Jog Reviews an 8/29 Batman Comic: Jog reviews an 8/29 Batman comic

Man, Batman's only been around 26 years? Seems longer.

Batman Annual #26: What we have here is a warm-up book, designed to get the reader ready for bigger, related stuff down the road. Sometimes it seems a lot of superhero books do this constantly on a grand scale, but this one’s more specific - it serves to give the reader a quick refresher on the highlights of Ra's al Ghul's origin, since the villain will soon be headlining a two-month Bat-crossover. It's not so much a prologue as the stuff some other author might tell you about in the Forward, but I suppose it wraps itself into an Annual neatly enough.

I suspect it’ll work better the more you already know about the villain; jumping around events and highlights in the character's history, writer Peter Milligan (in straightforward superhero mode) doesn't manage to convey much of the tragic sweep it’s apparently poised to suggest, although enough facts get out to keep things comprehensible. These exploits are being recounted to dear lil' heir Damian by mother Talia, at the behest of the White Ghost, a director of the Demon who has a nasty plan in mind. Meanwhile, Batman wanders around the Australian outback investigating some disappearances, and amusingly fails to grasp much of the larger plot swirling around. David Lopez and Alvaro Lopez provide efficient art. Nothing much is resolved. Hey: crossover coming.

There are some fun details, though. Milligan characterizes the White Ghost as a sort of ultimate Ra's al Ghul fanboy, so determined to carry on his hero’s story that he’s possibly moving into the realm of fanfiction. Combine that with Damian’s near-total disinterest in old grandpa stories -- a life-saving instinct, it turns out -- and you’ve got a strangely conflicted subtext at work. It doesn’t make this more than OKAY, but it adds needed spice to the summary.

It's Damn Easy Being Green: Diana Smashes 8/30

The interesting thing about WORLD WAR HULK: X-MEN #3 is that it's basically a microcosm of the whole event, in terms of my critical approach to it. See, it's not the kind of story I personally enjoy, so if I were to rate it subjectively, I'd give it an EH. However, I can't ignore the fact that as a genre piece, WORLD WAR HULK and its tie-ins are actually doing a damn sight better than their predecessors - unlike "Civil War" or "House of M", the basic plot makes sense here, and that much-sought-after moral ambiguity manifests itself because on the one hand, you can sort of identify with the Hulk and his motives, but on the other hand, you can't really support his decision to destroy the rest of the Marvel Universe... though I suppose many readers would like nothing more than to see the Hulk crush Iron Man and the pro-reg morons. But, you know, realistically speaking, it's just not going to happen.

Of course, this is all window-dressing; the "point" of WORLD WAR HULK (perfectly encapsulated in WORLD WAR HULK: X-MEN #3) is to provide the punchy-punchy and lots of explosions. It doesn't have to be profound, and I think Christos Gage understands that - after all, he built this three-issue miniseries around the shaky premise that the Hulk has targeted the X-Men based on what Xavier might have done, had he actually been present at that fateful Illuminati meeting. Of course, the logical error immediately presents itself: he wasn't there, and if the Hulk is going to attack every person who could have been involved in his exile, this crossover would last eight years. Moreover, if Gage were seriously trying to sell the plot, he'd have a pretty big hurdle to jump - we, as comic fans, know the Hulk won't kill Xavier because, as Rene Magritte would've put it, ceci n'est pas une X-Men comic.

Which is why, if you were to look at this comic in terms of narrative progression, what happens is the Hulk fights the X-Men, he fights them some more, Juggernaut turns up for a nicely-rendered double-page spread, and then Cessily of the New X-Men lectures the Hulk on all the crap mutants have to deal with. The Hulk, in awe of being out-angsted, takes off. It's pretty self-nullifying, in that the story has no real consequences for the Hulk or the X-Men (well, except for Juggernaut), but the battle is entertaining enough to justify the miniseries.

On a broader scale, there's a great degree of parallelism between what Gage is doing here and what Greg Pak is doing with the larger WORLD WAR HULK story. To some extent, it's all about Hulk vs. Superheroes, and while I may personally find it tedious, I can't fault it from a critical standpoint: Pak and the other WWH writers are doing exactly what they set out to do, and unlike Millar and Bendis, they're actually achieving their objectives rather than aim high and hit low. It may not be everyone's cup of tea, but WORLD WAR HULK: X-MEN and its parent story make for a GOOD summer-actionfest-blockbuster type of comic, and it's probably all the more appealing to readers who are sick of debating the merits of Superhero Registration.

Shiny shiny, shiny books of leather: Graeme dominates the comics from 8/29

I have no idea why I'm so surprised at just how gratuitous and disappointing GENE SIMMONS' DOMINATRIX #1 is. I mean, if ever there was a book that sounded as if it was going to be gratutous, it would be something called Gene Simmons' Dominatrix - And am I really the only person who's both disappointed and relieved that it's not a comic about Simmons' actual Dominatrix? Think of the rock star gossip and awkwardness that we've all missed out on - that was advertised with the line "T'n'A meets CIA". The cover art, as well, in its weird air-brushed glory, fit with the idea that this was going to be an entirely tawdry exercise, and yet... somehow, it still disappointed.

I think it's that there isn't even the slightest pretense of this being a comic about anything other than the apparent transgressiveness of having its central character be a Dominatrix. Ignore the flat dialogue that attempts to titilate (we see the main character at work, saying things like "Beg me for it worm... And maybe I'll let you have it," and also get her friends get excited about her job, saying things like "I want to hear more about this wack job that you beat up") or the ridiculous cheesecake artwork - You too can watch the main character's internal struggle as she washes dishes by focusing on her breasts! Look, she's so excited by daily household chores that her nipples are standing to attention! - and you're left with something that's so depressingly inept, it's almost comedic; a spy is so excited by his session with his dominatrix that he accidentally blurts out a secret so bad that he immediately gets kidnapped. But that's okay, because he has a magic pill that gives him superpowers - but he doesn't take it, he gives it to his dominatrix, because... um... well, just because! And then she beats this guy up! Because that's what dominatrixes do (There's even a caption where she feels guilty about it, because she's not getting paid to hurt him)! And then, after she beats up the bad guy, instead of trying to do anything about the guy she saw kidnapped, or the secret she's apparently learned that is so dangerous that said guy gets kidnapped, she goes home to have some tea. Only to get ambushed by a super sexy spy who's also dressed in fetish wear!

Of course, when you read the text piece at the back, suddenly the story itself seems like high art. Especially when you get to the quote from Gene Simmons' original pitch for the series: "maybe one zipper going UP HER BACKSIDE (the guys have a zipper in the front...she has a zipper in the back-easy access!!)"

"Easy access," ladies and gentlemen.

Oh, it gets worse. That text page is supposedly written by the fictional lead character, who asks the female readers of the book to send in photos of themselves for Gene Simmons to pick his favorite out of, which is kind of unsettling on all manner of levels (That they have to do so calling themselves "submissives" and be dressed in their "best s&m or m&m outfit (after all, we all know chocolates and leather go well together)" just adds to the "Oh, Jesus, Gene Simmons is looking for free masturbatory material" moment). Add that to the artwork in the story that completely objectifies its heroine and the script that fails to pull a sympathetic lead character out of its various scenes but does succeed in making her unfulfilled, lonely and a sellout (There's a couple of scenes where the tone of her narration is "Well, anything for the money") in the process, and you're left with a book about a woman in charge - although, yes, you can make the argument that a dominatrix is another male fantasy object and not in charge as just subservient to men in a different way - where the overall feeling is one of women being mistreated and abused more or less as usual in the industry. Crap, then.

The Amazing World of DC Comics! Hibbs reviews (whaaaaat?!?!)

This week is clearly a Big Win for DC -- Marvel barely put out even nine comics this week.

AMAZONS ATTACK! #6: There is absolutely positively no way to discuss this issue without being spoilery, so AVERT THINE EYES, MADAME, if you care about not having the ending ruined!

I haven't exactly been thrilled by this series from the start, because while the premise was self-explanatory, I was more interested in WHY the Amazons Attacked (as well as the HOW of it, since last I recall, they'd been sent off forever to be with the Greek Gods).

We get a little of that, but none of it was very satisfying for this reader -- a bit of hand-waving of "oooh, magic!", I guess. Circe, for what appears to be no good reason, brings Polly back from the dead using some of her own soul, which makes Polly all evil 'n stuff, but that really doesn't explain any of the OTHER Amazons' action, or how/why the bana-whatever are involved (since, again, last I remembered, the bana-whatevers and the themy-whatever branches didn't like each other at all, and hadn't been reconciled)

But, ah, it was all a feint within a feint, as the last page reveals that the New Gods have usurped the Old Gods. How? No clue -- in fact, GG always struck me as pretty much the weakest of the New Gods, with her only powers being "being haggard and cranky". Another 2-3 pages of the hows and whys would have been so much better.

I guess the premise is "have the population hate Diana that much more", though there isn't any story indication that *actually* worked, really. Instead, it just becomes a mess -- Paradise Island is back (Superman can hear it!), but Diana doesn't seem to give a fuck. Instead, she's worrying about Nemesis, and Sarge Steel in her next issue. Clark apparently doesn't/can't perceive Polly being on the isle, and no one seems to really be at all concerned where the Amazons (each roughly on par with Diana... therefore each roughly on par with Clark, yes?) all went. For that matter, none of the JSAers seem to be especially concerned about their fellow JSAer Polly. Oh well.

Where are the Amazons? Stealing an idea from Grant Morrison, and his White Martian story, they're all spliced into GenPop, but without their memories. I could vaguely sorta accept that in the former case, because there were only 7 of them, but in the Amazon's case, there has to be thousands upon thousands of them, and it seems to be a bit much to swallow. Either way, either this will be entirely ignored until someone wants to put Paradise Isle back together, or it will be some major plot point in FINAL CRISIS. I'm expecting the former, however.

So: to recap: the amazons are rescued from "limbo", attack for no special reason, have no lasting impact, then are basically thrown back into limbo again, waiting for a better plot to come along.

AWEsome!

No, wait, I mean... "AWFUL"

OUTSIDERS: FIVE OF A KIND: GRACE & WONDER WOMAN: Strangely this sorta pissed me off even more -- Grace is now "retconned" (well, it could have been the plan from the start) to be a Bana-mazon, but the big magical spell that GG cast to splice the Amazons back into GenPop didn't work on her. Dunno why -- there's no story reason given. But here's the thing: Diana FINDS OUT that the amazons are spliced into GenPop, without memories (that took a while, huh?), but doesn't seem to give one fuck at all. Anyway, why even bother to have that kind of a "mystery" at the end of AA if the SAME WEEK you let the one character who would be most interested know about it? How does that make sense? Putting aside that whole "are the DC editors even talking to one another?" question, this issue wasn't a miss; in fact the last two issue of this five more or less redeemed the whole series. I liked the characterizations and the interplay between Diana and Grace, and the plot moved briskly at least. If Diana wasn't such a "We don't know WHAT to do with her!" character these days, I'd've liked this better. As it is: reasonably EH.

COUNTDOWN TO ADVENTURE #1: It is unfortunately titled -- after all the title says it is leading TO adventure, not that there is any adventure contained within. Which is kind of true -- the closest you get to adventure is Cliff wanting to whack-off to Kory's sleeping body (Read this immediately after "AUNTS IN YOUR PANTS #1" for more amusingly perverse ideas). Like Graeme, I liked the idea of Adam Strange being thrown over for Steve "Champ" Hazard (a great name), but telegraphing him as a complete psycho-beast is sloppy sloppy storytelling. The Forerunner stuff was at least adequate, even if I don't buy any one's motivation -- but its basically just an extended origin sequence, and the future-adventure setup seems to be "What Jason and Donna are doing, except evil", which doesn't have me rushing for more, exactly. That said, I like the idea of a parallel earth where all of the planets of the Solar System have a sentient race, and they all hate earth. That's an OK sci-fi high concept. It veers close to being GOOD, but I think we'll stick with OK for now.

What did YOU think?

-B

See and be Seen: Jeff Looks at Buffy The Vampire Slayer seasons 1-8.

Back in late April, I bought the Buffy The Vampire Slayer: The Chosen Collection boxed set off Amazon for a pretty good price. In early May, Edi and I started watching the show (I had seen most of the show when it was first aired, Edi hadn't seen anything) at the rate of an episode or two (almost) every night, and a few weeks ago we finally came to the end. It happened the same day I read the abridged print version of Joss Whedon's interview with the Onion A.V. Club, and Buffy The Vampire Slayer #5, and it occurred to me I was pretty well situated to talk about the new comic in relation to the show, and maybe kick around some thoughts about both the show and Whedon generally. I cannot guarantee at the outset I'll get anywhere interesting with it. It'll include spoilers of the series, and require that you be familiar with the show: I tried writing a sensible overview of the whole phenomena and it couldn't have been duller or more imbecilic. Also, you'll notice this essay neatly detours around the significant influence of the other talented writers on BTVS the show, and the writers-to-come for BTVS: Season Eight. Although I think there's some very interesting material to be explored there, it'll have to wait for another time. This damn thing is big enough as it is. As you know, I'm usually most interested in the crunchy subtext, and BTVS is a particularly interesting show for that. In part, this is because Whedon and crew were particularly facile with metaphor and subtext; there's the initial conceit of the show, of course--high school as a horror movie--but also the subtextual stuff going on in particular stories and arcs, such as the genius twist of Season Two's "Innocence" where Angel turns evil after sleeping with Buffy. But BTVS is also particularly interesting because that initial conceit gets thrown out after four years, and the show goes on for another three with an official eighth season now turning up in print. Whedon has said in the past he intended to start BTVS, get it established, leave it in capable hands, and then go off and do other stuff. Yet, he continues to return to the character. And why is that? Is it because as long as people are interested in the Buffyverse and willing to be milked of their hard-earned cash, Whedon is interested in showing up every morning with the milking pail?

