2/25/12

Army of Darkness #1:

Since I DO have pictures of the covers of the comics I, uh, COVER, let’s talk about Tim Seeley’s artwork here for a moment. Our heroine is very sexy and reasonably human shaped, not MANY humans look like that but she’s well within the realm of physical possibility. And what’s more, they beef-cake Ash out too. Eye-candy for everyone? It pales in comparison to a realistic depiction of the human anatomy for everyone but I’ll take what I can get.

Eliott R. Serrano’s script follows Ash from the Army Of Darkness film, but instead we have a woman named Ashley in Ash’s shoes. Changing the hero to a heroine isn’t a trick used often outside of fan-art and fan-fic and it usually turns out horribly and as sexist as physically possible. Not here though.

Ashley and her boyfriend Brad go out parking one night when a meteor strikes near them. The shining sphere in the crater turns Brad into a deadite (read zombie for those of you uninitiated in the Evil Dead series.) while it grants Ashley some groovy powers.

Ash does show up, in word only, but we are assured he will be a major part of the story. Ashley is a no-nonsense girl and without her male counterpart to throw in some guffaws, we are temporarily given an insect-man who seems to be channeling Ted Raimi at his worst. I don’t want to give too much of the plot away but Ashley insinuates herself as a court magician for Cleopatra when all hell breaks loose. A mysterious robed figure wants Ashley and Ash to form an alliance as this will help bring about some nefarious plan. (and hints that there have been or are more “chosen ones” like our hero and heroine.)

I praised the cover but Marat Mychaels’ interior art is less stellar. Ashley is a bit more “dreamy” than in Seely’s work but still anatomically possible. I am pleased that we only have one gratuitous butt shot. It’s really not that bad and my main beef with it is that you never see, say Superman, get the same treatment. If we must provide fodder for comic fans’ hormones let’s at least be equal opportunity about it.

This book is good, not damn good, but good. I’ve subscribed at my local comic shop and if you’re looking for my recommendation let me just say: “Hail to the (Queen) baby!”

Gobs #4

I shed a tear because it’s over. This is the final issue of the Gobs mini-series, drawn, inked and written by Richard Moore. (There is far and away a disproportionate number of comic creators with this sir-name. Are they all descended from the same ancient Irish master bard?)

The story centers around Gretch’, a bespectacled half-“Gob” or Goblin and her best friend/crush Milo, who is a mere quarter Gob. The pair, along with their friends, are banned for life from an elf bar due to the Gob race’s reputation as reprobates. (Of course, Wiggy and Truffle, having torn up the place and having “made sweet love” to a moose-head, didn’t exactly help matters.)

With the aide of shapely elf maiden Heather, they decide to build their own pub. Despite Gretch’s misgivings the new establishment is constructed inside a petrified giant’s carcass. When the house security system is accidentally activated, the giant goes on a rampage.

This is all aside from the tale of Gretch’s lovelorn angst. Milo has his eye on Heather and the more Gretch’ tries to lure his mind away, the more his mind stays on the elf. (Whose measurements appear to be in the 36-11-36 range.)

This book is 50% sketches and advertising and the end is not as satisfying as I’d hoped, but you’d be remiss not to hunt down this charming, whimsical, saucy, and hysterical small-press gem. This great mini is proof that if you’ve just been reading the “big two” publishers you’re missing out on a whole multiverse of comics to your own detriment.

Late, late, for a very important blog.

You know what it’s like. A self-imposed deadline and the days just drip away into the paper cup of procrastination. (Apparently all this time hasn’t affected my penchant for over-writing.)

Well let’s get right to it. I’m sure my millions (read couples) of fans are dying for this week’s installment of Gonzo’s Dressing Room.

Secret Avengers #22:

A whole new story-line, a whole new creative team and new members. I’m not as interested in that as seeing an Arthur Adams cover. I’d gladly fork over $3.99 if this book were blank inside.

The story opens in Pakistan where, predictably, an Islamic terrorist attack is about to occur. Really? A cliche on page one? Are we to believe that EVERY village in the Muslim world is crawling with Jihadis? Why don’t we ever get a comic about Yusuf Islam or Benazir Bhutto? Writer Rick Remender doesn’t even bother translating “Allah is Great” into Punjabi for us. Thanks for TRYING to bring some locational flavor to the table.

Anyway, returning from my rant, a young mother with child in arms, shrinks from an incendiary explosive blast and swallows it: but then loses control and levels a much wider area with the energies she has absorbed into her body. The terrorist leader knocks her out with the butt of his rifle and drags her off.

