Francesco Francavilla can draw all the comicbooks. I mean no, obviously that would make his distinctive style less distinctive but...damn, what a talent. I'm just going to provide a quick list of all the things that wowed me about the visuals of Hawkeye #10 because that seems more efficient than trying to talk about them in paragraph form:
1. As always with Francavilla, the colors were amazing, in particular the way he uses them to light the scenes. When Kate and Kazi are at their most intimate, he is lit in dull blue and her in soft pink, displaying their differences but still unifying them in the intimacy of the moment.
2. Speaking of that intimate moment, Francavilla has an incredible skill for getting across the tense calm of this kind of situation, where one character is a mystery and/or threat to the other. It reminded me of some of the James Gordon, Jr. stuff he did with Scott Snyder on Detective Comics. Lots of very close shots and panels of silence to add layers and pregnant pauses to the tension.
3. The shattered glass layouts of pages 8 and 9. All the layouts were typically dynamic and inventive for Francavilla, but that one-two punch hit harder than the rest.
4. The entire look of Kazi/The Clown. Chilling and sad in the perfect doses.
So the art, as I expected, was spectacular. Did Matt Fraction's script rise to that challenge?
It absolutely did. Firstly, Fraction was smart enough to take a step back in many places and let Francavilla run the show. Clipped dialogue, scenes of silence, conversations that we only get parts of here because we've seen them in other issues. There is as careful a use of space in the script as there is in the art, and it creates a very unified whole.
The story is essentially a character study and origin story for Kazi, a villain with a somewhat typical history but a perfect personality and approach to be a nemesis for the Hawkeyes. He is humorless, detached, always cool and collected. Neither Kate nor Clint fit that description. They're wise-cracking street-level good guys with heart. He's a heartless sociopathic assassin.
Fraction and Francavilla give Kazi an epic yet fairly quiet entrance onto the Hawkeye stage. It's a tight, crisp, intelligent issue with a shifting chronology, fascinating central character, and an ending that shocks even though it's a spoiled reveal. Applause, y'all. As solid a showing as this series has offered yet.
7.5/10
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Pull List Review: Dial H #12
Dial H #12 is a dizzying read, but in a way that mostly works. China Miéville's script never takes much of a pause, speeding from a fight to a chase to another, bigger fight that also introduces a whole new seven-person team to the cast. There are definitely glossed-over details as a result, with the new characters especially, who at this stage are more like one big group character than a team of distinct individuals. Still, on the whole the story works because there's a lot of humor and action to it, both of which are aided by the pacing. The reader has a chance to get just as overwhelmingly swept up in the issue's events as Nelson and Roxie, and if you let yourself go along for the ride, there is quite a bit to enjoy. It isn't the most well-put-together comicbook available, because its approach is too slapdash for that. But it is knowingly, intentionally so, and that attitude, when embraced so completely, does more good for this series than harm.
The book has always been zany, and to some extent its been about the inherent zaniness of the superhero genre. So here we have that same lens applied to a meet-the-team story, where the group that's introduced is about as madcap and silly as you could hope for. Nonsensical names, goofy power sets, bizarre looks, and the ever-changing nature of the group because of their use of dials make The Dial Bunch—aka Team Adventitious aka The Junkyard Posse—immediately entertaining and amusing. They are an addition to be excited by, because it's a fitting time for this book's cast and world to expand. Now that The Fixer has been established as a new, bigger-than-ever-before threat, having the good guys get larger and more powerful makes sense. And we've been with only Nelson and Roxie for so long, fresh blood is welcome. When Roxie first came onto the scene, there was a lot of material to be found in learning her backstory and discovering what she already knew about the dials. Now there are seven new characters who will also have their own histories and personal experiences with the dials, and they clearly already know more about what's happening than the established protagonists. So the potential for them to deepen Nelson and Roxie's (and, by extension, the readers') understanding of and control over the dials' power is enormous.
For now, though, they arrive only to temporarily save the day, ganging up on The Fixer and The Centipede with a clear team harmony, sending the villains back to wherever The Fixer comes from. It is a high-octane battle with a lot of players, several of whom change their physical appearance in the middle of it, some more than once. That's a tall order for penciler Alberto Ponticelli, but he largely pulls it off. Though some of the exact workings of the story are confused by the artwork, the actual fighting is all done well, and Ponticelli does much more consistent work with the cast than usual. Nelson and Roxie still have panels here and there where they look wildly different from themselves, but not as many as there have been in previous issues. All of The Fixer's many looks, as well as those of the entire Dial Bunch, are really impressive and detailed and fun. Ponticelli has a clear knack for character design, and seems to enjoy it, giving a lot of life and energy even to characters who only get a panel or two. And they all have unique abilities which, even if we don't know exactly what they all actually do, always look great, and that counts for a lot.
There is a fair deal of portal opening and closing, and that is where the art becomes a tad muddied for me. I think there must be two portals open at one point, but Ponticelli never makes the layout clear, and there's not enough help from Miéville's dialogue to clarify or explain what exactly is going on. The portals themselves look neat, as if the walls are being pulled open like curtains, but where they are and precisely how they work is indecipherable. But that's just a tiny annoyance, a plot point that's not as strong as it could be but holds up well enough to get the job done.
I'm firmly in a place of being re-jazzed about this title, because it seems to be moving away from it's slightly darker era and back toward the outlandish hilarity it once focused on. Add to that general shift this month's introduction of a whole slew of new characters, all of whom look great, and there's plenty to be excited about. Ponticelli's artwork seems to be finding itself at last, going big and broad and just plain silly as often as possible, and Miéville's writing is playful and snappy again instead of feeling garbled or awkward. Oh, yeah, and Open-Window Man was perfect, a totally sincere and capable superhero who just happens to have an absurd appearance and a name to match. Can't wait to see more from him, or any of his allies.
6.5/10
The book has always been zany, and to some extent its been about the inherent zaniness of the superhero genre. So here we have that same lens applied to a meet-the-team story, where the group that's introduced is about as madcap and silly as you could hope for. Nonsensical names, goofy power sets, bizarre looks, and the ever-changing nature of the group because of their use of dials make The Dial Bunch—aka Team Adventitious aka The Junkyard Posse—immediately entertaining and amusing. They are an addition to be excited by, because it's a fitting time for this book's cast and world to expand. Now that The Fixer has been established as a new, bigger-than-ever-before threat, having the good guys get larger and more powerful makes sense. And we've been with only Nelson and Roxie for so long, fresh blood is welcome. When Roxie first came onto the scene, there was a lot of material to be found in learning her backstory and discovering what she already knew about the dials. Now there are seven new characters who will also have their own histories and personal experiences with the dials, and they clearly already know more about what's happening than the established protagonists. So the potential for them to deepen Nelson and Roxie's (and, by extension, the readers') understanding of and control over the dials' power is enormous.
For now, though, they arrive only to temporarily save the day, ganging up on The Fixer and The Centipede with a clear team harmony, sending the villains back to wherever The Fixer comes from. It is a high-octane battle with a lot of players, several of whom change their physical appearance in the middle of it, some more than once. That's a tall order for penciler Alberto Ponticelli, but he largely pulls it off. Though some of the exact workings of the story are confused by the artwork, the actual fighting is all done well, and Ponticelli does much more consistent work with the cast than usual. Nelson and Roxie still have panels here and there where they look wildly different from themselves, but not as many as there have been in previous issues. All of The Fixer's many looks, as well as those of the entire Dial Bunch, are really impressive and detailed and fun. Ponticelli has a clear knack for character design, and seems to enjoy it, giving a lot of life and energy even to characters who only get a panel or two. And they all have unique abilities which, even if we don't know exactly what they all actually do, always look great, and that counts for a lot.
There is a fair deal of portal opening and closing, and that is where the art becomes a tad muddied for me. I think there must be two portals open at one point, but Ponticelli never makes the layout clear, and there's not enough help from Miéville's dialogue to clarify or explain what exactly is going on. The portals themselves look neat, as if the walls are being pulled open like curtains, but where they are and precisely how they work is indecipherable. But that's just a tiny annoyance, a plot point that's not as strong as it could be but holds up well enough to get the job done.
I'm firmly in a place of being re-jazzed about this title, because it seems to be moving away from it's slightly darker era and back toward the outlandish hilarity it once focused on. Add to that general shift this month's introduction of a whole slew of new characters, all of whom look great, and there's plenty to be excited about. Ponticelli's artwork seems to be finding itself at last, going big and broad and just plain silly as often as possible, and Miéville's writing is playful and snappy again instead of feeling garbled or awkward. Oh, yeah, and Open-Window Man was perfect, a totally sincere and capable superhero who just happens to have an absurd appearance and a name to match. Can't wait to see more from him, or any of his allies.
6.5/10
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Monthly Dose: April 2013
Monthly Dose is a semi-regular column where I reread one issue each month of long-completed series.
100 Bullets #6: As much as Lee was a less compelling protagonist than Dizzy, Chucky is exponentially worse. I just don't care if he wins or loses, lives or dies, or really to see another minute of his miserable life. Obviously he did not deserve to have his best friend betray him or to get sent to jail over something that wasn't his fault, but that's also not really an excuse to be a bottomless well of scumbaggery and selfishness. He mistreats Shantay, refuses helpful advice and prudent warnings from her and all of his friends (or whatever they are...associates), actively looks for trouble and danger, and cheats and lies as compulsively as he gambles. There's no redemption in there that I can see, and I'm not even sure if Brian Azzarello is aiming for that. I think he knows full well that he has written a blackhearted son of a bitch in Chucky, and if so it's a total success. And he's a believable character, to be sure, but being believably insufferable doesn't make someone interesting to me. I don't think, technically or structurally, there's anything wrong with the story here, but I personally find it hard to stick with because no matter what happens from here, I won't care. I'm not attached to anyone or anything. Eduardo Risso is till doing his incredible thing, but this issue what really pops about the artwork is Grant Goleash's colors. The textured hues of the desert sky make up the background and/or lighting of most of these pages, and they're always spot on. I also dig the deep purples and deeper black of Pony's back room, establishing in color the undertones of wickedness and deception that are key to that character. It's very strong and understated work all over, which has always been true of this book's coloring, but for whatever reason this issue it impresses me more than usual. Perhaps it's my lack of connection to the story, but I don't think it's as simple as that. Goleash captures the feel of these locations more firmly and completely than before, and it definitely helps what is my least favorite narrative so far.
