by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters

The Story: Becky’s secret is revealed, as Gus and Jepperd come face to face with the seedy underbelly of Lemire’s post-apocalyptic world.

What’s Good: Lemire truly takes us into deep waters this month, and what we get is an incredibly disturbing book.  His narrative world has never been more dark, but that darkness now has a very uncomfortable grain of perversion to go along with all the gloom and doom.  That Lemire actually went in this direction is a brave move by him and actually surprised me.  Best of all, hiss theme this month is as tasteful as possible, given the subject matter.  This is not shock for shock’s sake, and it carries not a grain of sensationalism.

Really though, it’s hard not for me to draw similarities between this month’s issue and the Road.  Much like that book/film, Lemire’s work here is so dark, that it causes the reader to grasp at any moment of human kindness.  Because the rest of the issue is so disturbing, when Lemire gives us that one good action, as innocent Gus pushes Jepperd into the role of hero, it feels so satisfying.  It also shows how solid the chemistry is between the two characters: the innocent Gus still carries the ideals the experienced Jepperd has seemingly forgotten.

And that’s another strength of this month’s issue, as it perhaps, more directly than ever, raises the issue of morality that rightfully crops up in any dystopian work.  What still counts as a “good man” in a world that is gone so wrong?  It’s clear that Gus, whether he’s aware of it or not, is attempting to move Jepperd back along the road of redemption, and it’s both fascinating and touching.

That said, even with this glimmer of goodness, Lemire is quick to remind us that the world of Sweet Tooth is still oppressive, always threatening to envelop any hope or kindness that crops up.  Even an act of heroism is, in this world, incredibly brutal and violent in its very nature.  Lemire makes no effort to render Jepperd’s actions glossy, and despite the good intentions, it’s all depicted with an unforgiving, violent, and harsh honesty.  Worse still, once this redemptive moment is complete, the darkness of Lemire’s world is quick to move in and recapture its hold.  Jepperd’s actions may have, in themselves, been good, but the difference they made turns out to be far less than one might expect.

On art, Lemire delivers some absolutely gorgeous outdoor images.  It’s clear that as an artist, he’s generally very well aware of his strengths.  There’s a stunning horse-ride in the rain that best encapsulates Lemire’s sparse, yet emotional style.

What’s Not So Good: With his rougher style, I did feel that Lemire’s artwork isn’t at its best in close, well-lit, indoor surroundings.  It strips him of the barren, outdoor landscape he works so excellently, while drawing attention to his flaws.  Essentially, he’s an utterly unconventional cartoonist being forced to draw a more conventional comic scene, and as a result, the simpler nature of his artwork that usually serves him so well becomes a bit ill-suited.

Conclusion: The best issue since the series debut.  If you’re not reading this, you are really missing out.

Grade: A -

-Alex Evans

by Matthew Sturges & Bill Willingham (writers), Russ Braun (pencils & inks), Jose Marzan Jr. (inks), Andrew Pepoy (inks & balance), Daniel Vozzo (colors), and Todd Klein (letters)

The Story: Jack Frost battles the sorcerer while Jack Horner discovers his fate and the true nature of his condition.

What’s Good: Since he first appeared, I’ve always found Jack Frost a fairly bland character, a problem that seems to be fairly irresolvable.  That said, this is a surprisingly strong outing for him.  His banter with the sorcerer really is fairly funny at times and did bring me a couple of smiles.  It is fairly enjoyable to see how Frost’s inexperience as a hero also affects his ability to converse mid-battle.  Also, while it may be a little baffling to see Jack Frost as an exponent for modern lingo, his colloquial language also brings the laughs as it clashes with the sorcerer’s by-the-numbers fantasy villain dialogue.

Despite the bevy of inkers, this month is also a strong outing for Russ Braun.  His dragon looks great while retaining a sense of comedy through all, and his depictions of Brak the monster continue to be weirdly adorable.  Braun’s work alone gives the furry beast a lot more character than he otherwise might have.  As always, Braun’s work on his characters’ faces is also a joy.

What’s Not So Good: While this was a stronger issue for Frost, I still left the book feeling Frost to be a bland character incapable of carrying, or frankly deserving, an ongoing series.  He’s still little more than a standard character archetype, and a fairly uninspired one at that.  He’s the young, male hero.  That’s it.  Nowhere is this reflected better than in the internal monologue contained within this issue.  Usually, I love internal monologues as a means of getting to know characters better, yet here, Frost’s narration is a snore.  It’s little more than a paint-by-numbers recounting of the action, which is pretty indicative of the blandness of the character.  Worse still, there are far more of these narrating captions than need be.  Did we really need to have Frost retell the entire arc’s plot, in some detail, at the start of this issue?  It’s unnecessary, and it’s yawn-inducing.

It also doesn’t help that “the Sorcerer” is about as clichéd and uninspired a villain as I’ve ever seen in a comic book.  If that’s the kind of short-term villain Jack Frost’s book is going to be getting, it’s going to be a bad book indeed.  Seriously, the guy doesn’t even have a name.  He’s just “the sorcerer.”  That about sums him up, unfortunately.

Then there’s the scenes involving “Jack Dragon.”  This is nothing short of a complete catastrophe.  In fact, it’s insulting and borders on being a slap to the face of long-time Jack readers in just how poorly the whole thing is wrapped up.  Putting aside how wrong, and dispiriting, it is to remove the character for which the series is named, only to replace him with a much blander protagonist, the manner in which this done is just sloppy.

Jack’s banishment from his own series is abrupt and underwhelming.  In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen something this anti-climactic in a comic in a very long time.   Sturges apparently thinks removing the character in this manner is humorous, when it’s closer to nauseating and rage-inducing.  Even worse is just how ridiculously convenient and sudden the explanation for Jack’s transformation and consequent doom is.  It’s also unimaginative and lazy in the utmost.

But wait, didn’t we get the explanation for Jack’s transformation already?  All that stuff Gary (and DC’s solicitations) said about it being artist Tony Akins’ doing?  Yeah, apparently that just never happened.

Conclusion: Having been on-board since issue one, I’m sad to say that I’m done with this series.

Grade: D -

-Alex Evans

By Greg Rucka (writer), Nicola Scott (artist), Prentis Rollins, Jonathan Glapion, Walden Wong & Drew Geraci (inks)

The Story: Wonder Woman is on the trail of black lantern Maxwell Lord, the she killed

What’s Good: Nicola Scott has never looked better than when Rollins, Glapion, Wong and Geraci are inking her. Granted, it sounds like an army of inkers, but there is a naturalness and fluidity to the poses and faces and a command of perspective and proportion that I never saw when Hazelwood was inking her in Secret Six. I don’t know what kind of game of twister Schlagman and Berganza have to get so many inkers to play to get them to work on one book, but it works. Check out the double splash-page on pages 2 and 3: lots of space, beautiful perspective, clean body lines, flags and hair curling in the wind. Evocative. Ruffino’s colors here, especially the bright glows around the lasso and the battle axe, really give a sense of power. The bottom left panel of page 6 also really caught my eye as something I had never expected out of Scott’s hand. Diana in this one looks young, caring and wise, and even has a bit of a Jessica Alba thing going on. It’s a new take on drawing Wonder Woman and I liked it a lot. DC should keep this company (yes, I’m using the military term) of inkers with Nicola Scott.

On the writing, Greg Rucka is becoming one of my three favourite writers (the other impressive pens in the field are Geoff Johns and Gail Simone). The standard narrative style in comics has become first person monologue in the text boxes. The voice, the flavour, and cadences of each character’s monologue have become pretty predictable too: lot of terse, noir-ish tones and feels. But this issue is different in tone and content. Diana not only has an elevated, aristocratic style of speaking, but the content is surprising and fresh. No other character would be able to pull off something like “He promises more sacrilege to come. He wants me angry. He never did understand me.” This is pure Diana, the kind of Wonder Woman who has been surprising me for the last dozen issues of her main series. DC really makes her look like one of the big three of the DCU because they make her wiser, better than other characters. Her insight into the Blackest Night is also revealing (on both the plot and her character) with lines like: “Life is much more than seven simple colors,” and when Lord is trying to get her emoting to charge the black lantern battery, “Love can’t be taken, only given…” Rucka’s skill as a writer is such that I’m assuming that that wasn’t a throw-away line. He’s hinting at another weapon the heroes are finding to use against the black lanterns.

What’s Not So Good: The only complaint I want to mention is that, as far as villains go, Maxwell Lord has never really had me shaking in my boots. He’s no Joker, Sinestro, Darkseid or Brainiac. I never felt a true sense of menace. To elevate Wonder Woman and make her the A-list character they want, Rucka, Schlagman and Berganza are going to have to pull out the A-list villains for her.

Conclusion: Blackest Night: Wonder Woman #1 opens with a bang and promises a lot. Rucka, Scott and team put out a fine issue and I will definitely be back for issue #2.

