first, then when back to the beginning and read through all the info scrolls. And I must say, it's better that way. I thought reading the scrolls one after the other would become tedious, but it actually moves more quickly when you're not inserting them into the middle of a largely-unrelated story. The real bonus was that the reading of the issue itself wasn't interrupted, so the narrative flow never broke, which was especially nice this month when the story was told out of order, jumping in time from page to page or even panel to panel. Also, the info scrolls became self-referential and even a bit self-deprecating a few times toward the end, which I appreciated more when I was reading them all at once than I think I would have if I'd taken them in one at a time. Anyway, there's the result of that experiment. The issue itself was not astoundingly good or bad, basically a straightforward end-of-the-school-year story, pushing all the pieces forward a half-step so they're ready for their next big moves. The best part was Vee hanging out with cool hunter Della, particularly the ending when Della tries to get Vee to try out and/or support Vibe cola only to discover that it's already considered disgusting and undrinkable by pretty much everyone. Just a nice, simple, new way of saying something The Intimates has been saying all along: adults don't get teenagers (and vice versa). I'm also a big fan of Duke being hired by the government for secret work over the summer, because it's the perfect kind of inescapable responsibility for his character. Duke is the one kid who wouldn't push back against an offer like that, and it's likely why he was selected as the ideal candidate. Finally, we see Destra acting more like Punchy than ever before, determined to uncover The Seminary's secrets even if it means alienating everyone else. The Punchy-Destra dynamic, where they basically want the same things out of life but she won't give him the time of day, has always been key to this book, and gets a boost here when he sees her trying to recruit Duke (by all accounts his best friend) for a mission Punchy himself would die to be part of. Joe Casey has done such a solid job of establishing and developing these kids, he can take an issue like this to just expand on who they each are and set them up for a summer vacation without it ever feeling boring or slow. Not a lot actually happens this month, but it's still a funny and entertaining issue front to back. Giuseppe Camuncoli (whose name I can finally spell without looking it up!) continues to deliver solid art, just as comfortable in this world as Casey is by now. It's a strong, right-down-the-middle issue overall, and certainly leaves me excited to see what a summer away from The Seminary will look like for this cast.
X-Force (vol. 1) #7: Despite the ending being spoiled by the cover, this was possibly the best issue to date. Having X-Force actually fight against villains instead of each other allowed the action to open up a bit, which in turn gave Rob Liefeld license to draw the kinds of things his style's actually suited for. Shatterstar battling Sauron in the sky, Cable unloading two guns at Phantazia, Feral and Thornn trying to tear each other to shreds, Shatterstar reappearing covered in armor and big ass weapons, half the team posing intimidatingly when they discover intruders....Liefeld really brings his A game to all of these moments and more, and instead of the issue feeling like it's too full of shoulder pads and muscle to fit any story, the story this month is the shoulder pads and muscle. That means Fabian Nicieza has a bit less to do here, but he handles it well, writing pretty decent battle banter for everyone. Feral and Thornn's conversation isn't always the most natural-sounding, but it works more often than not. Shatterstar, Siryn, and Warpath I thought worked well together and each sounded distinct. The best character in terms of the writing, though (and maybe the weakest visually) was Toad. I've always been a Toad fan; I like how he has all the making of a dismissible, low-level villain but has managed to stick around and do some high-level wickedness anyway. Here, he addresses that very thing, showing up Siryn with some new tricks and his same old ruthlessness. As a leader, he is sinister and smart, but not hyper-intelligent or evil on too wide a scale. It's a nice balance for the character, and Nicieza displays it well in his dialogue. But the strongest aspect of X-Force #7, when you get right down to it, is the scenes of fighting in the dark. Not only is Liefeld better than usual in those moments, but colorist Steve Buccellato brings a great deal to the table, too, blacking out the characters' skin so their other features can be highlighted. It's a very stylized approach, and heightens the drama and excitement of the action in those scenes tremendously. In the end, the only thing that really bothered me this issue was that Warpath says Blob tumbled down a ravine, but we never get to see it. Damn Marvel Method means Nicieza can think of something as obvious yet hilarious as that and be forced to lose the idea to a throwaway line. Not a huge detraction, though, just a wee bummer.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Superb Heroes: Butcher Baker, the Righteous Maker
Superb
Heroes is a semi-regular column celebrating comics that are exemplary
and/or exceptional in their treatment of superoheroism.
There is a subgenre in the world of superhero fiction that focuses on pointing out the flaws of superheroes, the dangers and hypocrisies they represent. And some really excellent stuff has come from this, because there's no shortage of material. Superheroes, even the best and most classic characters, get a lot wrong and often cause as much or more harm as they do good. And there is something fundamentally flawed with the very notion that the best use of superhuman powers is to fight crime using a codename and costume. It's really very short-term, shallow, unambitious thinking.