Well, sure. Whedon is always swinging for the fences of pop culture fame, and I have no doubt he wants Buffy on t-shirts, and lunch boxes, and action figures, and in cartoons. He wants that because he strongly believes Buffy represents a special turning point for the roles of women in heroic literature, and it would be a great thing to have little girls have a strong ass-kicking hero they believe in. He also wants that because, like any other individual who works in Hollywood, he is well and truly aware of how much money those sorts of things make, and how much power is conferred to someone who reaps that cash harvest.

But, interestingly, Whedon is one of those artists for whom material considerations and limitations tend to improve rather than impair his work: If Seth Green wants to leave to pursue movies, it'll turn out to be the perfect time to move Willow in a completely new direction for her relationships. If Cordelia has to leave to be part of Angel, they'll bring back Anya. Although he's complained against needless and stupid changes made by others to his screenplays, Whedon will happily change his own stories in the crafting, break and bend the rules of his own mythology, and the joy he takes in doing so more often than not is experienced by his audience. (I previously wrote very briefly about this ability, which Graeme had quite correctly referred to as cockiness, here.) And although he's happy to break his own rules, he's exceptionally faithful to certain storytelling precepts, such as giving the viewers a strongly defined conclusion. One of the things that struck me watching the seasons one after the other is that with the exception of Season Four (the Adam/Initiative arc) and maybe Season Six, one could stop watching after the end of the season and feel satisfied. In the first season, Buffy owns her power. At the end of the second season, Buffy learns the cost of having that power (and runs from it). In the third season, she and the gang graduate from high school. And although I disliked a great chunk of Season Five, I admired the moxie of the ending being both definitive and open-ended. (Considering my memories of seasons six and seven, I was tempted to tell Edi, "Hey, you know, let's just pretend that was the end of the series." I'm glad I didn't.) In some ways, it was this desire to give Buffy a complete arc each season that made it harder and harder to do more things with the character as time went on, and force other characters into the spotlight more and more.

So the idea of Buffy: Season Eight in comics can stem from both Whedon's desire to make more cash, to give the brand that much more power, and his desire to tell a story, to have something to say that he can best say with Buffy and the characters of the Buffyverse. Or rather, the idea that Season Eight might be a bit of a cash grab won't stop him from developing a story with something meaningful to say. What should be interesting is seeing if we can tell from the first five issues of Buffy: Season Eight what Whedon might want to say, or what he might end up saying.

As I mentioned, BTVS was built around the "high school as horror movie" conceit it abandoned after three years (although I think the "college is hell" conceit for Season Four works pretty well, too). These conceits are successful in part because the same fears of powerlessness (and, also, a corresponding fear of power) that fuel horror movies are part and parcel of teenage life. As the series goes on, Whedon becomes more interested in that fear of power, and the cost of power, than the fear of powerlessness. Being the Slayer is a terrible responsibility for Buffy: the early seasons show her complaining about how it screws up her chance for a normal life, and the later seasons show exactly how it screws her up. A lot of what I found thought was careless plot hammering in later seasons the first time I watched became clearer on rewatching--even though it bites her on the ass time and time again, Buffy keeps secrets from her friends; she struggles with feelings of superiority and callousness that come from her power; she equates sex with danger; and she is too quick to accept responsibility for things that happen, to the point of defensiveness. Buffy learns lessons and moves forward with each season's arc, but she doesn't always become a better person or learn the right lesson--for most of Season Seven, for example, she's an insufferable ass (although what part of that is weaknesses in Sarah Michelle Gellar's portrayal--she clearly is ready to leave the show by this point--and what part of that are strident speeches made by Whedon on the price of being a leader, I leave for a smarter viewer than I to suss out). One nice trick in BTVS the TV show is the use of history (the school subject) continually being used as a metaphor for, well, History: at the beginning of the show, it's the subject Buffy has the most trouble with but as time goes on, her relationship to the subject grows more complex: sometimes people talk as if she's a natural at the subject, other times the nuances of it elude her. But it's never a topic she can dismiss: in Whedon's universe (and in the Whedonverse), history is inescapable. No matter how she tries to run, or what she tries to hide, the history of the Slayer lineage (or what she's done, or who she's slept with, or how she's fighting) is always inescapable.

I suspect, in fact, this is the reason Whedon was never able to break away from Buffy. The struggles of Buffy, one of a long line of vampire slayers, to accept that lineage is something that perhaps struck close to home with Whedon, a third-generation TV writer. Despite his attempts to be a screenwriter and filmmaker, Whedon was through all of Buffy the TV show, only successful in the medium of his father and his grandfather. Like Buffy, he couldn't escape his lineage and, like Buffy, Whedon grew most powerful embracing it and using the resulting power to exert control over it. (Now that I think about it, like Slayers, television writers are vitally dependent on their watchers. To what extent might Buffy's complex relationship with the Watchers' Council--she's fond of hers, but dismissive of the power the others try to exert on Slayers--mirror Whedon's relationship with the people who it possible for him to make a living?) I wonder if all the frustration and ambivalence and outright fear Buffy expresses of her power and responsibility are echoes of what Whedon went through during the making of the show (and Angel, and Firefly)--the frustration, ambivalence, and fear of an artist saying: "Yes, this is what I can do well. But is this all I'm going to be able to do?"

In the first four issues of Season Eight--the equivalent of one TV episode--Buffy is the leader of a worldwide group of Slayers, and she's more comfortable in her power. Xander is the Nick Fury-like organizer of the group, Willow is her powerful back-up, and Giles is her recruiter and diplomat in the supernatural world. In issue five, The Chain, a Buffy decoy dies trying to carry on Buffy's name, saying, "There is a chain between each and every one of us. And like the man said, you either feel its tug or you ignore it." Because the Buffy decoy does so, she takes solace even as she dies, saying "You don't even know who I am. But I do." While this suggests Whedon is more comfortable with the idea of one's place in history being irrelevant as long as you know who you are and where you come from, the use of the chain--a symbol of bondage, slavery and oppression--as the connector points to continuing ambivalence. (Or maybe I'm wrong, and the bondage Whedon talks about is his connection to Buffy and the Buffyverse, the possibility of being "the Buffy guy" for the rest of his career?)

In any event, Season Eight suggests that Buffy is more comfortable in her roles as leader and as Slayer, and Whedon more comfortable in his role as "the Buffy guy" and these are both comforts that couldn't be conveyed on TV, since in this medium Buffy is free of Gellar's "get me the hell out of here" airs and Whedon is free of his "what the hell am I doing still working in TV?" frustrations. In fact, free seems to be word of the day for Season Eight. Whedon is free of the concerns of a show's budget and he can deliver visuals as big as he can think of: the first four issues of Buffy have had magical battles, dream sequences, an army of zombies fighting an army of Slayers, dragons, castle raids...the list goes on.

And yet, this freedom may prove to be Season Eight's biggest weakness: all those scenes in the TV show of Buffy and crew in the library or the magic shop researching their enemy was a clever way to have the characters be proactive without spending more precious money on new sets, new effects, new fights--but it's also where Whedon and his writers were better able to make us care about the characters. (As I mentioned above, Whedon is one of those artists whose work apparently gets better under material considerations and restrictions.) At five issues in, I can give you a rough idea about what's happening with all of the above characters, but I can't recall reading a scene from the books that actually would have made me care in its own right--the emotional impact comes only from the affection I already have for the characters. Whedon points out in that Onion AV interview it's going to be harder for him to create what he calls "juice"--to create a character in the comics that has any of the appeal of someone on the show--but I think even more challenging may be taking a creator who's always drawn tremendous amounts of inspiration from his actors (what would BTVS had been like if James Marsters had never read for Spike, originally a one-off villain?) and giving him nothing to bounce off of but his ideas, his editor, and the book's art. The work on Season Eight so far has been pretty and competent, but more than occasionally rushed and never particularly inspired. Finally, there's been talk about Season Eight taking place over fifty or sixty issues, which is four to five years of real time. That's certainly plenty of time to craft a sweeping mega-epic, but is it possibly too much time? (If Season Five had lasted five years, I would've bailed and never come back long ago...) In fact, the last three seasons might've fared better at twelve or thirteen episodes each instead of twenty-two. Unless Season Eight has well-planned plateaus--areas that feel like climaxes even if they aren't the arc's ultimate one--it could take far too long (and cost far too much) for the audience to stay interested.

I think Whedon's idea for the arc (Buffy may have found peace, but the U.S. military--and maybe the world--is clearly still quite afraid of her power, and, I'm guessing, but just as Season Seven had the uber-vamp, Season Eight will have a Slayer-Slayer) and his enthusiasm for the comics medium will make his run worth reading. I certainly have enough affection for his characters that knowing what's happening to them next is tremendously appealing. But if Season Eight hits none of the remarkable high notes of the TV series, maybe that shouldn't be a tremendous surprise: lineage or no, it took Whedon a lot of time to become a master of the TV format. It might be naive to think, despite his considerable talents, he'll be able to do as much with the comics medium in a much shorter (and yet, thanks to the miracle of publication schedules, much longer) time. Ultimately, what may serve Whedon best may be what he'll least want to do--take some huge risks with the Buffy characters and the comics medium in the hopes of coming up with something new. If nothing else, taking such risks might help him identify again with the fear of powerlessness, and bring his relationship with Buffy full circle.

I guess like any good set of Watchers, We'll just have to wait and see.

Playing in the morning as you may need a reminding: Graeme starts off 8/29 late, apologizes.

Okay, so so much for that "returning and beginning again" thing yesterday - That's what happens when you suddenly find yourself working a 13-hour day the night before and being unable to get to the store to pick up new books to read, apparently. That's what I get for letting other people at my company to get sick without my permission, it seems.

(Also: People who say that they want me to write more on this site? I'm flattered and all - and ignore any potential snark there, because I genuinely am - but convinced you mean someone else. I already write almost daily on here...)

(Also also: Thank you very much to everyone who's contributed via the Paypal link, by the way. I will now try and review some comics to earn my share.)

52 AFTERMATH: THE FOUR HORSEMEN #1: I don't know if it says more about how much I enjoyed 52 or how little I'm enjoying Countdown that I find the follow-ups from the previous weekly miniseries so much more interesting than the goings-on in the current universe-shaking mini. That extends even to this Okay opening issue of the spin-off of one of the more disappointing elements of the Morrison/Johns/Rucka/Waid series; despite the overly expositionary dialogue - the Veronica Cale/Wonder Woman scenes in particular are leaden with the feeling of "this is what you're supposed to know" infodump - Keith Giffen manages to pull an initial swerve with the recasting of the Horsemen as spirits possessing survivors and emergency workers in the remains of Black Adam's 52-ending rampage. It's an unusual book - it feels too subtle and dark for both Superman and Wonder Woman to be starring in, in a strange way - but one that's almost worth paying attention to, for that very reason.

COUNTDOWN #35: Wow, cruel trick to lure in readers with a JG Jones cover only to hit them with Manuel Garcia's less impressive art on the inside (To be fair to Garcia, I think a lot of the problem is with the inking; if there was more variation in line weight, things would look a lot better). Storywise, the book is as disappointing. Not only is the script overly reliant on cute scene transitions and flat dialogue ("What if, together, [Kyle Rayner], Jason Todd and Donna Troy decide to navigate the multiverse in their search?" asks one of the Monitors, and instead of you thinking "That would be terrible!", you think "Oh, like all of the already-solicited spin-offs, you mean?"), but the plot is equally reliant on unsuccessful cliffhangers (Did any of the cliffhangers from last issue end in a way that surprised anyone?), nonsensical plot developments and absolutely atrocious pacing. Continually disappointing, and still pretty Crap...

COUNTDOWN TO ADVENTURE #1: ...But this, on the other hand, turns out to be surprisingly Good. Maybe I'm just a soft touch for a story that sees Adam Strange replaced by a man called Steve Hazard - Apparently, you can't defend Rann unless you have a wonderfully melodramatic name - and treats its characters with respect and affection instead of interchangable chess pieces in some crazy sales plan, but this was very much better than it had any right to be. Congratulations should be flying in the direction of Adam Beechen and Eddy Barrows (who provides some clean art here, with the occasional Rags Morales touch in places) for this one, because, really, who saw heart and fun coming from this book when it was announced?

My Life is Choked with Comics #7 - Taboo 2 (YIKES, EXPLICIT CONTENT!!)

Infamy is a tricky thing.

It has a way of making your work slightly immortal, in that a title's mention might cause a listener's ears to perk, and their mind to wander through all the books they've ever read, searching for the source of that scratchy feeling they've suddenly got. For years, if someone were to utter the words Boiled Angel in front of me at my junior year winter formal or my younger sister's Holy Confirmation or something, I'd react. Internally, but instantly. They are trigger words. But I'd hardly read ten panels of Mike Diana's work in those years. It was only the infamy that hit me.