Grade: B+

-DS Arsenault

by Matt Fraction (writer), Terry Dodson (pencils), Rachel Dodson (inks), Justin Ponsor (colors), and Joe Caramagna (letters)

The Story: Scott ventures into Emma’s mind in an attempt to seperate her from the void as tensions grow among Utopia’s residents.

What’s Good:  X-Men fans will no doubt be absolutely thrilled to know that this month is a Greg Land-free zone.  I’ll admit that over the past couple of months, my position on land has reached something akin to sadly ambivalent resignation.  The Dodsons’ signature style has always been fun and as a result, this entire experience of this issue is a much more pleasant affair compared to the past few Land-drawn books.  I can’t necessarily point to specific images that blew me away, nor can I talk in specifics.  All I can say is that the book as a whole feels so different and so much better under the Dodsons’ hands.  It feels so much more fun, so much more full of life, and so much more likable.  Hell, even though they aren’t writing, the book even feels smarter.  Under the Dodsons, Uncanny essentially becomes a better book, one that’ll leave you feeling a lot happier and a lot more eager to read it.

To be fair, though, this is also a better outing by Fraction as well.  While last week’s book was little more than an extended action sequence, this month is much more character-based and human.  It’s a more intimate, relatable, and engaging read for these reasons.

Normally, I’m not a fan of books centered on one character’s adventures in another’s mind.  Such comics often end up being strange for strange’s sake, while not carrying the gravitas that a good book should.  That said, I rather enjoyed Scott’s adventures in Emma’s brain.  Largely, this is due to the dynamic between the two characters, but even more so, it’s because Fraction does not attempt to have these abstract psychic adventures fill the entire issue.  We get extended breaks from all the psychic wandering, and as a result, what wandering there is more palatable and the book feels much better paced.  Furthermore, Fraction takes a minimalist approach to Emma’s mind.  It’s big, blank, and full of doppelgangers; the Void’s presence makes it weird and creepy, but Fraction’s restraint keeps it from going off the deep-end.

Meanwhile, Beast’s reappearance in the book’s pages is a welcome, grounded relief and he remains a well-written character.  I also continue to enjoy whenever Fraction treats the logistic difficulties of living on a “floating” asteroid.  His acknowledging the real difficulties of sustained living on such an impossible location make the book feel more intelligent and eases the already massive strain on the suspension of disbelief.

What’s Not So Good: Fraction’s minimalist approach to his depiction of Emma’s mind is a bit double-edged.  While it prevents the book from becoming lost in the wilds of indecipherable abstraction and metaphor, Fraction may very well have taken it a little far in making Emma’s mind nothing but a white blank.  It’s bland and empty and one can’t help but wish Fraction pushed the very able Dodsons a little more.

Also, while the artwork was great, I’m not sure if the opening scene with a Predator X was necessary, given how much was already going on in this book.  It doesn’t help that it’s the only scene not on Utopia and as a result, it feels detached and not at all the sort of introduction or prologue that an opening two pages should be.

Conclusion: A really good issue of Uncanny accompanied by refreshingly vibrant, characterful artwork

Grade: B+

-Alex Evans

by Kieron Gillen (writer), Billy Tan (pencils), Batt (inks), Christina Strain (colors), and Joe Sabino (letters)

The Story: Balder begins his war with Doom, as the Latverian dictator’s experiments stand revealed.

What’s Good: Gillen and Tan have a very unenviable task in following one of the greatest Thor runs of all time.  Thankfully, Gillen tries his best to work in the spirit of JMS’ final few issues.   There are no problematic shifts in character voices.  Balder and Loki in particular remain just as sound as ever.  If anything, Loki seems a little less sinister and a little sleazier under Gillen’s hand.  His manipulations are just a little more blunt and obvious, but for the time being, it works given the circumstances.

Gillen also gets the award for writing the most arrogant and pompous Doom of the month.  At times it’s a little over-the-top, but ultimately, Gillen successfully straddles the line between badass and campy. Gillen’s Doom is a vibrant, scenery-chewing read and really dominates every page he appears on.

In the meantime, there’s a rather humorous Fantastic Four cameo in the book that got a smile out of me and I actually felt Gillen’s Balder to be an improvement over JMS’ portrayal of the character over the past few issues.  While still a far cry from Reed Richards, Balder actually isn’t a dumbass under Gillen’s pen, despite maintaining his standard heroic shtick.

On art, this is some of the best work I’ve seen Billy Tan produce in some time and is head and shoulders over his recent New Avengers work.  It’s clear that Tan put absolutely everything he had into this issue.  It is easily up to the standard that Coipell and Djurdjevic have set for the series.  It’s very detailed, while maintaining a dark and epic atmosphere and mystique.  Tan’s effort is close to faultless and superior to Djurdjevic’s rushed work last week.  Despite my concern, if Tan can maintain the quality he showed this month, he was definitely the right man for the job.  Also, his illustrations of Doom’s “experiments” are fantastic.

What’s Not So Good: I was nothing less than irate over Gillen’s treatment of one of JMS’ original characters.  In my review of last week’s finale, I stated that JMS’ massive change in direction for this character was perhaps the most interesting strand he left open at the end of his run.  Gillen, however, seemed to have nothing for the character and so, decides to kill said character off.  He basically took one of the most interesting dangling plots that JMS left behind and completely snuffed it out.  The fact that he does this in literally the very first scene of the book is nothing less than insulting.

Even if the character isn’t dead, it doesn’t change the fact that Gillen has placed the character in a passive position of distress, in need of being saved.  This would be a massive step backward from the terrifyingly pro-active state JMS left the character in.

Other than that, Doom, while enjoyable, does refer to himself in the third person a little too much.  Also, there’s a bit of dialogue where Donald Blake essentially out-thinks Reed Richards.  That Reed would not be able to figure out a basic line of reasoning, especially one related to technology, is ridiculous.

Finally, in an effort to convey Jane’s shadowed surroundings, colorist Christina Strain somehow manages to change poor Jane’s ethnicity.  I had no idea Dr. Foster was Hispanic.

Conclusion: It’s far from the horrific drop-off some predicted, but there are some small glitches and the character death is absolutely unforgivable.

Grade: C+

-Alex Evans

I saw this response from heffison over at Newsarama in response to an article on the maiming that occurs in the lastest issue of Cry for Justice:

“When did people start reading DC comics to see the realistic possible outcomes of fighting crime?  I’ve always wanted to read stories where the superheroes win, and the world is a better place for having them.  I want to read about a wonderful world that would be more fun and exciting than this one.  Instead, we see too many stories about the superfolk as victims rather than heroes, set in a world where just about anyone is likely to be slaughtered by some nut trying to get a superhero’s attention. The heroes themselves look like serial failures, having few clear victories instead of “Oh, that’s who’s really behind it” arc endings.  The DCU isn’t as much of a fun place to spend fantasy time anymore.”

Quoted for truth.

Brian Michael Bendis, for all his massive talent on books like Powers, Alias, Daredevil, etc… has a serious and fundamental problem with event comics.  Specifically, with the ideas of ’cause’ and ‘effect’.  Which is to say, his conclusions have nothing to do with the stories that precede them.  After a few issues of exciting or emotional storytelling, it often peters off into a confused mess of nonsense meant to have ‘gravity’ that really just functions as a way to say “This is where Marvel wanted the status quo to be at the end of the story.”  But with Siege limited to four issues, I figured it was worth it to give one of my formerly favorite writers another shot.

Siege: The Cabal is for the most part utterly disposable.  While some things of note happen, the only BIG one is telegraphed on the book’s cover – the falling out between Doom and the overstepping Norman Osborn.  Still, Bendis actually does a good job here of giving people motives and then following through on those motives, making the proceedings believable, enjoyable and intense.  Each of the main players are distinctly characterized, the dialogue is quick and functional, and the brief action is exciting and surprising, though he plays a particularly obnoxious game in his efforts to hide Osborn’s super-weapon from us.

Lark turns in good work, as Lark always does.  While most writers have little trouble keeping action scenes energetic and exciting (and Lark is definitely capable of that), a strength of his art here is that he (along with Gaudiano and Hollingsworth on inks and colors respectively) also does an excellent job with Bendis’ extended talking heads scenes, using the layout, shadows and angles to help keep the reader’s attention where it needs to be.

Siege: The Cabal also provides a brief, unnecessary preview of the upcoming event that does little to flatter it.  Even Loki essentially says, “This is how Civil War started – let’s do it again!”  If you enjoy minis with dimwitted heroes accidentally murdering thousands of people in an effort to start a frankly unbelievable witch hunt against a subsection of the population, well, then it looks like you can either read Siege or just go read your back-issues of Civil War.  For now, however, those who are excited for the upcoming event will probably find something to get excited about in Siege: The Cabal.  It may be disposable, but it’s still well-crafted.

Grade: B

- Cal Cleary

Full review posted to comixtreme.com.

Story: 4.5/5
Art: 4/5
Overall: 4.5/5

Full review posted to comixtreme.com.

Story: 4/5
Art: 4/5
Overall: 4/5

Full review posted to comixtreme.com.