Next we are shown four locations around the globe where some kind of super-powered sleeper agents are activated spouting quasi-religious babble. It’s meant to sound cosmic and sinister but comes off as nonsense. If you want this kind of dialogue get Jim Starlin of the Infinite Gauntlet or Dan Abnet’s Thanos Imperative.

Next we travel to England where Captain Britain is protecting The Queen from a giant monster made of people controlled by psychic villain, Riot. We miss out on a discussion of social issues here. I know this comic packs a lot in but lines like, “While we lower class wretches go hungry, the queen and her pigs feed at the trough of decadence.” and “I understand the frustration of the people...but you’re using their misfortune to further YOUR cause, not theirs.” demands further attention. (Maybe it’s just that I’ve been listening to too much Chumbawamba but I’m feeling rather pro-working-class revolution lately.)

Next we discover the strangest yet coolest conceit of the book; that there are over a thousand parallel realities, each of which is defended from inter-dimensional dangers by the Captain Britain of every world. I freely admit this is a great idea. Why Cap Britain though? Did someone lay off Man-Thing? Does Alan Moore know?

Captain Britain is next transported aboard a satellite by Captain America who asks him to join the titular Secret Avengers. Here he meets the team he expects to lead: Beast, Ant-Man, Valkyrie and Black Widow. Things are going well and Captain Britain begins his “taking the reigns speech” when he is shot in the mouth by a bubblegum arrow. Hawkeye is in attendance and HE has been selected by Steve Rogers to lead the team. Giving the lead position in a barely functional team to the wisecracking bravo is sure to be a popular decision with readers and by it’s pure surface stupidity is sure to lead to some interesting stories.

As far as grasping the soul of the characters goes, Remender does stunningly well with Beast. Hank McCoy is a stunningly complex character and portraying him well is a major challenge. I have a particular soft spot for Beast so when I say he’s being used well, he’s truly being used spectacularly. Unfortunately the ladies are static cardboard cutouts. I’d refer you to Feminist Frequency and the Bechdel Test clip in particular but I think if I link you to it, showing you around seven minutes of a woman with highly phallic and yonic earrings discussing the lack of fully realized women characters in movies, I’d lose virtually my entire readership. At least when Valkyrie and Black Widow DO talk it’s to ridicule Hawkeye and Cap Britain on acting like squabbling little boys.

The group scrambles to the terrorists’ lair where our four villains have congregated to acquire the Pakistani woman for unknown nefarious purposes. A top notch seven page battle ensues but the bad guys get away. This leads to the final page; the page that has hooked me on this comic and will guarantee you hear about it again on this blog.

Lady Deathstrike stands at the foot of an oval table, a gaunt old man sits at the head surrounded by what appears to be a caped Sentinel, Vision, a bionic Wasp, a female android, Red Skull, Nick Fury and Doctor Doom. This leader of leaders has a warning for the Secret Avengers: “They will find us. We will kill some of them. The event will begin.”

2/10/12

Hawk and Dove #6:

Yes. I will openly admit this comic is utter dreck. But you see, I first cut my teeth as a comic fan on Iron Man in the late eighties and settled into a one title for life complacency. Then one day in 1991, my best friend ran to my house with the newest coolest thing: X-Force #1. Rob Liefeld’s art spoke to my jaded, grungeish sensibility. I was ten years old damn it, time for kick-ass comics, time for edgy comics, time for “REAL” comics. My formative years were full of daydreams about being rescued by Domino or eviscerated by Feral. (I’ve always liked strong women. I never cared if beating me up or even killing me outright was within their power.) I still have a weak spot for Liefeld’s art, even though he’s one of the more egregious “women don’t look like that” offenders. This would be well and good but for the chilling fact that Rob also WRITES this thing.

In the first story arc, Hawk and Dove get the dodgy “how much backstory still exists” treatment. We know that our heroes have been given extra-human powers by the “gods” in order to be the “Avatar of War” and the “Avatar of Peace” receptively but apparently the original Dove (original Hawk, Hank Hall’s little brother) is dead. The new female Dove, Dawn Granger’s, backstory is almost completely ignored aside from the fact that she is still in the romantic relationship with Deadman that started in the Brightest Day mini-series.

Presumably as a desperate plea for more readers, Liefeld has awkwardly crammed Batman and Robin into the current issue. Hawk has been on the trail of Incredible Hulk wannabe villain, Blockbuster. Only, Hank is the one on the run. (Apparently being the Avatar of War only allows you to stand a ghost of a chance against your adversary during the final battle.)

