Comic Reviews On (Possibly Permanent) Hiatus

Okay.

Reviewing a movie or a game or a novel (so I don’t do the latter, but still) has the advantage of, well, you’re reviewing ONE thing. Reviewing a number of books a week is, frankly, murder. Three thousand words per post, it’s incredibly hard to keep it polished and readable, avoid it falling into a reviewing formula or just sheer repetition. While I stand by my opinions (and I insist to all of you who complain about “that’s not an impartial review!”, reviews are fucking opinions of whoever wrote them because nobody owns the goddamn truth you absolute moron. Just my opinion, though.) I’ve wrote a number of bad reviews, not as in “negative”, as in “badly-fucking-written”, where I failed to expose my thoughts well. In order to avoid doing that, I need free time I honestly do not have at the moment.

I remember the “Back To Brooklyn #3″ review, which I thought to be mediocre (both the book and the review) and it felt, to me, like most of the mistakes had more to do with Jimmy Palmiotti than Garth Ennis, the co-writers. And while I can’t deny I did feel that way, I failed to recognize, in the review, that I was ASSUMING this, that I didn’t bloody know it. Jimmy Palmiotti took offense, very understandably, something we later sorted out (and he was very sweet). This was quite ironic because “Back To Brooklyn #5″, I felt was equally problematic, but this time — and this is, as you must know, VERY rare for me — because of Garth Ennis, not Jimmy Palmiotti. I should explain that better in another, future post about the subject.

It’s vital, if you’re going to expose your opinion, that you expose it well. I believe, with a little effort and more training, I can do that (and I’m much better at reviewing than I used to be, which doesn’t actually mean much but it’s a personal victory). But I don’t have the free time, and I am not going to rush my reviews — it’s unfair to the writers and artists of whatever I’m reviewing. I noticed a pattern in my weekly posts — when I’m reviewing the first book of the week, I do relatively fine. When I reach the last, I’m out of patience.

Sorry, this will not do.

All the other reviews will remain, and I should publish some weekly capsule reviews of whatever I’m reading (I SHOULD — it’s no longer a regular feature, dunno if it will be again).

Understand: I review not as a job, but as a way of dissecating what I like and learning to write MYSELF (also, pointing what I like to people is always nice). It’s a very healthy exercise for an aspiring writer.

Busy as I am right now, it’s an exercise I can’t afford.

Hah, like anyone’s going to actually miss this. But anyway!

The stuff I’m busy with is mainly for this blog. So, three people who read this, stay tuned.

Please.

Comic Review – Punisher: Frank Castle #75, The Walking Dead #66 and Gravel #14

So. Apparently, this is the end of Punisher Max, or Punisher: Frank Castle, or Punisher: vol. 23 or whatever it is Marvel is calling this comic these days. On Garth Ennis’ run, I think it was Punisher Max, but they decided to add the “Frank Castle” on the title for no good reason. And apparently, the new “Punisher” title will be reset to issue one and will be called…

“Punisher Max.”

I quit this shit.

Anyway. Issue 75. Five writers, five artists, five stories, acceptable results. None of the stories are great — some are good, some are overly sappy. Let’s go one by one:

The first story, “Dolls”, is written by Tom Piccirilli with art by Laurence Campbell and colors by Lee Loughridge. The premise is interesting — Frank Castle is interrupted when he’s about to execute someone with a sniper rifle. The interruption consists of a little girl who got lost in the streets and needs help finding her father. Castle decides to help her before carrying out the execution, to avoid doing it in front of her.

Not that that would have been a real obstacle. He could have simply asked her to close her eyes. Then he’d kill the bastard with the silenced rifle and help her. Instead, he decides to do it after finding her dad — and upon doing this, he uses his shoulder as a support for the rifle and kills the bastard anyway. Which kind of invalidates the whole point of the story, which, nevertheless, has some good moments — like a poignant flashback shot of a doll fallen on grass. Still, in a certain moment of the story, Castle says, “All little girls should have wonderful birthday parties.”

Let’s put it this way:

“All little girls should have wonderful birthday parties” – Frank Castle, aka The Punisher.

Doesn’t really work, does it?

Still, Laurence Campbell’s art is vastly superior to his previous efforts (Punisher #61 – #65, a horrendous arc written by Gregg Hurwitz), and has some memorable panels and very good coloring by Lee Loughridge, so visually, at least, the story works well.

The second story, “Gateway”, is written by Gregg Hurwitz, with art entirely by Das Pastoras. Surprisingly — considering Hurwitz is responsible for the worst arc in this series — the story is very well balanced. It deals with a “middleman” who believes himself to be nothing but a tool, despite knowing perfectly well he’s helping known criminals comission hits. I especially like the one-way conversation between Frank and a friend, with Frank lying on a hospital bed. It gets the point across without being melodramatic.