But I fucking love superheroes, despite seeing the cracks in the wall and sometimes even because of it. They may not be the most level-headed bunch, but they are thoroughly entertaining, and they stand for the best and worst parts of human potential in equal turn. Butcher Baker, the Righteous Maker takes all of the worst accusations leveled at superheroes, within their worlds and from ours, and finds a way to condemn and applaud them at once. Its protagonist is a narcissistic superhero sadist with an engine for a heart, but self-aware and experienced enough to know exactly what his sins are. A warped lens through which to view the genre, but a powerful one, pointed at all the right places.
As a character, Butcher Baker is a non-stop force of manic egotism and machismo. He loves the violence inherent in his job, and gets grim but very deep satisfaction in putting his enemies down. There is no concern for collateral damage, nor any indication that Baker is at all motivated by some desire to protect the public. What drives him forward is the mere promise of more action, more bloodshed, more opportunities to prove to himself and the world what an indestructible badass he is. It makes him hubristically reckless as a hero, throwing himself blindly into situations and then improvising his way through them. This overgrown sense of self-worth and the carelessness it causes in Baker's career are the foundations of the series' simultaneous celebration and denouncement of common superhero shortcomings.
Take, for example, his failed attempt at destroying the Bertrand Institute, the prison that houses all the supervillains of this world. Baker is hired to kill everyone inside, but because he is so over-confident, he merely blows the building up with excessive explosives and then leaves, assuming the job is done. These are freaking supervillains, so of course some of them can survive a single explosion, no matter the size, and ultimately Baker frees a handful of his enemies rather than slaying them. This is a more direct, literal version of something superheroes are blamed for all the time: the existence of their villains. If there were no superheroes, goes the classic argument, there'd be no supervillains to fight them. They need each other, and they necessitate one another, an unbreakable cycle of evil rising up to match the good in the world and vice versa. Maybe you agree with that argument and maybe you don't, but within the pages of Butcher Baker, it's fairly clear that the good guy is responsible for what the bad guys are up to this time. Because not only is he the one who sets them loose anew, but the destructive actions they take afterward are all targeted at him directly, revenge for his attempt on their lives.
But Baker is still a superhero, and that means two things: 1. He openly admits, to the reader, anyway, that he botched the job and is responsible for the consequences, and 2. Even in the aftermath of his flub, he's still the only guy who can get the job done. When three of the baddies, Angerhead, The Abominable Snowman, and El Sushi, start a brawl with Baker in Times Square, the military is sent in to contain all four of them. Predictably, the evil superhumans tear through the hapless soldiers like tissue paper, and only Baker has the quick thinking and sheer might to stop their rampage. He may have blown it on his first try, but he was still the right choice to take out this collection of maniacs, and by the time the series reaches its conclusion, Baker has made certain there are no leftover Bertrand survivors.
This is what I mean when I say the book both holds up and looks down on the darker side of superheroes. Writer Joe Casey places Baker squarely in the role of hero-responsible-for-his-villains, but then reminds us why the first word of that hyphenated string is "hero." Because when enormous, superpowered evil turns up, it takes someone of equal power to defeat it. And someone with the courage and wits to see it through. Yet even as day-saver, Baker is brutal, fatal, and irresponsible, raising the question of whether super-people should be operating at all. I can't claim to know for certain that any of this was Casey's intention, but there's no shortage of examples to pull from.
For a long time, Baker's relationship with policeman Arnie B. Willard is exemplary of the typical complaint that superheroes place themselves above the law and/or threaten to replace the current law enforcement system. The two make fast enemies, with Baker always very condescending toward Willard's red-faced demands for respect. This lasts until the story's conclusion, when the two men find themselves suddenly on the same side of a fight. They connect, reach a bizarre understanding of one another, and save each other's lives. And once that conflict ends, Baker is able to find a tiny bit of redemption in the way he resolves his issues with Willard.
Superhero comics get a bad rap for being aggressively violent, and Butcher Baker is unarguably, unabashedly that. Baker himself finds his few faint pleasures in excessive punching (and sex), and for the bulk of the eight issues, the series seems to agree with his viewpoint. Again, though, things change in the closing. The final battles in Baker's journey end up being won mostly through mental maneuvers. There's still some bloodshed, but it is his brain that ultimately saves him.
The list goes on. The book is dramatically hypersexualized, another common anti-superhero argument, yet there is an emptiness to Baker's sex life, apparent in the degree of its hedonism and flash. Baker is about as ridiculously macho as a person can be, right down to his big rig being his weapon, but it's played as much for comedy as anything, a good laugh at the typical level of testosterone in a cape comic. Et cetera, you know? Casey packs it to the gills with the funniest, most enjoyable versions of the worst that superheroes have to offer. Not so much a defense of the genre as it is an argument along the lines of, "Yes, superheroes can be depraved, bloodthirsty, insane, and destructive, but that doesn't mean they can't still be amazing and admirable characters."
And then there's Mike Huddleston's artwork, which says something else entirely. I like that the art chooses to go off in its own direction, not worried about borrowing elements from classic superhero series like the narrative does. Instead, its focus is on relaying the tonal and emotional thrust of the story.