Stephen R. Bissette once wrote of his infamous horror anthology, Taboo, in its next-to-last volume:

"I'm glad Taboo was gutted like an organ bank while it was still walking, that it was heartlessly abandoned by its creators. Taboo demanded so much, more than I could continue to give. No longer possessed like a madman, no longer wishing to be a thankless midwife and proprietor to its insatiable needs, I, too, abandoned it, leaving it as everyone else had: unwanted, dismembered and exsanguinated, its rank heat dissipating in an unforgiving night.

"Undead."

Immortal, undead... but what is the character of these mad and dreadful things? It's easy to shock yourself on the internet - why, just yesterday I visited a popular anime review site, and treated myself to a summary of a new rape/humiliation porno production, with a surgical experimentation theme. Brain transplant bestiality, a forced sex change operation... shocks come so easy these days. But infamy carries the weight of history, and captures a bit of time it was born in. I often find my response to infamy is superficial - I react only to the prior reactions of others, in that I react to the charge of infamy itself. It's better to get up close, and really rub my face in notorious comics. Right in the store parking lot! I don't care if they all stare! They can't hurt me with their eyes and laughs. My car will snuggle me like Mother.

Anyway, Taboo makes for a perfect study, being a pretty infamous series, and one rich in history. The most infamous of all of its ten volumes is the second one, cleverly titled Taboo 2, but some background will also help.

Taboo was first published in 1988, though it was conceived years prior, while Bissette and John Totleben worked on DC's The Saga of the Swamp Thing, which most of you know became a very popular horror series with the addition of writer Alan Moore in 1984. Perhaps fired up by this success, the two artists cooked up the idea of a whole anthology of new horror comics, one that would press the form toward the horror frontiers explored by other arts.

Mark Askwith (comics writer and event producer) provided the title, and Dave Sim initially planned to fund and publish it under his Aardvark One International line of comics-that-aren't-Cerebus, an effort that would actually only produce one title, the 1986-89 Stephen Murphy/Michael Zulli series the Puma Blues, which eventually became embroiled in a distribution controversy between Sim and Diamond, the scintillating details of which I shall save for my multi-part Puma Blues coverage at some point in the future. The important part is that Sim got out of the business of publishing anything other than Cerebus, and Bissette opted to publish the book under his and then-wife Nancy O'Connor's SpiderBaby Grafix & Publishing; by that time Totleben had backed away from active participation, although he retained co-creator credit.

That first volume of Taboo, released in 1988, has some nice stuff in it. There's a nice introduction by Clive Barker, who was later supposed to be a bit more present in the series, in that Bissette had planned to serialize a comics adaptation of Barker's short story Rawhead Rex with the aforementioned Mr. Zulli collaborating on the visuals. That project had originated at Arcane Publishing with rights holder Steve Niles; however, after Arcane's option expired (and Arcane went out of publishing), it was purchased by Eclipse, a publisher Bissette & Zulli opted not to work with. The adaptation was eventually published by Eclipse in 1993, written by Niles himself, with art by Les Edwards.

As for the actual comics in that first Taboo (ah, comics, yes yes...), there was a surreal Alan Moore/Bill Wray piece, about a woman who finds the energy to feel alive while sitting in the studio audience of a suicide game show. Eddie Campbell provided some reportage on the strange Australian case of The Pyjama Girl. Charles Burns presented Contagious, the first iteration of his teen sex plague idea that would culminate in Black Hole. Some interesting stuff.

But Taboo 2 is where the infamy really began.

After the ordeal of publication was over, Bissette recounted the history of Taboo 2 in the 1990 debut issue of Gauntlet. This tale would later be reprinted in Taboo itself, as the last thing in its final issue. A parting bow.

Having assembled the contents for Taboo 2, Bissette sensed there might be trouble due to three features: one from underground comics veteran S. Clay Wilson (who'd also appeared in the first Taboo), one from Cara Sherman-Tereno, and one from Zulli. Wilson's piece proved especially contentious - enough so that co-publisher/spouse O'Connor declined her editing credit on the volume, receiving instead an "assistant editor" credit with Totleben.

The book was sent for printing at the Canadian house that handled the first Taboo. It refused to print the material, perhaps owing to the political climate in Canada at the time (so Bissette mused). The materials were then sent to a US printer, which declined the job on grounds of sexual content. A third printer agreed to take the job.

But you know, you're never quite aware of how many steps it takes to create and release a finished book (circa 1989) until you read a litany of troubles like the one that followed. A typesetting house refused the project, as did two copy shops. As did a color separation outfit. A different separation outfit, approached to handle the back and inside covers, had to be assured that certain symbols on display were not Satanic. Upon approaching a bindery, the book was refused because the people there believed incorrectly that John Totleben had drawn a vagina somewhere in his front cover art. Nine binderies refused the book in sum.

Finally, the damned thing was released in the Autumn of 1989, all 10,000 copies. Some of which were then seized and destroyed in customs busts in Canada and the UK. At the end of 1989, Bissette was refused a business loan by his bank, which had handled the prior issue's money, for the purposes of reprinting the volume.

That is infamy.

But what is in this infamous book? How do the controversial pages work?

It's easy enough to start with Wilson, who provided four full-page drawings, tucked away in a section called S. Clay Wilson's Black Pages, festooned with skulls and CAUTION AVOID EYE CONTACT! stamps, thoughts from underground ally Tom Veitch printed on both sides.

I'm going to get a bit graphic for the next four paragraphs.

Drawing #1 is titled Rebel Reject Robots Dally with the Bastard Daughters of Corrupt Technocrats. It depicts robots (really metal-flesh cyborg things) waging war against naked or near-naked women, setting hair on fire with lasers, choking and raping, etc.

Drawing #2 is titled Rotting Zombie Harpies Dispatch a Vampire. In it, several nude women with rotten, torn flesh hold a naked vampire aloft, one of them stretching and tearing his penis with her teeth while another thrusts a stake through his heart. Dual phallic power seized, you see.

Drawing #3 is titled The Checkered Demon and a Vampire messmate "Race to the Bottom." A vampire with a thin mustache and glasses sucks blood from a (mostly naked) woman's neck with a straw, while Wilson's signature lil' devil creation snorts something out of the woman's vagina via glass apparatus. A bottle of Fuck You Beer sits on the floor, for those who choose to look.

Drawing #4 is titled The Merry Makers Parade By... Oblivious to the Odious Acts in the Alley. This scene presents a man standing in a filthy alley, holding a club in one hand and his grotesquely engorged S. Clay Wilson-type penis in the other, a woman laying on the ground bloodied and with her face caved in. Off to the side stands another man, clutching a smaller naked girl, a finger pressed into her mouth. The merry makers indeed parade by in the background, appropriately oblivious.

On one hand, it's easy to see why many might balk at this material. It wouldn't be any easier a sell today, I suspect.

But on the other hand, I can't say it's all that unexpected as per its place in the S. Clay Wilson catalog. He'd been doing that sort of stuff for a long time by 1989. And more pertinently, his presence in Taboo establishes a link to the past, a sort of continuity between what was taboo then, and what is taboo now (meaning 1989). While a wholly new reader might indeed by stunned by the garish drive of Wilson's vision -- all wild detail and goony faces and nervous energy -- other readers may not react at all beyond the understanding of Wilson's place in comics history. The prior issue of Taboo ran a drawing by the late Greg Irons, another underground artist - it would later run a story by horror magazine stalwart Jack Butterworth, and the first English translation of Alejandro Jodorowsky's and Moebius' debut collaboration, Les yeux du chat.

Does this mean the Wilson material isn't in here for nasty shocks? Oh heavens, no. I remind you: skulls and CAUTION stamps. But the distance we're allowed by time affords us a greater chance of looking at this potent material, and seeing its place in Taboo as part of chain of horrors, a tradition the series reflected on and carried forward. This is among the benefits of examining infamy, this distance.

What of the other stories Bissette suspected as shocking? Well, Cara Sherman-Tereno's story (actually a two-chapter serial set back-to-back, the first half dating back to 1978) is an overwrought bisexual vampire saga, notable mainly for some outrageous phallic symbols and a straightforward interest in addressing topics like AIDS. It's a middling piece of socially aware subgenre horror, although I suspect the semi-graphic gay sex bits set off a few alarms somewhere. Its presence in Taboo indicates an egalitarian approach to sexual subject matter, as well as a desire to apply horror tropes to then-contemporary pressing subjects. Quite simple.

And then, there's Zulli's Mercy. Plotwise, it's nothing striking. A sleeping man is haunted by plenty of ye olde Catholic guilt, sexual shame mixing with punishment, and so he wakes up and snips off his penis with a pair of scissors. Th' end!

No, this story's importance to the Taboo tapestry is that it demonstrates the series' devotion to exploring the graphic capabilities of the comics form. Anyone who's read the Puma Blues knows that Zulli is very capable of smartly handling bold and complicated visual concepts, on top of his obvious ability to render delicate, precise realist characters, as often seen in his works with Neil Gaiman.

Here, he provides several tight arrangements of vertical and horizontal panels, whipping from childhood flashbacks to images of Christ being scourged without warning, varying panel height and width to control the impact of specific moments. And all atop everything -- not confined to caption boxes but spilling across bunches of panels at once -- are all of the story's words, all of them being heard in the main character's head, fonts galore and sizes varying. The subtlest thoughts are squirreled away between panels, almost too out of the way for the reader to find - this is fitting, since they are the thoughts that lay deepest in the slumbering character's psyche. They are also the only ones to carry over to the otherwise wordless waking action, punctuating the gory finale with the aftershock of nightmare.

It's simply excellent work. Zulli would handle a fine, if more stylistically subdued adaptation of Ramsey Campbell's Again in Taboo 5. But he would also become something of a phantom of lost projects; along with his and Bissette's Rawhead Rex project, Zulli would also get involved in perhaps 'the' big unfinished Taboo project: his and Gaiman's Sweeny Todd, which only appeared in volumes 6 and 7 (and the volume 6 entry was actually a preview book that only came wrapped with the preordered segment of vol. 6's print run - good luck finding it today).

Still, other graphic experiments were present. Taboo 2 also featured a story by writer Tim Lucas and Simonida Perica-Uth, a fascinating little piece of words and pictures going off in two directions. Lucas' words, set out in plain typeface against blocks of white, tells of a metaphorical domestic drama about a wife who can only conceive when her distant husband speaks to her during lovemaking, though his silence is imprinted on their children. It's strange, gently surreal, and more disquieting than anything. Meanwhile, Perica-Uth presents each page as a collage, heavy on ancient Egyptian images and little flights of whimsy, like cartoon sperm floating in the sky. The arrangements of Perica-Uth's human figures do generally match what Lucas is writing about, but the approach dislodges the plot from a magical realist houshold world, and plunges it into an imaginary space of cosmic forces fucking and posing, pinning myth on workings of love.

Lucas was perhaps the most effective of Taboo's relative comics novices; he was (and remains) primarily a film critic, one who innovated the now-common approach of considering video and print quality while reviewing movies released for home viewing. He later founded Video Watchdog, and recently published Mario Bava - All the Colors of the Dark, an 1128-page, full-color hardcover monster with over 1000 images and a manuscript running nearly 800,000 words in length.

In Taboo, he primarily wrote a serial called Throat Sprockets, a sort of non-vampire story about a mysterious sexploitation film that pops up in a grindhouse, its images prompting an intense fetish for neck-biting in viewers. The best chapter was in Taboo 3, a wildly veering piece of reflection on ephemeral relationships, so jarring in its transitions and pace that it teeters right on the line of pressing ambition and simple incompetence - a little like the best exploitation films! The project was never finished in Taboo, or in the comics form at all, though Lucas eventually revised it all into a prose novel.

Indeed, that might be the last quality of Taboo, one discernable through the infamy - leaving things undone. Another serial debuted in Taboo 2: a little something called From Hell, which teamed two the prior issue's seperate contributors, Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell. It wouldn't finish in Taboo. Not a lot did.

Taboo kept running into money troubles. Moebius' Starwatcher Graphics kicked in a little money. For Taboo 4, Kevin Eastman's Tundra kicked in a lot. It was needed - as of Taboo 5, Canadian and UK distributors would no longer solicit orders, essentially limiting the book's readership to the US. By that time, Taboo was being published in association with Tundra, and Bissette became involved in other matters with the company. A special issue came out. Taboo 6 and 7, last one in 1992.

Bissette had many problems with Tundra, not the least of them his feeling that its decision to publish From Hell as a standalone comic in addition to its Taboo serialization effectively crippled his sales. And then nothing. Bissette left Tundra. And then Tundra melted into Kitchen Sink. And in 1995, Bissette came to Kitchen Sink and released Taboo 8 and 9, two 'coda' volumes stitched together from the remains of an unpublished sexual abuse awareness special, unseen bits of since-completed serials like Throat Sprockets and Jeff Nicholson's Through the Habitrails, and other paid-for odds 'n ends. Kitchen Sink didn't publish comics for much longer. Taboo was never seen again.