Story: 3.5/5
Art: 4/5
Overall: 3.5/5

Full review posted to comixtreme.com.

Story: 3/5
Art: 3/5
Overall: 3/5

LAS CALLES DE ARENA OR HOW TO BUILD A STAIRWAY TO THE MOON

By Nimbus

Las calles de arena (The Streets of Sand, or The Sandy Streets, in English), is a comic book (others would call it a ‘graphic novel’) by Paco Roca, an author born in Valencia (South-East of Spain), and published in April 2009 by Astiberri. Paco Roca received the Premio Nacional de Cómic award in 2008 for his previous work, Arrugas (Wrinkles), also published by Astiberri. Apart from being a comic author, he works as a book illustrator and animation designer.

This must be my return to the world of comics. Just like the end of 2008 marked my return to the world of anime, I’m starting to feel that well-known urge to eat, drink and breathe a whole load of pictograms, balloons and onomatopeias like I did when I was a kid. Oh wait, I must be mixing fiction and reality again…. What I meant was that I would have loved to waste away the hours of day reading comics when I was a kid. Only, I really couldn’t (and I really tried), simply because I’ve always preferred drawing comics to reading them. I have to admit comics have always bored me a little, even when I was a kid. But then again, I haven’t finished any of the stories I’ve started drawing… double shame on me….

The power of words. The power of love. The power of… will-power. That’s what Roca is talking about, right off the bat, when he introduces the nameless male lead of the story. To fight destiny and change one’s life in the utmost unexpected way, to throw it all away and start from scratch, and, eventually, to be and feel free, albeit not through death. Roca’s vision is not a naive one, even though it may look like it is. There’s a price for freedom, and a road paved with sacrifices and broken dreams along the way. The question is: are you ready/willing to pay the price? The nameless man starts his journey towards freedom with a bag full of prejudices and constraints, but eventually can’t help being himself and embracing the alternate reality he’s gotten into while dropping, one after the other, each ideological burden that stands in his way to accept himself and his circumstances. Let’s see how this reading works in the context of the book:

Story and narration

Some people tend to think that comics are first and foremost works of literature, and accordingly they give the highest importance to story, plot, narration, character development, etc. I, for one, think that comics are works of literature that use images as the code to purport meaning (and I mean images instead of words). It’s not my intention to get into a debate on semiotics, the power of images as signs vs words and the like (not with an empty stomach, anyway), so I’ll leave that question aside. I just want to point out that images in comic are read rather than watched, but also are sometimes watched rather than read. So, depending on the circumstance, the emphasis should go on the literary side of images in comics, or on the visual (note that I don’t necessarily imply ‘artistic’) side of them. Whether they are read or watched, very much depends on the reader/watcher, her/his circumstances, the quality and features of the work itself, etc. Anyway, I’m digressing.

This particular work makes a clear bet on the literary side of comics, hence the importance given to the story and narration. The verbose prologue forewarns us already, talking about the many literary references the work echoes (I’ll get into those in a minute). So, how does Roca handle the development of this story within the realm of narrative techniques? Quite nicely, if I may say so. The story tells us about a character, a man in his late twenties/early thirties, who’s spacing out on a comic bookshop only to be pushed into the harsh real world by a phone call from his girlfriend, about a bank loan they need for their new flat. The man is almost late for the appointment, so he decides to try a short-cut through the town’s old quarter, a place he always gets lost in (he tells so himself). Predictably, the narrow intricate streets confuse him and soon he gets lost, to the extent that not only he misses his appointment but also finds himself totally unable to get out of the quarter. Night comes and he’s still wandering in search of the exit. Then he comes across the Hotel La Torre (Tower Hotel), and this is the point where the real story begins, and a series of surreralistic/dream-like/absurd events take place: the man becomes ‘the nameless man’, because he seems unable to recall his own name, and as he tries to find a means to get back to his former life, he also makes relationships with the inhabitants of the hotel and finally finds his place in that environment. I wont spoil the ending for you, if you haven’t read the book, but let me just tell you the man finally decides to remain in the moon (or in the clouds, as we say in English), and quite literally too.

There are hints of surrealism and existentialism everywhere. The prologue pisses me off in that it makes this point excessively overt with names and details and all: anyone with a basic knowledge on literature should be able to make out those references by herself/himself. But that’s not the author’s fault, since the prologue was written by some other guy. Yes, there’s a lot of Borges, and some Cortazar too, and (to a lesser extent) some of Beckett’s meaningless journeys, or even some Buñuel (that inability of getting out of a place clearly echoes El ángel exterminador). But the strongest influence, in my opinion, must be Kafka. The Czech author embodies everything I’ve mentioned before: the absurd of modern life, surrealism, existentialism…. He’s a vademecum for contemporary nightmares, and is even more relevant in today’s hurried and technologically-biased way of life (the Internet should provide you with a bunch of absurd situations and instances… this blog being one of them), than in his own days. Roca takes all those influences and throws them in his work, but they’re always kept behind: his own story comes first all the while, the references just filling in the empty spaces and the gaps, and giving them a meaning they wouldn’t attain otherwise. That’s the main reason why this story stands out: it’s well written, well thought, and developed in the best possible way.

The narration is quite consistent throughout. The story starts at a slow and quiet pace, and so it remains until page 68, where the narration gets an unexpected twist that rushes the plot headlong towards the climactic ending. It’s not that the pace changes drastically, it’s just that it’s slightly more upbeat. The change was needed, too, because the initial absurd situations gradually give way to some sort of costumbrismo that may be a bit too ‘quiet’ even for this kind of story. The whole story is also quite linear, which means there are almost no flashbacks (I just found one instance, and a very short one actually), noticeable time-leaps or that kind of literary devices. The story flows easily and (relatively) peacefully until page 68, when the theatre of absurd momentarily becomes a mystery play, and then a dream (a real one, this time) turns this micro-cosmos upside down and creates havoc all around.

Characters

The cast of characters for this book is fairly strong. I’ll talk about the most relevant ones:

The nameless man: The male lead character. The narration is focused on him until page 75 (which marks the end of his dream and the beginning of chaos); then he momentarily disappears, to reappear again in page 92. Those 17 pages (and the aforementioned flashback) aside, he’s always present and his focus guides the narrator’s silent speech. The nameless man is a average adult male, cultured but with a strong tendency to evade reality and responsibility. He’s the spirit of a poet who’s imprisoned within the logic of the real world. The fact that the alternate reality he gets lost in is absurd and dream-like is just a sign of his unstoppable desire to run away.

Blanca: One of the female protagonists. She’s the post-woman (about twenty-five years old) who both writes and delivers her own letters in a wonderful metaphor for loneliness. She’s definitely a richer and much more complex character than the man with no name; she seems to have reached the ‘middle-point’ of accepting reality without sacrificing her dreams, a middle-point the man with no name seems still far from reaching (though the end might be a hint that he’s already on the right track). From the beginning it’s obvious she has some feelings for the man with no name.

Esther: The landlady at the Tower Hotel. She always seems to be angry and complains about the little time she has to spare when she’s not at the reception desk. She has a crush on Mr. Rosendo de los Vientos, one of the inhabitants of the hotel, and frequently prepares cookies to be sent to him (though she’d like to take them personally).

Mr. Rueda: The man in charge of the hotel’s heating system (which consists of a seemingly infinite number of boilers that must be constantly fixed). He’s a stout bald man who’s secretly in love with Esther and is terribly jealous of Mr. Rosendo de los Vientos. For that reason he occasionally breaks some of the boilers on purpose so that they don’t work properly. This in turn, prevents Esther from enjoying her free days and visiting Mr. Rosendo, which makes her angry….

Ignacio: The man with no name’s room-mate. He’s a short man, apparently in his early fifties, who’s been staying at the hotel for thirty years, simply because he’s unable to get his bag ready and leave. His main (and actually his only) occupation is putting the things he must carry (a compass, a knife, a first-aid kit, binoculars, a water bottle, a lantern and some food) into his little bag, only to constantly take them all out since he wants to make sure whether he hasn’t forgotten anything. He’s another case of someone who’s afraid of reality, someone who tries to act over-responsibly in order to avoid responsibility.I wonder what this guy does for a living….

Count Diógenes: A vampire who tries to hide from the sunlight (the house he lives in has a rotating mechanism that allows the whole building turn (just like the clock’s hands) on its axis as the sun goes from East to West. This is another beautiful metaphor for the passing of time and the fear of death and losing someone’s treasured memories. The Count clings to his memories by piling up thousands of tiny (and mostly useless) objects instead of relying on his own memory and the emotional imprint the events in his long life have left on him. Besides, being a vampire he can’t see himself; for that reason he has hundreds of portraits hung on every wall, and is always making commissions to have another portrait (another side of him) painted by somebody else’s hand.

Other relevant characters are: Mr. Rosendo de los Vientos (a map-maker/cartographer with an Argentinian accent), Mrs. Carmen (a gentle housewife whose husband literally lives in a coffin and just awaits death), and Colonel Francisco Piedra, an old retired military man obsessed with cloning his late wife, only to become frustrated because none of the clones falls in love with him (as, probably, neither did his wife, in the first place, since we get to know later on that she had some secret love affair with Count Diógenes).