Huddleston brings an almost schizophrenic style to this series. The visual texture often changes between panels, sometimes through a shift in medium, sometimes coloring, and occasionally because Huddleston just brings a new technique to the page. It doesn't look like any typical superhero book, nor does it resemble other work I've seen from Huddleston. But it captures the spirit of this story and, above all, its protagonist perfectly. Kinetic and laid out somewhat claustrophobically, the art carries the story at a rapid-fire pace.
Huddleston also has a real knack for character design, striking a careful balance between goofy and serious elements. Or even whole characters. El Sushi is just a visual gag. Jihad Jones is not, though he's still a verbal one. The Absolutely is neither. It helps both the zanier and the more intense moments of Casey's scripts land, and makes the cast—most of whom need to be introduced quickly before they die—that much easier to connect with and differentiate.
I mean, most of them are egotistical lunatics, Baker included, but they all have their own spin on it, which Huddleston helps establish or at least underline. And maybe that's the real point of this series, that good or bad, superpowered or not, people are fucking crazy. Maybe it's not about what I am claiming at all. Whatever its aims, though, this book functions as an extensive and highly entertaining look at the arguments against superheroes and, even while admitting their validity, turns them into arguments for superheroes. It's a cool trick to pull off during such a wild ride, and it's what I find most fascinating about this twisted, trippy series.
There is a subgenre in the world of superhero fiction that focuses on pointing out the flaws of superheroes, the dangers and hypocrisies they represent. And some really excellent stuff has come from this, because there's no shortage of material. Superheroes, even the best and most classic characters, get a lot wrong and often cause as much or more harm as they do good. And there is something fundamentally flawed with the very notion that the best use of superhuman powers is to fight crime using a codename and costume. It's really very short-term, shallow, unambitious thinking.
But I fucking love superheroes, despite seeing the cracks in the wall and sometimes even because of it. They may not be the most level-headed bunch, but they are thoroughly entertaining, and they stand for the best and worst parts of human potential in equal turn. Butcher Baker, the Righteous Maker takes all of the worst accusations leveled at superheroes, within their worlds and from ours, and finds a way to condemn and applaud them at once. Its protagonist is a narcissistic superhero sadist with an engine for a heart, but self-aware and experienced enough to know exactly what his sins are. A warped lens through which to view the genre, but a powerful one, pointed at all the right places.
As a character, Butcher Baker is a non-stop force of manic egotism and machismo. He loves the violence inherent in his job, and gets grim but very deep satisfaction in putting his enemies down. There is no concern for collateral damage, nor any indication that Baker is at all motivated by some desire to protect the public. What drives him forward is the mere promise of more action, more bloodshed, more opportunities to prove to himself and the world what an indestructible badass he is. It makes him hubristically reckless as a hero, throwing himself blindly into situations and then improvising his way through them. This overgrown sense of self-worth and the carelessness it causes in Baker's career are the foundations of the series' simultaneous celebration and denouncement of common superhero shortcomings.
Take, for example, his failed attempt at destroying the Bertrand Institute, the prison that houses all the supervillains of this world. Baker is hired to kill everyone inside, but because he is so over-confident, he merely blows the building up with excessive explosives and then leaves, assuming the job is done. These are freaking supervillains, so of course some of them can survive a single explosion, no matter the size, and ultimately Baker frees a handful of his enemies rather than slaying them. This is a more direct, literal version of something superheroes are blamed for all the time: the existence of their villains. If there were no superheroes, goes the classic argument, there'd be no supervillains to fight them. They need each other, and they necessitate one another, an unbreakable cycle of evil rising up to match the good in the world and vice versa. Maybe you agree with that argument and maybe you don't, but within the pages of Butcher Baker, it's fairly clear that the good guy is responsible for what the bad guys are up to this time. Because not only is he the one who sets them loose anew, but the destructive actions they take afterward are all targeted at him directly, revenge for his attempt on their lives.
But Baker is still a superhero, and that means two things: 1. He openly admits, to the reader, anyway, that he botched the job and is responsible for the consequences, and 2. Even in the aftermath of his flub, he's still the only guy who can get the job done. When three of the baddies, Angerhead, The Abominable Snowman, and El Sushi, start a brawl with Baker in Times Square, the military is sent in to contain all four of them. Predictably, the evil superhumans tear through the hapless soldiers like tissue paper, and only Baker has the quick thinking and sheer might to stop their rampage. He may have blown it on his first try, but he was still the right choice to take out this collection of maniacs, and by the time the series reaches its conclusion, Baker has made certain there are no leftover Bertrand survivors.
This is what I mean when I say the book both holds up and looks down on the darker side of superheroes. Writer Joe Casey places Baker squarely in the role of hero-responsible-for-his-villains, but then reminds us why the first word of that hyphenated string is "hero." Because when enormous, superpowered evil turns up, it takes someone of equal power to defeat it. And someone with the courage and wits to see it through. Yet even as day-saver, Baker is brutal, fatal, and irresponsible, raising the question of whether super-people should be operating at all. I can't claim to know for certain that any of this was Casey's intention, but there's no shortage of examples to pull from.