But I can still recall seeing images from Taboo. From the Kitchen Sink catalog I got by dialing the telephone number in the collected edition of The Crow. I heard stories about it, somehow. Hell, some of them probably went around for the purposes of selling some back copies. But it worked, you know? The stories. I'd hear 'Taboo,' and I'd know it was something bad. It'd get me like that. I know it better now, and I'm glad. I can feel the history on it. The life experience of the old ghost, still haunting.

Asshattery, and so forth: Hibbs burbles some

Like Jeff said, you being active in some way really DOES matter -- whether it is giving us a buck, or even just posting to the comments threads, it keeps us going knowing that people ARE interested.

So, since like 25% of the people posting in the shipping list thread asked, let's talk about Asshats.

I like that word, because it's really only sort of a swear -- it sounds dirtier than it really is, I think, because for me it really is more about idiocy than anything else. After all, who needs a hat for one's ass? It would quickly fall off!

(Mechanical) things are the way that they are in the DM for what are usually actually very very sound reasons. That's not to suggest or imply that the DM is perfect, or that there aren't 47 different things that go wrong in the execution, but when you look at the underlying principles behind, say, the solicitation process, they evolved into what they are because they work for the participants of the DM.

There's a reason, for example, that books generally ship monthly -- much slower than that, and the audience is much more prone to drift; much less than that, and the audience gets confused whether they've bought an issue or not.

Honestly! *one* of the (many) reasons we put in a POS system was that we get asked "did I buy this already?" quite a bit. MOST comics readers don't come in weekly. MOST don't have a pull list. MOST don't read the news sites. MOST aren't totally-organized in their collecting, making themselves lists or whatever.

So, for me, screwing with how-the-customer-buys is just an idiotic thing to do. And that makes you an Asshat.

There's no way I'm going to do this every week -- because there's weeks where no one was especially egregious, or there's nothing meaningful to say, or there's some really valid other reason. But sometimes you get some pretty obvious boners, and it's worth handing out the Award for Auspicious Asshattery.

There's even TWO this week!

AAA #1 goes to LOCAL #10. Holy, frickin' cow, this book was supposed to ship in NOVEMBER 2006. Nine months late? Are you insane? And you have the AUDACITY to not resolicit? I deeply deeply love much of what Oni puts out, but they have some of the sloppiest shipping schedules in the business. Listen: freakin' AVATAR is a more-likely-to-hit-their-shipdates publisher these days (Avatar has, to their credit, seemed to have mostly solved their shipping problems)

AAA #2 goes to an old friend of Asshattery: Robert Kirkman and WALKING DEAD #41. Dude, #40 came out LAST FUCKING WEEK. Double-you-tee-eff? Man, am I going to be swimming in "did I buy this?" questions for the next few weeks! I repeat: MOST comics customers don't come in weekly. Don't undercut your own sales. What's funny is that I believe that if WALKING DEAD shipped on an old-school schedule, like how I know that some of you could remember the days when you could set your clocks by comics -- BATMAN came out the second week of the month without fail, or whatever -- anyway, if I could tell people, "yeah, WD comes out the last week of the month, guaranteed", we'd be selling 30% more copies just like that. WD would be a top *50* comic, y'know? And the ironic thing is that I tend to suspect that with the freakish exception of MARVEL ZOMBIES, as a creator-owned book under the Image deal, Kirkman pretty much has to be making more money off of WD than any of his page-rate Marvel work.

What really makes this harder for me is that I GENUINELY like WALKING DEAD. There may be sequences I hate (like the rape stuff), but over all this is pretty much certainly Image's strongest and most consistent book. If I had written reviews last week (ah, sorry, sorry, it was order form week with a new computer system, and new hybrid method of taking orders!), I would have given #40 an "Excellent", full of wonderful and vivid characterization.

Which brings me to a special Award for Auspicious Asshattery: Diamond comics for shorting me 2/3rds of my order of WALKING DEAD #41, so I can't even fill subs, let alone have copies for the rack. Though, actually, this sorta works in my favor, because now it will look to most of my customers as though there were two weeks between issues. Hmmmmm.....

(Robert Kirkman is now allowed to make the "...and such small portions!" joke in the comment section, if he feels like it; and I will be obligated to say something self-deprecating in return)

-B

In Which Jeff Asks You For Money.

Howdy! I'd like to ask you to do something for me. I'd like you to use the little Paypal button below the list of the SavCrits and give us a dollar. (Actually, if you're reading this on an RSS feed, I'd like you to do two things for me: First, go directly to our site; then, use the little Paypal button below the list of the SavCrits to give us a dollar.) Here's my thinking on the subject. As of Graeme's post this morning, there have been approximately 50 posts this month (not counting my garage sale posts or the Douglas Wolk signing pix) and there will doubtlessly be more by the time August ends this Friday. (Maybe 55 posts?) If you came across a zine in your local comic book store that had the dozens of reviews everyone's done, plus Abhay's smart-assery, plus Jog's coverage of Igor Kordey's career at Marvel, and the overview of Valérian: Spatio-Temporal Agent, would you play a dollar for it?

Let's say I follow the public television model and only do this once every four months. Would you pay for a dollar for a zine that would then be (let's assume) four times that size, with four times the reviews and four times the etc., etc.?

Now, I think you know right now whether you'll push that little button and give us a dollar or not. Some of you aren't going to give us a dollar because you don't have to, or you don't have paypal set up, or you can't be arsed with remembering your paypal password, or you think if you give us a dollar today, everyone will be hitting you up for a dollar by this time next year. No matter what reasons I put forward for why you should give us a dollar--with the possible exception of me suddenly breaking into piteous cries of extreme financial distress--I think you've already decided whether or not you'll give us that money. But in the interests of making this entertaining, I'll still go ahead and tell you why you should.

Clearly, the North American comics industry has been changing dramatically over the last several years. Interestingly, and for very different reasons, the North American newspaper industry has been as well. For example, despite being essentially the only daily paper in town, The San Francisco Chronicle recently went through a rather grueling round of layoffs and cutbacks, in part because circulation numbers diminish as more people get their news and opinions electronically. In the past, I think newspapers would have, over time, come to employ fulltime critics to perform reviews of graphic novels and the comic medium as they did with other developing media. But because the newspapers are struggling to find their place in a dynamically different workplace, that's probably never going to happen: they're using freelancers, or they're assigning their regular critics to cover this field. Comics doesn't have its Tim Goodman, or its Frank Rich, or its Andrew Sarris. Despite my delight that in Douglas Wolk we may finally have our Pauline Kael, Douglas isn't (yet) set up at the New Yorker, able to focus on educating and inspiring weekly and not having to worry about hustling for the rent. Coverage in the news about comics is still spotty, and it will probably remain so from some time until it figures out how to understand how to best take advantage of the public's new habits. Until it does--whether as Boing Boing Media Networks or Google Press, International or Digg Universal or whatever--a rejuvenated field has little more to rely on for its criticism than passionate individuals who continue to contribute to the field with their own free time and resources.

We all do this out from a sincere passion and love for the artform, and that won't change no matter how many people click the Paypal button. But what we do here does take time and energy and commitment, and financial remuneration has a way of making the time we clear from our schedules easier to justify, to ourselves and our loved ones, and it is my hope that it will provide the sustenance--emotionally, at least--for smart, knowledgeable people to continue to write engagingly about this medium at a good clip for some time to come. It'll also make a strong incentive to expand the site, whether that's adding interviews, podcasts, or merely another wave of critics for an even wider view of the marketplace.

To phrase it a bit more succinctly, Making with the clicky shows both that what we do matters, and also that it matters that we do it. Looking back on the first forty days or so of the rebooted Savage Critic, I very strongly believe both those statements to be true. So much so, in fact, I sent in the first dollar myself earlier today.

As I mentioned above, I'm thinking of a public television model for this, and one of the things they do with public television pledge weeks is they offer incentives. So the person who offers the first donation will get a DVD of Seijun Suzuki's Pistol Opera mailed to them, and the person who donates the most by the end of this week will get a copy of Jim Woodring's Seeing Things. If you want, I'll even personalize each with a little critical blurb (or not, as you prefer--they're certainly both such significant pieces of work they can get along just fine without me.)

But I'd like to think you don't need any such incentives. It's the last week of the month and payday is right around the corner. If you think what we do here is valuable, take a second to remember your password, and take the plunge. Although I'm only speaking on behalf of myself here, I'm sure all of us at The Savage Critic would appreciate it. Thank you.

Arriving 8/29


I've been sorta blaise about posting the shipping list (I missed 2 of the last 3 weeks), partly because I'm not sure how it really fits the NEW Savage Critic(s), and I wanted to see who might say "hey, where is it?"

Not that many people mentioned its absence, but one of them was a Professor of Marketing, and I figure one should listen to professional educators if you're going to listen to ANYone. So, here's the list:

2000 AD #1549
2000 AD #1550
30 DAYS OF NIGHT EBEN & STELLA #4
52 AFTERMATH THE FOUR HORSEMEN #1 (OF 6)
ACTION COMICS #855
AMAZONS ATTACK #6 (OF 6)
AMERICAN VIRGIN #18
AMORY WARS #3 (OF 5)
AUNTS IN YOUR PANTS (A)
AVENGERS INITIATIVE #5 CWI
BATMAN ANNUAL #26 HEAD OF THE DEMON
BIG BANG COMICS PRESENTS AGENTS OF BADGE #6
BLACK PANTHER #30 CWI
BOMB QUEEN IV #1 (OF 4)
BRIT #1
CARTOON NETWORK BLOCK PARTY #36
CONAN #43
COUNTDOWN 35
COUNTDOWN TO ADVENTURE #1 (OF 8)(CD)
EMILY THE STRANGE VOL 2 DEATH ISSUE #1
ENIGMA CIPHER #2 (OF 5) (RES)
EX MACHINA MASQUERADE SPECIAL
FALL OF CTHULHU WALPOLE CVR B #5
FALLEN ANGEL IDW #19
FANTASTIC FOUR #549 CWI
GENE SIMMONS DOMINATRIX #1
HACK SLASH SERIES SEELEY CVR A #4
HELLBLAZER #234
HELLBOY DARKNESS CALLS #5 (OF 6)
HOT MOMS #10 (A)
HUNTERS MOON #3 (OF 5)
JUGHEAD #184
KISS 4K #3
KNIGHTS OF THE DINNER TABLE #130
LAST FANTASTIC FOUR STORY
LOCAL #10 (OF 12)
MARVEL SPOTLIGHT HALO
MICE TEMPLAR #1
NINJA SCROLL #12
OUTSIDERS FIVE OF A KIND WEEK 5 GRACE WONDER WOMAN
PUNKS THE SUMMER COMICS SP
SILVER SURFER REQUIEM #4 (OF 4)
SONIC THE HEDGEHOG #179
SPIDER-MAN ONE MORE DAY SKETCHBOOK OMD
SUBMIT #1 (A)
TALES TO DEMOLISH #1
TEEN TITANS #50 (NOTE PRICE)
TEEN TITANS GO #46
TRUE STORY SWEAR TO GOD IMAGE ED #8
USAGI YOJIMBO #105
WALKING DEAD #41
WARHAMMER 40K DAMNATION CRUSADE CVR A Of(6)
WARHAMMER FORGE OF WAR CVR A #3 (OF 6)
WASTELAND #11
WETWORKS #12
WITCHBLADE TAKERU MANGA MACK CVR B #7
WONDER WOMAN #12 (AA)
WORLD WAR HULK X-MEN #3 (OF 3) WWH

Books / Mags / Stuff
ADVENTURES OF RED SONJA VOL 2 SHE DEVIL WITH SWORD TP (RES)
ASIADDICT GN
ASTHMA GN
BATMAN BATMAN AND SON HC
BATMAN SECRETS OF THE BATCAVE TP
BECK MONGOLIAN CHOP SQUAD VOL 9 GN (OF 19)
CABLE DEADPOOL VOL 7 SEPARATION ANXIETY TP
COMPLETE BITE CLUB TP
DC TOP COW CROSSOVER CLASSICS TP
ESSENTIAL DAREDEVIL VOL 4 TP
FONE BONE PLUSH TOY
GIRLS AND CORPSES MAGAZINE PREMIER COLLECTORS ISSUE VOL 0
GIRLS AND CORPSES MAGAZINE VOL 1 FALL 2007
HULK AND POWER PACK PACK SMASH DIGEST TP
INCREDIBLE CHANGE BOTS GN
JEREMIAH HARM VOL 1 TP
JUXTAPOZ SEPT 2007 VOL 14 #9
LOOKING GLASS WARS HATTER M PX HC
MANHUNTER VOL 3 ORIGINS TP
NINJA SCROLL TP
NOTHING BETTER VOL 1 TP
PREVIEWS VOL XVII #9
SQUIRRELLY GRAY SC
SUPER SPY GN
TANGENT COMICS VOL 1 TP
TAROT WITCH OF THE BLACK ROSE VOL 5 TP
TOKYO IS MY GARDEN GN (RES)
WIZARD MAGAZINE SPIDER-MAN ONE MORE DAY QUESADA CVR #192

So my question is: DOES this fit on this site any longer, or should I move it over somewhere on comixexperience.com? Any opinions?

What looks good to YOU?

-B

I'm tired and I'm sick: Graeme makes it to the end of the week, just, 8/22.