We get some great drawings of Dove (one of my favorite DC characters) and some so-so Batman art but the secret mastermind, or rather mistressmind of Blockbuster’s crime spree looks like she was designed by me back in Liefeld’s aforementioned heyday. (Yes I used the word “mistressmind”. This is my blog and no one ever told me I can’t invent words.)

To spare you unimaginable mental torture, I will quote Hawk only once to give you an idea of the Dickensian, nay Shakespearian brilliance of Rob’s scripting talents: “You’re definitely up past your bedtime, boy blunder, I’d be HAPPY to put you down for the night-”.

While Bats and Dove try to keep Hawk and Robin’s testosterone addled egos in check, the four heros trace down Blockbuster and a stolen amulet to the Gotham docks where a sorceress ingeniously named Necromancer is on the verge of attaining unheard of levels of power. A brief fight ensues, Dove retrieves the amulet, breaking Necromancer’s spell, the villainess escapes, Batman lectures Hank and Dawn on teamwork and everyone goes there separate ways; Batman and Robin to excellent sales figures and Hawk and Dove to another lousy story-line.

As a glutton for punishment, and because I really like Dove’s costume and hair, I will stick by the train-wreck of a comic. (Dawn IS supposedly gifted with unknown powers beyond those given to any Avatar of Peace in the past and IS Hank’s physical and mental superior in every way.)

Magic the Gathering #1:

Dack Fayden is your typical dashing thief trope, popular with the ladies but VERY unpopular with anyone in possession of a nice shiny magical item to steal. (Think a bad-ass version of Disney’s Aladdin.) Dack however, is a “planewalker”, a being with the magical ability to traverse the multiple dimensions of the comic setting’s world; it does hurt mind you. “Like falling off a log. In EVERY direction at once.”

We meet Fayden as he is running from a band of mercenary style soldiers, lead by a beast that from my Dungeon and Dragons: Dragonlance days, I would call a Draconian. (For you 4th editioners, think a particularly tough Dragonborn.) Dack continues his escape for thirteen break-neck pages until he finds a friendly elderly woman healer and flops to one of his scattered safe-houses. Using his mystical abilities he attempts to discover whatever valuable power his latest artifact may hold. It is a “knife”, but such an unwieldy looking weapon it must be designed for torture.

Concentrating his abilities, Dack sees memories of the blade’s last user. It is in his home-town of Drakston (a name that conjures themes of darkness and dragons as well as sounding like Braxton, Missouri.) where a mysterious woman named Sifa assassinates Drak’s love, Mariel. It might be “part of my job” Sifa says, “but oh, the benefits. (Is she growing younger by spilling the blood of innocents? The hint is so minor that I might just be reading into things. I guess we’ll see.) Drak decides it is time for vengeance and walks off into the night, dragons circling overhead.

This comic demands to be read very quickly, to keep pace with the planewalker’s life and thoughts. Martin Coccolo’s art is only so-so, but J. Edwin Steven’s color work is masterful. It renders mood that would take paragraphs of exposition on every page by varying the hue tinging each set of panels. As for Matt Forbeck’s writing, it’s just too early to tell, but I’ll be happy to go on the ride to find out.

The Defenders #3:

I’m sorry, I just had to. I needed to know how this story-line ended. Amongst the nonsensical cosmic babbling and desperate attempts at humor, our heroes do nothing; almost literally nothing. Red She-Hulk attacks the Black Hulk Nul the Breaker of Worlds and the rest of the crew pile on and can’t make a dent in the unimaginable force of destruction. Nul then breaks Rulkie’s “unbreakable red skin”. Nul, for no apparent reason, is trying to destroy a machine that apparently keeps reality functioning. (Think Thanos trying to kill the universe but instead every POSSIBLE universe.) The looming end of all reality, yep, that’s something to handle in three issues.

Amidst all this brooding and battling, a lone figure, very mythical and Jack Kirby New God-esque, sits motionless and we hear his thoughts. They clear up nothing and make no sense but are pretty and epic-sounding. This “other Prestor” simply touches the Black Hulk and he vanishes out of existence. “ He is erased.”

Heavy stuff? Then why pray tell do we get the now-famous tweet-like messages at the bottom of the page such as, “What if it’s not just a canker sore” and “Hey that tiger is flying a spaceship”. (If you’re missing the punctuation, I just wrote the quotes as is. I guess Matt Fraction thinks he’s beyond the rules of the English language.)

If this weren’t all bad enough the narrator ANSWERS one of Iron Fist’s questions to segue into further exposition! “Funny you should ask, Danny.”

The exercise in futility of reading this title is over. Call me if J. M. DeMatteis takes the reins of this thing.