Das Pastoras’ art has several highlights, but his art is far too colorful, almost appropriate for a children’s book. That, and some panels are plain mediocre (like the last one, which has a very badly drawn Punisher). Still, all in all, his art is pleasing to the eye.

The third story, “Ghoul”, is by Duane Swierczinsky, with art by Tomm Coker and colors by Dan Freedman. The idea is excellent — a man has gotten hold of the Castle family’s possessions on the day they were attacked during the picnic which Frank was the only survivor of. This same man is selling this stuff online for outrageous prices — until Castle finds out and decides to do something about it. But unlike the first story, “Dolls” — which is a good idea badly-executed — Swierczinsky develops the plot very well, his only moment of weakness being the scene the man says “Oh, God” and Castle replies with a cliche, “It’s not God”. Despite this brief flaw, the story is good and Tomm Coker’s heavily shadowed art, darkly-colored by Dan Freedman, is very suitable and aesthetically efficient.

The fourth story, “Father’s Day”, is by Peter Milligan with art by Goran Parlov and colors by Lee Loughridge. It’s basically the highlights of Garth Ennis’ run, with a caption reading a letter from Castle’s daughter, Lisa, to him. This could have worked very well if it wasn’t for the letter — which is not convincing as the work of a little girl. In some moments, she displays childish writing, in others she uses metaphors (her references to what’s “in the dark”). Also, Milligan tries too hard to touch the reader’s heart strings — something the last page, in my case, accomplished, but this is because of Goran Parlov’s art.

Goran Parlov is one of this series’ best artists, a genius regarding visual storytelling and facial expressions. In the last page of this story, he and Lee Loughridge simply own. Castle is riddled by bullets, badly-injured and near-death, but his face, instead of expressing despair or pain, shows simply disillusionment — like Castle is slowly realizing that a long, normal life with his family was, after all, simply too good to be true. That is a beautiful page, and while it’s mostly Parlov, Milligan deserves credit too, even though the rest of the story is weak (except, of course, for Parlov and Loughridge’s beautiful art).

And finally, there’s “Smallest Bit Of This”, by Charlie Huston, with art by Ken Lashley, inks by Rob Stull and colors by Edgar Delgado. Utter waste of time. Huston simply shows Castle fighting a guy after a long firefight, adding some pseudo-meaningful captions. Ken Lashley’s art is terrible (the only example of bad art in this issue), so there isn’t much Stull and Delgado can do. The only truly bad story in this issue.

Also — I know it’s a sneak peek, but I have to comment on the Punisher Max #1 preview — Steve Dillon’s art is beautiful as always, and it’s wonderful to see it colored by the excellent Matt Hollingsworth — not only because he’s a brilliant colorist, but because it brings me warm memories of “Preacher” (my all-time favorite comic and blah blah blah you know the drill by now).

What bothered me here is that writer Jason Aaron is apparently going for a Max version of the Kingpin. I’ll save my final thoughts for the complete story, obviously, but so far? Pathetic. I hate this shortcut: using established characters and changing them to adequate the mood of your story, instead of creating your own character. And the idea behind Aaron’s plot (the creation of a fake target for the Punisher) would have been good enough to work without the Kingpin. But hey… too early to judge.

“Punisher: Frank blah-blah-whatever #75″ has its ups and downs, but on average, it’s worth a read. The art is more consistent than the writing, but the writing itself, except for Huston, is not bad — at most, it’s flawed, and at best, it’s fine. The whole thing is very efficiently lettered by the competent Cory Petit — especially the caligraphy used in Lisa’s letter, on “Father’s Day”, which looks handmade but is still very readable.

(an extra note — each story’s individual credits should have included the colorist, and it’s ridiculous their work has been neglected despite being vital for the visual of the stories. In order to see who colored each one, you have to go back to the first page and check the credits — and meanwhile, the writer and the artist are credited in each story)

“The Walking Dead #66″ wraps up this arc quite well, despite one recurring problem in Kirkman’s writing — overusing splash pages. In this case, double page spreads, one of them used simply to show Rick giving an order. And in that same panel, Adlard decides to go Eduardo Risso on us and signs the panel, something I always found ruins the immersion.

Despite the exaggeration, though, the story is well-written. It wasn’t exactly clear what they do to the villain, though — apparently they torture him, which is inconsistent with Rick saying they did not like doing that. If they didn’t, they could have just shot him dead. The rest of the plot has several good moments, however — I especially like how Kirkman inverted expectations regarding the conversation between Dale and Rick. I really don’t have much else to say, though — “The Walking Dead” remains on the same writing standard of the last issues. As I’ve already stated, this series is lacking impact, and this issue has not changed my opinion. The way Kirkman uses double-page spreads twice just on this episode hints at the possibility of him being aware of this, but trying to solve it the wrong way — trying to force impact on something that isn’t that impactful.