Art

The art for this book is plainly functional and quite simple, that can’t be denied. The drawing style, unattractive as it may seem, though, is impeccable. The visuals follow a ‘clear-style’ line, tightly linked to the European trends (mostly the French/Belgian one). Moebius and Herge stand out as clear influences, rather than Ibáñez or any other Spanish author (though Roca has claimed somewhere that one of his influences has always been Mortadelo y Filemón (Mort and Phil); I saw none of this here). I could accept there’s a bit of Jan’s preference for the realistic depiction of small cities and villages (as we see in his later Superlópez books), and maybe a bit of Andrés Rábago ‘El Roto’s drawing style, but just a bit of it, if anything. The rest of visual influences clearly comes from France and Belgium, period. And the classic masters, of course (there’s actually an image of Mrs. Carmen on page 70 that looks just like Botticelli’s Venus in The Birth of Venus; that’s what I call an eye for poses!).

Now, the panels are fairly conventional: the author always plays on the safe side. Here you won’t find any of those daring compositions so frequent in Japanese or American comics. This is a comic about a story, not about flashy designs. Everything is hand-drawn (or at least hand-inked), without the assistance of templates, and this fact alone adds a nice and cozy feel to the overall visual impression. I also liked the form and disposition of the text-balloons; I found them quite creative and suited for the tone set for the story. As regards the ink work, the author relies exclusively on the line expression alone, with no hatching for shading or for ornamental purposes (in a way similar to Hergè’s use of ink). However, whereas Hergè’s lines, in spite of being bare and simple, are also smooth and elegant, which would make any use of ornament counter-productive or superfluous, Roca’s lines are harsh and rough, and give off a slight feeling of coldness and detachment. This is not a bad thing in itself, it’s just a matter of my personal preference as regards drawing styles, which goes rather in the direction of Moebius’, Milo Manara’s or Katsuhiro Otomo’s excellent drawing. When it comes to composition within the panel frames, nevertheless, Roca’s work is simply stunning: every pose, every shot (be it a close-up shot, a three-quarters shot, etc.), every framing for each character is thoroughly analyzed; it’s obvious a lot of work has gone into composing and arranging each panel so as to reach the best visual solution. Every character’s disposition and proportions are just the way they should be. This is even more noticeable if you take a look at the roughs the author displays in his own website (www.pacoroca.com, a site I encourage you to visit; there you’ll find information and images of most of Roca’s previous works) and compare them with the definitive pages. Those roughs represent the seminal idea for the corresponding final pages, and they present (almost invariably) closer shots and more ‘intimate’ dispositions of the characters in each frame. The definitive printed pages, however, display (again, almost invariably) more distanced and, sadly, a lot colder and more inexpressive frame dispositions for every character. I would seem as though the ‘camera-eye’ (the author’s view and intentions) had been pulled backwards all the time so as tho infuse air and space to every panel. Eventually, the printed pages come off with a more professional look, but they also leave a colder and fainter emotional imprint (at least they did so in my case).

And then there’s the issue of colour…. Colour is (or, rather, should be) one of the most relevant features of this book. It sets the mood for each scene, and it also defines the emotional impact of each character and character-interaction. Each character and environment is associated with a particular colour or combination of them; for instance, the hotel La Torre’s reception and corridors are always painted in greens and reds (green and red is the most saturated combination of complementary colours, and tend to be used to highlight a stressing or heavy situation). Since Esther is almost always at the hotel’s reception room, she’s also identified with those colours, and her stressed behaviour suits the colours accordingly. The other characters are also marked by their personal colours: Ignacio and his room’s colours are mostly yellow and light green (ironically, the excess of ‘reason’ -symbolized by yellow- proves to be of no use since he’s bound to fail at each and every attempt of leaving the hotel); Mr. Rosendo de los Vientos’ basic colour is a thick brown, recreating the oppressive and claustrophobic way of life he’s forced to live because of his agoraphobia (just like his canary-bird is imprisoned in its tight cage); Count Diógenes lives in a shop filled with dark purple hues (purple is a colour strongly associated with religion, spiritualism and mysticism, and we know the count is a fairly mystic and mysterious character); Blanca’s dress is always orange and black (had she been dressed in yellow and black she’d look more like a dangerous femme fatale and less like the nice and happy character she actually is), etc. Unfortunately, almost all colours tend towards the orange, the red or the brown, which kills the brightness, saturation and definition of an otherwise smart palette, and is all the more unpleasant to the eye when it applies to greens and purples. This is not, however, the author’s fault, but rather the result of the producers’ inadequate choice of printing paper and overall poor editing process. This can be fully appreciated if (again), we compare the author’s original pages as they are displayed in his website with the corresponding final printed pages. The former present brighter and much more saturated colours, and (since we’re talking about the author’s own site) they probably reflect the way those colours should have looked like had they been correctly printed.

Anyway, this is just a debate on technobabble that will probably hold no interest for most readers, who’ll most surely not notice the quality drop in editing in the first place. As it is, curiously enough, the book’s mood slightly resembles the colours Jean-Pierre Jeunet tends to use in his films, especially in Delicatessen and Amelie (those yellows and acid greens combined with the melancholy of a warm unending sunset are just perfect for setting a timeless yet surrealistic mood). In the case of Amelie there’s actually a fairly similar treatment as regards the depiction of the main character’s neighbours (though, admittedly, these are much more kindly and respectfully looked at in Las calles de arena), no matter how weird or absurd their behaviour may be. Perhaps if Astiberri takes the decision of publishing a second edition with better printed colours we may finally come to see what the author really tried to communicate.

Favourite scene

Every time Blanca appears the story gets more interesting; thus, I’m going to choose the scene where she and the man with no name take a walk along the harbour (pages 64-67) as my favourite sequence. There one can almost smell the salt in the air, hear the song of the gulls or feel the coastal breeze blow over the sea under the midday’s sun. Besides, the end of this sequence presents one of the best pieces of dialogue in the whole book. The last panel in page 67 with that bird’s eye view is absolutely terrific.

Famous last words

This is a great comic book. The story is really good and easily shows that the author is a great story-teller (though just a competent draughtsman). The characters are rich, rounded and detailed, and the lack of background information about them doesn’t hinder the reading nor the enjoyment one may get from it. In all, this is a nice adult-oriented dreamy story, highly recommended for anyone with a tendency to fly to the moon and skip the sour flavours of reality.

Rating:

(4 stars out of 6: really good)

Brian Michael Bendis, for all his massive talent on books like Powers, Alias, Daredevil, etc… has a serious and fundamental problem with event comics.  Specifically, with the ideas of ’cause’ and ‘effect’.  Which is to say, his conclusions have nothing to do with the stories that precede them.  After a few issues of exciting or emotional storytelling, it often peters off into a confused mess of nonsense meant to have ‘gravity’ that really just functions as a way to say “This is where Marvel wanted the status quo to be at the end of the story.”  But with Siege limited to four issues, I figured it was worth it to give one of my formerly favorite writers another shot.

Siege: The Cabal is for the most part utterly disposable.  While some things of note happen, the only BIG one is telegraphed on the book’s cover – the falling out between Doom and the overstepping Norman Osborn.

Lark turns in good work, as Lark always does.  While

Much like Blackest Night: The Flash #1, Wonder Woman #1 is set entirely in the build-up to Blackest Night #5.  And much like Blackest Night: The Flash #1, Wonder Woman #1 offers a fair bit of continuity reminders, though it never stops the story completely to give them and they’re never unnecessary.  Unlike the week’s other Blackest Night mini, however, Blackest Night: Wonder Woman #1 also offers a fairly interesting look at one of comics’ hardest heroes to write, and it does so with very, very few flaws.

Narrated to mimic Simone’s current run, Rucka makes a good impression right off the bat.  It continues throughout, as he combines a narrative that cuts to the character’s core with plenty of enjoyable banter.  Few writers have grasped Diana quite the way Rucka has, and even working off of Simone’s recent model of the character, there’s little doubt in this single issue what she stands for.  An enemy that would give most heroes a great deal of pause for angst is instead dealt with in a logical, strangely mature manner here as Wonder Woman displays that she’s more than come to terms with killing Maxwell Lord, and Rucka leaves me genuinely curious as to how he’ll deal with Black Lantern Diana next month.

Nicola Scott does absolutely lovely work here, as she always does.  Her action segments are smooth and clear without ever seeming static, her characters are all distinct.  Brief sigh gags, like Lord meditating, head on backwards, introduce brief moments of levity, but Rucka mostly uses the issue as a character study of Diana, and Scott is game to provide all the drama and emotion he wants underlying the large scenes of mayhem and carnage.