The Perils of Being a Male Feminist Comic Fan

Comic books are potentially the most misogynistic of all art forms. (Possibly including adult entertainment, at least men are objectified there too.) So what is a modern male to do? There can often be a thin line between sexy and demeaning. The latest Catwoman books are quite simply appalling on many pages, while Red Sonya, who wears much less clothing than Catwoman, can be attractive to men and empowering to women. (Although an infuriatingly large minority of the time she is not.)

The simple fact remains that women in spandex, as well as MEN in spandex, are sexy. Both male and female fans usually have that one character that makes their heart go pitter-pat. (For those of you keeping score, mine is She-Hulk.) A great deal of the problem lies in intent. Sex sells and whether we like it or not, most of the comic industry is still targeted to 13-30 year old males. Francine can pose for Katchoo’s nude painting in Strangers in Paradise and it’s O.K. It serves the dual functions of art and love, besides Terry Moore draws WOMEN not what a high school freshman might WANT women to be.

Let’s delve into two extremes of how comics deal with female characters for more insight. (And because, after all, this IS a comic review blog!)

Tiny Titans #48:

Anyone who finds the little cartoony girls in Tiny Titans sexy needs a serious psychological evaluation. This comic, ostensibly for kids, just isn’t meant to deal with themes that mature. Yet at least half the cast is female and those girls are strong, funny, and in the case of Raven in particular, well rounded. Tiny Titans may have won an Eisner for best kids’ comic, but a LOT of the subject matter sends winks to complicated comic themes and errata that no child could possibly grasp. This issue deals with secret identities. On the very first full page, Batgirl decides to show her super heroine friends her unmasked face. Even though they know her as Barbara, they are still shocked. One even comments that they never noticed her red hair before. Wonder Girl hops into the panel and feels bad that she is the only member of the assembled girls WITHOUT red hair. To compensate she shows them her orange, her “Secret Orange”. I hope you don’t think I believe my readership consists of simpletons if I point out the “Secret Origin” reference.

The girls proceed to “Barbara’s secret bat-lair” to try on retro costumes. (Think of the massive, and massively confusing, ret-con campaign the new 52 has launched.) Babs, as does almost every character in the series, has an autographed portrait of DC head Dan Didio in her room. (What 8-year-old is going to get THAT reference?)

Wonder Girl is later playing with Zatara and decides that her orange is part of the “Secret Oranges of the Justice League”, putting Clark Kent glasses on it. (See I TOLD you it was a secret origin reference!) A bit later we get a two-page spread of the Secret Oranges and the seminal sight-gag background characters “The League of Just Us Cows.” This is where the only-adults-will-get-it content comes in with gusto. The Secret Orange is now an Orange Lantern with an Orange power ring. Yet it is not alone, it has brought the “Lantern Core,” an arrangement of fruit bearing Lantern Spectrum rings in their respective color including a mostly masticated Red Lantern apple. It looks like curtains for the Just Us Cows until Batcow Beyond shows up to turn the tide. But lo, the evil orange Slade and evil red grapefruit Trigon have been influencing the produce section do-gooders with their mind control box. Art Batazar and the single-named Franco have written themselves into a corner and in good comedic form, it turns out to be just Wonder Girl’s dream. (And she’s wearing a Donna Troy costume to compound the old school goodness.)

Have I strayed far from my original topic? Are you feeling safe to go back into the comic book racks? Well I’ve saved a nasty surprise for the second part of my review.

Nancy in Hell on Earth #1

This comic is were we really get into trouble. Nancy is a B-movie bad-girl on par with no one else. This buxom blond with a dark purple streaked tress carries around a chainsaw and wears daisy dukes that approach being more of a band-aid than an article of clothing. Check out the cover, are they expecting us to gaze upon her posterior through a magnifying glass? It seems like artist Enrique Lopez Lorenzana already has.

In the previous mini-series, Nancy has been murdered and wound up in Hell. There she meets Lucifer, who is merely a misunderstood suffering soul who is still very devout and loves his father, God. They attempt to escape the underworld despite Lucifer’s insistence that God’s punishment of him is just and that he must simply await eventual forgiveness that he doesn’t deserve anyway. After facing hordes of demons that Nancy cuts to ribbons wit her trusty ol’ chainsaw, they exit Hell into the everyday realm. However, we learn that it was all a scheme by a would-be demon prince to bring Hell to Earth and thus gain favor with the true power behind the realm of eternal suffering.