The Intimates #6: Sykes definitely deserved to have an issue devoted to him, if only because he's been a silent enigma since the very beginning, and that can become distracting if it lasts too long. This issue doesn't necessarily explain all the ins and outs of who Sykes is or what he can do, but it provides some definite insight into his past and at least reveals enough of his world that he can now be set aside as a passive figure once again without fucking with the reader's curiosity. Joe Casey attempts to tell a story set inside Sykes' broken and powerful mind, with every scene seeming to take place in a memory from his past. The narrative moves the way that memories do, with pieces missing and focus jumping around and no real resolution to any of the action. There is a definite, solid conclusion to the larger story of the rest of the students journeying into Sykes' mind, but each of them has experiences while there that get abruptly cut off when Kefong rescues them. As the only member of the cast with the mental powers and training to do so, Kefong avoids getting sucked into the madness, and stays firmly in the "real" world (quotes added by Casey) so he can reactivate the null field that, evidently, keeps Sykes from trapping everyone around him in his bizarre and jumbled thoughts. It's a simple but logical solution, and Gisueppe Camuncoli's rendering of Kefong marching slowly through the "real" world under Sykes' influence is some of the best imagery this series has seen yet. The same is true of the page after Empty Vee turns Sykes' null field off and the world becomes a rainbow-colored spiral as his powers are unleashed, even shattering the info scrolls into tiny fragments, not to be reassembled until the end of the issue when Kefong saves the day. It's not the first time the info scrolls have gone away, but it is the first time they've been absent for most of a whole issue, and it cements for me that they are an ambitious failure. Casey doesn't really try to work them rhythmically into the scripts---they are very much their own, separate thing, even when their content relates to what's happening on the rest of the page. The consequence is that if you read them as you hit the bottom of every page, it breaks up the narrative flow, something that becomes obvious in this issue, which feels much more fluid than any of the previous ones. And I suppose one could read all the actual panels first and then go back through the info scrolls, but that sounds pretty arduous, and not at all worth the knowledge you'd gain after the fact. I think I'll try that approach for next month, because I never have, and see if it helps things. Conceptually I want the info scrolls to work, but having so many pages without them this month makes me thinks that they just never quite will. That was quite a digression, I guess. Anyway, Casey and Camuncoli both get to have a bit more fun and be a little more freeform in this issue. There are times where the dialogue gets too cryptic and pretentious in its language for me, but it's made up for by Camuncoli's excellent designs for all of the characters as tiny children, still in costume. An extra bizarre and daring chapter of a book that's reliably bizarre and daring.
X-Force (vol. 1) #6: As is becoming standard for this book, not much happens. Stryfe talks to Zero about some mustache-twirling business, Toad's Brotherhood manages to bang out an alliance with the Morlocks essentially on the basis that they're both angry, Cable has a redundant chat with Domino about how he needs to be honest with his team, and Boom Boom and Feral get into a spat that leads nowhere. By now we're like 2/3 of the way through, leaving just enough time for yet another scene of members of X-Force doing some training, this time a sparring match between Warpath and Shatterstar. In the end, the Brotherhood interrupts and Siryn gets involved (not in that order) but the fight doesn't really get cooking in this issue. Got to save the good stuff for yet another month, I guess. Rob Liefled's plots are just lazy and messy, and I don't envy Fabian Nicieza having to be the one who tried to turn them into a forward-moving narrative. Because they just aren't that. This is a pretty static book, most of the time, ostensibly trying to introduce its team in these opening issues but never pulling that off all the way, either. Liefeld's art is Liefled's art: muscles, tits, and teeth. I have very little new to say about this particular issue that I haven't said about preceding ones, but I do find it pretty amusing that there's a bit on the cover that boasts about the "Cable Guides" in the back of the issue. These are tersely-written summaries of Cable's relationship with other members of the cast, and they are some of the least interesting backmatter of all time. Not terribly written or anything, but not well-written either, and providing only the most superficial information, much of which can be learned or at least gleaned from reading the actual series. Was this really a selling point back in the day? Probably for someone, but now it just seems like an especially fluffy bit of material to advertise right on the cover. This whole issue is a marshmallow, no calories and only the faintest flavor.
100 Bullets #6: As much as Lee was a less compelling protagonist than Dizzy, Chucky is exponentially worse. I just don't care if he wins or loses, lives or dies, or really to see another minute of his miserable life. Obviously he did not deserve to have his best friend betray him or to get sent to jail over something that wasn't his fault, but that's also not really an excuse to be a bottomless well of scumbaggery and selfishness. He mistreats Shantay, refuses helpful advice and prudent warnings from her and all of his friends (or whatever they are...associates), actively looks for trouble and danger, and cheats and lies as compulsively as he gambles. There's no redemption in there that I can see, and I'm not even sure if Brian Azzarello is aiming for that. I think he knows full well that he has written a blackhearted son of a bitch in Chucky, and if so it's a total success. And he's a believable character, to be sure, but being believably insufferable doesn't make someone interesting to me. I don't think, technically or structurally, there's anything wrong with the story here, but I personally find it hard to stick with because no matter what happens from here, I won't care. I'm not attached to anyone or anything. Eduardo Risso is till doing his incredible thing, but this issue what really pops about the artwork is Grant Goleash's colors. The textured hues of the desert sky make up the background and/or lighting of most of these pages, and they're always spot on. I also dig the deep purples and deeper black of Pony's back room, establishing in color the undertones of wickedness and deception that are key to that character. It's very strong and understated work all over, which has always been true of this book's coloring, but for whatever reason this issue it impresses me more than usual. Perhaps it's my lack of connection to the story, but I don't think it's as simple as that. Goleash captures the feel of these locations more firmly and completely than before, and it definitely helps what is my least favorite narrative so far.
The Intimates #6: Sykes definitely deserved to have an issue devoted to him, if only because he's been a silent enigma since the very beginning, and that can become distracting if it lasts too long. This issue doesn't necessarily explain all the ins and outs of who Sykes is or what he can do, but it provides some definite insight into his past and at least reveals enough of his world that he can now be set aside as a passive figure once again without fucking with the reader's curiosity. Joe Casey attempts to tell a story set inside Sykes' broken and powerful mind, with every scene seeming to take place in a memory from his past. The narrative moves the way that memories do, with pieces missing and focus jumping around and no real resolution to any of the action. There is a definite, solid conclusion to the larger story of the rest of the students journeying into Sykes' mind, but each of them has experiences while there that get abruptly cut off when Kefong rescues them. As the only member of the cast with the mental powers and training to do so, Kefong avoids getting sucked into the madness, and stays firmly in the "real" world (quotes added by Casey) so he can reactivate the null field that, evidently, keeps Sykes from trapping everyone around him in his bizarre and jumbled thoughts. It's a simple but logical solution, and Gisueppe Camuncoli's rendering of Kefong marching slowly through the "real" world under Sykes' influence is some of the best imagery this series has seen yet. The same is true of the page after Empty Vee turns Sykes' null field off and the world becomes a rainbow-colored spiral as his powers are unleashed, even shattering the info scrolls into tiny fragments, not to be reassembled until the end of the issue when Kefong saves the day. It's not the first time the info scrolls have gone away, but it is the first time they've been absent for most of a whole issue, and it cements for me that they are an ambitious failure. Casey doesn't really try to work them rhythmically into the scripts---they are very much their own, separate thing, even when their content relates to what's happening on the rest of the page. The consequence is that if you read them as you hit the bottom of every page, it breaks up the narrative flow, something that becomes obvious in this issue, which feels much more fluid than any of the previous ones. And I suppose one could read all the actual panels first and then go back through the info scrolls, but that sounds pretty arduous, and not at all worth the knowledge you'd gain after the fact. I think I'll try that approach for next month, because I never have, and see if it helps things. Conceptually I want the info scrolls to work, but having so many pages without them this month makes me thinks that they just never quite will. That was quite a digression, I guess. Anyway, Casey and Camuncoli both get to have a bit more fun and be a little more freeform in this issue. There are times where the dialogue gets too cryptic and pretentious in its language for me, but it's made up for by Camuncoli's excellent designs for all of the characters as tiny children, still in costume. An extra bizarre and daring chapter of a book that's reliably bizarre and daring.