With “Life is much more than seven simple colors,” Rucka cuts closer to the heart of Blackest Night and the War of Light than any writer thus far.  Wonder Woman is a complex character, and Rucka smartly acknowledges that completely independently of where she exists on the emotional spectrum.  Wonder Woman cares, and that in no way hampers her ability to fight the Black Lanterns.  Rucka and Scott do more with Wonder Woman in this one issue than the last three events combined have managed.  I can’t wait to see what they do next.

Grade: A-

Cal Cleary

Read/RANT

LAS CALLES DE ARENA OR HOW TO BUILD A STAIRWAY TO THE MOON

By Nimbus*

Las calles de arena (The Streets of Sand, or The Sandy Streets, in English), is a comic book (others would call it a ‘graphic novel’) by Paco Roca, an author born in Valencia (South-East of Spain), and published in April 2009 by Astiberri. Paco Roca received the Premio Nacional de Cómic award in 2008 for his previous work, Arrugas (Wrinkles), also published by Astiberri. Apart from being a comic author, he works as a book illustrator and animation designer.

This must be my return to the world of comics. Just like the end of 2008 marked my return to the world of anime, I’m starting to feel that well-known urge to eat, drink and breathe a whole load of pictograms, balloons and onomatopeias like I did when I was a kid. Oh wait, I must be mixing fiction and reality again…. What I meant was that I would have loved to waste away the hours of day reading comics when I was a kid. Only, I really couldn’t (and I really tried), simply because I’ve always preferred drawing comics to reading them. I have to admit comics have always bored me a little, even when I was a kid. But then again, I haven’t finished any of the stories I’ve started drawing… double shame on me, and oh, now I seem to recall the story of a giant fish king with a vagina mouth who used to swallow every*cough, cough*ahem*cough*…. What was I…?

The power of words. The power of love. The power of… will-power. That’s what Roca is talking about, right off the bat, when he introduces the nameless male lead of the story. To fight destiny and change one’s life in the utmost unexpected way, to throw it all away and start from scratch, and, eventually, to be and feel free, albeit not through death. Roca’s vision is not a naive one, even though it may look like it is. There’s a price for freedom, and a road paved with sacrifices and broken dreams along the way. The question is: are you ready/willing to pay the price? The nameless man starts his journey towards freedom with a bag full of prejudices and constraints, but eventually can’t help being himself and embracing the alternate reality he’s gotten into while dropping, one after the other, each ideological burden that stands in his way to accept himself and his circumstances. Let’s see how this reading works in the context of the book:

Story and narration

Some people tend to think that comics are first and foremost works of literature, and accordingly they give the highest importance to story, plot, narration, character development, etc. I, for one, think that comics are works of literature that use images as the code to purport meaning (and I mean images instead of words). It’s not my intention to get into a debate on semiotics, the power of images as signs vs words and the like (not with an empty stomach, anyway), so I’ll leave that question aside. I just want to point out that images in comic are read rather than watched, but also are sometimes watched rather than read. So, depending on the circumstance, the emphasis should go on the literary side of images in comics, or on the visual (note that I don’t necessarily imply ‘artistic’) side of them. Whether they are read or watched, very much depends on the reader/watcher, her/his circumstances, the quality and features of the work itself, etc. Anyway, I’m digressing.

This particular work makes a clear bet on the literary side of comics, hence the importance given to the story and narration. The verbose prologue forewarns us already, talking about the many literary references the work echoes (I’ll get into those in a minute). So, how does Roca handle the development of this story within the realm of narrative techniques? Quite nicely, if I may say so. The story tells us about a character, a man in his late twenties/early thirties, who’s spacing out on a comic bookshop only to be pushed into the harsh real world by a phone call from his girlfriend, about a bank loan they need for their new flat. The man is almost late for the appointment, so he decides to try a short-cut through the town’s old quarter, a place he always gets lost in (he tells so himself). Predictably, the narrow intricate streets confuse him and soon he gets lost, to the extent that not only he misses his appointment but also finds himself totally unable to get out of the quarter. Night comes and he’s still wandering in search of the exit. Then he comes across the Hotel La Torre (Tower Hotel), and this is the point where the real story begins, and a series of surreralistic/dream-like/absurd events take place: the man becomes ‘the nameless man’, because he seems unable to recall his own name, and as he tries to find a means to get back to his former life, he also makes relationships with the inhabitants of the hotel and finally finds his place in that environment. I wont spoil the ending for you, if you haven’t read the book, but let me just tell you the man finally decides to remain in the moon (or in the clouds, as we say in English), and quite literally too.

There are hints of surrealism and existentialism everywhere. The prologue pisses me off in that it makes this point excessively overt with names and details and all: anyone with a basic knowledge on literature should be able to make out those references by herself/himself. But that’s not the author’s fault, since the prologue was written by some other guy. Yes, there’s a lot of Borges, and some Cortazar too, and (to a lesser extent) some of Beckett’s meaningless journeys, or even some Buñuel (that inability of getting out of a place clearly echoes El ángel exterminador). But the strongest influence, in my opinion, must be Kafka. The Czech author embodies everything I’ve mentioned before: the absurd of modern life, surrealism, existentialism…. He’s a vademecum for contemporary nightmares, and is even more relevant in today’s hurried and technologically-biased way of life (the Internet should provide you with a bunch of absurd situations and instances… this blog being one of them), than in his own days. Roca takes all those influences and throws them in his work, but they’re always kept behind: his own story comes first all the while, the references just filling in the empty spaces and the gaps, and giving them a meaning they wouldn’t attain otherwise. That’s the main reason why this story stands out: it’s well written, well thought, and developed in the best possible way.

The narration is quite consistent throughout. The story starts at a slow and quiet pace, and so it remains until page 68, where the narration gets an unexpected twist that rushes the plot headlong towards the climactic ending. It’s not that the pace changes drastically, it’s just that it’s slightly more upbeat. The change was needed, too, because the initial absurd situations gradually give way to some sort of costumbrismo that may be a bit too ‘quiet’ even for this kind of story. The whole story is also quite linear, which means there are almost no flashbacks (I just found one instance, and a very short one actually), noticeable time-leaps or that kind of literary devices. The story flows easily and (relatively) peacefully until page 68, when the theatre of absurd momentarily becomes a mystery play, and then a dream (a real one, this time) turns this micro-cosmos upside down and creates havoc all around.

Characters

The cast of characters for this book is fairly strong. I’ll talk about the most relevant ones:

The nameless man: The male lead character. The narration is focused on him until page 75 (which marks the end of his dream and the beginning of chaos); then he momentarily disappears, to reappear again in page 92. Those 17 pages (and the aforementioned flashback) aside, he’s always present and his focus guides the narrator’s silent speech. The nameless man is a average adult male, cultured but with a strong tendency to evade reality and responsibility. He’s the spirit of a poet who’s imprisoned within the logic of the real world. The fact that the alternate reality he gets lost in is absurd and dream-like is just a sign of his unstoppable desire to run away.

Blanca: One of the female protagonists. She’s the post-woman (about twenty-five years old) who both writes and delivers her own letters in a wonderful metaphor for loneliness. She’s definitely a richer and much more complex character than the man with no name; she seems to have reached the ‘middle-point’ of accepting reality without sacrificing her dreams, a middle-point the man with no name seems still far from reaching (though the end might be a hint that he’s already on the right track). From the beginning it’s obvious she has some feelings for the man with no name.

Esther: The landlady at the Tower Hotel.  She always seems to be angry and complains about the little time she has to spare when she’s not at the reception desk. She has a crush on Mr. Rosendo de los Vientos, one of the inhabitants of the hotel, and frequently prepares cookies to be sent to him (though she’d like to take them personally).

Mr. Rueda: The man in charge of the hotel’s heating system (which consists of a seemingly infinite number of boilers that must be constantly fixed). He’s a stout bald man who’s secretly in love with Esther and is terribly jealous of Mr. Rosendo de los Vientos. For that reason he himself occasionally breaks some of the boilers so that they don’t work properly. This in turn, prevents Esther from enjoying her free days and visiting Mr. Rosendo, which makes her angry….

Ignacio: The man with no name’s room-mate. He’s a short man, apparently in his early fifties, who’s been staying at the hotel for thirty years, simply because he’s unable to get his bag ready and leave. His main (and actually his only) occupation is putting the things he must carry (a compass, a knife, a first-aid kit, binoculars, a water bottle, a lantern and some food) into his little bag, only to constantly take them all out since he wants to make sure whether he hasn’t forgotten anything. He’s another case of someone who’s afraid of reality, someone who tries to act over-responsibly in order to avoid responsibility.I’ve always wondered what this guy does for a living….

Count Diógenes: A vampire who tries to hide from the sunlight (the house he lives in has a rotating mechanism that allows the whole building turn (just like the clock’s hands) on its axis as the sun goes from East to West. This is another beautiful metaphor for the passing of time and the fear of death and losing someone’s treasured memories. The Count clings to his memories by piling up thousands of tiny (and mostly useless) objects instead of relying on his own memory and the emotional imprint the events in his long life have left on him. Besides, being a vampire he can’t see himself; for that reason he has hundreds of portraits hung on every wall, and is always making commissions to have another portrait (another side of him) painted by somebody else’s hand.