In this issue we have huge demonic beats running rampant throughout the city. (It appears to be L.A.) When Nancy and Lucifer are separated temporarily a succubus in the shape of our heroine attempts to seduce the devil in a short sequence that is wildly inappropriate and more fitting on expanded cable at 2 am than in a comic book.

To make a long review short, El Torres’ script is actually quite well done and, in very small doses, gratuitous cheesecake can be an enjoyable thing. Hence, the perils of being a male feminist comic fan.

I leave you with two images, both done by men, of their ideal portrayal of Wonder Woman.

http://johnbecaro.deviantart.com/gallery/26904292#/d2ainha

http://kinggoji62.deviantart.com/gallery/?offset=264#/d2962kx

There is a mixed bag out there, and as long as one is mature and doesn’t allow the objectification of women by the comic industry to lead to complacency or (shudder) acceptance of the practice and wields true judgment there is little to fear in comic-land. (Just don’t let children or the elderly NEAR the Suicide Girls comic!)

1/26/12

Being as I haven’t been able to visit my local comic shop this week, (as the French say: Quel Domage) I have decided to fire up the Way-back machine to review some favorites from ages past. We begin with a little Indie gem from the mythical year 2000.

Cynical Girl #1:

Geneva works at a local bookstore in or near New York City. She is smart, sarcastic and put out by the idiocy of common life. What’s a girl to do? Why, turn her snark and curmudgeonliness into a career as superhero Cynical Girl of course! Belting out such action-packed phrases as “Freeze, line cutting man!” and “Freeze, skanky men who have not bathed in a very long time!” she attempts to use her powers of cynicism to cure the ills of modern society. (Particularly the ones directly affecting her.)

William Morton’s art is clean, slick, and cartoony; coming off as an exceptionally well drawn comic strip. The over-sexualized images of Cynical Girl on page two detract somewhat from writer Jennifer Heddle’s anti-sexism message, but I can understand why he might get carried away drawing a cute, spunky, no-nonsense girl whose wardrobe consists almost entirely of black.

Geneva has three main nemeses in this tragically single episode story: perky, dimwitted co-worker Jacquie, Dave, her clingy, stalking ex, and nerdy adorer, Kenny. The third in this trio of irritation lavishes Geneva with a gift of a truly creepy fan-boy drawing of the two of them. (Complete with Fred Hembeck style elbow and knee spirals.) Geneva responds with what every female comic character that doesn’t have the good fortune to be drawn by Terry Moore must be thinking all the time: “...I don’t look like that, I don’t want to look like that, and even if I did look like that, I wouldn’t dress like that. Capish?” I’m sure my fellow comic blogger, Ravenhaired http://coverstosleepunder.wordpress.com would get a kick out of Kenny’s bewildered response: “No.”

Cynical Girl’s best friend is a gorgeous, bespectacled female dentist (I’m sure a certain someone will be wanting to make a joke at this point) who is twice as snarky and strong willed as Geneva herself. Cynical Girl can’t seem to actually put anybody in their place until she and her unnamed friend go out to a club wherein Geneva saves a girl from the unwanted attentions of a pair of creepy men.

I would have been more than pleased to see this book be a quarterly for the past twelve years. My comic book closet would have had a special short-box waiting patiently to store issue #50.

Stitch #1:

Winter 1999, was there an angstier time in Western Civilization since the Bubonic Plague years? Maybe it was just because I was turning eighteen soon but I sure felt so. The proliferation of vampires, Y2K fears, and an insurgence in Goth culture was a boon for comic imprint Slave Labor Graphics. Enter Tommy Kovac. (Oh, and make sure to call him a deathrocker and not a Goth!)

He has no memory and he is a doll. Finding himself in a mysterious, hostile and seemingly endless “playroom” our hero faces themes of childhood isolation, bullying, existential crisis, madness, abortion and evil. Setting the stage for theatre of the absurd style dark chaos is Yum Tum Bear who “smells like pee” and gives us all the introduction we need in three pages.

Our amnesiac doll boy is startled by a manic, disturbed girl doll who he recognizes as his sister Maggy. Three more familiar faces follow: his cousins, vapid Daniel and Simon and petulantly vicious Polly.

After failing at kickball, our hero wanders off and is harassed by two diminutive punks in dresses called the Benders, who accuse him of being “fancy boy” in a hauntingly stylized version of anti-gay bullying. Finally, we are introduced to a sock monkey who is kind and can relate due to his own ostracization. After all, he “get(s) teased an awful lot ‘cause of (his) big red bottom.” Our sock monkey is sure he has found new friends in an unopen puppet cabinet. There are true horrors here: a demonic Pope marionette and a baby skeleton marionette called Tiny Bones.