Despite signing his artwork twice in this issue (I don’t like when Risso does it either), Charlie Adlard’s art is beautiful as always. He’s especially successful at shadowing, and even though the double page spreads are unnecessary, Adlard renders them amazingly well. Cliff Rathburn’s grey tones add visual depth to Adlard’s work, but I wonder how well his art would stand on pure black-and-white. However, letterer Rus Wooton has ups and downs — I like the font he uses, but I don’t like how he makes the balloons jagged to denote shouting, instead of increasing the font size — a much more efficient method.

“Gravel #14″ wraps up a “meh” story arc. This has been a formulaic plot, schematic and most of all, unremarkable. The previous issue left so little impression in me I thought, upon reading this one, that I had missed it.

This one, though, has some highlights, since it’s a climactic conclusion. I like how Gravel turns the entire city against his enemies, and Mike Wolfer and Warren Ellis’ dialogue is always interesting enough, but I’m afraid that’s it. I know it sounds like I’m too tired to write a proper review, but the truth is I found “The Walking Dead #66″ to be more of the same (which is not necessarily bad, considering it’s a good series) and “Gravel #14″ is simply the end of a frankly boring story arc. It’s just “alright”. All I’ve said about previous issues, from the writing, to the art, to the colors — is still valid, so I’m afraid repeating everything would be an exercise in pointlessness.

Comic Review – (Oh fuck…!) The Boys #35, Crossed #07, Chronicles Of Wormwood: The Last Battle #01, Absolution #02, Astonishing X-Men 31, Planetary #27

…

…

…

Well, there had to be a downside to this great week of comics — that being the fact I’ll start writing now and finish in four hours if I’m lucky.

Darick Robertson has apparently been found and chained back to his desk, and hopefully they won’t let him have the key this time. His art, which on its usual level is superior to Carlos Ezquerra’s and John McCrea’s, in this issue is simply stellar. And ironically, this episode barely has any action — it’s basically a long piece about Mother’s Milk’s life, which explains why he’s called Mother’s Milk.

To be honest, I had figured it out way back, on the issue that shows him getting on a cab after meeting his mother, and needing to stop so he could vomit. And Ennis, wisely, does not go for the gross-out factor here. The revelation of Mother’s Milk’s problem is sober and actually makes a lot of sense (aside from giving the character a potentially bad future — or, to put it better, no future at all).

But what really makes this issue stand out is that part of it is very compelling courtroom drama — in twenty-two pages, Ennis manages to introduce several characters, have them leave a strong impression (I particularly liked Milk’s father) and then end their participation in the story. Even though this arc will be continued next issue, Ennis covers a lot of Milk’s life here, and does so brilliantly, with his tipically excellent dialogue — one line that is especially great is said by Mother’s Milk himself: “Fuckin’ war cry of every goddamn corporation on the planet: you’re right, we’re wrong, so sue us.” Ennis’ ability with dialogue is vital for the story, considering it’s mostly just that — balloons and more balloons of dialogue. Fortunately, very good dialogue.

But Mother’s Milk is not narrating his life story to Hughie just for the sake of it: his life’s events clearly interlace with Vought American’s to incriminating degrees, which is important considering Hughie has been losing faith in The Boys and needs a reminder of what they’re up against. At the same time, Mother’s Milk and Billy Butcher, intelligence men through and through, refuse to let Hughie know everything right away, saving the information for when it’ll be most useful. Which is why Hughie’s question about Mallory is practically ignored.

Completing Ennis’ writing to the point of perfection, Darick Robertson delivers beautiful art I’m not sure he’ll manage to keep up. His work has always been at the very least good, but very inconsistent and especially problematic when other artists came to join a hand — which will always be a problem considering I’m so used to Robertson’s art at this point. I still think he would do very well to partner up with Rodney Ramos, who makes his work shine even more — as two or three Ramos-inked pages of issue 11 (if I’m not mistaken) proved.

Regardless of the future, Robertson’s art in “The Boys #35″ is not only brilliant from a visual storytelling standpoint — and really, Robertson is always good at that — but it’s especially exceptional at depicting facial expressions. The fact Milk wears sunglasses does not diminish his visual displays of emotion, and his shocked face after he punches someone in a flashback is pitch-perfect. And although the scenery in Robertson’s art is always sketchier than characters, the initial page of this issue, depicting the bridge being re-built, is breathtaking in a strangely serene way.