X-Force (vol. 1) #6: As is becoming standard for this book, not much happens. Stryfe talks to Zero about some mustache-twirling business, Toad's Brotherhood manages to bang out an alliance with the Morlocks essentially on the basis that they're both angry, Cable has a redundant chat with Domino about how he needs to be honest with his team, and Boom Boom and Feral get into a spat that leads nowhere. By now we're like 2/3 of the way through, leaving just enough time for yet another scene of members of X-Force doing some training, this time a sparring match between Warpath and Shatterstar. In the end, the Brotherhood interrupts and Siryn gets involved (not in that order) but the fight doesn't really get cooking in this issue. Got to save the good stuff for yet another month, I guess. Rob Liefled's plots are just lazy and messy, and I don't envy Fabian Nicieza having to be the one who tried to turn them into a forward-moving narrative. Because they just aren't that. This is a pretty static book, most of the time, ostensibly trying to introduce its team in these opening issues but never pulling that off all the way, either. Liefeld's art is Liefled's art: muscles, tits, and teeth. I have very little new to say about this particular issue that I haven't said about preceding ones, but I do find it pretty amusing that there's a bit on the cover that boasts about the "Cable Guides" in the back of the issue. These are tersely-written summaries of Cable's relationship with other members of the cast, and they are some of the least interesting backmatter of all time. Not terribly written or anything, but not well-written either, and providing only the most superficial information, much of which can be learned or at least gleaned from reading the actual series. Was this really a selling point back in the day? Probably for someone, but now it just seems like an especially fluffy bit of material to advertise right on the cover. This whole issue is a marshmallow, no calories and only the faintest flavor.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Pull List Review: Journey Into Mystery #651
I haven't had this much pure, childlike fun reading a comicbook in ages. Even if you have no interest in following this series, I highly recommend picking up this issue, because Kathryn Immomen uses it to tell, rather than the beginnings of a new Sif story, a self-contained Asgardia story. It pays off handsomely. A relatively low-stakes but nevertheless significant threat turns up in the form of a released Fenris Wolf, and the noble warriors and gods of Asgardia must rein him in while still wearing their pajamas. A lot of excellent characterization and artwork make the humor of this issue incredibly effective, and there's plenty of it, too. Seriously one of the most enjoyable comics I've come across in some time.
I suspect "Deal with thine pants!" is going to be the most adored and talked-about line, and deservedly so. It got a raucous laugh from me. I also loved Volstagg's snoring noises, and most of all his relationship with daughter Hilde. Essentially, she ignores everything he says while he hears her every word, which is a perfect father-daughter dynamic. It's also the foundation for one of the funniest, simplest throughlines of the issue: Volstagg tells Hilde to go back to bed, but she doesn't. This happens like four or five times, but always with the right amount of brevity and humanity to keep it from growing old. That's not easy to do with a repetitious gag like this, but Immomen has no trouble.
I also appreciated that Sif, ostensibly still the current star of this title, got to stand out in the ensemble of this issue. She shoots down brusquely the notion that she and Thor are together, stands up to the Fenris Wolf more boldly than anyone, and just generally seems to be the most level-headed member of the group. While the men are eager for the fight, Sif says they shouldn't wreak havoc within Asgardia, and is smart enough to ask where Fenris' magical leash is now. So she owns all of her moments, even if the issue overall is shared.
The best part about Sif, though, is that she spends the entire time in a nightie (since everyone has their PJ's on) yet artist Pepe Larraz never makes her into a sex object. The outfit covers her completely, and she wears it into battle as comfortably and confidently as if it were armor. Even the panel where part of it is torn is used more for the effect of battle damage than as an excuse to show some skin. That's a rarity in mainstream superhero books, and I was glad to see Larraz take this approach. Sif has never been one much for cleavage or exposed midriffs, and seeing that carried over to her sleepwear is refreshing.
Larraz does really great work with everyone. A few enormous panels allow Fenris' size to be fully captured. Hati is an adorable and very lifelike young dog, even with the fire breath. And the general tone is one of lightness and constant motion. The story never really takes a breath, and so the art rolls along with it, everyone always moving, even during scenes of conversation. Hilde telling Volstagg about what's going down could easily have been a series of talking heads, but instead it is a highly animated scene of sandwich-making, collar-grabbing, and similar exaggerated action. This perpetual mobility in the images helps maintain the bouncy pace of the narrative, and amplifies the humor as well.
An unexpected break from the darker and more violent issues that came before, Journey Into Mystery #651 is a deeply impressive and entertaining read. While Immomen has always had a lot of fun on this title, this was the first time she really cut loose and delivered a script that reads like an episode of an Asgardian sitcom. Based on this, I'd watch that show repeatedly, and though I know this isn't going to be the norm for this book moving forward, I hope it takes the time to do this again, even occasionally, in the future. But whether or not that happens, I'll always have this wonderful, highly re-readable issue.
8.5/10
I suspect "Deal with thine pants!" is going to be the most adored and talked-about line, and deservedly so. It got a raucous laugh from me. I also loved Volstagg's snoring noises, and most of all his relationship with daughter Hilde. Essentially, she ignores everything he says while he hears her every word, which is a perfect father-daughter dynamic. It's also the foundation for one of the funniest, simplest throughlines of the issue: Volstagg tells Hilde to go back to bed, but she doesn't. This happens like four or five times, but always with the right amount of brevity and humanity to keep it from growing old. That's not easy to do with a repetitious gag like this, but Immomen has no trouble.
I also appreciated that Sif, ostensibly still the current star of this title, got to stand out in the ensemble of this issue. She shoots down brusquely the notion that she and Thor are together, stands up to the Fenris Wolf more boldly than anyone, and just generally seems to be the most level-headed member of the group. While the men are eager for the fight, Sif says they shouldn't wreak havoc within Asgardia, and is smart enough to ask where Fenris' magical leash is now. So she owns all of her moments, even if the issue overall is shared.
The best part about Sif, though, is that she spends the entire time in a nightie (since everyone has their PJ's on) yet artist Pepe Larraz never makes her into a sex object. The outfit covers her completely, and she wears it into battle as comfortably and confidently as if it were armor. Even the panel where part of it is torn is used more for the effect of battle damage than as an excuse to show some skin. That's a rarity in mainstream superhero books, and I was glad to see Larraz take this approach. Sif has never been one much for cleavage or exposed midriffs, and seeing that carried over to her sleepwear is refreshing.
Larraz does really great work with everyone. A few enormous panels allow Fenris' size to be fully captured. Hati is an adorable and very lifelike young dog, even with the fire breath. And the general tone is one of lightness and constant motion. The story never really takes a breath, and so the art rolls along with it, everyone always moving, even during scenes of conversation. Hilde telling Volstagg about what's going down could easily have been a series of talking heads, but instead it is a highly animated scene of sandwich-making, collar-grabbing, and similar exaggerated action. This perpetual mobility in the images helps maintain the bouncy pace of the narrative, and amplifies the humor as well.
An unexpected break from the darker and more violent issues that came before, Journey Into Mystery #651 is a deeply impressive and entertaining read. While Immomen has always had a lot of fun on this title, this was the first time she really cut loose and delivered a script that reads like an episode of an Asgardian sitcom. Based on this, I'd watch that show repeatedly, and though I know this isn't going to be the norm for this book moving forward, I hope it takes the time to do this again, even occasionally, in the future. But whether or not that happens, I'll always have this wonderful, highly re-readable issue.
8.5/10
Pull List Review: The Answer! #4
This would have been a much better issue if it wasn't supposed to be the last of a series. I get the feeling Dennis Hopeless and Mike Norton wanted more space to tell this story, and certainly the ending indicates that they have hopes for either a sequel or an ongoing series to follow this. But because there's no promise that'll happen, this issue is forced to try and bring things to a conclusion, and the results are jumbled at best.
There's an awful lot of dismissive half-explanations and people saying something "doesn't matter" when, in fact, it totally matters. Chip, presumably the main villain, shows up out of nowhere to info dump on Devin, the protagonist. But what he tells Devin is confusing, half-finished, and undoes a lot of the preceding story. Turns out the Brain Trust that recruited Devin isn't even real, although I'm not sure what that means since obviously there are a bunch of real people there who are really working on things and taking weird mind-enhancing drugs and so on. In some convoluted way, though, the Brain Trust is just a branch of or front for Chip's Apeiron, an evil organization devoted, according to Chip, to specifically hunting down Devin. Why would they care so much about one individual, you ask? Because of some ridiculous backstory tying her to Chip from years ago that gets inserted into the narrative quite forcibly. When she was eight, Devin accidentally unlocked the secret to some magical equation that opens a rift in existence leading...somewhere. Chip witnessed Devin's inadvertent discovery way back when, and has been hunting her ever since to try and get her to do it again. In his delusional mind, entering the rift will grant him power or a new life or...something. I'm not 100% sure what he thinks it will accomplish, honestly, because as unnaturally expository as most of his dialogue is, it still doesn't supply a lot of concrete information.
We do finally see the face of The Answer's ally, Jay, only to learn that he, too, is involved in this adventure because of what Devin did as a child. Jay was the only person other than Chip to witness it, and just as Chip's been tracking Devin down, Jay's been protecting her in the years that followed. Which is alright as far as it goes, but also makes Jay kind of creepy, something Devin even points out, understandably disturbed by the notion of someone secretly watching her for her entire life. What Jay cannot do is answer any of the innumerable questions about The Answer, such as who he is or how he comes back from the dead so quickly. Which means that the title freaking character, who's name is literally The Answer, remains as mysterious as he was when he first saw him.
Maybe that's the point? "Haha, his name is The Answer but we don't answer anything about him." And I'm down with that, whether it's intentional or not. He's an enigma with an ironic name, and keeping his identity and powers obscured is arguably the best and biggest joke of the series. But it would feel like a stronger decision if the rest of the story had stuck the landing. With all the rushed and incomplete wrap-up work that fills this issue, ignoring The Answer just comes across as unavoidable. They didn't even have space to conclude the plot satisfactorily, so how could they be expected to explain every character?