For a long time, Baker's relationship with policeman Arnie B. Willard is exemplary of the typical complaint that superheroes place themselves above the law and/or threaten to replace the current law enforcement system. The two make fast enemies, with Baker always very condescending toward Willard's red-faced demands for respect. This lasts until the story's conclusion, when the two men find themselves suddenly on the same side of a fight. They connect, reach a bizarre understanding of one another, and save each other's lives. And once that conflict ends, Baker is able to find a tiny bit of redemption in the way he resolves his issues with Willard.
Superhero comics get a bad rap for being aggressively violent, and Butcher Baker is unarguably, unabashedly that. Baker himself finds his few faint pleasures in excessive punching (and sex), and for the bulk of the eight issues, the series seems to agree with his viewpoint. Again, though, things change in the closing. The final battles in Baker's journey end up being won mostly through mental maneuvers. There's still some bloodshed, but it is his brain that ultimately saves him.
The list goes on. The book is dramatically hypersexualized, another common anti-superhero argument, yet there is an emptiness to Baker's sex life, apparent in the degree of its hedonism and flash. Baker is about as ridiculously macho as a person can be, right down to his big rig being his weapon, but it's played as much for comedy as anything, a good laugh at the typical level of testosterone in a cape comic. Et cetera, you know? Casey packs it to the gills with the funniest, most enjoyable versions of the worst that superheroes have to offer. Not so much a defense of the genre as it is an argument along the lines of, "Yes, superheroes can be depraved, bloodthirsty, insane, and destructive, but that doesn't mean they can't still be amazing and admirable characters."
And then there's Mike Huddleston's artwork, which says something else entirely. I like that the art chooses to go off in its own direction, not worried about borrowing elements from classic superhero series like the narrative does. Instead, its focus is on relaying the tonal and emotional thrust of the story.
Huddleston brings an almost schizophrenic style to this series. The visual texture often changes between panels, sometimes through a shift in medium, sometimes coloring, and occasionally because Huddleston just brings a new technique to the page. It doesn't look like any typical superhero book, nor does it resemble other work I've seen from Huddleston. But it captures the spirit of this story and, above all, its protagonist perfectly. Kinetic and laid out somewhat claustrophobically, the art carries the story at a rapid-fire pace.
Huddleston also has a real knack for character design, striking a careful balance between goofy and serious elements. Or even whole characters. El Sushi is just a visual gag. Jihad Jones is not, though he's still a verbal one. The Absolutely is neither. It helps both the zanier and the more intense moments of Casey's scripts land, and makes the cast—most of whom need to be introduced quickly before they die—that much easier to connect with and differentiate.
I mean, most of them are egotistical lunatics, Baker included, but they all have their own spin on it, which Huddleston helps establish or at least underline. And maybe that's the real point of this series, that good or bad, superpowered or not, people are fucking crazy. Maybe it's not about what I am claiming at all. Whatever its aims, though, this book functions as an extensive and highly entertaining look at the arguments against superheroes and, even while admitting their validity, turns them into arguments for superheroes. It's a cool trick to pull off during such a wild ride, and it's what I find most fascinating about this twisted, trippy series.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Some Links to Other Things I Wrote
There's a part of me that hates to do this, but if you can't shamelessly self-promote on your own blog, where the hell can you? I've had a few things published on sites other than Comics Matter this month, so I'm just taking a minute now to link to and discuss them briefly. I want to continue to support the sites that allow me to contribute work, and of course I want as many people as possible to read anything I put out. So here they are:
My latest "1987 And All That" piece for The Chemical Box went up yesterday, this time tackling the six issues of Louise Simonson's Power Pack published that year (they came out bimonthly). I've been thoroughly enjoying my work on that series of columns; it's fun to dig into these older, more established/settled titles and see what makes them work. Or, in the case of The 'Nam, which I wrote about in the preceding column, why they ultimately fail. As often as possible, I try to read every issue with a publication date from 1987, so I can get a real sense of what each series was like for the entirety of the year. I don't always discuss every issue with equal weight, but I do at least read them and let them influence, however subtly, whatever I write. Analyzing year-long runs like that is a rewarding and sometimes challenging experience. By the time I've put the final touches on a column, I can feel intellectually drained, but it's worth it because I'm proud of "1987 And All That" as a project, and continue to be enthusiastic about its future.
I also tapped out a short recommendation of Steve Gerber & Kevin Nowlan's Infernal Man-Thing over at SquarePop. I loved that series when it was coming out, even though Marvel didn't publish it in the most intelligent way possible, especially when it came to reprinting the original story to which the new book was a prequel. Gerber's crazy, almost stream-of-consciousness script and Nowlan's lush painted pages came together in beautiful harmony and produced something very much their own. You can read more of what I love about it on SP.
Ok, that's all the plugging of things I have for now. Keep your eyes on both The Chemical Box and SquarePop for more stuff from me, and everything they publish. Talented-ass people run both sites, and there's a lot of good material to be found on either.