Color artist Tony Avina matches Robertson’s work with his competent coloring — the only complaint I have is how Hughie’s hair rarely differs too much from his shaven skin. Okay, Hughie is almost bald, but he’s not completely bald and this should be adressed but oh fuck it the colors are so pretty regardless. Avina doesn’t even go for the typical cliche of changing the color palette in flashback scenes because he knows Ennis’ neat narrative eliminates the need for that.

And finally, letterer Simon Bowland deals with the large number of balloons in this story without a single problem, doing a decent job of changing font sizes and not interfering with Robertson’s art, although it must be said Robertson is extremely mindful of balloon placement and, without sacrificing the visual composition, always leaves some dead space on his panels to make the letterer’s job possible.

At this point I’m not sure I can even call “The Boys” a superhero story. It grew out of it and it’s become a drama about corporate power with a touch of dark humor that happens to have superheroes in it.

And oh God I’m 770 words in and I’ve still got five books to review –

The main group is now being actively pursued by a gang of Crossed whose leader, called Horsecock because that’s his choice of weaponry, has harbored a grudge against them. This particular gang is not as aimless as the others and are capable of using their intelligence within their own uncontrollable urges to be as brutal and evil as they possibly can. Which makes them particularly threatening: throughout the series, the Crossed have been an extremely dangerous enemy — and now, they’re an organized enemy with a grudge.

“Crossed” has been a very straightforward series, which is one of its many strengths. A considerable amount of time passes between every issue, something reflected by the seasons and the visual of the main characters, especially Stan, the series’ protagonist and narrator. The fact so much time has passed since issue one only augments the power of the scene when the main characters finally go on the offensive instead of the defensive, and revel in the cathartic slaughter.

However, this comes at an incredibly expensive price. What happens in this issue was far from unpredictable, but the way Ennis writes the scene hits an excellent balance — he avoids gratuitous gruesomeness while not sparing the reader from the brutality of the moment. A scene which once again shows the impressive consistency of the characters — especially the one who is affected the most by the event that takes place in this episode.

All characters are coherent within their personalities, but never unidimensional. I was particularly pleased at the way Brett is a prick when talking to Stan, but mostly reasonable when talking to everyone else. Kitrick also steals the scene on the latter half of the issue, and it’s very believable, how Stan and Cindy are practically reading each other’s minds at this point.

The art by Jacen Burrows is — pretty much the same from all previous issues. Which is to say magnificent. It’s interesting how all three of the Ennis’ books I’m reviewing this week are not only beautifully-drawn, but especially good at facial expressions. And the look on the face of a character as they do what is no doubt the most painful thing they’ve ever done is nothing short of superb: it manages to express pain and disgust in a single, heartbreaking look. Burrows’ ability at drawing scenery remains absolutely impressive, and I could care less about the fact he rarely uses shadows — his style doesn’t need it. Juanmar’s colours are, however, no more than passable, and the way night-time scenes are colored is dull to say the least. There’s also a mistake: on a panel, Stan’s half-open mouth is colored in a brown tone instead of teeth-white.

Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” is a clear influence for Garth Ennis (who is a fan of McCarthy, after all), and he’s putting it to good use. “Crossed” is a beautifully bleak tale so far, one that, like everything Ennis writes somehow, I’m always looking forward to the next issue.

1270 words, another four books, keep it up, Andre, keep it up…

Ah, this is good.

This might be exceedingly obvious to anyone who reads my reviews regularly (which is to say no-one, and I think I should be grateful for that), but I loved “Chronicles of Wormwood”, and I liked the sequel “The Last Enemy” despite Rob Steen’s artwork, which was so, so horrendous he probably made it by sticking the butt of the pencil in his eyeball and moving it around the paper.

But “The Last Battle” not only keeps up the excellent writing standards of the series, it also brings in the very talented Oscar Jimenez, whose art could use LESS details, but he’s far from being a Juan Jose “let’s draw five tons of debris flying out from a punch on someone’s face” Ryp. His visual storytelling, scenery and (you guessed it) facial expressions are impeccable, especially the moment Wormwood receives some shocking news — the look on his face is perfect to the point of causing laughter, and I love the angle Jimenez chooses to depict it (the same angle he chooses for the person who delivers said news, which is a great narrative rhyme). And strangely, in this comic, Juanmar’s colours are fucking excellent, especially the just-mentioned scene about Wormwood receiving the news — while the person who delivers the news is covered in bright sunlight, Wormwood is covered in shadows, which perfectly symbolizes the very distinct meanings those news have for each of them.