Goddamn, but my ass is getting kicked by this week already. Is this some kind of weird karma for the fact that there's a holiday weekend coming up, or am I just cursed?

BATMAN #668: More than anything else, this three-parter that JH Williams is illustrating makes me very excited for the rumored Morrison/Williams creator-owned book that the two are apparently planning - What makes this Very Good has nothing to do with Batman whatsoever, and everything to do with the way the two creators play around with the comic format and visual identities of different parts of comic history. Which isn't to say that I'm not into this particularly-Avengers-esque (that's Steed and Mrs. Peel Avengers, not the Iron Man and Captain America ones) story, just that it's almost more exciting to imagine what else the two could get up to, in other circumstances.

COUNTDOWN #36: Yet again, the series gets to the point where - for the plot to get where it's supposed to go - the characters have to act like idiots. Zatanna really calls Mary Marvel a brat who needs to get spanked? The Justice League seriously meet with Jimmy Olsen about his joining the team? What? Seriously? Blah and Crap, really.

GREEN LANTERN CORPS #15: I love the craziness of this whole comic; I mean, there's a sentient planet that's being attacked by an evil sentient city that manages to disrupt the planet's gravity and tear it apart, which is not something you see every day. It's got the dumb insanity and overwhelming sense of everything-happening-at-once that something like Infinite Crisis had, but without the feeling that you have to read seven different comics to get what's going on, which makes it pretty much the definition of Good superhero emergency comics for me.

THE SPIRIT #9: Just like a Buffy episode as we head into the last third of a season and it all starts tying together, plots from earlier issues come back to haunt poor Denny this time around. It's a shame to think that Darwyn Cooke's leaving the book so soon, considering the consistently Very Good work he and J. Bone put into this series issue after issue - Maybe I'm greedy, but I'd love to see this kind of thing all the time.

SUPERMAN #666: Kurt Busiek really gets the old-school Superman thing even as he updates it, something that this devilish little treat proves handily; it's relatively throwaway and - if you ignore all the murderin' and stuff - reasonably light, but no less enjoyable for all that, partially for the injokes and fun of seeing Mean Superman, and partially for the joy of Walt Simonson's bold and exciting artwork. It's not the kind of Superman story I'd want to read on a regular basis, sure, but as a special Satanic one-off? Hellishly Good.

TANK GIRL: THE GIFTING #3: Who knew that an Ashley Wood/Jamie Hewlett collaboration would look like that, that's what I want to know. And something else I want to know - Just who is Rufus Day-Glo, now credited with layouts on the book? He(?) really has a Hewlettish touch to his(?) stuff, whoever it is... Otherwise, the series continues along the "pretty, but ultimately unfulfilling" road that it's been on since the first issue - Maybe we need some Philip Bond in the fourth issue to balance things out. Eh

Tomorrow: We return and begin again, sadly...

My I don't have to runday: Graeme bemoans where the time goes, from 8/22.

And, of course, after taking two days out for the weekend to get caught up on other writing I had to do, I have two days left and all manner of books from this week to review. So let's get all of the Marvel ones out of the way first, shall we?

AMAZING SPIDER-MAN #543: I love the fake-out on the cover of this book - "Oh no! Peter is covering his face while pulling cloth over a body on a hospital gurney! Aunt May must be dead!" even though the entire issue is essentially one big piece of filler because JMS can't quite finish off his "Aunt May has been hanging onto dear life" plot until, what, November now, because of Joe Quesada's schedule. While I kind of like the idea that Peter Parker is now breaking real laws because of what he feels is his great responsibility to the people he loves, the execution of it manages to almost suck all the life out've the idea. Very much Eh.

ANNIHILATION CONQUEST: STARLORD #2: On the plus side, Timothy Green's artwork continues to shine, and those were some unexpected deaths. On the minus side, a lot of the quirkiness of the first issue seems to have gotten lost in the jumble of "war is chaos" scenes here, and as a result, the book seems much less charming and more generic this time around. Okay.

ASTONISHING X-MEN #22: It's not going to stick, of course, but part of me really would like the last page here to be the final death of Cyclops, if only because I'm very amused by the idea that one of his last memories is having sex with Emma (Or perhaps I've just got a dirty mind, and that's meant to be something else). That said, even as we're clearly approaching the endgame here, the book seems to have lost a lot of the focus and intensity of its earlier issues; maybe it's because of the schedule, or perhaps I'm just not that interested in the generic alien monsters or seeing Colossus and Kitty have sex...? Either way, Okay, depressingly. I want to enjoy this more.

THE IMMORTAL IRON FIST #8: They had me even before they introduced a sumo wrestler called Fat Cobra as a challenger to Iron Fist in this new martial arts tournament storyline, I have to admit. Ignoring the great art by David Aja (with Roy Allen Martinez taking the Travel Foreman flashback artist role this time around), Matt Fraction and Ed Brubaker hit just the right notes of awe and humor when dealing with the mystical city of K'Un-Lun and the mystical tournament between it and six other mystical cities that Danny is forced to compete in... Month in and month out, this really continues to surprise and amuse with just how Very Good it is.

IRON MAN, DIRECTOR OF SHIELD #21: For some reason, this feels as if it's the first issue written once the Knaufs had read the end of Civil War - We get nightmares about the death of Captain America and a plot involving the Initiative - instead of the first post-World War Hulk issue, but for all that, it's as Okay as ever. There are probably many people who enjoy the deliberate pacing and strong leadership of Tony Stark in this book, but I'm not one of them. Roberto De La Torre's art is still nice, though.

THE ORDER #2: So much more enjoyable than the first issue - I thank the idea of Britney Spears analogs fighting bears with jetpacks, personally - with a team dynamic and book dynamic slowly emerging as things go on. I'm still not the greatest fan of Barry Kitson's art, but have to admit that Mark Morales' inks make it look better than I've seen it; Matt Fraction's script seems to have recovered the sense of humor that I thought was missing from the first issue, and I appreciated seeing the PR flack appear and having that side of the show played up more... Whether things'll continue along these lines or next issue will be back to the more straightforward superheroics of the first remains to be seen, but for now? Good.

Tomorrow: DC! Tank Girl! And arguably nothing else...

Another Random Selection: Just a few 8/22 reviews from lovable, furry old Jog

The weekends go fast. Lots of reading. Today, I spent a good chunk of time with an old issue of The Comics Journal I picked up for two bucks - it's #202, from March of 1998, and no less than 62 pages of it are devoted to Gary Groth's career-spanning interview with Kevin Eastman, with a special emphasis on the life of Tundra, the infamous alternative comics publisher that he founded, and ultimately blew $14 million of his Ninja Turtles fortune on. Detail after absurd detail piles up - you can hardly believe it all really happened, the circumstances are so surreal. Really one of the classic Journal interviews.

Oh, last week.

Batman/Lobo: Deadly Serious #1 (of 2): Remember in the old Sam & Max comics where Sam would get off the phone with the Commissioner and say something like "Bad trouble in ancient Egypt, Max," and then in the next panel, by god, they'd be in ancient Egypt? That's kind of how this comic starts, with Batman summoned away to space in panel 1, on page 1. And he's staring down Lobo by page 4. No scene-setting shilly-shally while writer/artist Sam Kieth is around!

No need for introductions; as far as this issue goes, there isn't even anything all that Batman or Lobo-specific going on. There's some typical odd couple clashes -- physical and moral -- but mostly the title characters run around and react to a strange entity that's possessing innocent schoolgirls and straight-laced women with space clipboards, and transforming them into shredded-clothing murder machines... and the entity is often passed from body to body by same-sex kissing!! Don't worry gang, it's actually all about how women are driven to explode by male subjugation! Can Batman and/or Lobo trample through the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored before Earth is doomed or something?!

It's sort of fun, very much a loosely-plotted lark that gives Kieth an excuse to draw pretty girls and ugly alien creatures, and Batman's extra-long cape. He remains as good as ever at that, although I generally prefer seeing his energy channeled through the daffy personal vision of something like My Inner Bimbo (the one extant issue of it); here, Kieth treats the superhero bits almost as an obstacle, which makes for a hint of unease with the antics. OKAY for what it is. I'd have liked it more as a Sam & Max story, but that's also what I thought about The Three Paradoxes, so maybe it's me.

Guy Ritchie's Gamekeeper #4: You know a series is skipping off the rails when one of the variant covers sports a character that's not only absent from this particular issue, but hasn't been introduced to the story at all, and the official website contains plot spoilers that have to stretch at least a couple of issues into the future. Maybe the promo stuff got pumped up since Ritchie is going to direct the film adaptation? It doesn't say much for the pacing if what I'm seeing is supposed to be basic scenario stuff.

It will be a fun movie to watch if Ritchie bases his visual choices off of artist Mukesh Singh's, in that all the action bits look like murder scenes from Susperia. Sadly, there's none of that this issue, which devotes itself almost totally to backstory, including that interminable b&w flashback I'd be getting sick of even if I didn't now know how it pans out at some point in a later issue. It's not that Andy Diggle's dialogue is lacking in craft, but straight-up thriller material such as this isn't going to benefit from dwelling so long on generic plot contours. And almost totally stripping an issue of action only underscores just how generic it is.

There's still spark in the art - I can't get enough of Singh's jutting ink stroke tree branches, and he can compose some nicely sterile metal and glass urban environments. I especially liked how, going over the flashbacks, only the bloodletting done by the hero is in color, so as to emphasize its radiance in his memory. But that's all this book's got keeping it at EH level in an issue like this.

SPECIAL BONUS IN-DEPTH ART COMMENTS:

Black Summer #2 (of 7): Juan Jose Ryp sure can draw a man's face being ripped off.

Wolverine #56: I liked Howard Chaykin's version of the character better the more he looked like a caveman, the final splash being the apex of my joy. Although, if my co-worker was a drunken, emotionally ruined screw-up to a 'kick the shit out of him by the dumpster' extent, I'd probably protest his continued operation of the gigantic weapon that's the only thing keeping the extremely dangerous mutant at bay down in the metaphor pit. Wait, that wasn't an art comment.

Weekend's End: Jeff Gabs About Manga and Movies.

Howdy. Here's what I've been reading and watching lately. God help me, I'm still so trained to write reviews in old school SavCrit style, you get it all in one big glop. I'd like to do something similar about the comics I've been reading, but can't quite tell yet if my week is going to open up enough to let me do so. Anyway, for now, here's what's what.

CEMETERY MAN: Cinematically, I've been in search of some satisfying lowbrow thrills and it really seemed like this cult favorite was gonna do the trick: after all, it's an Italian horror comedy based on a graphic novel by the creator Dylan Dog about a morose gravedigger who must not only bury the dead but kill them when they inevitably return to life. After all, it's got zombies. And boobies. And Rupert Everett at his deadpan best. And yet? Still not very good. It's designed to be a horror film for the Smiths set, with Everett being a proto-emo moper trying to separate fear of death from fear of life, and confusing, as the youth do, love and death, and passion and pain. But not only is Everett about five to ten years too old for the role to make any sense, the filmmakers run out of script about two-thirds of the way through and begin throwing anything at the screen to see if it'll stick, with Everett encountering different incarnations of the woman he loves and being led to greater and greater acts of violence and passion. And then they throw in an ambiguous ending to make the whole thing seem like a mysterious riddle, rather than a cobbled together waste of time. In some ways, it reminded me a lot of Donnie Darko, except I liked Donnie Darko and thought it accomplished a lot of what it wanted to, while this flick was sub-EH. But there are still people who act like this movie was a greater invention than ice cream, so what do I know?

COMIC FOUNDRY #1: There's a lot to like in this first issue and a ton to nitpick, although I'm not sure it'd really be worth your time or mine to sort everything this issue has into those two piles. I think it's highly OK, although the mag should seriously get a good ad rep so there are ads for somebody other than Previews and Rocketship in there (if nothing else, a higher page count would make that price tag sting a little less). And this is probably really dickish for me to do since I can just email the guy and tell him directly, but I thought Ian Brill's fiction piece brilliantly parodied (although I think maybe inadvertently so) chick lit's over-reliance on brand names (Think The Devil Wears Prada, but with comic nerds) and cannily used the protagonist's superhero creation, The Reality Surfer, as a metaphor for youthful indecision. It wasn't the most brilliant piece of short fiction I'd read in some time, but it was effective. More than any other piece in the magazine--and, like I said, there's a lot of stuff to like in here--it makes the case that Tim Leong's ballsiness might really bring something new to the comics magazine marketplace.

CONFESSIONS OF A POLICE CAPTAIN: Continuing in my search for cheap lowbrow thrills, I picked up the inexpensive Grindhouse Experience boxed set which has 20 films jammed onto five DVDs for a low price. Astoundingly, I found a good movie on my first try (although the transfer was, as you'd expect, terrible): Confessions of a Police Captain, an Italian cop procedural from '74 with Martin Balsam and Franco Nero that plays like a variation on Touch of Evil. Balsam plays the jaded police captain who starts the movie off by setting a killer off on a bloodbath, and Nero plays the idealistic district attorney investigating Balsam to determine just how corrupt Balsam actually is. (The great thing about the movie is that it's set in Italy, so corruption is never a question, it's just the degree of corruption). Despite the occasional shootout or stabbing, it's not really an exploitation flick, although it is the sort of film that sounds salacious enough to have played a grindhouse in the '70s. It is, however, a chance to see Martin Balsam play the shit out of a leading role, and to watch a film with insight into the urban Italian mindset of the day. While not exactly a diamond in the rough, it's a highly OK little flick and I'm glad I saw it.