My latest "1987 And All That" piece for The Chemical Box went up yesterday, this time tackling the six issues of Louise Simonson's Power Pack published that year (they came out bimonthly). I've been thoroughly enjoying my work on that series of columns; it's fun to dig into these older, more established/settled titles and see what makes them work. Or, in the case of The 'Nam, which I wrote about in the preceding column, why they ultimately fail. As often as possible, I try to read every issue with a publication date from 1987, so I can get a real sense of what each series was like for the entirety of the year. I don't always discuss every issue with equal weight, but I do at least read them and let them influence, however subtly, whatever I write. Analyzing year-long runs like that is a rewarding and sometimes challenging experience. By the time I've put the final touches on a column, I can feel intellectually drained, but it's worth it because I'm proud of "1987 And All That" as a project, and continue to be enthusiastic about its future.
I also tapped out a short recommendation of Steve Gerber & Kevin Nowlan's Infernal Man-Thing over at SquarePop. I loved that series when it was coming out, even though Marvel didn't publish it in the most intelligent way possible, especially when it came to reprinting the original story to which the new book was a prequel. Gerber's crazy, almost stream-of-consciousness script and Nowlan's lush painted pages came together in beautiful harmony and produced something very much their own. You can read more of what I love about it on SP.
Ok, that's all the plugging of things I have for now. Keep your eyes on both The Chemical Box and SquarePop for more stuff from me, and everything they publish. Talented-ass people run both sites, and there's a lot of good material to be found on either.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Everything Rules Even Though Everything Sucks
My heart and my brain are arguing. Part of me feels reenergized by comics lately, but at the same time the world around their creation remains frustrating as ever. A lot of excellent stuff has been coming out recently, stories with new things to say and exciting, gorgeous artwork. On the whole, I'd say I am more excited by the books I'm following right now than I have been in a while. There aren't a lot of "I'm hanging in there and hoping this gets better" titles anymore, because there's less and less room for them on a list that gets increasingly more reliable in its quality. Part of that is the constant gradual growth in my own ability to discern what appeals to me before it comes out, but I also have a strong sense that right now is a time where an exceptionally large number of strange, singular, and beautiful books exist. If you look across all the innumerable publishers out there, you can find a surprisingly large number of gems, unique and dazzling and worth the hunt.
But wow, there's still a lot to be bummed out about when it comes to the industry side of things. I guess it's just that the very fact that Marvel and DC are such corporate, factory publishers only gets more depressing and aggravating with time. It never goes away or gets better in noticeable ways. For every apparent step forward, there's at least one back. And for all the excellent series out there, there are countless examples of dreck. I've only got three DC titles left that I'm reading, one of which just got canceled and the other lost its writer, so...we'll see. Marvel seems to be of higher quality overall, but based on what I've read, that's partially because I've given up entirely on events, so I'm not touching anything related to Age of Ultron. It's just an underwhelming, infuriating time to look at the comicbook world at large, because it is dominated by this pair of monstrous companies that do more to baffle, deceive, and piss of their readership than to deliver stories with heart or merit.
I am, obviously, speaking in vague terms here, avoiding examples or lengthy rants. Those are everywhere. Search for articles on gender in superhero comics or comics in general, the recent creative turnover at DC, reviews of Marvel's last several events, or comments on the industry as a whole. They're out there, written by people more in the thick of things than I. And I read them, and they get my blood boiling sometimes, and I even take action when possible, donating or otherwise backing something when it seems worthwhile. I do not engage in the comments section arguments because I don't have the energy, but I read them sometimes, too, and it never does anything but make my mood worse.
Then Wednesday rolls around, and I go to my local shop's new location, which is huge and impressive and I'm very happy for them to have had the opportunity to grow in this market. And they give me my folder full of new issues, which I get a great discount on, and I take them home and stack them from least to most anticipated. And more often than not, I have an excellent time, reading a short, sweet stack of books that starts out fine and finishes off great.
I wish there were more great series, read by more people. I wish The Big Two would get their heads in the game, think long-term, focus on stories and creators instead of sales bumps and stunts, respect women, abandon continuity and comics that "matter," give new ideas more support and room to grow, etc., etc., etc. There is no end of change to hope for, and work toward, by supporting the good titles and spreading the word. But I think maybe it's time to make my peace with a certain underlying level of frustration in exchange for the buzz I get when reading a truly great comicbook. It's possible to live in a world of mostly awesome comics, even if you've got to live in this world, too.
But wow, there's still a lot to be bummed out about when it comes to the industry side of things. I guess it's just that the very fact that Marvel and DC are such corporate, factory publishers only gets more depressing and aggravating with time. It never goes away or gets better in noticeable ways. For every apparent step forward, there's at least one back. And for all the excellent series out there, there are countless examples of dreck. I've only got three DC titles left that I'm reading, one of which just got canceled and the other lost its writer, so...we'll see. Marvel seems to be of higher quality overall, but based on what I've read, that's partially because I've given up entirely on events, so I'm not touching anything related to Age of Ultron. It's just an underwhelming, infuriating time to look at the comicbook world at large, because it is dominated by this pair of monstrous companies that do more to baffle, deceive, and piss of their readership than to deliver stories with heart or merit.