There are some clear pacing problems, too. The dramatic climax comes at just the right moment, where Devin reopens the rift and The Answer has his showdown with Chip, and there is a natural wind down afterward when Devin meets Jay. But then the very last scene is a jarring second action sequence where Devin's library is blown up, a team of heavily-armed dudes shows up to nab her again, and she and The Answer handily defeat them. I can see that the idea here is to show Devin coming into her own, using her new-found rift-opening abilities actively to defend herself against those who would use her for evil. Which is a great thing for her to do...if I'm ever going to see her again. I mean, it's not a terrible or illogical place to have her character end up at the close of this mini-series either, but it reads much more like the end of an arc that will launch into the next one than a true finale. Devin, Jay, and The Answer are fully a team now that Devin knows who's after her and (to some extent) why, so now it's time for them to have their next adventure, right? Certainly that seems to be what Hopeless and Norton have in mind, and I'm rooting for them to get their wish, but I would've preferred it if they'd still treated this issue as the last. There are just way too many questions remaining, mysteries half-solved and loose ends dangling freely. This is not, by any stretch, a bad comic, but it is a weak and rushed last issue.
Norton still brings it on the art, though, which has been a strength of the title all along. When Chip has Devin visualize herself battling a giant squid, Norton renders the animal in all its terrifying enormity. The library explosion looks great, and I got a damn good chuckle out of The Answer jumping a motorcycle through the smoke while machine-gunning a bunch of the baddies. And though plot details were confusing, none of the action ever was. Norton is a mighty fine visual storyteller, and not one shred of that is lost here, even if the story itself wasn't up to snuff. Most importantly, Devin was perfect on every page as always, her bravery and intelligence coming through powerfully in the art, starting with the very first page, which is a splash of a close-up on her face. She's the real reason to read this book, and Norton appreciates that fact and gives her the appropriate level of detail and depth.
I liked this series a lot, and I want to see more of it. I want to have my questions answered and have the answers I've been given clarified. I want to spend more time with Devin and The Answer both, either together or separately. And so, I suppose inasmuch as it left me wanting more, this issue was a success. But it was not successful in providing any sense of closure to the story it told.
5.0/10
There's an awful lot of dismissive half-explanations and people saying something "doesn't matter" when, in fact, it totally matters. Chip, presumably the main villain, shows up out of nowhere to info dump on Devin, the protagonist. But what he tells Devin is confusing, half-finished, and undoes a lot of the preceding story. Turns out the Brain Trust that recruited Devin isn't even real, although I'm not sure what that means since obviously there are a bunch of real people there who are really working on things and taking weird mind-enhancing drugs and so on. In some convoluted way, though, the Brain Trust is just a branch of or front for Chip's Apeiron, an evil organization devoted, according to Chip, to specifically hunting down Devin. Why would they care so much about one individual, you ask? Because of some ridiculous backstory tying her to Chip from years ago that gets inserted into the narrative quite forcibly. When she was eight, Devin accidentally unlocked the secret to some magical equation that opens a rift in existence leading...somewhere. Chip witnessed Devin's inadvertent discovery way back when, and has been hunting her ever since to try and get her to do it again. In his delusional mind, entering the rift will grant him power or a new life or...something. I'm not 100% sure what he thinks it will accomplish, honestly, because as unnaturally expository as most of his dialogue is, it still doesn't supply a lot of concrete information.
We do finally see the face of The Answer's ally, Jay, only to learn that he, too, is involved in this adventure because of what Devin did as a child. Jay was the only person other than Chip to witness it, and just as Chip's been tracking Devin down, Jay's been protecting her in the years that followed. Which is alright as far as it goes, but also makes Jay kind of creepy, something Devin even points out, understandably disturbed by the notion of someone secretly watching her for her entire life. What Jay cannot do is answer any of the innumerable questions about The Answer, such as who he is or how he comes back from the dead so quickly. Which means that the title freaking character, who's name is literally The Answer, remains as mysterious as he was when he first saw him.
Maybe that's the point? "Haha, his name is The Answer but we don't answer anything about him." And I'm down with that, whether it's intentional or not. He's an enigma with an ironic name, and keeping his identity and powers obscured is arguably the best and biggest joke of the series. But it would feel like a stronger decision if the rest of the story had stuck the landing. With all the rushed and incomplete wrap-up work that fills this issue, ignoring The Answer just comes across as unavoidable. They didn't even have space to conclude the plot satisfactorily, so how could they be expected to explain every character?
There are some clear pacing problems, too. The dramatic climax comes at just the right moment, where Devin reopens the rift and The Answer has his showdown with Chip, and there is a natural wind down afterward when Devin meets Jay. But then the very last scene is a jarring second action sequence where Devin's library is blown up, a team of heavily-armed dudes shows up to nab her again, and she and The Answer handily defeat them. I can see that the idea here is to show Devin coming into her own, using her new-found rift-opening abilities actively to defend herself against those who would use her for evil. Which is a great thing for her to do...if I'm ever going to see her again. I mean, it's not a terrible or illogical place to have her character end up at the close of this mini-series either, but it reads much more like the end of an arc that will launch into the next one than a true finale. Devin, Jay, and The Answer are fully a team now that Devin knows who's after her and (to some extent) why, so now it's time for them to have their next adventure, right? Certainly that seems to be what Hopeless and Norton have in mind, and I'm rooting for them to get their wish, but I would've preferred it if they'd still treated this issue as the last. There are just way too many questions remaining, mysteries half-solved and loose ends dangling freely. This is not, by any stretch, a bad comic, but it is a weak and rushed last issue.
Norton still brings it on the art, though, which has been a strength of the title all along. When Chip has Devin visualize herself battling a giant squid, Norton renders the animal in all its terrifying enormity. The library explosion looks great, and I got a damn good chuckle out of The Answer jumping a motorcycle through the smoke while machine-gunning a bunch of the baddies. And though plot details were confusing, none of the action ever was. Norton is a mighty fine visual storyteller, and not one shred of that is lost here, even if the story itself wasn't up to snuff. Most importantly, Devin was perfect on every page as always, her bravery and intelligence coming through powerfully in the art, starting with the very first page, which is a splash of a close-up on her face. She's the real reason to read this book, and Norton appreciates that fact and gives her the appropriate level of detail and depth.
I liked this series a lot, and I want to see more of it. I want to have my questions answered and have the answers I've been given clarified. I want to spend more time with Devin and The Answer both, either together or separately. And so, I suppose inasmuch as it left me wanting more, this issue was a success. But it was not successful in providing any sense of closure to the story it told.
5.0/10
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Dirty Dozen: Harbinger
Dirty Dozen is a semi-regular feature with twelve disconnected thoughts on the first twelve issues of a current ongoing series.
1. I have said this before and, no doubt, I'll say it again, but the biggest and most obvious strength of Harbinger is how naturally Joshua Dysart writes the numerous teenage characters. Not every line is exactly "realistic" or "accurate" in terms of how a typical modern teenager might talk, but then again, what is a "typical" modern teenager, and are these kids even supposed to fit that description? Regardless, on the whole they feel like believable and, above all else, consistent characters, each of them damaged but still young enough to possibly heal their larger wounds and grow into more stable, put-together, productive people. Yet that hope for a brighter future is constantly interrupted by the overwhelming and incredibly adult situations in which they find (or insert) themselves. And that, too, is reflected in their voices, the strain and insanity of their new lives affecting each of them in numerous ways, both obvious and more subtle, as the story rolls along.
2. In the debut issue, when we see 18-year-old Harada, we first learn where and when the scene takes place, and only then do we get his name and age. Immediately afterward, we meet Peter at 18, but the information comes in reverse order: first his name and age, then the time and place. This is indicative of their entire dynamic. Harada is a big-picture, long-term thinker, and Peter cares only about keeping himself and the people he cares about safe and alive from day to day. This difference is demonstrated more overtly when they talk in issue #3. Peter sees how luxurious his quarters at the Harbinger Foundation are, and says that way of living looks lonely. He than expands upon this sense of loneliness by looking at the view of Pittsburgh from his room and musing on the fact that, of all the people down there, he only knows Kris and Joe. Harada responds by asking Peter what he sees when he looks at the city, which Peter has essentially just answered, but it doesn't matter, because Harada doesn't want to hear the answer, anyway. What he wants is to give his own answer, but deliver it in second person, to try and sway Peter to his way of thinking. And Harada's answer is all struggle-for-survival rhetoric, humanity competing against itself and needing a new direction that he will provide and so on. These two men aren't even having the same conversation, and this disconnect between them is why they're perfect rivals.
3. I could take or leave the Bleeding Monk, who is a pretty archetypal cryptic old man with knowledge of the future who plays both sides and/or fights for a side all his own. On the whole he doesn't excite me much. But man, that gangster stroll on the final page of issue #5 is delectable.
4. It definitely moves quickly. Kris is introduced, raped through mind control, and released, causing a massive and understandable emotional breakdown, all in the space of two issues in which she is a relatively minor player. Joe's dead by issue #4, in spite of being one of the primary characters up to that point. His presence lingers much longer, but still, that's a fairly short run. I mean, Peter's entire journey from ignorant runaway to student at the Harbinger Foundation to knowledgeable runaway only takes five issues, and I think in a lot of other books with a lot of other writers, it would've been two if not three full arcs. One for him to get off the street, one to realize that Harada is really a villain, and a third to fight back and break out. I do think that the latter half of the series drags a bit, because not all of the Renegades need an entire issue devoted to their introductions. Charlene and Torkelson probably could've been recruited in a single issue wihtout too much being lost, at the very least. Plus the zero issue doesn't provide much new information or plot advancement (though it does serve its purpose), and issue #11, the most recent and the first of several tie-ins to the Harbinger Wars crossover, is more filler than meat. So lately the pace has slowed, but it still has a healthy clip compared to any number of more decompressed titles out there. For me, this is a positive, but I suppose others might make the same point as a criticism, and that's fair enough. Sometimes rapidity can mean glossing over or entirely ignoring important information, but this is such a character-based series, the plot is easy to follow even when it zips ahead. And the characters are all either running from or trying to catch one another, so the relentless forward momentum is appropriate and often necessary.