DR. SLUMP, VOLS. 4 AND 5: Out of all of my guilty manga pleasures, this is probably the guiltiest since I miss being in the target group's age range by about thirty years or so. And make no mistake, Dr. Slump revels in its childishness, with cheap jokes built around the size of Tarzan's "dingy" or aliens trapped on Earth mistaking a toilet for a new spaceship, and stories sporting titles like "Yay Yay Wildland." But not only is all this nonsense executed with an infectious sense of joy, but Akira Toryama's cartooning chops are formidable--I'm shocked at how everything he draws is so appealing and visually consistent, be it robots, a parody of Golgo 13, the back of a TV set, or a valley at sunrise: it's all clearly part of the same kooky universe. I've been meaning to donate these volumes to the library forever now, but I find myself picking them up and flipping through them whenever I come across them. They're deeply goofy comics for little kids (and maybe not the sort of stuff you want to pass along unless you're comfortable explaining why Dr. Slump wants to see Ms. Yamabuki's panties so badly) but they're really quite GOOD.

DRIFTING CLASSROOM, VOL. 7: Probably the first volume where things lag a little bit. Of course, in the world of Kazuo Umezu's horror/disaster manga, a lag means only that after the flash flood is through ripping people to shreds, strange mushrooms begin to grow on all the food and tough decisions have to be made about whether or not the strange fungi should be eaten: it leads to a 30 page section where motivations get even thinner than usual and cruelty exists less for thematic purposes than to keep the chain of events clanking along. After that, however, we get deformed monster-children, a hasty religion devoted to the hero's mother, the new opiate of the masses, and a one-eyed Lovecraftian menace that threatens to devour everyone and everything. Vol. 7 suffers by comparison to the other books in the series as the pace flags just enough to suspect that Umezu is either vamping or winging it entirely. Still, quite GOOD and apeshit enough to make for a fun read.

 

FLOWER & SNAKE '74: Strange little impulse purchase, which I made in part because they mentioned Riichiro Manabe did the score, and his music for Godzilla Vs. The Smog Monster is probably my favorite Godzilla score ever, and in part because I have such fond memories of the ultra-insane Sex & Fury which this seemed to resemble. Turns out it's not nearly as inspired (or inspiring) as the Lady Snowblood-styled Sex & Fury, and instead comes off a bit like Belle de jour if you stripped that film of all of Bunuel's lovely surreal touches and put an obsession with enemas in its place. Flower & Snake '74 is about Makoto, an kink-loving impotent clerk living with his pornography making mother, who is hired by his boss to break the boss' wife. The 70+ minutes of bondage and enema inducing are made watchable (unless, you know, that's your thing) by the novelistic approach to Makoto's character (he's been rendered impotent ever since childhood where he caught--and killed--a black G.I. making love to his mother) and, similarly, a cast that has the (very) slightest bit of depth to the personalities. (And it's pretty easy to make the case for Makoto, traumatized by the conquering of his mother by an American, representing good ol' fucked-up post-war Japan in the filmmaker's eyes). There's also a few shots-- such as when the bloody spirit of the murdered G.I. appears against a blood-red sunset--that are technically impressive. But, generally, unless you've got an annual subscription to Comic A-G, it's the kind of exploitation trash you're not missing much by skipping. Highly EH.

GOLGO 13 VOL. 7: As is the way with these volumes, Takao Saito makes us pay for the awesome (Sweet Jesus! Golgo 13 snipes a nuclear power plant!) with pages of technical research and blathering secondary characters. In the second story, G-13 ends up in a compact piece of gangster noir set in a small Nevada town, with the tale's highlight being a one-page knife-versus-gun fight that's an engaging and spiffy bit of page design. Finally, Takao Saito is interviewed by the charmingly insane Kunio Suzuki who gets bonus points for writing craziness like "Golgo 13 was the textbook of my life." If you've been digging Duke Togo 'til now, you'll probably think it OK.

JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE VOLS. 1-3: The Overlooked Manga Festival at Shaenon K. Garrity's Livejournal has become an invaluable resource for me, and as soon as I read her overview of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, I knew I had to get my hands on it. The pleasing mix of epic scope (several generations of family and friends travel the world to fight a vampire who's taken possession of the patriarch's body and his superpowers; everyone has a psychic power based on a motif from the major arcana of the Tarot deck), astounding dopiness (many characters have names that are lame puns on '70s and '80s rock and pop performers; the art looks like the project was originally intended to be Street Fighter II slash fanfic) and over-the-top gorey horror tropes (how else to describe the fight scene that's largely a man being cut apart by a straight-razor wielding voodoo doll?) make it an entertaining, deeply dopey read. JoJo's Bizarre Adventures isn't without its significant weaknesses--at three volumes in, the story is deeply formulaic (like levels in a fighting game) and there are times when the author, Hirohiko Araki, gets bored or runs out of ideas and whisks his characters off to the next location and the next enemy--but it also takes frequent turns into the inspired, such as the section where the heroes have to fight a porn-reading orangutan on an abandoned oil freighter. So far, the book reminds me of what the early days of Image Comics were supposed to be: product so juvenile and energetic it's irresistible (as opposed to what the early days of Image Comics actually were, which was product so undisciplined and yet fiscally calculated it was simultaneously annoying and dull). I should really call this stuff highly OK, but considering how eagerly I gobbled down the first three volumes (and how much I'm looking forward to the next three) I guess I'll reservedly call it GOOD. It won't appeal to everyone, certainly.

LUCKY V2. #1: I loved how this issue uses the autobio up front to heighten the punch of the extended dream narrative in the back. It's not done in the way that you might think with recurring visual motifs or what-have-you, but through some brilliant tricks of pacing. By breaking the autobio stories into brief one or two page segments, and by continually excerpting her performance of the dream story in the back in a hyper-compacted fashion, the dream story, My Affliction, feels much, much longer and recreates the feeling of being trapped in an seemingly endless dream. It's really fucking brilliant, and makes the issue well worth the $3.95 cover tag. A VERY GOOD issue, and one that moved me from being a casual fan of Bell's work to avidly interested in what she'll do next. (By the way, is it wrong that Gabrielle Bell's style reminds me of J. Backderf's? I feel like I should be seeing more of a David B. influence, but that cover and the use of blacks really makes me think of Derf. Not that it's a bad thing, but I can't think of a tone more opposed to Bell's than Derf's.)

 

MONSTER VOL. 10: The most satisfying of this week's Viz Signature releases, and not just because it's about 30 pages longer than Golgo 13 and a dozen pages longer than Drifting Classroom. Although you'd think Naoki Urasawa's introduction of yet another kindly drifter (Grimmer, a former spy turned freelance journalist) would undercut the story's narrative tension, Monster succeeds by setting up any number of potential victims to be preyed upon by Johan's evil scheme, the mystery of Kinderheim 511, and all those crooked cops and violent gangsters lurking around every turn. Or maybe I'm just a sucker for long narratives jammed with characters and odd details (the strangely understated and creepy street sign for the Three Frogs Bar in Prague made the whole volume for me)--I thought it was a VERY GOOD chapter, in any event.

MY DEAD GIRLFRIEND VOL. 1: Eric Wight's first book from Tokyopop made me curse the heavens, not just because I'd spent money on the thing, but because the book could've been so much better if Tokyopop had treated the material as more than a simple IP grab: Graeme in his review gripes about the pacing of this book and what he suspected was an imposed three act structure on the story. And certainly, there's some really awful pacing choices in this book that seem designed to drag the story out for another two volumes. But even more frustrating than that are choices that suggest Wight really didn't consider his structure too much in the first place. In the opening few pages for example, the protagonist recounts the family curse that results in all of his ancestors dying a highly absurd death. As the hero finishes up, we see that he's been delivering a school report... and that all his classmates are monsters. It's not done in a way that maximizes the reveal, by the way: it's just done as a standard transition by someone telling a story without much thought for the best way to get the maximum impact from it. Similarly, once the supernatural setting is fleshed out, you can't figure out why the protagonist is so upset about the idea of dying, or even dying absurdly: all of his ancestors, including his ghostly parents, are still around, playing cards and telling stories. In this Addams Family lite setting, death is only one more moment on an unending continuum, making the protagonist's anxiety about it come across as deeply prissy.

The reason all this bugs me so deeply is that if there's one section of the American comics marketplace that should understand the importance of an editor helping a creator shape the material and maximize its impact, it would be one of the top three North American manga companies. I mean, Wight's panel to panel storytelling is good, his character design is appealing, and his art has a Bruce Timm-ish quality to it I really like--it wouldn't take much for someone read the material he has, criticize it constructively, and help him find the best way to present the material, and I get the impression that most manga companies in Japan wouldn't let it get out the door without that. But Tokyopop, like most of the other big comic companies here in the U.S., is more than willing to keep the overhead low, push the material into the marketplace, and reap the dividends, should there be any.

On the other hand, what do I know? Graeme gave it a Very Good, and the book's front, back and inside covers are practically leprous with blurbs from industry professionals praising the book. So maybe I'm wrong and I read this book on the wrong day or something. But it must've been a worse day than I realized, because I thought this was a frustratingly EH piece of work.

SAMURAI COMMANDO VOL. 1: You ever see that Sonny Chiba movie G.I. Samurai (also known in some places as Time Slip)? I stumbled across it on video a few years ago, and it's one of my favorite b-movies for both the elegance of its plot hook and its execution: a troop of Japanese Self-Defense Force soldiers on maneuvers end up back in feudal Japan and decide, basically, to conquer the country. Despite being armed with firearms, a tank, a helicopter and other modern weaponry, the soldiers aren't prepared for the combination of their own internecine conflicts and the power of their enemies. As I said, it's one of my favorite action flicks, so I got pretty hopped up to come across this manga by Harutoshi Rukui and art group Ark Performance reprinted by CMX: it's essentially the same premise, except that the Colonel of the Forces instead makes allies with the warlords of the past and together they declare war on the present. (Both the movie and the manga work from the same material, the novel, Sengoku Jieitai by Ryo Hanmura.)

However, while the Chiba movie balanced out the blabbity-blab with ninjas attacking helicopters, Samurai Commando (which appears to be only two volumes long) spends so much time setting up the premise, introducing the characters, and hinting at their backstories, and so by the time you've got gunfire and decapitations by samurai swords, it's too little, too late. It's a shame too, because the art by Ark Performance is dynamic and strangely airless in a way that I think fans of Jim Lee would like: this could have been, like Death Note, a nice little transitional manga for comics readers of the Big Two looking to branch out a bit. But instead, it's a very EH little manga, and given the choice between recommending it and suggesting you visit Amazon and pick up an out-of-print copy of G.I. Samurai for less than five bucks, I have but little choice but to exhort you to do the latter. Pity.

TRAIN_MAN VOL. 1: It's easy to see why this tale of a reclusive Internet introvert struggling to find romance with the help of his online community is wildly popular: it's nearly impossible to read this and not have your heart strings plucked, to the point where I found myself a little resentful of the brazen emotional manipulation. Each chapter gives the Train_Man a minor challenge that seems insurmountable to his sheepish soul, and each chapter shows him succeeding, with page after page of laudatory exclamations from members of his online community. And yet, to bitch about the first volume of Viz Media's Train_Man being sweet to the point of near implausibility is like chastising a teddy bear for being cuddly: that's what it's supposed to do, it's clearly marketed as such, and it's very effective at what it does (I'd be lying if I told you I *didn't* read the volume all in one breathless sitting). It's Good material, provided you've got a weakness for the cutesy, but I can't guarantee you won't hate yourself just a little for enjoying it.

Abhay Reviews the Comic Books that Make the Whole World Sing!

I was planning on skipping this week, but I'd like to write briefly about one of the most interesting comics that came out this month. Maybe not THE single most interesting, but ... Top 5. If it were my Myspace friend, I'd put in my Top 8. Its Myspace song would be Okkervil River's Our Life is Not a Movie or Maybe. Later: I'd discover it was a 40 year old police officer, and I'd inadvertently been caught in an elaborate sting operation to track down internet pedophiles. The regret, the horrible, horrible regret. All because of this comic. It's that interesting. I'm of course talking about the two-page Honda Elements SC Advertisement fumetti in this week's Marvel comics.

THE PLOT: a lion, recently escaped from the zoo, has met a Honda Element, somewhere "in the city" (presumably New York City). Plainly, the lion is a super-genius as not only can it escape from zoos, but it also can talk; however, the lion is insane as it's talking to a car. Cars can't talk. Anyway, the comic ends with Crazy Fucking Lion teaming up with the Friendly, City-Slicker Honda to go find a drugstore where it intends to purchase hair products. And then, off to Marquee, to snort blow off of Lindsley Lohan's skeleton! Aaah, New York!

It's two pages about a schizophrenic talking supergenius lion, which is intended to sell Honda SUVs, and I found this in an ad for Marvel Comics The Order #2 and Mister Iron Fist #8-- not in Vertigo comics, not in Fantagraphics comics, but plain old mainstream, run-of-the-mill Marvel comic books.