As for Ennis, well, this is Ennis on his adorable “dark humor” mode, which prioritizes comedy and succeeds. The talking bunny is as great as it’s always been, and the dialogue is priceless (the talk show with Carnovitz’s wife is absolutely hilarious). And I love how Wormwood, during a particularly difficult moment, uses his typical introduction “I am Danny Wormwood, blah blah blah” to convey just how fucked he is, although here the lettering screws up by not joining caption and balloon properly (I rarely mention lettering in Avatar books since it’s usually decent and consistent, plus it’s an uncredited group effort, but this was too noticeable a mistake not to notice).

I can’t really say more because I am just blatantly sucking Ennis’ cock at this point. I think you get it. Three very, very good books. Buy them.

Aaaaaah 1660 words aaaaaaah still three books left aaaaAAAAAAAAAH–

– Aaaaabsolution #02. Haha, see what I did there? Why, yes, I AM very tired.

This series started off promising, despite being a double cliche (cop with mental issues, also a superhero). I’m happy to say it has raised its quality standard in this issue, already starting with a brilliant splash page, drawn magnificently well by Roberto Viacava (who has improved immensely too). The story intelligently makes it difficult to agree or disagree with the protagonist’s methods — he’s turning into a monster, but to put down other monsters the law can’t touch, and Christos Gage is portraying his mental downfall very well by not having him completely realize what he’s doing. It’s disturbing how easily he lies about it, and his increasingly cruel methods of execution.

And execution is the strength of “Absolution”. As I said, no matter how many spins you apply, this story isn’t original by any stretch, but it is, so far, well-told. A particularly excellent scene is when Gage and Viacava illustrate how many super-powered beings could be responsible for the “bullet-less hole” method of execution the protagonist has been using. And while religious subplots tipically annoy me, here it’s introduced as a half-assed excuse he uses to justify his own actions.

The dialogue and the characters are believable, if not original or even too interesting — but there’s still plenty of room for that in future issues.

Viacava’s art, as I already mentioned, has gone from “decent” to “just short of spectacular”. For most of the issue, it’s excellent. On splash pages, it’s fantastic. There is a double page spread that is simply flawless: dynamic, intense and detailed without using action lines or any other cheap techniques. Viacava also shows great ability for visual storytelling, and an even greater ability for action scenes. He should make sure that regardless of where “Absolution” goes, it’ll be a pretty book. The colours by Juanm — er, Digikore Studios are efficient, but not impressive.

“Absolution” is well on its way to explore its full potential, even if it’s limited by an unoriginal premise.

2000 words, two books to go, bed has developed a voice and is calling me incessantly –

It’s interesting, how this week has showed Warren Ellis at his worst and at his absolute best. Let’s start by the former. “Astonishing X-Men 31″ has the typical Ellis problem I mentioned in previous issues of this series — overly clever dialogue that sounds way more concerned about entertaining the reader than actually being coherent. There’s several examples: Abigail Brand wisecrackingly talking to herself, Henry McCoy making a very trivial comment about the possibility of losing his girlfriend (while she’s still in danger), Emma Frost dropping one-liners –it’s just Ellis talking. He’s not worried about making each character sound like themselves and this is a serious problem.

Another problem is that this whole issue is pretty much a prologue for the actual story, since it deals entirely with the X-Men trying to rescue Brand as she enters the Earth’s atmosphere in an uncontrolled vehicle. And that wouldn’t be a problem if the rescue was believable, which it isn’t, even for a superhero book. I do not think Storm can fly at Mach Fucking-Hell alongside a falling spaceship with no trouble at all, and Wolverine’s and Armor’s high-altitude acrobatics aren’t less exaggerated.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s an entertaining issue. But the writing is shallow at best and not what I expect from Ellis.

Phil Jimenez’s art, on the other hand, is beautiful and inventive, and richly inked by Andy Lanning. In fact, if it wasn’t for the great artwork, this issue would probably be very dull. Frank D’Armata’s colouring manages to be as good as Jimenez and Lanning, making for a visually fantastic issue, at least. Joe Caramagna’s lettering is decent, despite having one instance of confusing balloon placement (the one after “She says it’s not enough…”, although you can’t tell which one comes after it at first — hence the bad balloon placement).

Dull writing, great art, acceptable issue, but instantly forgettable.

My fingers might be going numb, but fuck it — the next book is a book I’ve been wanting to read and review for a long time, so I won’t even lower the image size much:

Fuck. Yes.

“Planetary” is Warren Ellis at his best. It’s a series very close to my heart. It’s superbly written, drawn and colored. Issue #25 — read while listening to Pink Floyd’s “The Great Gig In The Sky” — sparked the mental image that inspired the novel I’m currently writing. And issue #18 is one of the best single issues of any comic I’ve ever read, a beautiful, nostalgic piece.