5. Tull is a more interesting antagonist than Harada. Where Harada is a mishmash of cliched villain tropes pushed to logical extremes, Tull is very much specific to this particular title and some of its unifying central themes. I can't count how many Special Victims Unit episodes are based on the idea of a bad guy who, like Harada, has a great public image, and that's just one crime procedural. And certainly world domination, even under the pretense of altruism and improvement, is not an original motive for a supervillain. His views on psiots are the same as Magneto's on mutants, and his calm and serenity in the face of all obstacles is reminiscent of Watchmen's Ozymandias. But that's fine, those are great characters, and the specific blend of familiar elements that make up Harada is unique. But Tull, though many aspects of his character are just as well-worn, also has a singular attachment to this series that I just don't feel with Harada. Because Tull's mind is wiped by Peter regularly, he loses himself. He has no memory of hunting Peter in the past, and no real desire to do so now, only keeping it up because he's told it is his job. How much damage invading another person's mind can do and the moral implications of it are both ideas Harbinger explores regularly, and Tull is a walking argument against meddling too much or too often. He is a warning against what could come, and a demonstration of how much power Peter (and presumably other psiot characters) actually has. With an only slightly modified power set and goal, Harada would fit in a lot of books; Tull's only home is Harbinger. His last appearance made it seem like he was doomed to die, and that may be, but I suspect we'll see him again. He's too bound to the core of the series for me to believe he's really gone.
6. Kris is the best character, and her issue (#6) is the best as well. One of the things I most like about her is I feel like Peter could die and she'd step up and keep his mission going, but she also has potential, down the line, to replace Harada as the main villain. There's a definite darkness inside of her, and it leads to a certain unhingedness in her personality. Add to that how badly Peter messes her up at the beginning of the series and the fact that she is one of the only non-powered members of the cast, and it's easy to see her going through some pretty transformative shit and coming out the other side as evil. Not that I expect it, I just see her as the Renegade most likely to turn. But what Kris is best for is her humor. "Even if I kill you for what you've done to me... I'm still just giving you what you want?" That's hilarious, and hilariously bleak, which is the heart of Kris' sensibility. She understands, maybe better than any of her allies, how much trouble they've all gotten themselves into and how dangerous their future promises to be. But she manages to stay intelligent, sassy, alert, and smirking through it all, and finds the levity in their lives wherever it exists.
7. Having Joe's last words to Peter be, "You're the most terrifying person I've ever known" is easily the darkest, most tragic thing Harbigner has done.
8. There has been a definite lack of regularity in terms of artists from the beginning, with Khari Evans contributing the most, but even then having only a handful of issues on which he's the only penciler. Yet there is nevertheless a certain level consistency to the style, speaking, I guess, to editorial skill when it comes to picking similar artists. I wouldn't call it realism, but it's definitely more realistic than not, with detailed backgrounds and moody character expressions. Yet the art always manages to embrace the superpowered elements, too, blasts of electricity and glowing eyes and widespread wreckage and the like. None of that ever feels out of place, because all the artists make the rest of their pages just exaggerated enough so that the fantastical moments can cut loose without clashing. Which is all well and good, but there's still a lot of fluctuation when it comes to the finer details, and I would like a more unified visual identity for the book, because even if the ever-changing art team handles things satisfactorily, right now this is a title very much defined and distinguished by its narrative alone. The visuals get the job done, but they're never a draw, because there's no way of knowing quite what to expect from each new issue.
9. Peter is a hero where Harada is a villain because Peter can admit his flaws and shortcomings, and does so regularly, beating himself up over any and every mistake and always struggling to learn from them and better himself. Harada refuses to acknowledge his own personality defects, and that's why there is so much difference of opinion and even dissent amongst his ranks. It's hubris, baby, and it'll be what undoes him someday.
10. Faith is amazing, Charlene is growing on me, and Torkelson's sort of a pain in the ass but I get it. It's important to have Faith on the team because she is the only non-cynic, a true believer. Charlene's history was way too trite for me, but after her intro issue was over I grew to like her quite a bit. She interacts well with each of the other kids, and she's really the only one of them who can. As for Torkelson...he's repetitive and obnoxious, but as Kris says, it's sort of like dealing with a rescued puppy. Literally everything he is experiencing is brand new for him, and he's understandably emotionally stunted to begin with from spending his life confined to a bed in a trailer. He grates on me now, but I'm empathetic to his struggle, and I look forward to (hopefully) seeing him grow.
11. Darpan's on a slow burn, by which I mean we've seen disappointingly little of him so far even though he seems slated to be a pretty big deal before this saga concludes. He obviously has a special place in Harada's black heart, and there MUST be significance to he and Peter being two of three known psiots who were born activated. Also I just like him, have from the beginning. He's a bit simple, but it stands to reason, since everything in his life has been controlled by Harada. All Darpan knows is the Harbinger Foundation. It gave him a home and a purpose and an understanding of his abilities, so he is ever grateful and obedient. He also seems largely unaware of how devastating his powers are. I think he knows that he is the cause, but just has no real moral compass to tell him that forcing others to relive the worst moments of their lives is a terrible thing to do. He's one of the story's biggest threats, but he doesn't know it and likely wouldn't care one way or the other, and that is a nuanced role I want to see expanded rather than set aside.
12. Peter is not easy to like. He fucks up constantly, he wallows, he's got anger and control problems, etc. But he cuts through the bullshit more quickly and efficiently than anyone, even Kris, and ultimately that's why he's the star. Not just his power level but also his point of view make him singularly equipped to push back against Harada.
1. I have said this before and, no doubt, I'll say it again, but the biggest and most obvious strength of Harbinger is how naturally Joshua Dysart writes the numerous teenage characters. Not every line is exactly "realistic" or "accurate" in terms of how a typical modern teenager might talk, but then again, what is a "typical" modern teenager, and are these kids even supposed to fit that description? Regardless, on the whole they feel like believable and, above all else, consistent characters, each of them damaged but still young enough to possibly heal their larger wounds and grow into more stable, put-together, productive people. Yet that hope for a brighter future is constantly interrupted by the overwhelming and incredibly adult situations in which they find (or insert) themselves. And that, too, is reflected in their voices, the strain and insanity of their new lives affecting each of them in numerous ways, both obvious and more subtle, as the story rolls along.
2. In the debut issue, when we see 18-year-old Harada, we first learn where and when the scene takes place, and only then do we get his name and age. Immediately afterward, we meet Peter at 18, but the information comes in reverse order: first his name and age, then the time and place. This is indicative of their entire dynamic. Harada is a big-picture, long-term thinker, and Peter cares only about keeping himself and the people he cares about safe and alive from day to day. This difference is demonstrated more overtly when they talk in issue #3. Peter sees how luxurious his quarters at the Harbinger Foundation are, and says that way of living looks lonely. He than expands upon this sense of loneliness by looking at the view of Pittsburgh from his room and musing on the fact that, of all the people down there, he only knows Kris and Joe. Harada responds by asking Peter what he sees when he looks at the city, which Peter has essentially just answered, but it doesn't matter, because Harada doesn't want to hear the answer, anyway. What he wants is to give his own answer, but deliver it in second person, to try and sway Peter to his way of thinking. And Harada's answer is all struggle-for-survival rhetoric, humanity competing against itself and needing a new direction that he will provide and so on. These two men aren't even having the same conversation, and this disconnect between them is why they're perfect rivals.
3. I could take or leave the Bleeding Monk, who is a pretty archetypal cryptic old man with knowledge of the future who plays both sides and/or fights for a side all his own. On the whole he doesn't excite me much. But man, that gangster stroll on the final page of issue #5 is delectable.
4. It definitely moves quickly. Kris is introduced, raped through mind control, and released, causing a massive and understandable emotional breakdown, all in the space of two issues in which she is a relatively minor player. Joe's dead by issue #4, in spite of being one of the primary characters up to that point. His presence lingers much longer, but still, that's a fairly short run. I mean, Peter's entire journey from ignorant runaway to student at the Harbinger Foundation to knowledgeable runaway only takes five issues, and I think in a lot of other books with a lot of other writers, it would've been two if not three full arcs. One for him to get off the street, one to realize that Harada is really a villain, and a third to fight back and break out. I do think that the latter half of the series drags a bit, because not all of the Renegades need an entire issue devoted to their introductions. Charlene and Torkelson probably could've been recruited in a single issue wihtout too much being lost, at the very least. Plus the zero issue doesn't provide much new information or plot advancement (though it does serve its purpose), and issue #11, the most recent and the first of several tie-ins to the Harbinger Wars crossover, is more filler than meat. So lately the pace has slowed, but it still has a healthy clip compared to any number of more decompressed titles out there. For me, this is a positive, but I suppose others might make the same point as a criticism, and that's fair enough. Sometimes rapidity can mean glossing over or entirely ignoring important information, but this is such a character-based series, the plot is easy to follow even when it zips ahead. And the characters are all either running from or trying to catch one another, so the relentless forward momentum is appropriate and often necessary.
5. Tull is a more interesting antagonist than Harada. Where Harada is a mishmash of cliched villain tropes pushed to logical extremes, Tull is very much specific to this particular title and some of its unifying central themes. I can't count how many Special Victims Unit episodes are based on the idea of a bad guy who, like Harada, has a great public image, and that's just one crime procedural. And certainly world domination, even under the pretense of altruism and improvement, is not an original motive for a supervillain. His views on psiots are the same as Magneto's on mutants, and his calm and serenity in the face of all obstacles is reminiscent of Watchmen's Ozymandias. But that's fine, those are great characters, and the specific blend of familiar elements that make up Harada is unique. But Tull, though many aspects of his character are just as well-worn, also has a singular attachment to this series that I just don't feel with Harada. Because Tull's mind is wiped by Peter regularly, he loses himself. He has no memory of hunting Peter in the past, and no real desire to do so now, only keeping it up because he's told it is his job. How much damage invading another person's mind can do and the moral implications of it are both ideas Harbinger explores regularly, and Tull is a walking argument against meddling too much or too often. He is a warning against what could come, and a demonstration of how much power Peter (and presumably other psiot characters) actually has. With an only slightly modified power set and goal, Harada would fit in a lot of books; Tull's only home is Harbinger. His last appearance made it seem like he was doomed to die, and that may be, but I suspect we'll see him again. He's too bound to the core of the series for me to believe he's really gone.