We all know that comics aren't for little kids anymore-- they're wildly inappropriate for little kids. But, fuck, are they even for college students anymore? They're for people with enough disposable income to purchase sports utility vehicles. I didn't have that kind of money in college-- did you? I don't know a thing about cars, not a thing, so to me, a SUV is for families-- at least late 20's, early 30's. And that's not just the audience for The Order, but enough of the audience to capture the attention of advertisers...?

It didn't just end up in these comics by accident-- Marvel must have people who sell ads. Honda must have people who evaluate whether it makes sense to purchase ad space, whether it'll hit their target demographic, meet their branding strategy, etc. The comic reflects not only an aging comic audience, but a series of business decisions, money changing hands, memos going out, phone calls, e-mails, teleconferences-- the channels of fucking commerce, you know, lit up and shit two pages of Honda ads into my Mister Iron Fist comic book.

The other ads in these book are o-kay, but not as good. The Army has a recruiting ad-- recruiting standards have gotten so low thanks to the War that the Army is willing to accept nerds now. Great. Fucking fantastic. The 81st Fighting Hemophiliacs... watch out terrorists. You can not only bring democracy to the Middle East-- you can bring the Philosophy of Star Trek. That's what that region needs. I say Go! Sign up! Say hello to Iran while you're there, Cosplayers. And then there's a men's underwear ad that's all about negatively stereotyping women-- which... not only did those advertisers decide to sell to the comic book audience, but they even got the casual misogyny right! Cheers, Mad Men!

But the Honda ad's the most interesting. You know, the lion is a symbol in the Book of Revelations for Christ-- the "Lion of the tribe of Judah." Check out this awkward line of dialogue from the Honda ad: "You're a lion on the lamb." The lamb? Also a symbol of Christ, only from the Gospel of John: "the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world" (John 1:29). So really isn't this Honda ad essentially all about the Second Coming of Christ? And I think what Honda is saying is if and when the Second Coming happens, Jesus will not only return, but return in a Honda Element, North America's Truck of the Year in 2003. Also: he will apparently have beautiful hair because the Honda Element will help him to purchase hair conditioner before he redeems the world.

Fucking A! That's what you call a hard sell.

I love how much credit it gives to comic book fans, too-- they can't just do a straightforward ad campaign. They have to use Dadaist humor in order to connect with comic fans, since comic fans are so cynical and discriminating...? Really, Madison Avenue? Come on, now.

The Order #2 and Mister Iron Fist #8 were both fun or whatever, but that lion ad? HOLY SHIT.

World War Wolk! Jeff brings you the photos!

(The nerd conundrum for the new millennium: who's stronger, Annalee or Graeme?)

Sorry these took so long to post; Douglas's signing is at the start of my workweek and was followed immediately by my garage sale (which turned out great, by the way), and after the last nine weeks or so of six day workweeks when I finally got time off, I totally slacked.

Of course, I've got no right to bitch after meeting Douglas Wolk--not only had the guy only been home 22 hours in the last month (the way he put it was, "22 hours total," which leads me to infer they were non-contiguous hours), but he still had something like 11,000 words to write before(?) he left for Burning Man (which he may be doing today, I can't remember) for his six or so regular columns.

Yeah, he's kind of a dynamo, Douglas, and yet still manages to be an incredibly sweet guy, very low-key, filled with great stories, be they about how he got his new column at The Nation, or one of the bands on his record label. (Yes, Douglas Wolk is that kind of terrifying ultra-achiever: the hyphenate.) Not that I'm an expert on either man, but he really reminds me of Scott McCloud when I first met McCloud at San Diego back in 1990--very, very smart, very kind, self-assured but not content to just rest on accrued laurels. (I hope that doesn't sound like a diss against current day Scott McCloud, by the way, because it's not: it's just that when I met McCloud in 1990 and complimented him on the great work he was doing on Zot!, he thanked me and told me he was leaving the book to do a mammoth how-to on comics, a fact at which I could only stand there and gape. "Well, you've earned my trust as a creator, so if that's what you want to do I'll be there..." I not-very-encouragingly said.)

Anyway, here's just a few photos of the signing, and if you get a chance to turn up for one of Douglas's signings in the future, you should do so because he's great.

(the man himself, Douglas Wolk)

(I don't remember what Douglas was saying here, but it obviously entrancing)

(Douglas Wolk, Peter Wong, Ian Brill, Annalee Newitz, Graeme McMillan... it's like the entire Internet showed up for this photo!)

(Hibbs achieves enlightenment, courtesy of Douglas Wolk)

They Have a Plan: Graeme may have to wait two years to find out what it is, though: 8/22.

And in a strange bit of synchronicity, in the same week that I was talking about the Battlestar Galactica comics (Hi, Annalee), Dynamite Entertainment's BATTLESTAR GALACTICA: SEASON ZERO #1 presents itself for abuse.

Looking at it one way, I can see the draw of doing a Season Zero for Dynamite; the show itself has such tight continuity that it's hard (if not impossible) to be able to do any meaningful stories during that time frame - It's something that completely destroyed any sense of tension in Greg Pak's twelve issue run, as you knew constantly that everything had to work out in the end because the characters were just about to meet the Pegasus and you'd already seen that - not to mention the probability of stepping on storylines that the television crew are planning or wanting to keep for themselves. But on the other hand, I don't really care enough about what the characters were doing before the TV show started to read an ongoing book about it. Setting a series then removes the main thrust of the entire concept, as well as the series' main antagonists in any meaningful way, and instead relies on things that we've already seen in backstory from the television show (that, to be honest, in some cases work better as backstory and dramatic counterpoint to what's happening currently) to drive the story. And, again, we already know where we're going to end up, so without the introduction of all new characters that the creators can actually do something surprising with (thereby pissing off the fans who want to see Starbuck's ass), everything again seems kind of toothless and playing-for-time.

And that's the main problem with the first issue, at least. Yes, there's a small bit of interest in seeing Ellen, Tigh, Adama and his wife celebrate peacetime and talk about how easy life is going to be aboard the Galactica, but aside from that, the story feels pointless and a diversion from what Galactica is meant to be about. The conflict comes from a new set of characters with uncertain motives, but we've not seen enough of them to really understand why what they're doing is interesting, and because the one event that brought everyone together is years away from happening, the majority of the cast is missing, and - with the exception of Tigh and Adama - the character interplay that makes the TV series so engrossing is nowhere to be found.

As strange as it sounds after what I've just said, though, the creators try their best in the circumstances; Brandon Jerwa's structure matches the crosstime-cutting of some of Ron Moore's episodes even if his dialogue isn't quite there yet, and Jackson Herbert's art - while stiff in places - is thankfully much closer to the understated visual style of the show than Nigel Raynor's from the previous series. It's just that, ultimately...? I'm not sure anyone could make this book more than an Eh.

A great shape for the shape they're in: Graeme gets surprised, 4/5 of the way through from 8/22.

And this is where I surprise many of you by saying the following: OUTSIDERS: FIVE OF A KIND: METAMORPHO/AQUAMAN #1? You should really go out and pick it up.

I'm not changing my tune on the entire "Five Of A Kind" event, I have to point out. It's an entirely unnecessary series of books that almost works against the stated intent - I don't feel that anything I've read in the first three books (Nightwing/Captain Boomerang Jr., Katana/Shazam! and Thunder/Martian Manhunter, for those of you with a short memory) has done anything whatsoever to promote the new Batman And The Outsiders series, and may even have done the opposite and made the series seem less attractive with each successive issue - in the name of cash grab and filling shelf space. If you threw the entire series in my face and asked me yay or nay, I'd go for the nay option after complaining about you throwing something in my face in the first place. But nonetheless, this Metamorpho and Aquaman team-up succeeds where the previous issues have failed by managing two things that the others didn't: Having a story, and having some really rather amazing art.

Story first, because - as good as it is - it's the lesser of the reasons to look at the book. G. Willow Wilson, a writer new to comics (This may be her first published comic? I think she has a Vertigo graphic novel out soon, but I can't remember when it appears), comes up with a oneshot that succeeds on its own terms - It's nothing that will bowl you over, perhaps, but it's a solid short story that ties in to Metamorpho's history and attempts to introduce and explore its two characters' personalities as much as their superheroic powers and identities. As basic as that sounds, it's still something that none of the other books in the line have lived up to, and as a result, more than I was expecting here.

Much more than I was expecting, however, was the artwork by Josh Middleton. Don't get me wrong; I've liked Middleton's art in the past, but somehow was still unprepared by the clear storytelling, quirky linework and textural color he brings to the table here - It's a wonderful look that raises the writing up on every level and makes the book so much more enjoyable. Stylized and full of life, it's the kind of thing that can make you want to go back and find everything that he's worked on, to see just how he got to this (Disney meets James Jean, to my eye) place. Without Middleton's artwork, this would still be a fun enough read and still the best by far of the Five Of A Kind books, but with it, it's a high Good and worth reading even if the idea of Batman and his Outsiders makes you break out in hives.

My Life is Choked with Comics #6 - Soldier X #1-8 (and surroundings)

It was the day of Jemas.

A lot of things had happened to various Marvel comics since Bill Jemas had become president of consumer products, publishing and new media, with Joe Quesada as editor in chief. Reader attention had been mobilized, and several noteworthy projects had begun. Not every effort initiated in that time would be successful, nor would all of even be noteworthy, but in retrospect one can sense an atmosphere of relative experimentation, albeit one formed from financial strife.

And nothing screamed 'relative experimentation' like the extended X-Men line.

I've heard some call this period of X-history a 'progressive' era, one that extended roughly from writer Grant Morrison's debut on the freshly re-branded New X-Men in July 2001 to the X-Men ReLoad event of May 2004, a line-wide creative shift which served, in part, to erase some of the departed Morrison's most visible story and character changes, and in a wider sense marked a return to more emphatically traditional mutant superhero stories. But that period didn't just begin with Morrison; it saw a large number of upsets occur, in both the creative teams and the very directions of several series.

And there for the duration, just as indicative of the time as Grant Morrison, was Igor Kordey.

A Croatian-born illustrator, designer and comics artist, Kordey first became visible on the US comics scene as a painter, his first work for Marvel being the two-issue Tales of the Marvels: Wonder Years in 1995. His 20th century work at the publisher would not extend beyond that, and the two-issue Conspiracy miniseries of 1998.

Instead, he contributed to a number of licensed books, most notably offering extensive contributions to Dark Horse's Tarzan line, including a sadly unfinished 1999-2000 series titled Tarzan: The Rivers of Blood (four out of an intended eight issues published, never collected), which had been in the works for over a decade. Kordey both drew, and co-scripted with fellow Croatian Neven Antičević, who devised the story with noted Danish writer/translator Henning Kure. Two other Tarzan projects are worth noting for our purposes: the 1995 one-off Tarzan: A Tale of Mugambi and the 1998 miniseries Tarzan/Carson of Venus (both collected into a 1999 trade, named for the latter work), with Croatia-born writer Darko Macan. The two would reunite before an English-language audience during that period of mutant growth at Marvel.

The path of Kordey's latter career at Marvel quite neatly follows the trajectory of the 'progressive' era for X-Men and related books. It began in November 2001, on a revamp of the consummate '90s mutant character Cable. It ended with the July 2004 X-Men ReLoad revival of Excalibur, the very series set to do the heavy lifting of continuity adjustment. Kordey was set as the series' regular artist, but he was suddenly released from his duties the day prior to online solicitation posting, despite having completed issue #1 and begun work on issue #2. All of his material was replaced. He has not worked for Marvel again, although, interestingly, it appears that he was offered the troubled Combat Zone: True Tales of GIs in Iraq project, that Dan Jurgens eventually drew.

But it wasn't just a straight path from the revivials of 2001 to the counter-revivals of 2004. There are always bumps in the road. Surely the biggest bump in Kordey's time with Marvel was his infamous run on Morrison's New X-Men, where he began as a fill-in-for-a-fill-in. These, it is sad to say, are likely the works Kordey remains best known for across the whole of English-language comics. Given the popularity of New X-Men, and its status as prime X-Men book of the day, it was likely many readers' first and only exposure to Kordey's art.

And if all you had read were those issues of New X-Men, you might have thought Kordey wasn't worth much. Pages seem ripped apart with gashes of thick black ink. Poor Cyclops looks like he's been punched in the face for a full hour. Those leather Frank Quitely costumes seem to seethe like hot, stretching tar. Reading over the material, it's frankly not as bad as I remember it being, but it's still not good.

The problem was, Kordey could draw an entire 22-page comic in about 10 days. And he did, when both primary New X-Men artist Frank Quitely and fill-in artist Ethan Van Sciver couldn't keep with the deadlines, and X-scheduling got tight. He shouldn't have, but he did. "I was my only judge, jury and executioner all the time," Kordey later mused (see link above). He drew more issues after that. And an awful lot of readers disliked him, greatly and biliously.