I am, obviously, speaking in vague terms here, avoiding examples or lengthy rants. Those are everywhere. Search for articles on gender in superhero comics or comics in general, the recent creative turnover at DC, reviews of Marvel's last several events, or comments on the industry as a whole. They're out there, written by people more in the thick of things than I. And I read them, and they get my blood boiling sometimes, and I even take action when possible, donating or otherwise backing something when it seems worthwhile. I do not engage in the comments section arguments because I don't have the energy, but I read them sometimes, too, and it never does anything but make my mood worse.
Then Wednesday rolls around, and I go to my local shop's new location, which is huge and impressive and I'm very happy for them to have had the opportunity to grow in this market. And they give me my folder full of new issues, which I get a great discount on, and I take them home and stack them from least to most anticipated. And more often than not, I have an excellent time, reading a short, sweet stack of books that starts out fine and finishes off great.
I wish there were more great series, read by more people. I wish The Big Two would get their heads in the game, think long-term, focus on stories and creators instead of sales bumps and stunts, respect women, abandon continuity and comics that "matter," give new ideas more support and room to grow, etc., etc., etc. There is no end of change to hope for, and work toward, by supporting the good titles and spreading the word. But I think maybe it's time to make my peace with a certain underlying level of frustration in exchange for the buzz I get when reading a truly great comicbook. It's possible to live in a world of mostly awesome comics, even if you've got to live in this world, too.
Friday, May 24, 2013
Pull List Review: Half Past Danger #1
I am not qualified to get into the finer points of what separates homage from rip-off. But I can say that while the characters of Half Past Danger #1 seem to be aiming for the former, they end up very much the latter, which is the biggest weakness in a generally enjoyable debut. Protagonist Tommy Flynn is, you guessed it, Irish. Not only Irish, but the drinkingest, fightingest, most offensively stereotypical Irishman I've seen in a long while. The same goes for intelligence agent Elizabeth Huntington-Moss who, in spite of her sort of interesting last name, is ever the droll, eye-rolling Brit. John Noble is the square-jawed American with a John Wayne complex, and to top it off there is a nameless Asian gentleman who, surprise surprise, is great at martial arts. None of these characters ever evolve beyond their most one-dimensional versions, and those have all been done something like a million times before.
What bring these stock characters together? A goddamn island full of dinosaurs with a secret Nazi camp. Now that is a fun, fresh, inviting concept. Soldiers fighting dinosaurs isn't at all new territory, but having it be spies infiltrating a Nazi facility adds a layer of political intrigue that is... damn intriguing. Seems safe to assume that the Nazis already know about the dinosaurs, because why else would they have a secret base already in operation? When the bad guys have the edge, and the edge is, say, control of fucking dinosaurs, then you can probably count me in.
Sadly, this aspect is left largely unexplored for now in favor of, sigh, character introduction. The issue is split into two halves, set two months apart in 1943. The first section focuses on Flynn, a sergeant in the army, leading his men on a recon mission on the aforementioned island, which they assume is nothing special. Just another Japanese-controlled island in the South Pacific. The troops, who have names but are largely indistinguishable in both appearance and voice, get pretty quickly eaten by dinosaurs, and only Flynn makes it out alive. Then we jump to New York City for the second half of the story, where Huntington-Moss and Noble try to recruit Flynn for...something. Presumably it's connected to the Nazi dinosaurs. We don't find out the details because they get in a bar brawl with each other and some nameless background dudes instead. It's a weak closing to the issue, because the opening was guns vs. dinosaurs, but it does make the whole thing quite action-packed, which is clearly the goal.
Half Past Danger is written and drawn by Stephen Mooney, and on the whole I prefer his art to his writing so far. It's not amazing, but he does draw a nasty-looking dinosaur. There is some really fine detail in the giant lizards, and they inspire the appropriate awe and fear in cast and reader alike. Mooney's not as strong with his humans, who each have only a small number of facial expressions available to them. But they look distinct from one another, at least, save for Flynn's troops who suffer from wearing the same uniform. The rest of the cast is physically varied, different body types and clothing based on their personalities, however watered down those may be. And even if their faces don't change much, they are emotive and realistic, at least.
What Mooney does very well, though, is action. Which, again, seems like it's kind of the whole point here. Dinosaurs being gunned down, Flynn thrown through a window, and the spreading chaos of the bar fight all have a strong sense of motion and liveliness to them. If this title does in fact intend to put more weight on its action sequences than anything else, then it's certainly playing to its creator's strengths.
This is not a deep comic, nor is it particularly original as of yet. But there is the seed of an awesome core concept in this debut, and a lot of great-looking fight scenes. So if you're looking for a fun, violent popcorn comic about dinosaurs and 1940s spies, look no further friends. I'm still sticking around, in spite of the flimsy cast and thin plotting here, because I still had a pretty good time.