6. Kris is the best character, and her issue (#6) is the best as well. One of the things I most like about her is I feel like Peter could die and she'd step up and keep his mission going, but she also has potential, down the line, to replace Harada as the main villain. There's a definite darkness inside of her, and it leads to a certain unhingedness in her personality. Add to that how badly Peter messes her up at the beginning of the series and the fact that she is one of the only non-powered members of the cast, and it's easy to see her going through some pretty transformative shit and coming out the other side as evil. Not that I expect it, I just see her as the Renegade most likely to turn. But what Kris is best for is her humor. "Even if I kill you for what you've done to me... I'm still just giving you what you want?" That's hilarious, and hilariously bleak, which is the heart of Kris' sensibility. She understands, maybe better than any of her allies, how much trouble they've all gotten themselves into and how dangerous their future promises to be. But she manages to stay intelligent, sassy, alert, and smirking through it all, and finds the levity in their lives wherever it exists.
7. Having Joe's last words to Peter be, "You're the most terrifying person I've ever known" is easily the darkest, most tragic thing Harbigner has done.
8. There has been a definite lack of regularity in terms of artists from the beginning, with Khari Evans contributing the most, but even then having only a handful of issues on which he's the only penciler. Yet there is nevertheless a certain level consistency to the style, speaking, I guess, to editorial skill when it comes to picking similar artists. I wouldn't call it realism, but it's definitely more realistic than not, with detailed backgrounds and moody character expressions. Yet the art always manages to embrace the superpowered elements, too, blasts of electricity and glowing eyes and widespread wreckage and the like. None of that ever feels out of place, because all the artists make the rest of their pages just exaggerated enough so that the fantastical moments can cut loose without clashing. Which is all well and good, but there's still a lot of fluctuation when it comes to the finer details, and I would like a more unified visual identity for the book, because even if the ever-changing art team handles things satisfactorily, right now this is a title very much defined and distinguished by its narrative alone. The visuals get the job done, but they're never a draw, because there's no way of knowing quite what to expect from each new issue.
9. Peter is a hero where Harada is a villain because Peter can admit his flaws and shortcomings, and does so regularly, beating himself up over any and every mistake and always struggling to learn from them and better himself. Harada refuses to acknowledge his own personality defects, and that's why there is so much difference of opinion and even dissent amongst his ranks. It's hubris, baby, and it'll be what undoes him someday.
10. Faith is amazing, Charlene is growing on me, and Torkelson's sort of a pain in the ass but I get it. It's important to have Faith on the team because she is the only non-cynic, a true believer. Charlene's history was way too trite for me, but after her intro issue was over I grew to like her quite a bit. She interacts well with each of the other kids, and she's really the only one of them who can. As for Torkelson...he's repetitive and obnoxious, but as Kris says, it's sort of like dealing with a rescued puppy. Literally everything he is experiencing is brand new for him, and he's understandably emotionally stunted to begin with from spending his life confined to a bed in a trailer. He grates on me now, but I'm empathetic to his struggle, and I look forward to (hopefully) seeing him grow.
11. Darpan's on a slow burn, by which I mean we've seen disappointingly little of him so far even though he seems slated to be a pretty big deal before this saga concludes. He obviously has a special place in Harada's black heart, and there MUST be significance to he and Peter being two of three known psiots who were born activated. Also I just like him, have from the beginning. He's a bit simple, but it stands to reason, since everything in his life has been controlled by Harada. All Darpan knows is the Harbinger Foundation. It gave him a home and a purpose and an understanding of his abilities, so he is ever grateful and obedient. He also seems largely unaware of how devastating his powers are. I think he knows that he is the cause, but just has no real moral compass to tell him that forcing others to relive the worst moments of their lives is a terrible thing to do. He's one of the story's biggest threats, but he doesn't know it and likely wouldn't care one way or the other, and that is a nuanced role I want to see expanded rather than set aside.
12. Peter is not easy to like. He fucks up constantly, he wallows, he's got anger and control problems, etc. But he cuts through the bullshit more quickly and efficiently than anyone, even Kris, and ultimately that's why he's the star. Not just his power level but also his point of view make him singularly equipped to push back against Harada.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
The Cheese Stands Alone: Deathlok #11
The Cheese Stands Alone is a semi-regular column featuring examinations of single issues that can be understood and appreciated on their own, without reading any of the preceding or following issues of the series.
Most of the time, a successful standalone issue requires a narrowed focus and tightened pacing. With only 20-30 pages in which to tell a complete story, there's not a lot of room for enormous action sequences or too many different ideas, be they new or old or both. It's about zeroing in on a character or concept for the length of an issue and filling in the details. In Deathlok #11, Dwayne McDuffie goes the opposite route, cramming into a single issue enough new material for a much longer arc, on top of reexplaining the core concept of the series' protagonist and anchoring the whole thing with an extended fight scene against a giant robot. And while are there sections where I think this story might actually have benefited from some decompression, it is a well-done one-shot with just enough ambition to be impressively full without bursting at the seams.
The issue begins confusingly by design, not exactly in medias res but not properly at the beginning of the story, either. An unknown and unnamed character in a strange robotic suit of armor narrates as he breaks into "the main complex of Magnum Munitions." His reasons for doing so are ignored for the time being so that the details of both the complex's defense systems and the trespasser's suit can be explained. It makes for a fun and rich heist/action scene with very little background information but a lot of present-tense info and personality. The whys and wherefores can be filled in later; for now McDuffie wants the reader to have questions, to be hooked by the confusion itself. From there, he begins to rather quickly provide answers, keeping the audience engaged by satisfying the initial curiosities while at the same time promising bigger, more death-defying action to come. And, just in case this is anyone's first time with the title, there is a retelling of Deathlok's origin story, as well as a new character introduced (or, more accurately, an old character repurposed) to be a sort of inverse or mirrored version of that story.
Deathlok is the brain of pacifistic scientist Michael Collins implanted into the body of a cyborg killing machine. Collins' mind was stolen for this purpose by Cybertek, the company he worked for, when he discovered what they were up to with the Deathlok program. Able to overcome Deathlok's central programming with the strength of his mental resolve, Collins refused to kill for Cybertek, and fought against them until the company went under. Now, he works to keep their tech out of evil hands while seeking his original body so his brain can be returned to its proper home. He is pulled into the robbery at Magnum Munitions because they are the current owners of Cybertek's work, and it is Cybertek information that the unknown armored thief takes in the issue's opening scene. Deathlok's computer brain, which acts as a sort of second, uncontrollable internal monologue for the character, alerts him to the developing situation, and so the grumpy anti-hero sets out to ensure that Cybertek technology is not misused again.
However, what Deathlok finds isn't some maniacal criminal bent on usurping Cybertek's work to meet maleficent ends. On the contrary, the thief is High-Tech, real name Curtis Carr, a reformed supervillain-turned-legitimate-scientist who wants to develop more advanced prosthetics with the stolen information. This goal lines up quite nicely with the work Collins did before his brain was taken from him, so rather than battle Carr or try to retrieve what he took, Deathlok decides to defend him against the inevitable retribution from Magnum.
And it's one hell of a retribution, too. The Terrordome is like a gigantic, flying, robotic jellyfish covered in guns that is sent after Carr with every intention of killing him once it gets back everything he stole. Piloted by Mr. Lawson, the man who Carr violently incapacitated during the initial heist, the Terrordome bursts right through the wall at Stark Prosthetics (where Carr works) and the fight which ensues makes up most of the issue's third act. Deathlok wins the day without too terribly much difficulty, becuase by the time Terrordome shows up there isn't really space left to have the good guys be on the ropes for very long. But it's still a lot of fun, with some choice explosions and consistently clear action and tons of Deathlok responding snarkily to the warnings his computer brain gives him. This closing combat alone is entertaining and bombastic enough to make Deathlok #11 a worthwhile read, even if it's just a straightforward shootout between mechanical warriors of different shapes and sizes. But a well-crafted fight scene alone won't make a single issue stand out. It is the work McDuffie does leading up to the finale battle that really fleshes out this story and helps it leave a longer-lasting impression on its readers.
Deathlok and High-Tech have interestingly similar yet significantly distinct origin stories. Michael Collins was a good man trying to help the world who was pushed into the role of violent vigilante by external forces. He now uses a body designed for war and murder to instead protect others. Curtis Carr, on the other hand, started out as the villain Chemistro, and it was only after an accident claimed one of his legs that he had a change of heart and began working in prosthetics. Even then, he relies on illegal methods to further his research, building the High-Tech suit specifically to steal from Magnum Munitions. So while they begin on opposite ends of the morality spectrum, ultimately they land in similar realms, each of them using robotic bodies to try and do good, but with methods that are questionable at best. Yes, Deathlok uses a "no-killing parameter" to keep himself in check, but he's still toting massive firearms and engaging in fights that endanger innocent lives. And while Carr's day-to-day work is clearly noble and important, it does not necessarily justify trespassing, theft, and assault.