Shame issue #27 is such a disappointment.

…

I’m fucking joking, you idiot. It’s magnificent.

It concerns the last loose end in the story — Ambrose, the Planetary operative with physics-bending powers who seemingly froze time around himself when he was about to die from gunshot wounds. In order to set up his rescue, Elijah Snow, Jakita Wagner and The Drummer must get around the complicated theories regarding time travel and find a way to bring him back from the frozen time bubble — which will resume time and bleed him out from the wounds if he’s not treated immediately.

Said theories are presented by Ellis in a way that is easy to understand without insulting our intelligence, and they’re fascinating. I especially love how The Drummer mentions a time machine can only go back to the past until the point it was switched on — because before then, the time machine didn’t exist (this being a time machine that does not teleport itself with the person inside it, but only the person inside it). But Ellis does not introduce all those theories only to show off — they all play a part in building up to the superb ending, which is so well-written and epic I could practically hear a Howard Shore-esque score in my head.

It’s science-gasm, and very well-written science-gasm. But Ellis doesn’t overlook his characters, and gives Jakita Wagner a brief moment of insecurity regarding her future. And the discussions between Elijah and Drums regarding the dangerous activation of a time machine (to put it simplistically, every time traveler from the future coming to take a look and collapsing all dimensional realities) not only are vital for the story, but are written in a way that show the respect they’ve grown for one another over time.

John Cassaday works so well with Ellis that saying he’s practically an extension of Ellis’ brain would be… terribly unfair. Cassaday shines by his own. The beauty of his composition, shadowing, his unique style — all of that is unparalleled. He’s a genius with subtleties, especially, something particularly noticeable by the panels showing reactions from Elijah, Jakita and Drummer simultaneously — while Jakita and Drummer are visibly shocked or impressed, Elijah is quieter, like he knows something they don’t. This is very clear on the panel after they finally manage to get a visual on the bubble Ambrose is inside of — Elijah’s face expresses not only concern, but quiet awe at what he’s seeing.

And the splash pages, well — Cassaday’s unbelievable talent for them is pretty well established at this point, and he doesn’t come even close to disappointing here. Laura Martin, this series’ wonderful colorist, delivers a brilliant palette of golden tones that are both beautiful and evocative. The splash page showing someone walking out of the light is a clear example of How To Fucking Colour A Comic — and it’s ironic that the colours on that page are simple — which is the reason it works so well.

It’s over. And what an ending. I take my hat off to Warren Ellis, John Cassaday and Laura Martin, and thank them for one of the most well-plotted, beautiful-looking and downright clever series I’ve had the pleasure of reading. “Planetary” utterly captures that feeling of awe and wonder I like so much.

It’s a strange world indeed.

And now, time for me to pass out bfore i cam no long er typ oh sht ho sht fukc dmnit

Comic Review – Herogasm #05 and Unknown Soldier #12

In Herogasm #05, Garth Ennis provides insight into the motivations of three separate characters: Hughie, the Homelander and the Man From Vought-American. Hughie is growing tired of not fitting in with the rest of the team, a feeling augmented by the humiliation of his encounter with Black Noir on issue three. The Homelander is quickly realizing how powerful he and his peers are, and how, together, they can do anything they want. And the Man From Vought-American is keeping Homelander on a leash. Ennis tackles all that with impressive fluidity (and his typical sense of humor, especially during an hilarious awards ceremony), aided by John McCrea’s and Keith Burns’ hugely improved artwork.

Hughie, as ever, continues to be an intriguing character — he’s an important part of the team, but the reader never feels he’s truly a part of it — a feeling he obviously shares. The series has been intelligent in implying this not only narratively, but visually as well — even while wearing the black trenchcoat that is The Boys’ trademark, he’s always wearing the green sweater beneath it, creating a contrast that brilliantly emphasizes how out of place he is. It’s become the pink elephant in the room. Less talented writers would have needed a character to just mention it, but Ennis is more than capable of making something clear without that. Hughie is growing impatient and tired, and my impression is that Butcher is not only noticing it, but sharing a similar feeling towards him.

However, this is nothing new — what truly made this issue for me was the silent confrontation between the Homelander and the Man From Vought-American. You might recall that on issue two, the former destroyed a plane, leaving no survivors, and did so for no apparent reason. Issue five reveals that’s just it — he did it for no reason. Because he felt like it. The Homelander knows he’s the most powerful superhuman in the planet and yet, he’s being kept on a leash by a little corporate shit with a need-to-know-basis attitude. This same little shit, though, is much smarter than the Homelander, and Ennis makes the climax of this issue a simple exchange of looks that means much more than it could be put into words. Before that, though, there is a brilliant dialogue scene between the Man From Vought-American and a woman, which further emphasizes his constantly alert, calculating mind.