Other relevant characters are: Mr. Rosendo de los Vientos (a map-maker/cartographer with an Argentinian accent), Mrs. Carmen (a gentle housewife whose husband literally lives in a coffin and just awaits death), and Colonel Francisco Piedra, an old retired military man obsessed with cloning his late wife, only to become frustrated because none of the clones falls in love with him (as, probably, neither did his wife, in the first place, since we get to know later on that she had some secret love affair with Count Diógenes).

Art

The art for this book is plainly functional and quite simple, that can’t be denied. The drawing style, unattractive as it may seem, though, is impeccable. The visuals follow a ‘clear-style’ line, tightly linked to the European trends (mostly the French/Belgian one). Moebius and Herge stand out as clear influences, more than Ibañez or any other Spanish author (though Roca has claimed somewhere that one of his influences has always been Mortadelo y Filemón (Mort and Phil); I saw none of this here). I could accept there’s a bit of Jan’s preference for the realistic depiction of small cities and villages (as we see in his later Superlópez books), and maybe a bit of Andrés Rábago ‘El Roto’s drawing style, but just a bit of it, if anything. The rest of visual influences clearly comes from France and Belgium, period. And the classic masters, of course (there’s actually an image of Mrs. Carmen on page 70 that looks just like Botticelli’s Venus in The Birth of Venus; that’s what I call an eye for poses!).

Now, the panels are fairly conventional: the author always plays on the safe side. Here you won’t find any of those daring compositions so frequent in Japanese or American comics. This is a comic about a story, not about flashy designs. Everything is hand-drawn (or at least hand-inked), without the assistance of templates, and this fact alone adds a nice and cozy feel to the overall visual impression. I also liked the form and disposition of the text-balloons; I found them quite creative and suited for the tone set for the story.

And then there’s the issue of colour….

Geoff Johns, at his best and at his worst.  Blackest Night: The Flash #1 seems utterly trivial to the overall mini, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it stayed that way, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun.  Following, alternately, Barry Allen in the events leading up to the Coast City reveal of Nekron and the Rogues, pissed that someone is defiling their legacy, Blackest Night: The Flash writes its title character into something of a corner for this mini, though the reintroduction of Eobard Thawn could have ramifications down the line, by setting itself BEFORE the last issue of Blackest Night we read.

That would be less of a problem if it focused more heavily on the Rogues.  Undoubtedly the book’s strongest segments, the all-too-brief moments with the Rogues shine here.  While Barry’s by-the-books struggle moves at a snails pace, especially since Johns, quite literally, pauses every few pages to give us in-depth information about utterly inconsequential continuity tidbits, the Rogues promise an exciting blend of horror and action.  Every one of the book’s memorable moments comes from one of the Rogues’ moments, which makes it a shame they share so little of Barry’s spotlight.

See, for example, the page where they decide to go confront the undead old Rogues terrorizing Iron Heights – while Kolins’ tense, overly-posed segments with Barry Allen look strangely static for a book about the fastest man alive, he seemed to have fun with a brief appearance by Black Lantern Mirror Master, who had been spying on the Rogues’ meeting and, as soon as they left, destroyed the mirror they would use to return to the lair.  Creepy and well-styled, it very much fits the tone the book badly wants, but Kolins frequent Flash pages, outside of a few moments near the end of the book, are uninspired.

Uninspired seems like a good way to describe most of the issue, in fact.  There’s a lot of set-up, but most of it just told us things we already knew – in fact, it showed us things we’ve already seen.  Rather than telling a story, Blackest Night: The Flash #1 seems to be meticulously noting continuity and timing, a perfectionist’s dream that makes for some dreary storytelling.  The remarkably low-energy start to this three-issue mini isn’t promising, but the last-page splash of the Rogues’ walking into their old prison, intent on shooting up some zombies, suggests that maybe Johns knows what he’s doing after all.

Grade: C+

- Cal Cleary

Read/RANT

Final Crisis: Rogues’ Revenge #3

by Brian Michael Bendis (writer), Michael Lark (pencils), Stefano Gaudiano (inks), Matt Hollingsworth (colors), and Chris Eliopoulos (letters)

The Story: The Cabal implodes and lines are drawn.

What’s Good: The issue’s strongest point is its characterization.  Dr. Doom is written well by Bendis.  He’s the same absurd bad guy who insists on referring to himself in the third person. but, as usual, Doom backs all that egotism up in a big way.  In this issue, his self-righteousness and arrogance actually make him feel somewhat jarring as a character, unrealistic even, yet Bendis’ display of Doom’s power validates it.  Doom feels like he doesn’t belong because he doesn’t; he functions on a different level from Osborn.  He’s the all powerful, cackling old school villain while Osborn is something more convoluted and modern and Bendis’ depiction of this collision is well-played.

Speaking of Osborn, Bendis does a fantastic job on him as well.  Compared to Doom, Osborn actually sounds realistic; a scary thing, when Bendis essentially cements this month that Osborn’s sanity is bound to implode any day now.  The fact that Osborn’s fear of the Asgardians is based largely on advice from the Green freaking Goblin is evidence of that, and it also makes for a fantastically written conversation.

Overall though, this issues functions just as it should, truly feeling like the beginning of a slow collapse, as Norman’s finally confronted by limitations to his power. Publically, he’s reminded that he isn’t the President of the United States.  Privately, he’s bitten off more than he can chew with Doom.  And he seems to be in denial on both these points.  In probably the most beautiful bit of dialogue in the issue, he accosts Doom for making a “huge, dumb, arrogant mistake.”  When I first read that line, I thought Osborn was speaking of himself and apologizing to Victor.

Art-wise, there’s absolutely nothing to complain here.  With his signature dark, scratchy feel, Lark ably captures the action and the tense conversations with ease.  It’s a good looking book, and I couldn’t expect much more.

What’s Not So Good: For the start of Marvel’s last major event for the foreseeable future, I expected the start to have a bit more of a bang to it.  A character death perhaps, or at least a major event that leaves some sort of irreparable damage.  That I didn’t get either was a bit disappointing.

And it’s not like Bendis didn’t have his opportunities, he just seemed hell-bent on holding himself back.  Take for example the attack on Avenger’s Tower, which basically sparks off the Siege event.  There’s a beautiful illustration by Michael Lark that makes it look as though the Tower itself is on the verge of collapse, as though it were being eaten away.  I loved the idea of the Tower being destroyed.  I mean, damn, that is a way to start an event!  Of course, a couple pages later, and Norman’s back in his office and the Tower is just fine.

Well, at least Bendis can fulfill the promises Marvel has laid out in its ads and solicitations for this issue by revealing his secret partner, right?  Of course not.  Instead, we just get some glowy, vaguely humanoid shape letting loose with a couple of energy blasts with no major hint as to his/her/its identity. Great…

Bendis puts all the characters where he wants them and does what he needs to do to get an event started, but he just doesn’t bother to shoot any higher.

Conclusion: It’s an entertaining issue with very solid character work, but it could’ve been more.

Grade: B -

-Alex Evans

by Matt Wagner (writer), Amy Reeder Hadley (pencils), Richard Friend (inks), Guy Major (colors), and Jared K. Fletcher (letters)

This is probably the best issue of Madame Xanadu in months.  Of course, this is thanks in no small part to the jaw-dropper ending.  I was absolutely stunned, as it was played and set up perfectly by Wagner.  It’s the return of an element we haven’t see in a very, very long time in the series and as such, it comes out of left field.  Even better is the fact that Wager is a master when it comes to his use of red herrings.  He’s so good at it that this month’s ending simply comes out of nowhere; it’s one of those rare cases where it’s jarring in a good way.  I absolutely cannot wait for next month’s issue.

Beyond that, this month essentially does everything that Madame Xanadu does well.  It’s full of that sense of dark whimsy that has made the series such a success.  As was the case last month, while Betty’s torments are clearly horrifying and while she certainly is a sympathetic figure, it’s all rendered with a kind of black humor.  That said, this month, when her curse reaches its apex, Wagner does a great job at portraying her desperation and emotion.  While the humor is still there, this month is heavier on the horror, as Betty begins to lose not just her appearance, but her personality.  Last month, we saw her physically becoming someone else and this month, we see the mental transition, which is unsettling.  That said, Wagner still manages this with a comic touch.

And that’s it really.  Wagner is able to portray what would be some gritty, dark stuff in an accessibly light-hearted fashion.  This month’s introduction of a mysterious satanic cult, for example, is hard not to read without a smile on your face, despite none of them actually cracking jokes or making pratfalls.  It’s purely a matter of tone and atmosphere, and a mark of Wagner’s ability.

Of course, this atmosphere is also thanks in no small part to Hadley.  The satanic cult is funny because Hadley makes them funny.  There’s also a very humorous scene involving Betty’s husband and his lecherous “Tuesday night” efforts that really is quite a laugh, largely thanks to Hadley’s excellent illustrations of Betty and her husband’s respective facial expressions.  All told, it’s just a beautiful book and I’m also happy to report that colorist Guy Major is back to his usual quality fare, as opposed to the insanely bright work we got last month.