Both men are aware of the gray areas they slide into, and they understand and even respect one another because of that. Deahtlok has no problem with ripping off corporations like Cybertek and Magnum if it means creating something helpful/healing instead of just more advanced weaponry. And Carr certainly isn't going to turn down assistance from a battle-ready cyborg who also has scientific knowledge that can assist him in his prosthetics work. So after a brief, obligatory clash between the two men when they first meet (which ends in Deathlok absolutely demolishing the High-Tech armor), they learn each other's backgrounds and decide to work together for as long as they have before the Terrordome attacks. This decision is reached somewhat hurriedly, McDuffie giving Carr a single page to tell his story and Deathlok only half that. But the obvious parallels in their histories and hopes for the future make them naturally fast allies, and McDuffie takes the time to return to Deathlok's internal monologue once the two of them get to work so the reader can understand how gratifying it is for him to participate in something other than violence. And it's not as if the brevity of the origin tales detracts from them or makes them harder to understand. They are exactly as detailed as needed to get the information across and provide insight into each of the characters' personalities. And they're about as detailed as anyone could be expected to be when relating a summary of their entire life to a stranger with whom they'd just finished fighting.
McDuffie's script is oddly structured, but always in the service of telling a complete story while maintaining a certain level of action and fun. The beginning is confounding but fast-paced, skipping over the unimportant beats to get to the meat of Carr breaking in and then breaking back out. It's a smart hook, giving the reader something exciting right at the top that raises enough questions to carry them through the rest of the narrative. Then the middle gets even faster, to the point of feeling almost rushed, with Deathlok going after Carr, the birth of their friendship, and their subsequent collaboration all being squeezed into a handful of pages. Yet upon close examination, one can find in those pages a deliberate exploration of what makes Deathlok who he is as a man, a cyborg, and a reluctant hero, all through the lens of his interactions with Carr. Finally, we get the high-octane resolution, a typical but stimulating fight where the bad guys have more firepower but the good guys beat 'em anyway. It's a predictable ending, perhaps, but still a blast. Terrordome gets more than its share of good shots in, but Deathlok's never really down, and it's refreshing in a way to watch the hero achieve victory without first being put through the ringer.
If your script is going to race to the finish line, you'd better hope the art can keep up, and overall I think it does so deftly here. Denys Cowan provides the pencils for the issue, inked by Mike Manley with colors from Gregory Wright. The art is smartly done, with generally looser lines to fit the looser story. That style also helps to underline Deathlok's human side, and the human elements of the issue as a whole, rather than playing up the robotic aspects. When Terrordome shows up, there is a real sense of motion to each of its dangling metal limbs, and that adds tremendously to the effectiveness of the fight scene that follows. What Cowan and Manley's linework does best, though, is to bring out Deathlok's personality. His gruffness and sarcasm are beefed up by his detailed-yet-rough expressions, as are the underlying sadness and loneliness that drive him. Not just a tough guy cyborg action hero, Deathlok is also a broken man trying to reassemble himself, and both of those sides of his character are given equal weight by the art.
Wright's coloring is never spectacular, though it certainly never messes up any of the visuals, either. There is one page where he makes his mark more definitively, though, when Deathlok is relating his history to Carr. Wright does the flashback sequence in a wash of pale blue, which not only helps distinguish it from the present-tense action on the second half of the page, but also deepens the sadness and hopelessness of the scene itself. It is a story of a good man made worse by an evil corporation, suddenly and perhaps permanently, so highlighting the dismal nature of that tale is a strong and intelligent choice. None of the rest of the issue is quite so soft or dark, which means the main character's origin is particularly noticeable and memorable. A good move for a standalone issue, especially.
I have to assume that letterer Ken Lopez provides the many sound effects found in this issue, though I suppose it's always possible they were a part of Cowan's original artwork. Whoever is responsible, the effects add a lot of energy and life to the story. They are used rather often, arguably too often, and in a different title or with a different story they might feel overpowering. But because of the breakneck speed of this narrative and the extended action sequence that wraps it up, having bold and attention-grabbing sounds fits perfectly with the overall feel. They amp up the fights, match the rough and ragged style of the pencils, and help to fill the few empty spaces in a jam-packed issue.
McDuffie, Cowan, and crew approach this one-off a bit strangely, setting things up quickly so that the final fight can have all the room it needs to be as big and badass as it wants. But they're careful not to omit any necessary pieces; they maintain clarity and even reintroduce the series' central character just in case. It may not be as tightly crafted as other standalone issues, but it's certainly as much fun and as complete as any of them. Two strong action scenes, exploration and development of the protagonist, a full narrative (there is a cliffhanger ending but it comes in the epilogue and isn't really a threat for the immediate future), and a surprising amount of humor and heart. It may not be the perfect issue, but it leaves little to be desired, either, hitting all the beats it needs to for the story it wants to tell, and having a damn good time doing it.
Most of the time, a successful standalone issue requires a narrowed focus and tightened pacing. With only 20-30 pages in which to tell a complete story, there's not a lot of room for enormous action sequences or too many different ideas, be they new or old or both. It's about zeroing in on a character or concept for the length of an issue and filling in the details. In Deathlok #11, Dwayne McDuffie goes the opposite route, cramming into a single issue enough new material for a much longer arc, on top of reexplaining the core concept of the series' protagonist and anchoring the whole thing with an extended fight scene against a giant robot. And while are there sections where I think this story might actually have benefited from some decompression, it is a well-done one-shot with just enough ambition to be impressively full without bursting at the seams.
The issue begins confusingly by design, not exactly in medias res but not properly at the beginning of the story, either. An unknown and unnamed character in a strange robotic suit of armor narrates as he breaks into "the main complex of Magnum Munitions." His reasons for doing so are ignored for the time being so that the details of both the complex's defense systems and the trespasser's suit can be explained. It makes for a fun and rich heist/action scene with very little background information but a lot of present-tense info and personality. The whys and wherefores can be filled in later; for now McDuffie wants the reader to have questions, to be hooked by the confusion itself. From there, he begins to rather quickly provide answers, keeping the audience engaged by satisfying the initial curiosities while at the same time promising bigger, more death-defying action to come. And, just in case this is anyone's first time with the title, there is a retelling of Deathlok's origin story, as well as a new character introduced (or, more accurately, an old character repurposed) to be a sort of inverse or mirrored version of that story.
Deathlok is the brain of pacifistic scientist Michael Collins implanted into the body of a cyborg killing machine. Collins' mind was stolen for this purpose by Cybertek, the company he worked for, when he discovered what they were up to with the Deathlok program. Able to overcome Deathlok's central programming with the strength of his mental resolve, Collins refused to kill for Cybertek, and fought against them until the company went under. Now, he works to keep their tech out of evil hands while seeking his original body so his brain can be returned to its proper home. He is pulled into the robbery at Magnum Munitions because they are the current owners of Cybertek's work, and it is Cybertek information that the unknown armored thief takes in the issue's opening scene. Deathlok's computer brain, which acts as a sort of second, uncontrollable internal monologue for the character, alerts him to the developing situation, and so the grumpy anti-hero sets out to ensure that Cybertek technology is not misused again.
However, what Deathlok finds isn't some maniacal criminal bent on usurping Cybertek's work to meet maleficent ends. On the contrary, the thief is High-Tech, real name Curtis Carr, a reformed supervillain-turned-legitimate-scientist who wants to develop more advanced prosthetics with the stolen information. This goal lines up quite nicely with the work Collins did before his brain was taken from him, so rather than battle Carr or try to retrieve what he took, Deathlok decides to defend him against the inevitable retribution from Magnum.
And it's one hell of a retribution, too. The Terrordome is like a gigantic, flying, robotic jellyfish covered in guns that is sent after Carr with every intention of killing him once it gets back everything he stole. Piloted by Mr. Lawson, the man who Carr violently incapacitated during the initial heist, the Terrordome bursts right through the wall at Stark Prosthetics (where Carr works) and the fight which ensues makes up most of the issue's third act. Deathlok wins the day without too terribly much difficulty, becuase by the time Terrordome shows up there isn't really space left to have the good guys be on the ropes for very long. But it's still a lot of fun, with some choice explosions and consistently clear action and tons of Deathlok responding snarkily to the warnings his computer brain gives him. This closing combat alone is entertaining and bombastic enough to make Deathlok #11 a worthwhile read, even if it's just a straightforward shootout between mechanical warriors of different shapes and sizes. But a well-crafted fight scene alone won't make a single issue stand out. It is the work McDuffie does leading up to the finale battle that really fleshes out this story and helps it leave a longer-lasting impression on its readers.
Deathlok and High-Tech have interestingly similar yet significantly distinct origin stories. Michael Collins was a good man trying to help the world who was pushed into the role of violent vigilante by external forces. He now uses a body designed for war and murder to instead protect others. Curtis Carr, on the other hand, started out as the villain Chemistro, and it was only after an accident claimed one of his legs that he had a change of heart and began working in prosthetics. Even then, he relies on illegal methods to further his research, building the High-Tech suit specifically to steal from Magnum Munitions. So while they begin on opposite ends of the morality spectrum, ultimately they land in similar realms, each of them using robotic bodies to try and do good, but with methods that are questionable at best. Yes, Deathlok uses a "no-killing parameter" to keep himself in check, but he's still toting massive firearms and engaging in fights that endanger innocent lives. And while Carr's day-to-day work is clearly noble and important, it does not necessarily justify trespassing, theft, and assault.