Dead center in this book is a Jhonen Vasquez-inspired, non sequitur, brightly demonic short story about two bunnies who exclaim “Holy shit. We are so cute...” Short story shorter, a demon vomits acid on them turning them into “ skelebunnies”. Nonplussed, the rabbits continue playing and scampering. The demon returns to Hell whining “I’m telling Satan.”

Kovac’s art is an odd but pleasant cross between Voltaire’s “Oh! My Goth” and Tony Millionaire’s “Sock Monkey.” (If such a thing is possible.) On the final page, we are gifted with the most haunting, beautifully disturbing piece of flash fiction I’ve ever read. If you can find this comic, read it for this story alone, if nothing else.

Stan Lee meets Silver Surfer #1:

This decidedly mixed bag celebrated Stan’s sixty-five years with Marvel. I know I’m not allowed to say anything but glowing purple prose regarding Mr. Lee but he’s always come across as hokey to me. The man is as much a promotor as a writer and I don’t believe he would have seen as much success as he has without partnering with Jack Kirby.

Our first tale, written by Lee himself, is meant as a satire. Here Stan finds out that his creations are real as he is summoned by Galactus. The script is marginal and Mike Wiering can only draw Galactus well of all the characters in the story. (But boy can he draw Galactus!)

We learn that the Devourer of Worlds’ grand scheme is to show Stan how annoying the Silver Surfer is. Lee shoe-horns every cheap philosophical trope into the Surfer’s mouth, so maligning the discipline that Plato would be rolling over in his grave. Let’s skip ahead to the next story before I get a headache.

Our next tale, “The Magician” is a sweet, if cloying, love letter from writer Paul Jenkins to Lee. In it, the young Jenkins is working on a comic, “Spidey Vs. Dudley Moore”, which he describes as “poo-ey” when Lee appears to provide inspiration. Lee, showing the child the fantastical world of his own imagination. (Which coincidentally appears VERY similar to Stan’s own.) The half-muse-half-psychopompous (Look it up kids) smatters useless advice such as: “Always use big words so people will think you’re clever.” (O.K., so I just FOLLOWED advice I said stunk.) with great advice like: “...with magic you can saw a leopard in half...with talent you can create an entire WORLD before breakfast.”

Before Stan leaves, he shows Paul the Sentry, the very character he will later create with Lee. Despite being a heart-warming tale of budding creativity, the ultimate message appears to be mirrored by another “gem” dropped by Stan to Paul: “You’ve got to think in the mighty Marvel way.”

After a ridiculous two-page exercise in wasted space by Jacob Chabot in which Doctor Octopus falls asleep watching The Fresh Prince of Bel Aire, we get a reprint of Stan Lee and John Buscema’s first meeting of Spiderman and the Silver Surfer. It’s really not a bad story at all but it prominently displays Lee’s penchant for over-writing and over-dramatization. Despite being decidedly more of a “word guy” than a “picture guy”, I found myself mesmerized by Buscema’s line-work. You probably want to own this comic for the milestone it is but actually cracking it open should be saved for a case of extreme boredom.

1/18/12

Ferals #1:

Mark is dead. The blood strewn around his trailer and the severed forearm, still holding a coffee mug, are proof of that. David Lapham out “Garth Ennises” Garth Ennis as the fowl mouthed, deeply flawed sheriff of Cypress, Minnesota arrives on the scene. In tow are glib coroner Dennis and Mark’s ex-wife, Jackie.

Let’s start with the overt misogyny in this comic. Our cover displays a woman, tears streaming down her face, and blood oozing from her nose, in the clutches of a ravening beast. Jackie is crude and stereotypical of the dysfunctional divorcee. She even discovers the murder scene while attempting to rob Mark’s trailer in lieu of alimony. An explicit sex scene between Sheriff Dale and a mysterious woman passing through the one-horse-town hints that a supernatural beast may be on the loose. The woman is trampy and fierce and likely the very monster herself; a femme fatale, over-grown boy’s fantasy. Dale goes home to make love to his girlfriend who wakes to be torn apart by the beast.

Gabriel Andrade’s art is EXTREMELY graphic and this book should be in a poly bag to keep kids from pawing through it; if not in a kryptonite case reading “ Mature adults only. No really, psychologically mature. We’re serious.”

As much as it pains me to admit, this book does exactly what a good comic should. The words and art bolster each other without competing, neither being sufficient to tell the tale on their own and I genuinely want to know what happens next. If I start loving this book, please put a (silver) bullet in me.