When this spin-off mini-series started, John McCrea’s and Keith Burns’ artwork was overly cartoonish, but here they seem to have found a balance. It’s nowhere near the magic McCrea’s capable of when his work is being inked by Garry Leach, but it’s not bad art either. The storytelling is clear and straightforward, and no matter what style he chooses, McCrea’s always great at shadowing. The facials expressions are much more restrained than in previous issues, where McCrea and Burns portrayed surprise or shock by drawing eyes so huge they were almost circles. In this issue, they are more consistent, almost on “Hitman” level (McCrea’s magnum opus as an artist, although Garry Leach is due a lot of credit for his superb inking). But some pages still lack detail, especially the one with this story’s title, which has the characters talking in front of a white background instead of a floor. Tony Avina’s coloring, as always, gives no reason for complaints and can be very subtle — with the awards ceremony being colored in bright, vivid tones while the bar where the Man From Vought-American drinks in receives sober tones that evoke an atmosphere of calm and silence. Finally, Simon Bowland’s lettering, as consistent as Avina’s work, is intense when necessary, nicely organized and pretty.

This spin-off series is proving just as important (and good) as the main series, and is receiving the same amount of care and attention.

As for “Unknown Soldier #12″, I’m happy to say that, while Alberto Ponticelli and Oscar Celestini deliver the same amateur artwork (although Ponticelli has an important highlights, which I’ll talk about later on), writer Joshua Dysart has outdone himself — and considering the quality of this book, that is saying a lot. The conclusion of the “Easy Kill” arc is incredibly clever and displays what, for me, is Dysart’s greatest talent as a writer: no matter what the issue is about, he never forgets to develop the characters — and in this issue, with the plot coming to a close, he had every excuse to neglect that, and he didn’t. This book already starts with the Soldier himself having an internal monologue that implies how he’s starting to fully become the monster that took him over and leaving every trace of Lwanga Moses behind — which rhymes beautifully with this issue’s last panel.

Jack Lee Howl, the CIA guy, is shaping up to be a great character — initially, I didn’t think that much of him, but his chemistry with the Soldier is enriching both characters to an impressive degree, and the way they work together in this issue is almost casual, like they’ve been doing so for years. “Unknown Soldier” is a book full of subtleties, from Sera’s confusion regarding her “late” husband to the Soldier’s methods of interrogation (sticking his thumb under the guy’s upper lip and a finger on each of his lower eyelids, ready to claw his face off). Dysart doesn’t hold back on the action scenes either, with the characters doing everything in their power to survive — even if, for that, they have to resort to a knife in the testicles or, in T’anay’s case, sexual appeal. There’s only one inconsistency that nagged at me — the way a character is shot and falls from a great height. Problem is, this character was lying on his stomach and didn’t seem close enough to the edge to fall that way, so I have to wonder whether Dysart allowed for some suspension of disbelief here or Ponticelli’s visual storytelling simply failed — and one of his artwork’s few strong traits is that his visual storytelling is clear and competent.

In fact, for all his flaws, Ponticelli delivers this time, at least when it comes to the storytelling. If he devoted more practice to everything else (his atrocious faces, bad expressions, sketchy shadowing, sketchy lines, lack of detail, dodgy perspective) he could be a truly great artist. There’s only one panel that is overdone, which is the one where the Soldier cuts someone’s throat as he storms into a room. Aside from that, the action scenes are surprisingly clear, and one of them happens inside a small hotel room that could very easily become confusing — yet, I could understand what was going on without having to backtrack to the previous panels. A lot of the credit goes to Dysart’s writing (especially when he adds a layer of irony to one of the scenes, which happens during a speech against violence), but Ponticelli’s art deserves applause for how clear it is even when staging complicated fights.

And this is true for the whole series, I must add: despite all the many, many, many flaws, Ponticelli’s art has never been unclear and has, ultimately, told the story — it could have done it far, far better, but it told the story anyway. I only wish he’d polish his style. There’s a couple of moments, for example, when the Soldier’s bandages are partially undone by a strong impact, but on the next panel they’re neatly in place again. On the other hand, Ponticelli does not use action lines to portray movement OR impact, which I consider a good thing.

Celestini’s coloring, though, is simply bad. I can’t find anything to like on it. He colors within the lines but I’d expect that from ANY so-called “professional” color artist. His shading is horrendous — not only he doesn’t soften it, he usually colors a character with no more than two tones — and these tones tend to be either a much darker tone or a much lighter tone, with no subtlety at all. This is especially noticeable on the scene where Sera introduces Rachel to Margaret.