But for much of his time at Marvel, Kordey was a fine talent. From his b&w line art, it's clear that his range extends from graceful cartoon observation to well-defined, idiosyncratic realism. He could also do some nice action and careful environments, although neither of those examples are from Marvel projects. Color did not sap any power from his lines, which worked well with both rich and faded hues. But his lines were not quite like what usually graced a superhero comic, even though they were rather close; I suspect that some readers who did see more of Kordey's work than was displayed in New X-Men, probably didn't care for it much anyway. Yet it was the rushing, I suspect, that always colored the wide view of his work. Hell, people disliked those New X-Men issues so much I've been on message boards where Kordey's work was used to slam Quitely, some posters unable to distinguish between the two men's work. Dislike that potent can be projected.

Yet Kordey's style was fitting for Marvel in 2001. Kordey didn't entirely draw like a superhero artist, and he can thus been seen as a perfect representative for books that didn't entirely want to seem like superhero comics, for a short time, for better or worse.

Take the Cable revival. Written by David Tischman (usually a writing partner for Howard Chaykin, who was initially meant to supervise the series but couldn't), it saw the famed time-travel gun messiah decide to travel the globe, finding various scrupulously-researched 'hot spots' and affecting present-tense change by shooting things and alluding to his backstory. It was a decent run, with some vivid secondary characters and convincing political settings, but it ran into the same problem faced by several of these superhero hybrid projects - the superhero elements sat uneasily in the larger work. For me, every mention of baroque X-Men continuity kind of tossed me around; it's not that you can't have a serious political gunfire comic with superpowered people (Golgo 13 isn't all that human, after all), but you have to be very careful with the mix. Tischman didn't do a great job of matching mentions of the Legacy Virus and such up with his larger international action story - it's like that whole 'Marvel superheroes' business kept getting in the way, lousy stuff!

Interestingly, in the back of the first trade paperback collection of Tischman's run as writer (Cable: The Shining Path), Tischman's series proposal is included as a bonus feature. And that proposal actually does a much nicer job of integrating the mutant superhero and political explosion elements of the project. For example, in the first storyline Cable finds himself mixed up with a group of Communist revolutionaries in Peru. This group has neatly mixed mutants in wih humans, and Tischman proposes using this setup to draw parallels between Communism and the famed 'dream' of Professor X - both deeply idealistic, and both doomed to fail when put in the real world. You can make out echoes of this theme in the story itself, but the execution tips the balance greatly toward the politics, leaving the superhero stuff to look lost.

Also in the proposal was an ongoing focus on Cable's role as Askani messiah, master of a future peaceable-yet-proactive philosophy that he hopes to plant the seeds for, thus saving the future. Tischman and Kordey even managed to cleverly use Marvel's 'Nuff Said no-dialogue gimmick month to have a special issue in which Cable finally overcomes the techno-organic virus that had always held his amazing mutant powers back, thus giving him the uncontrollable power of a god. Tischman seemed to want to develop the spiritual aspect of Cable in greater depth as the series went on. He didn't manage it himself; having started on Cable #97, Tischman ended his run on the book only as far as issue #104. For Tischman's final four-issue storyline, seeing Cable dealing with clashes between ethnic Albanians and Macedonians, Kordey aided with the story for the first three chapters, and became primary writer for the final one.

At that point, the writing chores were taken over by the aforementioned Darko Macan.

I think it's very useful to read all of Tischman's material, plus Tischman's proposal, and then all of Macan's material, because the whole thing is an excellent example of how one writer can pick up the work of a prior writer, introducing his own themes and his spin on the material, while continuing the work already started. If Tischman wanted to go farther with Cable's spirituality, and his attaining the power of a god, Macan absolutely presses it to the limit. The final issues of the regular Cable series, #105-107 (featuring some rare fill-in art on #106 from Mike Huddleston and John Stanisci), sees the title character really struggling with his powers; he accidently wipes out dozens of minds in a secret fighting arena, evaporates a building housing a nuclear weapon, and becomes tempted by a Singapore zillionaire who wants him to shape the whole world -- not just a few countries -- as a corporate-backed God. The last of the Tischman issues and the beginning of Macan's run are collected in the trade Cable: The End.

And that was the end of the Cable ongoing series.

Which leads us to Soldier X.

Which is actually the old Cable series, with Macan on writing and Kordey on art, but retitled in a multi-series, mid-2002 effort to goose sales and better set up revamped properties as individuals (and maybe make them easier to get rid of, should the need arise). X-Force became X-Statix, Deadpool became Agent X, and Cable became Soldier X.

Kordey and Macan lasted for eight issues on Soldier X. Sales were not good. The material was never collected. But these issues are some of my favorite things from the X-Men revamps of the period, ideal back-issues to stumble across, loaded with eager personality, and willing to boil the tortured concept of its lead character down to the essence of superhero metaphor, while retaining the global outlook of the stories that came directly before it.

There's more comedy than before, and maybe a excess of ambition to the structure - the first six issues tell a long story, which zips the character's 'present' timeline to two years after the end of the prior series, yet acts as a lengthy flashback to near the prior present, as a Daily Bugle reporter reviews a disc of information sent to her from Cable about his transformative adventures. Even as the flashback material occurs, we see Cable's present-day recorded narration via caption; sometimes it falls into the trap of telling us what we're seeing, but more often it exposes the stony character's impressions on what's going on.

But the first issue barely even features the main character, instead following the reporter as she sits through terrorism fear bedlam on an airplane, has her job endangered, meets with bumbling agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., encounters a sumo wrestler in a Sailor Moon costume, and more. Kordey's character art by this time has grown broader, perhaps as a result of his punishing workload, but it matches Macan's tone perfectly. Often, Kordey delivers 23 pages of new art instead of the typical Marvel 22; this is because several of the recap pages are fully-realized pieces of art, with a different character explaining the plot to the reader in their own voice. At one point, the recap page actually appears in the middle of an issue, as a minor character stops the book with converse with YOU. Several jokes are made at the expense of the book's cool new title, and the plotting is deemed "enchantingly meandering" by its own cast of drawings.

I can't say they're wrong - the plot is all over the place, with Cable meeting up with what seems to be his wrinkled Yoda-like mentor Blaquesmith, except the once-sage little imp has become a total hedonist. He directs Cable toward a young mutant in Russia, who seems to have Christlike healing abilities - touch and be cured. Along the way, a large supporting cast attaches, including the girl's drunken father, her controlling-yet-devout mother, a gang of Armenian gangsters, a mob of devout Christians looking for healing, and a bizarre Russian surplus superhero named Geo, who's taken to blowing up empty fast food restaurants in protest of globalization. The action moves (gradually) from Russia's urban environments to the countryside, and then on to St. Lenin, "an old factory, where a mad artist used to work on blending Orthodox and Communist iconography. In a way it made perfect sense. It made sense because it made no sense at all."

Some might extend that notion to the story itself. Characters often don't act so much as converse. Sequences of mutant action mix with images of the grotesque, like the little mutant girl kissing a grown man's massive chest of boiling sores. This mix of tones and approaches is handled very carefully by Kordey, though, his art often adopting an especially Corbenesque character, emphasis placed on squat, weathered characters walking through rough but vivid places. It also manages to 'sell' the mutant superhero angle a lot better than the prior stories, if only through its general air of anything going.

And Macan's story really does cohere very nicely. It's a detailed parable for personal spiritual awakening, kissed with a unique concern for Westernization and ethnic & capitalistic conflict. The Armenians are determined to be better exploiters than victims, but all of them dress like American gangbangers, and some are obsessed with a movie hero notion of being 'hard' men. They want the little healer girl for money, but her mother wants her because religious faith is all she has, and there is nothing finer than to be the mother of a Saint, even if it means the child is martyred. The girl herself makes a mid-story transformation from healer to a type of succubus, drawing strength out of people when she used to give it away - a nice little story about religious faith, that. Geo challenges the confused Cable to stand for something:

"I want the right to be a hero WITHOUT LOOKING like one! I want a world where I could be EQUAL without being the SAME!"

Feel free to indulge in any metafictional reading that pleases you.

Anyway, Cable eventually wakes up. He even undergoes a scourging, his skin torn apart by "three thousand" bullets, then even more of it torn off his body in long strips by people eager for healing. Needless to say, he rises again, even if he doesn't die. He grows to giant size, and strips all the metal off his skin, and decides that if he has the powers of a god, he ought to start acting like one. Clearly, the superhero-as-God theme isn't a new one (even the unfortunate film event Superman Returns came complete with an ill-advised Jesus subtext); what makes it work here is Macan's investment in an emphatic catalog of beliefs among characters, recognizing that religion and politics and philosophy and ethnicity often cannot be separated. And I can't say I've ever seen that subject matter addressed quite so effectively through the broad men-as-gods sweep of a Marvel superhero comic.

The final two issues of Kordey's and Macan's Soldier X more or less act to complete the work's themes. Issue #7 suffers from what seems to me like evident compression problems, owing to a creative team being asked to clean off their desks and wrap things up. Sales weren't good, you know. Cable flies around, using his powers for uniquely non-violent godly purposes; he wants to demonstrate that having destructive powers doesn't mean you need to use them. He discovers that the Blaquesmith he met was a fake, but the impressionable imp becomes Cable's disciple, reversing the master-apprentice roles.

And issue #8, just like with the end of Morrison's New X-Men, whisks us far into the future, to the year 4006, long after the seeds of Cable's Askani way have taken hold. For this issue, colorist Matt Madden works directly from Kordey's pencils, creating a delicate, unreal sensation. The story follows a young Askani boy and an older woman, who travel to a nearby town to defuse a race skirmish, and serves mainly to underline the themes of the stories that preceded it, and show that the man-and-god influence of Cable has congealed into a semi-misinterpreted religion that nevertheless equips people to face most of the same problems as existed in the past. Not a bad Christ metaphor, which is what they're going for. But Cable gets off a little easy in comparison - we get a flashback/flash-forward to Cable's peaceful death, in one of those sequences (I'm a sucker for) where nearly all of the characters from Macan's and Tischman's stories show up to implicitly say goodbye.

Ha! I told you Macan worked to further Tischman's themes! All of these Cable/Soldier X plots add up from the nation-by-nation focus of early issues to the broadest effect of all, if one ironically dispersed in impact. This is a rare occurrence in modern superhero books, where lines are often drawn by writers. Here, it is Kordey, the artist and sometimes-writer, who is the constant. And that may be due, by and large, to his embodiment of the time.

Solder X went on for two more issues, under a different creative team, and then ended in late 2003. Marvel didn't seem to know what to do with Kordey. He'd have been excellent on The Punisher MAX, had the series not had months to go before it started. Instead, Kordey was puzzlingly placed on what I gather was the most traditional, most stylistically conservative of the X-Men line, Chris Claremont's X-Treme X-Men. Kordey was not an easy fit with such classical superheroics at all. He ran into content clashes with editorial. He blanched at being assigned inkers, which to my mind (given my limited exposure to the work) seemed to act as a means of slicking his work up, to hammer it into a 'proper' superhero approach.

By the time ReLoad came around, Kordey was gone. He'd later do lovely work on the IDW series Smoke. He'd work on the first two albums of project for French publisher Delcourt, L'Histoire Secrète. I don't know what he's doing now.

But you can still find his works scattered. They might not collect them, but they can't hide them. I continue to see Kordey's Marvel work as perfectly of its time, yet never really dimmed by what few years have passed. I think his reputation will get better, as time burns off the snark and controversy, leaving the work. He was fast. He was good.

Maybe he'd have even gotten this column in on time.

I'm orbiting Pluto, drawn in by its groovitational pull: Graeme uprises into 8/22.

It's both a complement and an insult to say that HALO: UPRISING #1 reminded me of some old European Heavy Metal-type comic, I guess.

Visually, at least, it's all complementary. Alex Maleev's art has never really fit the American superhero market to my mind - not that that's a bad thing - and his recent work for things like Illuminati or Civil War: The Confession have seemed pretty but out of place, some awkward attempt to give those books gravitas that they didn't really deserve. Here, however, his photo-referenced, John Van Fleet-lite, work makes more sense; I'm not familiar with Halo at all - I've never played the game (Games? Is there more than one?), and I didn't look at the graphic novel released last year - so I came to this with no preconceptions as to how the world should look, which may be one reason why it worked so well for me, but I think another is that Maleev's work should be on some kind of "War is Hell" book, even one that's all about how Space War is Hell as well, you know? He has the grit and realism for that kind of thing. It's not just the artwork that makes the visual aspect work so well, however; the lettering is a factor, with its square dialogue balloons and slightly-too-large font. It's different enough to remove the reader from the other Marvel books' context and, indeed, place them in a Heavy Metal frame of mind instead.

The less-than-complementary aspect of it reminding me of a European book is in Brian Bendis' script which isn't so good. It's not just that his dialogue seems to be more artificial and self-conscious than usual, but that there are times when what the characters are saying seems completely divorced from the visuals (In particular, there's a torture scene where a character is clearly in pain and begging to be released in the dialogue, but nothing is happening to him visually; he doesn't even look as if he's in pain) - it all reads like some kind of bad translation or misunderstanding of original (probably French) dialogue, for some reason. Not that the writing is especially bad, but it certainly falls into Bendis' special "Interesting failure" category at this point.

Whether you dig this book or not depends, I think, on how much you want to dig it. It's certainly flawed, and not for everyone - if you dislike Bendis and Maleev, there's not enough sci-fi to pull you through, for example - but I can't really say that it's appalling or such. Instead, it's pretty much just Eh. But then, I never really liked Heavy Metal.