Both men are aware of the gray areas they slide into, and they understand and even respect one another because of that. Deahtlok has no problem with ripping off corporations like Cybertek and Magnum if it means creating something helpful/healing instead of just more advanced weaponry. And Carr certainly isn't going to turn down assistance from a battle-ready cyborg who also has scientific knowledge that can assist him in his prosthetics work. So after a brief, obligatory clash between the two men when they first meet (which ends in Deathlok absolutely demolishing the High-Tech armor), they learn each other's backgrounds and decide to work together for as long as they have before the Terrordome attacks. This decision is reached somewhat hurriedly, McDuffie giving Carr a single page to tell his story and Deathlok only half that. But the obvious parallels in their histories and hopes for the future make them naturally fast allies, and McDuffie takes the time to return to Deathlok's internal monologue once the two of them get to work so the reader can understand how gratifying it is for him to participate in something other than violence. And it's not as if the brevity of the origin tales detracts from them or makes them harder to understand. They are exactly as detailed as needed to get the information across and provide insight into each of the characters' personalities. And they're about as detailed as anyone could be expected to be when relating a summary of their entire life to a stranger with whom they'd just finished fighting.
McDuffie's script is oddly structured, but always in the service of telling a complete story while maintaining a certain level of action and fun. The beginning is confounding but fast-paced, skipping over the unimportant beats to get to the meat of Carr breaking in and then breaking back out. It's a smart hook, giving the reader something exciting right at the top that raises enough questions to carry them through the rest of the narrative. Then the middle gets even faster, to the point of feeling almost rushed, with Deathlok going after Carr, the birth of their friendship, and their subsequent collaboration all being squeezed into a handful of pages. Yet upon close examination, one can find in those pages a deliberate exploration of what makes Deathlok who he is as a man, a cyborg, and a reluctant hero, all through the lens of his interactions with Carr. Finally, we get the high-octane resolution, a typical but stimulating fight where the bad guys have more firepower but the good guys beat 'em anyway. It's a predictable ending, perhaps, but still a blast. Terrordome gets more than its share of good shots in, but Deathlok's never really down, and it's refreshing in a way to watch the hero achieve victory without first being put through the ringer.
If your script is going to race to the finish line, you'd better hope the art can keep up, and overall I think it does so deftly here. Denys Cowan provides the pencils for the issue, inked by Mike Manley with colors from Gregory Wright. The art is smartly done, with generally looser lines to fit the looser story. That style also helps to underline Deathlok's human side, and the human elements of the issue as a whole, rather than playing up the robotic aspects. When Terrordome shows up, there is a real sense of motion to each of its dangling metal limbs, and that adds tremendously to the effectiveness of the fight scene that follows. What Cowan and Manley's linework does best, though, is to bring out Deathlok's personality. His gruffness and sarcasm are beefed up by his detailed-yet-rough expressions, as are the underlying sadness and loneliness that drive him. Not just a tough guy cyborg action hero, Deathlok is also a broken man trying to reassemble himself, and both of those sides of his character are given equal weight by the art.
Wright's coloring is never spectacular, though it certainly never messes up any of the visuals, either. There is one page where he makes his mark more definitively, though, when Deathlok is relating his history to Carr. Wright does the flashback sequence in a wash of pale blue, which not only helps distinguish it from the present-tense action on the second half of the page, but also deepens the sadness and hopelessness of the scene itself. It is a story of a good man made worse by an evil corporation, suddenly and perhaps permanently, so highlighting the dismal nature of that tale is a strong and intelligent choice. None of the rest of the issue is quite so soft or dark, which means the main character's origin is particularly noticeable and memorable. A good move for a standalone issue, especially.
I have to assume that letterer Ken Lopez provides the many sound effects found in this issue, though I suppose it's always possible they were a part of Cowan's original artwork. Whoever is responsible, the effects add a lot of energy and life to the story. They are used rather often, arguably too often, and in a different title or with a different story they might feel overpowering. But because of the breakneck speed of this narrative and the extended action sequence that wraps it up, having bold and attention-grabbing sounds fits perfectly with the overall feel. They amp up the fights, match the rough and ragged style of the pencils, and help to fill the few empty spaces in a jam-packed issue.
McDuffie, Cowan, and crew approach this one-off a bit strangely, setting things up quickly so that the final fight can have all the room it needs to be as big and badass as it wants. But they're careful not to omit any necessary pieces; they maintain clarity and even reintroduce the series' central character just in case. It may not be as tightly crafted as other standalone issues, but it's certainly as much fun and as complete as any of them. Two strong action scenes, exploration and development of the protagonist, a full narrative (there is a cliffhanger ending but it comes in the epilogue and isn't really a threat for the immediate future), and a surprising amount of humor and heart. It may not be the perfect issue, but it leaves little to be desired, either, hitting all the beats it needs to for the story it wants to tell, and having a damn good time doing it.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Pull List Review: The Black Beetle: No Way Out #3
Surprise, surprise, this comic looks amazing. Francesco Francavilla is pouring himself into this series, and every page glows. The visual highlight is easily the fistfight Black Beetle has with a trio of thugs in an alleyway, where the action is so big and bold that the pages literally cannot contain all of it. So the sound effects are in panels that get cut off by the borders of the comicbook itself, while the carefully choreographed combat takes center stage and always looks incredibly fluid and bold. Right before that fight begins, there is a page that does sort of the opposite thing, breaking two static images up into a number of panels. It is the tense calm before the storm, where every second feels like a minute, and then when the tension breaks it bursts wide open, spilling out beyond the edges of the world in which it's contained.
The very opening page is also intelligently laid out, a grid of tiny panels with musical notes running underneath, showing us a series of stolen moments from a typical lounge/club scene before the amazing two-page title card spread that follows and reveals the club in all of its atmospherically-lit glory. It is a strong opening beat that pulls you right in with its details and warmth, both of which are maintained right until the end of the issue. Perhaps the most notable example other than the very beginning is when Black Beetle is standing in the Colt City medical examiner's office. The eerie lighting of the room and rich, realistic anatomical pictures put the reader on edge while simultaneously welcoming them in. That whole scene, actually, has that effect, getting under your skin but also daring you to look away. It all builds up to the exciting final splash of Black Beetle tearing off in his car, a huge, block-lettered VROOM effect trailing on the road behind his vehicle. It serves as both the issue's final beat and an excellent standalone image of the character, capturing his sense of adventure and pulp look exactly.
On the story side of things, The Black Beetle: No Way Out #3 is a bitter lighter than the previous chapters have been. There is basically only a single plot point introduced in this issue, the fact that one of the supposedly dead criminals from issue #1 is, in fact, still alive and in hiding. This is a significant detail, and sets everything up for what will become the final confrontation next time, but it is such a simple and straightforward truth, discovered in an equally simple manner, that when I hit that amazing final page I was surprised I'd reached the issue's conclusion. It felt like it was only getting started, and then it ended. But this is the penultimate installment of the mini-series, so having me anxious to see the resolution is probably exactly what it wants to accomplish. In that regard, I guess the pacing of this issue is a success, but I still would've liked a bit more narrative meat.
Instead of filling in the plot, Francavilla takes some time to lean into the tropes of the genre he's emulating, and that he does quite well. Black Beetle makes an "easy way or hard way" offer to the thugs before he beats them up. There's a somewhat cliched sultry lounge singer in the beginning that he flirts with. Even the notion of a villain faking his death is a well-worn idea. I go back and forth on whether or not Francavilla is relying too heavily on these immediately recognizable details, but ultimately I think that if you want to do an homage to an entire era/style of storytelling, you may as well go big or go home. Francavilla ain't going home, and I wouldn't want him to.
So perhaps airier than usual, but no less artistically stunning, easy to follow, or fun. And even if the script was on the fluffy side, it left me eager to see the story's conclusion, wishing I was racing toward it with the same speed as our protagonist on the closing page. A consistently triumphant book continues to impress.
7.0/10
The very opening page is also intelligently laid out, a grid of tiny panels with musical notes running underneath, showing us a series of stolen moments from a typical lounge/club scene before the amazing two-page title card spread that follows and reveals the club in all of its atmospherically-lit glory. It is a strong opening beat that pulls you right in with its details and warmth, both of which are maintained right until the end of the issue. Perhaps the most notable example other than the very beginning is when Black Beetle is standing in the Colt City medical examiner's office. The eerie lighting of the room and rich, realistic anatomical pictures put the reader on edge while simultaneously welcoming them in. That whole scene, actually, has that effect, getting under your skin but also daring you to look away. It all builds up to the exciting final splash of Black Beetle tearing off in his car, a huge, block-lettered VROOM effect trailing on the road behind his vehicle. It serves as both the issue's final beat and an excellent standalone image of the character, capturing his sense of adventure and pulp look exactly.
On the story side of things, The Black Beetle: No Way Out #3 is a bitter lighter than the previous chapters have been. There is basically only a single plot point introduced in this issue, the fact that one of the supposedly dead criminals from issue #1 is, in fact, still alive and in hiding. This is a significant detail, and sets everything up for what will become the final confrontation next time, but it is such a simple and straightforward truth, discovered in an equally simple manner, that when I hit that amazing final page I was surprised I'd reached the issue's conclusion. It felt like it was only getting started, and then it ended. But this is the penultimate installment of the mini-series, so having me anxious to see the resolution is probably exactly what it wants to accomplish. In that regard, I guess the pacing of this issue is a success, but I still would've liked a bit more narrative meat.
Instead of filling in the plot, Francavilla takes some time to lean into the tropes of the genre he's emulating, and that he does quite well. Black Beetle makes an "easy way or hard way" offer to the thugs before he beats them up. There's a somewhat cliched sultry lounge singer in the beginning that he flirts with. Even the notion of a villain faking his death is a well-worn idea. I go back and forth on whether or not Francavilla is relying too heavily on these immediately recognizable details, but ultimately I think that if you want to do an homage to an entire era/style of storytelling, you may as well go big or go home. Francavilla ain't going home, and I wouldn't want him to.
So perhaps airier than usual, but no less artistically stunning, easy to follow, or fun. And even if the script was on the fluffy side, it left me eager to see the story's conclusion, wishing I was racing toward it with the same speed as our protagonist on the closing page. A consistently triumphant book continues to impress.
7.0/10
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