This comic really was a pitch-perfect and an enjoyable experience throughout. It has everything that got Xanadu to the Eisners. Wagner scores high with what is by far the most enjoyable issue of Madame Xanadu in a very long time. The ending will have those who’ve been on-board from the start gasping.

Grade: A-

-Alex Evans

Super Human Resources:  Season One.  Ken Marcus (story).  Justin Bleep (art).  Joey Mason and Antonio Campo (colors). Jaque Nodell (letters).  Ape Entertainment.  $12.95 US.

I really hate writing this review, because I really wanted to love this comic, and while I liked it, it did fall short for me on a couple levels.  I can’t remember how it came on my radar, but when it did I visited the website (which is great), and looked for it at my local comic book shop, and when I didn’t find it in single issues, I started looking for it as a trade (and was happy to hear it had made it to trade paperback status…as that doesn’t always get to happen for more independent books).  Eventually I did find one copy at my local shop, and was excited to read it.  I thought this book was going to be a hilarious mix – one part Office Space (or The Office, whichever tickles your fancy) and one part Superhero parody.  And it is.  But only sometimes.  And not consistently enough that I can fully get on board.

The art.  I like it.  Mostly.  The character design for the most part is unique and appealing, and the book has a really strong visual identity, which unfortunately cannot be said for many many books, especially little books without giant publishers.  The color was solid throughout and really worked for the tone of the book.  Another plus is that the art is incredibly consistent throughout with the exception of some obvious and deliberate evolution in the character design between the first two books.  It’s really hard to find consistent artwork in comics, so this is commendable.  The art was so consistent in fact, it almost looked like some crazy futuristic digital effects or something – like the entire book was conceived and drawn by a machine – which gave it a perfect but sometimes soulless quality.

Ironically I preferred the slightly toned down version of the character design in the first issue to the evolution that appeared later in the collected volume, but it wasn’t a big deal.  One little design nit I had with the later evolution, was that all the characters remind me a little bit of bugs because of these two lines the Bleep draws extending dramatically off of characters eyes (and heads).  It annoyed me more as the book progressed, but is a pretty superficial complaint, as complaints go.

A bigger complaint I had about the art is that the inking lineweights all feel the same, or at least similar…and with so much going on in every panel, that often made it difficult to understand what was going on.  I think the artwork overall could benefit from some much more confident and dramatic inking which would help the clarity of individual panels.  But it’s obvious Bleep is still evolving as an artist (which is of course true of most artists) and so I’ll be interested to see where he goes.

The biggest thing that didn’t work for me in this book, is the pacing, and that’s a problem of both story and art.  And it’s hard to tell who is dropping the ball here or if it’s both of them.  I tend to think it’s the artist’s job to get the panel pacing right so that the words work in their most effective way, but especially on an indie book, where creators are more likely involved in the eachothers’ processes, it feels a little like a shared problem.

There are some great little jokes in the script – in-jokes that are really enjoyable if you have ever worked in an office, or read a superhero comic, and they work really well together for some good times…but several of the jokes are nearly lost to the previously stated pacing issues…and it just isn’t funny enough overall to carry the book’s other weaknesses.

I think the biggest of those weaknesses is that the characters are pretty broadly sketched, we’re never able to attach much to any of them or to care about them beyond their ability to bring home the joke.  Now, character building, especially for a large cast of characters in an office setting is hard to do and takes time…it’s easy to fall into cliches and hard to do unique things, especially when you’re already deliberately playing with cliche and parody, but I feel like Marcus should have given us at least someone to root for in these first four issues.  It’s obviously supposed to be Tim that we’re rooting for, but he’s such a dull guy that I can’t find much to get behind.  There’s no sense of humor in him like there is in everyday characters like Jim from The Office or Peter from Office Space…but when I look around to find someone else to connect to – there really aren’t any characters worth connecting to.  Except Wombat.  Wombat, a blatant and hilarious Batman parody is awesome, but mostly for jokes, and not for any emotional connection.

And while EVERY book I read doesn’t have to feature or star women or be “the best thing written about women since sliced bread” I find the female characters here to be pretty lacking. There’s a fairly interesting “office manager” named Helen that all but disappears as soon as she serves her function (introducing Tim to the craziness that is SCI in the first issue); the token “hot” superhero/alien Plasmarella complete with big boobs and sexy low cut clothing; another office worker named Sarah that gets a page or two of dialogue; and in a particularly bad move, there’s a giant female called Statuesque and you never see her head.  She’s usually only shown (because of her size) in the torso/ass/breasts area (and a couple times down to her feet) but you never see her head.  I get the joke, and I probably wouldn’t mind it so much if there were other more fully realized female characters in the book, but as there are not, it seems like a really big misstep to me.

I will admit that it’s likely I’m overly sensitive to this issue – considering I actually write a column on CBR’s Comics Should Be Good called “She Has No Head!”.   The concept for the article is broadly “women in comics” and it’s safe to say I have strong feelings about the idea of women being so insignificant in comics that they seem to be nothing more than objects of desire that quite literally don’t need heads.  And so Statuesque is a really unfortunate coincidence, and I urge you to take my criticism of this particular aspect of the book with a grain of salt.

I think overall, because the characters lacked much emotional charge for me, the story also lacked an emotional charge.  The basic set up is that Tim (our “hero”) is a temp sent to SCI to work in “Super Human Resources”.  He is surprised and at first put off by this idea, thinking it must be a mistake, but is quickly brought into the fold of regular folks, superheroes, villains, aliens, etc. that work there.  [SPOILER]  The four issue plot is basically that “corporate” is trying to get SCI shut down so they can farm their work out to cheaper Indian labor.  Tim discovers a conspiracy in corporates’ attempt to get SCI shut down and is able to thwart it and save SCI.  At the end of the book he is (naturally) viewed as a hero and given a full time gig at SCI. But I don’t really feel happy for him…and I’m not really sure why he wants to stay there…or why they want him to stay, as other than being a hero, he hasn’t really made any connections as far as I can tell.  And perhaps most importantly, other than him being a template ‘good guy’ I’m not sure why he feels compelled to save SCI in the first place.  And that is a failure.

The book just didn’t work on the all the levels it needed to…and with the exception of the laughs, some of which were great,  I was pretty disappointed overall.  I do hope Marcus and Bleep keep working and putting out books, and I will anxiously look for their next project, if only to see the next evolution.

I’d like to give it more, but unfortunately 2.5 Stars is the official 1979 Semi-Finalist rating.

With its third issue, Simone kicks “Warkiller” into high gear with one of the book’s strongest issues.  Trapped in an impossible situation by the whims of the gods, Themyscira is on the verge of all-out war.  Alkyone, now Queen of Themyscira, is fomenting war with her every move.  The Bana-Mighdall are threatening rebellion, the apes have been betrayed, and Diana is scheduled to be executed in a matter of days.  And that’s far from the worst.

As with the best issues of her run on Wonder Woman, Simone deftly combines exciting action beats with notable character moments that add to the issue’s flow, rather than detracting from it.  Much of the set-up of the previous two issues comes to fruition as the climax strikes, though part of the excitement is derailed by two strange twists that almost detract from the thrill of seeing everything fall apart – the return of Genocide’s spirit, and a monstrous entity living on Paradise Isle.  Though the book loses a little bit of momentum with those moments, there’s still an issue left to see how they play out.

With Lopresti and Ryan continuing to do stellar work on art, Wonder Woman #38 is certainly a success.  Simone’s run has been uneven, but between the action-packed “Rise of the Olympian”, the fun-but-slight “Birds of Paradise” and the impressively condensed “Warkiller”, an argument could be made that Simone has finally found the book’s sweet spot.  Few books get second chances with today’s audience. Wonder Woman deserves one.

Grade: A-

- Cal Cleary

Read/RANT

Wonder Woman #37

Wonder Woman #36

by Brian Michael Bendis (writer), Michael Avon Oeming (art), Nick Filardi (colors), and Chris Eliopoulos (letters)

The Story: Detectives Christian Walker and Enki Sunrise try to learn to live with each other as they embark upon their first case together.

What’s Good: Powers is a rightfully celebrated series and I can assure you that this relaunch issue lives up to its previous volumes.  In more or less every way, this is the definition of what a good comic should be.

Certainly, all of the Bendis hallmarks are in place.  The staccato dialogue and the creative profanity are in fine form.  That said, what also returns is Bendis’ ability in Powers to portray multi-layered, real, and complex human relationships.  It’s all the more impressive that he manages this with Enki Sunrise, a character that has remained ill-defined and two-dimensional up until this point and was one of the few weak spots of Powers’ last arc.  Finally, Bendis manages to flesh out the character a bit and give her a little more life.  Moreover, he’s actually well on his way to making her likable.  Readers of Powers will know this to be no small feat.