Green Lantern #5:

GL is the new DCU title suffering most from the imprint’s diminished content; at least among the titles I’ve read. But I strongly suspect it’s suffering the most period. I know what you might be thinking: D.C. has lowered the price of its books to $2.99, easily the cheapest comics in the industry right now. How could THEY not cut some pages and toss in a few more ads? I would tend to agree if it WERE a FEW more ads but most DC titles are only about 50% story. The muckety-mucks that own D.C. should be satisfied with the extra books the lower price allows them to sell and not try to bleed fans by getting substantially richer due to a price decrease.

For those of you who haven’t been reading this slowly tarnishing gem, things have pretty much flowed organically from Geoff John’s earlier GL series including Blackest Night and Brightest Day and their aftermaths. Hal has been stripped of his ring, ostensibly because he is too unreliable and chaotic to be a member of the Green Lantern Corps but in reality, because the Guardians have become scared and insular, systematically eliminating any potential threat on the heels of the revelation that they are vulnerable to the lanterns power. (The long-ago banished mad guardian Krona, who attempted to destroy his former fellows for eschewing emotion was killed by Sinestro using a Green Power ring.) Sinestro still has his ring as the Guardians cannot seem to remove it.

Our favorite megalomaniacal mustachioed pink man has sought out the powerless Hal on Earth and given him a ring constructed from his own in order to free his planet of Korugar from the very Sinestro Corps he formed to save and police it.

Sound cool, right? Well, not really. Johns’ greatest talent comes from sweeping nigh-spiritual epics. The Blackest Night mythos is particularly compelling to the point that I would not be surprised if someone in the Haight Ashbury district hasn’t formed a church around it.

But what do we get? Hal proving that he might make a great superhero but he still makes a terrible civilian while Sinestro schemes and snipes smugly with his greatest enemy.

On Korugar, the Sinestro Corps have gone utterly rogue in the absence of their leader who has now been targeted for death for “abandoning” the Yellow Lanterns in favor of the Green. To neutralize his powers, Sinestro has been locked up in a power absorbing prison with several members of Korugar’s indigenous population including Arsona, the female officer who was the first to back Sinetsro in his bid to bring permanent order to his home planet.

Arsona is violently bitter and feels betrayed due to the atrocities the Sinetsro Corps has committed against her people. Even after the day is saved by Hal and Sinetsro, the natives of Korugar are split, some seeing Sinestro as a savior, others as an inexcusable traitor.

This conflict sums up Sinestro’s truest nature. He has the potential to be the greatest of the Green Lanterns save for his mortal flaw. Hal shows a flash of psychoanalytical brilliance when he sums this very concept up. “You mean you want control. You want to control everything as much as you let others think you control yourself.” There’s something intimate between two people who have been utter rivals for so long. Only Hal can see certain things in Sinestro, just as Sinetsro is the only person who can see certain things in Hal.

If only Hal were more perceptive with people that he cares about. When Hal was certain he was going to die on Korugar he used the last wisps of energy in his ring to summon an image of former Star Sapphire and on-again-off-again love, Carol Ferris. Now back on Earth and once again powerless, Hal runs to Carol’s side and apologizes for the oblivious jerk he has been. Normally I would not advocate a woman going back to a guy who’s broken her heart. A girl can only forgive so much before she becomes a push-over and winds up disrespecting herself. But these two have truly been in love since they were children and Hal is one of the most honorable men in the DCU. At least when he asks Ferris for a second chance, she playfully scolds him that technically it’s his tenth chance. Please let this relationship last and if you MUST kill one of them off for a year or two, make it Hal.

So, once again I both praise and condemn a book. So soon into my fledgling blogging career and I’m already becoming painfully predictable. But Geoff has saved a sign of exciting things to come. The last page of the comic has the Guardians in secret talks. They have decided to “free” someone or someTHING called the “First Lantern” to lead “The Third Army” and replace the entire Corps itself. Johns appears to be diving back into sweeping cosmic waters with the ingenious idea that after all this time Guardians are VILLAINS.

Special note: We are graced with an ad for a tattooing competition reality show coming to Spike on the inside back cover. Please remind me not to watch it or I’ll never work up the courage to get that Indigo Tribe tat.

The Defenders #2:

Red She-Hulk? Silver Surfer? Doctor Strange? Can you hear me drooling? Well, it must be your bathroom sink leaking again because this comic is a dud. Now really, I loved the idea. Some of Marvel’s best characters coming together even though they have no business teaming up? Brilliant.