5.0/10
What bring these stock characters together? A goddamn island full of dinosaurs with a secret Nazi camp. Now that is a fun, fresh, inviting concept. Soldiers fighting dinosaurs isn't at all new territory, but having it be spies infiltrating a Nazi facility adds a layer of political intrigue that is... damn intriguing. Seems safe to assume that the Nazis already know about the dinosaurs, because why else would they have a secret base already in operation? When the bad guys have the edge, and the edge is, say, control of fucking dinosaurs, then you can probably count me in.
Sadly, this aspect is left largely unexplored for now in favor of, sigh, character introduction. The issue is split into two halves, set two months apart in 1943. The first section focuses on Flynn, a sergeant in the army, leading his men on a recon mission on the aforementioned island, which they assume is nothing special. Just another Japanese-controlled island in the South Pacific. The troops, who have names but are largely indistinguishable in both appearance and voice, get pretty quickly eaten by dinosaurs, and only Flynn makes it out alive. Then we jump to New York City for the second half of the story, where Huntington-Moss and Noble try to recruit Flynn for...something. Presumably it's connected to the Nazi dinosaurs. We don't find out the details because they get in a bar brawl with each other and some nameless background dudes instead. It's a weak closing to the issue, because the opening was guns vs. dinosaurs, but it does make the whole thing quite action-packed, which is clearly the goal.
Half Past Danger is written and drawn by Stephen Mooney, and on the whole I prefer his art to his writing so far. It's not amazing, but he does draw a nasty-looking dinosaur. There is some really fine detail in the giant lizards, and they inspire the appropriate awe and fear in cast and reader alike. Mooney's not as strong with his humans, who each have only a small number of facial expressions available to them. But they look distinct from one another, at least, save for Flynn's troops who suffer from wearing the same uniform. The rest of the cast is physically varied, different body types and clothing based on their personalities, however watered down those may be. And even if their faces don't change much, they are emotive and realistic, at least.
What Mooney does very well, though, is action. Which, again, seems like it's kind of the whole point here. Dinosaurs being gunned down, Flynn thrown through a window, and the spreading chaos of the bar fight all have a strong sense of motion and liveliness to them. If this title does in fact intend to put more weight on its action sequences than anything else, then it's certainly playing to its creator's strengths.
This is not a deep comic, nor is it particularly original as of yet. But there is the seed of an awesome core concept in this debut, and a lot of great-looking fight scenes. So if you're looking for a fun, violent popcorn comic about dinosaurs and 1940s spies, look no further friends. I'm still sticking around, in spite of the flimsy cast and thin plotting here, because I still had a pretty good time.
5.0/10
Pull List Review: Young Avengers #5
It hasn't always been true of this series, but in Young Avengers #5, Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie absolutely nail the team book. In the script and art both, the creators are extremely careful to give every member of their cast something to do that is tailored to their individual personalities and/or motivations. That is a depressingly rare achievement for superhero comics these days, and what's best about it here is that all six of these kids are likable and relatable characters. Some are funny, some deeply flawed, and many of them remain somewhat mysterious, but they're all strong and fully fleshed out. And, as of the end of this issue, they are completely, officially (I guess) a team, which is an exciting if late-arriving development.
I'm still not wild about the threat of Mother and her mind-controlled parent hordes. As central a bad guy, Mother is a little bland, and though some good character bits have come from these kids battling their parents, on the whole I'm just not crazy about mind-control and/or memory-wiping stories, of which this is both. But it speaks volumes about the strength of the other aspects of this book that my lack of interest in the primary villain does not at all take away from my enjoyment of the issue.
McKelvie's art, with the usual assists by Mike Norton, has been praised all over the Internet for a long time, on this series and others, so I'll try not to beat a dead horse here. Seriously, though, they produce gorgeous artwork with crystal clarity. What McKelvie does best in this issue, though, as I mentioned above, is to give the entire team their fair share of screen time. The opening panel displays Noh-Varr, Hulking, Hawkeye, and Miss America Chavez all in the thick of battle, and they each get to show off not only their specific power sets, but their individual approaches to combat. It happens again later, with Wiccan and Loki included, in the issue's breathtaking double-page spread. It is the first moment where these six characters have truly operated as a unified whole, and McKelvie delivers one of the best-looking pair of pages this title has seen yet. It's hard to describe, but essentially he splits the pages into pie pieces, one for each character, and then within each those slices he manages to include several smaller panels. It may sound cramped, and it is, but done with enough skill and care that there is no great loss of energy or clarity. It's a knockout scene in an issue full of beautiful imagery.
It took a while, but I think Gillen's writing has finally risen to match the quality of McKelvie's art in this issue. Not that previous issues had bad writing, but this time out, I felt like both creators were firmly, confidently sure of themselves and their cast. Where before Gillen was still doing a bit of character exploration alongside the reader, he now knows exactly who these kids are through and through, and gets to cut loose a little and let them all sparkle as they do their thing. Hawkeye is hilarious and calm even during the chaos. Noh-Varr is detached and matter-of-fact in everything he does (I have no idea if this is an accurate portrayal of this character, but I like Gillen's take, even if it's not true to older versions). Miss America Chavez is the self-assured badass with an unexpectedly level head and observant wisdom. And Hulkling is the noble do-gooder, very much a prototypical superhero, urged on by his love for Wiccan.