And he does this through minimal, subtle strokes.  In a few pages of near-wordless action, we arguably learn more about the character than we have through the entirety of the last arc.  Furthermore, when she attempts to forge a bond with Christian, the dialogue is expertly played; her conversation is scattered, stumbling, and awkward.  Really, the syntax says as much about the character and her desires as her actual words.

For a first issue, Bendis also manages a large scope.  Upon finding an old associate dead, we get a flashback to a period of Christian’s past that is all gaudy film noir.  I’ve always loved Bendis’ visiting of Christian in previous eras, as his treatment of these time-periods are evocative yet honest, and this is the case here.  I also have always enjoyed noticing the subtle differences, and similarities, between Christian’s personality then and now.  It’s an absolute pleasure to see a Christian this month that is, for lack of a better word, an asshole, if not a tag-along.

Beyond this, the sense of mystery is palpable and Bendis makes me want more.  This is also thanks in large part to Oeming’s artwork, and this is his best work in some time.  His paneling is as abstract and creative as ever (one memorable double-page spread tracks our characters’ path across a street and up a building), without causing the confusion that Powers’ previous arc was at times guilty of.  Colorist Nick Filardi also improves the series, alleviating it of the slightly excessive darkness of prior issues.

Oeming’s style urban environments are absolutely beautiful despite their seeming simplicity, heavy with mood and dark ambiance.  His rendition of the flashback is also well done: it glows with just enough life and vibrancy to distinguish it from the present day without becoming overly self-conscious, and of course ,the present-day is as grim and gritty a place as ever.

What’s Not So Good: None whatsoever.  Some might say that we didn’t get enough information regarding the actual murder and make cries regarding plot progression.  Relax, it’s only the first issue and besides, Powers has long been more about the characters anyway.

Conclusion: Comics bliss… This should satisfy even the most stalwart Bendis-hater.

Grade: A

-Alex Evans

by Jonathan Hickman (writer), Neil Edwards (pencils), Andrew Currie (inks), Paul Mounts (colors), and Rus Wooton (letters)

The Story: Johnny, Ben, and the kids go to Nu-World for a vacation but what they find there is a far cry from being a resort.

What’s Good: Probably the best thing the issue has going for it is its generic tone.  The book is a wacky, retro sci-fi adventure.  While Nu-World has become a dystopian mess, Hickman uses this as an excuse to fill the issue with a scuttling, disembodied brain and a hero with a goofy helmet blasting apart robots by the dozen with his ray gun.  It’s cheesy, but definitely fun, like a bad 70s sci-fi flick.  There’s also a depiction of a pseudo-scientific, transcendental sort of mass suicide that sort of reminded me of Logan’s Run with astronauts.  I’m probably alone on that, but it’s cool nonetheless.

I’ve never been a fan of the kids, but Hickman actually made me enjoy their presence.    Both Val and Franklin have a comical way of undercutting Ted Castle and his planetary problems, but in different ways.  Val makes it all seem so simple through her intellect, while Franklin approaches the situation and his circumstances on an entirely different level, as a child would.  There’s a beautifully paced sequence where he offers a grieving Ted Castle a sandwich, tugging the heart-strings while providing a laugh.

Through his wacky sci-fi hijinks and his use of the brain and the kids, Hickman takes what could’ve been a heavy-handed, grindingly tragic affair and turns it into something much more light and fun.  That said, by the time the issue ends, he still gives a little glimpse of the epic nature of what actually unfolded, finishing the book with a beautiful retrospective montage, narrated in a simple fashion that metatextually breaks the comic into its component parts and making it seem all the grander in retrospect.

What’s Not So Good: Despite all this, under perhaps a more cynical lens, it’s hard not to be very well aware of the fact that this issue was more or less written to serve a simple purpose: sweep Nu-World under a rug.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for it, but it can be a bit frustrating when a writer’s purpose is so abundantly clear.  The comic is as much a story as it is a means to an end.

Of course, if Hickman is writing this issue solely to be done with Nu-World, that also means that several characters are treated cursorily, perhaps not with the respect they deserve.  There’s not one but two character deaths, both of which are insultingly brief, abrupt, and underwhelming.  Like Nu-World itself, it’s clear that Hickman just wanted them out of the way.   The Nu-World characters have little page-space, don’t flesh themselves out much, and basically show up just to remind us that they’re there.

Furthermore, while the art isn’t atrocious or anything, Neil Edwards is a far, far cry from Dale Eaglesham.  His artwork just feels very generic, with little sense of individual style or flair.  It does the job without attempting to do anything more.  Edwards also struggles with headshots.  Two panels in particular, one of Johnny and one of Psionics, are total botches.

Conclusion: Enjoyable for what it is, but it creaks a little at times due to the weaker art and Hickman’s obvious motivations.

Grade: B

-Alex Evans

Hallo liebe Leser,

In diesem Review beschäftige ich mich mit der Serie “Superman/Batman“ die, wie der Name ja schon sagt, Geschichten behandelt in denen diese zwei Helden als Team auftreten.

Ein paar Informationen vorab: Diese monatlich erscheinende Serie startete im Oktober 2003 und gilt als moderner Nachfolge der berühmten „World´s Finest Comics“ Serie, die es von 1941 bis 1986 immerhin auf stolze 323 Ausgaben brachte und ebenfalls Superman und Batman als Team in den Mittelpunkt ihrer Geschichten stellte. Diese neue Serie setzt diese Tradition fort und läuft bis heute recht erfolgreich.

Storytitel: With a Vengeance Part 2- Mistaken Identity Crisis

Inhalt:Der ATOMIC SKULL, ein alter Feind Supermans, ist bei Wayne Tech eingebrochen und hat wohl etwas Wertvolles aus dem Forschungslabor gestohlen. Sein Auftraggeber ist der Calculator, der wiederum für Lex Luthor arbeitet. Batman stellt SKULL nun und bekommt im Kampf mit ihm Probleme, da dieser ihm doch überlegen zu sein scheint. Superman greift ein und kann seinen Partner retten. Der Kampf wurde auch von Batzarro beobachtet, der vor Supermans Ankunft, Batman schon etwas unterstützt indem er ATOMIC SKULL mit Leuchtgranaten blendet. Dabei bleibt Batzarro von allen Beteiligten aber unbemerkt. Nachdem Superman und Batman ATOMIC SKULL dingfest gemacht haben, erscheint plötzlich ein Gruppe von Superwesen, die sich „Maximums“ nennen. Diese machen die beiden Helden für den Tod einer ihrer Kameraden verantwortlich und wollen Superman und Batman deshalb töten. Zuerst erschießen sie den SKULL und greifen dann Superman und Batman an. Nach großem Kampf müssen sich der Stählerne und der dunkle Ritter den Maximums geschlagen geben und werden von diesen in ihre Welt mitgenommen. In der Zwischenzeit schließt sich Batzarro, der alles beobachtet hat mit Bizarro zusammen. Beide wollen ihre Vorbilder aus den Fängen der Maximums retten….

Story: Die Geschichte hat mir ganz gut gefallen. Autor Loeb war hier besser als zum Beispiel in der neuen Hulk Serie (da war zumindest Heft #1 nicht so stark, siehe Review#29). Die Maximums sind durchaus interessant. Wo kommen sie her und warum beschuldigen sie Supie und Batman des Mordes. Ok das ist vielleicht in Teil 1 der Storyline gezeigt worden, die habe ich aber nicht gelesen. Negativ aufgefallen ist mir hier allerdings Bizarro und vor allem Batzarro. Also Bizarro, das verzerrte Spiegelbild von Superman, kenne ich ja schon lange. Ihn finde ich auch ganz ok. Aber das es mit Batzarro jetzt auch so ein Spiegelbild von Batman gibt, finde ich total überflüssig. Nervig finde ich hier auch, dass bei Beiden ihre verdrehten Sätze nochmal als Gedanken wiederholt werden. Was soll denn das? Aus diesem Grund vergebe ich hier auch 6 Punkte. Ohne die beiden Zerrbilder hätte ich wahrscheinlich noch den ein oder anderen Punkt mehr vergeben.

Zeichnungen: Anders als bei dem Hulk-Comic, dass ich hier vor einiger Zeit besprochen habe (Review #29), bei dem der selbe Autor und Zeichner am Werk war, gefallen mir hier die Zeichnungen nicht gut. Die Helden wirken mir zu muskulös und sind hier insgesamt nicht so schön dargestellt. Auch die Maximums haben mich zeichnerisch nicht beeindruckt. Lediglich ATOMIC SKULL der hier fast so aussieht wie Marvels Ghost Rider ist gut gemacht. Trotzdem vergebe ich hier lediglich 4 Punkte.

Fazit: Dieses Heft ist insgesamt ein mittelmäßiges Comic, das man haben kann aber nicht unbedingt haben muss.

Die Künstler: Autor Jeph Loeb, Zeichner Ed McGuinness, Tuscher Dexter Vines, Farben Lee Loughridge, Cover Ed McGuinness

Die Bewertung: Story 6/10, Zeichnungen 4/10, Gesamt 5/10