Unfortunately, Matt Fraction hasn’t found a coherent voice for his tale. The Incredible Hulk has asked Doc Strange to assemble a team to take out the mysterious “Black Hulk” for him. I surmise that the newest Hulk (who must be getting his own Color Corps by now) must have something to do with all this “Fear Itself” nonsense. So is it an Earth-shattering prevent doomsday book? At times, sorta-kinda.

We have the Silver Surfer and a mad Prestor John babbling about God and the core of the universe. So is it a philosophical, thought provoking piece? At times, sorta-kinda. We have Bettie Banner with her “Big-ass sword”. So is it a high octane action comic? At times, sorta-kinda. We even have some of the worst attempts at comedy I’ve ever been subjected to.

Betty decides that to escape captivity at the hands of Prestor John she needs to be scared in order to change back into her human form and walk between the cell bars. So what happens? Doctor Strange whispers something we are never made privy to into Bettie’s ear and we get a close up of her now wide eye as she says, “I don’t like you. I don’t like you one damn bit. Stay away from me from now on.” Are we to believe that Stephen has told her some esoteric horror? No, we are to believe that Doctor Strange is a perv.

To add to all this, at the bottom of nearly every page we are put through reading twitter-like messages that at absolute best are annoying distractions. “Story interrupted previous page”? “That was a good ad”? Preposterous!

And now, three things I’ve learned from this book:

1. Terry Dodson can only draw Red She-Hulk properly out of the books entire cast.

1. Iron Fist is an annoying little moron.

3) Secret Avengers #22 starts a whole new story-line with a cover by Arthur Adams. Don’t be surprised if you see that reviewed here in Gonzo’s Dressing Room sometime soon.

Inaugural Post

Hi, this is the inaugural edition of my comic review blog. I know what you’re thinking; we need another comic blog like we need a hole in the head. Well, some people ENJOY holes in their head. Just look at the body modification industry. Besides, you haven’t looked through the world of sequential art through my slightly askew eyes before.

Well, no more ado, let’s dive in, shall we?

Brody’s Ghost (one shot), Midnight Train and other Tales.

So what’s $3.99 for a comic I won’t have to buy a second issue of? Author/Artist Mike Crilley has sharp Manga-inspired art but there are some irksome minor style inconsistencies across the four disconnected scenes in the book. Our main character, Brody, is a mildly annoying, grunge-ish and an “I’m-trying-so-hard-to-seem-utterly-average-so-every-reader-will-feel-comfortable-following-me-that-I-come-off-as-vapid-and-creepy” dude.

The titular “Brody’s Ghost”, Talia, is a delightful teenage specter with wit, spunk and a stubborn streak. Of course, her sharing a name with my goddaughter doesn’t exactly hurt when it comes to endearing her to me. The Samurai ghost, whose name we are not given, is painfully close to being a sensei trope. He is about as meaty a character as his translucent body.

But let’s get into our four “Tales”, shall we?

Let’s begin at the beginning with “The Midnight Train” in which a sexy but classy young woman in fishnets boards a “sky train” (Read: above the street subway car) and is summarily mugged. The writing quality is marginal and comes-off as sexist; as the powerful male, Brody has to save the helpless girl on the train. At least our hero gets an earful from his ghostly companions on the stylistic mistakes he made during his daring rescue.

Jumping to the third scene, we have the master utilizing ghostly telekinesis on a roach to draw calligraphy in the dust of a tile floor. This is by far the best page of the comic, yet it boasts only one word. The master’s spirit minions appear to be merely exercises in poorly designed faux-Japanese monster self-gratification on Crilley’s part. Brody complains to the spectral samurai that the training methods he is enduring are unnecessarily austere. Predictably, we find that they are working splendidly and that Brody’s mystical powers are developing well.

Our final offering is “The Big Game”, in which Brody is preparing to watch football with his friend Gabe on the latter’s new big screen TV. Talia appears and threatens to wreck havoc unless Brody accompanies her on a jaunt to try to solve a murder mystery. (Did I mention only Brody can see Talia? How predictable.) Besides offering up deeper insights into Talia’s personality, this “Tale” is utterly pointless.

So, Brody’s Ghost: Descent art, one and a half out of three main characters are compelling and if you try to ignore the frequent attempts at humor, a fairly entertaining story crafted with average skill.

But wait! The inside back cover informs us that we have been reading just a glimpse into three volumes of Brody and company’s adventures that you can purchase for the pittance of $6.99 each. For all intents and purposes, this comic is a trap. “So what’s $3.99 for a comic I won’t have to buy a second issue of indeed?

I hate to admit it, but I will, in all likely-hood be on the lookout for book one of the series.