Then, of course, there's Loki. Or Kid Loki, I guess. This is the character that launched Gillen to a new level of comicbook celebrity in the pages of Journey Into Mystery, but I appreciate that the writer doesn't just assume we all know the story from that series. So he includes a recap here and while, yes, it is a page-long infodump, it's also cleverly written and, most importantly, it helps progress Loki's story at the same time that it reiterates his past. Not a lot of exposition pulls that off.
The best character, though, has got to be Wiccan, the reluctant, angst-filled superhero. Where his boyfriend doesn't seem to question their continuing adventure, Wiccan is clearly more torn, hoping against hope that there is a way to defeat Mother that doesn't involve forming a super-team. As the one responsible for Mother's existence on our world, Wiccan naturally feels obligated to help out, but it pains him to admit that he and his friends must return to their superpowered, villain-fighting lifestyle. There was a genuine hope that he could leave that all behind him, and there's visible pain in his eyes when he finally agrees to be a superhero again. Wiccan's struggle is the most interesting and well-put-together element of this issue and, indeed, this entire series.
I wasn't sold on Young Avengers as quickly as many others seemed to be, but with the conclusion of its first arc, the book has won me over completely. With the team now fully assembled, Gillen and McKelvie should now be able to raise the stakes and deepen their characters and just generally start to pile on the madness and fun. I'm expecting great things from this creative team and the superhero team they've built.
7.5/10
I'm still not wild about the threat of Mother and her mind-controlled parent hordes. As central a bad guy, Mother is a little bland, and though some good character bits have come from these kids battling their parents, on the whole I'm just not crazy about mind-control and/or memory-wiping stories, of which this is both. But it speaks volumes about the strength of the other aspects of this book that my lack of interest in the primary villain does not at all take away from my enjoyment of the issue.
McKelvie's art, with the usual assists by Mike Norton, has been praised all over the Internet for a long time, on this series and others, so I'll try not to beat a dead horse here. Seriously, though, they produce gorgeous artwork with crystal clarity. What McKelvie does best in this issue, though, as I mentioned above, is to give the entire team their fair share of screen time. The opening panel displays Noh-Varr, Hulking, Hawkeye, and Miss America Chavez all in the thick of battle, and they each get to show off not only their specific power sets, but their individual approaches to combat. It happens again later, with Wiccan and Loki included, in the issue's breathtaking double-page spread. It is the first moment where these six characters have truly operated as a unified whole, and McKelvie delivers one of the best-looking pair of pages this title has seen yet. It's hard to describe, but essentially he splits the pages into pie pieces, one for each character, and then within each those slices he manages to include several smaller panels. It may sound cramped, and it is, but done with enough skill and care that there is no great loss of energy or clarity. It's a knockout scene in an issue full of beautiful imagery.
It took a while, but I think Gillen's writing has finally risen to match the quality of McKelvie's art in this issue. Not that previous issues had bad writing, but this time out, I felt like both creators were firmly, confidently sure of themselves and their cast. Where before Gillen was still doing a bit of character exploration alongside the reader, he now knows exactly who these kids are through and through, and gets to cut loose a little and let them all sparkle as they do their thing. Hawkeye is hilarious and calm even during the chaos. Noh-Varr is detached and matter-of-fact in everything he does (I have no idea if this is an accurate portrayal of this character, but I like Gillen's take, even if it's not true to older versions). Miss America Chavez is the self-assured badass with an unexpectedly level head and observant wisdom. And Hulkling is the noble do-gooder, very much a prototypical superhero, urged on by his love for Wiccan.
Then, of course, there's Loki. Or Kid Loki, I guess. This is the character that launched Gillen to a new level of comicbook celebrity in the pages of Journey Into Mystery, but I appreciate that the writer doesn't just assume we all know the story from that series. So he includes a recap here and while, yes, it is a page-long infodump, it's also cleverly written and, most importantly, it helps progress Loki's story at the same time that it reiterates his past. Not a lot of exposition pulls that off.
The best character, though, has got to be Wiccan, the reluctant, angst-filled superhero. Where his boyfriend doesn't seem to question their continuing adventure, Wiccan is clearly more torn, hoping against hope that there is a way to defeat Mother that doesn't involve forming a super-team. As the one responsible for Mother's existence on our world, Wiccan naturally feels obligated to help out, but it pains him to admit that he and his friends must return to their superpowered, villain-fighting lifestyle. There was a genuine hope that he could leave that all behind him, and there's visible pain in his eyes when he finally agrees to be a superhero again. Wiccan's struggle is the most interesting and well-put-together element of this issue and, indeed, this entire series.
I wasn't sold on Young Avengers as quickly as many others seemed to be, but with the conclusion of its first arc, the book has won me over completely. With the team now fully assembled, Gillen and McKelvie should now be able to raise the stakes and deepen their characters and just generally start to pile on the madness and fun. I'm expecting great things from this creative team and the superhero team they've built.
7.5/10
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)