Fortunately, there’s Clem Robins’ lettering, which contributes to the action scenes thanks to its intensity, which always suits whatever’s happening. Robins is a master in choosing the right sizes for the font, and shifts between them frequently but not gratuitously. When a character screams, they really SCREAM (I feel I’ve already said this before, but it’s still true), and in order to show someone whispering, Robins decreases the font size. This might seem like the obvious thing to do, but I’ve seen letterers trying to show the same thing by making the font transparent, for fuck’s sake. Robins’ also places the sound effects in a way that doesn’t interfere with the art but instead completes it, and the font he uses for those is strong, but never overdone. “Intense”, however, is not the only adjective to refer to Robins’ work. While it certainly is very intense on action scenes, it’s remarkably subtle most of the time, like on the scene we see a reporter adressing a camera — Robins lowers her font size, emphasizing the atmosphere of the scene rather than what she’s saying — which helps build up the tension for the climax of the story.

I’m glad this series has never lost its initial brilliance and, in fact, sets a new high standard every month. The next two issues will have a new artist, Pat Masioni. Let’s see what he brings to the table. Whether his artwork is wonderful or shitty, Dysart’s writing is so good I’d read it even if it was drawn by Rob Liefeld. With his feet.

Comic Review – Giant-Size Wolverine: Old Man Logan #1 and No Hero #7

It’s interesting that the two titles I read this month have commited the exact same mistake of believing too hard on their own brilliance and going for an over-the-top finish. It’s also disappointing, like a woman choking to death on your dick before you reach orgasm. If you were wondering what I meant by “over-the-top”, that simile about covers it (and I’m deeply sorry for it).

Anyway, let’s start with “Old Man Logan”, since I have much less to complain about it than I do about “No Hero”. Mark Millar’s “Wolverine as played by Clint Eastwood” saga had been consistent up to this point, but far from groundbreaking or original. I don’t remember seeing Wolverine in this setting, but the setting itself, I see more often than my toothbrush.

Still, Millar had been doing well so far, telling a straightforward, balanced story with decent characterization and some really good moments. But Millar fell victim to one of his problems as a writer — a tendency to be TOO epic. It happened on issue #12 of The Ultimates vol.2, but Millar found his ground and recovered himself on #13, fortunately. The same can’t happen here, as this is the final issue of the saga.

Millar limits himself to Logan spitting out angsty one-liners as he kills a lot of people. The writer portrays all this bureaucratically, and after a particularly painful sequence where Bruce Banner utters a speech full of exposition while fighting Logan, Millar presents a twist that is staggeringly stupid. Bruce Banner might have gone mad, but surely he couldn’t be DUMB ENOUGH to do what he does in order to try and kill Wolverine — the moment a supporting character “reveals” this twist and Banner goes “You gotta be kidding”, I just had to shake my head at the lazy, simplistic storytelling. Banner KNOWS what Wolverine is capable of, he always did, unless in this story he has some very specific version of Alzheimer’s that erases only the things the plot needs erased in order to work. Not to mention the ridiculous joke Wolverine cracks afterwards.

Then Millar recovers a bit and gives the story a suitable, if cliched, ending. “Old Man Logan” is an entertaining saga, but far, FAR, OH SO FAR from being a masterpiece of any kind, as I’ve seen it promoted.

It’s Steve McNiven who, once again, proves himself as one of the most talented artists in comics — which is a bit sad. This much talent will probably never be employed on something that isn’t a superhero story, unless McNiven himself decides to be more ambitious, and I really hope he does. I’d like to see his art on other genres aside from the annoyingly omnipotent superhero one. His use of shadowing and especially crosshatching is amazing, and his composition and facial expressions are nothing short of sublime. He is the full package, and I just can’t seem to find anything to complain about other than his art being in the service of Millar’s poor writing, in this particular issue.

Unlike “Old Man Logan”, “No Hero” has been absurdly inconsistent. Or, more accurately, its protagonist Josh Carver has. Maybe this was the idea, considering the revelations made in this issue, but the pieces fit so badly it’s like the puzzle was brutalized with a hammer first. It feels forced and ridiculously over-the-top.

Want me to define what I mean by “over-the-top” a little bit better? Well, stuff like Carver pulling someone’s spine out and wearing it around his waist like an erect cock — and no, this time it is not a simile. He wears it like an erect cock, with that very intention. Or stuff like Carver punching his way into a man’s thorax, driving his hand up through his neck and making three fingers pop out of the eye sockets and the mouth from inside. And if this sentence was hard to follow, Juan Jose Ryp’s artwork is even worse, but more on that shortly. I’m not condemning any of those scenes as “shock value” — they are not shocking at all. They are so cartoonishly exaggerated they become… well, cartoonishly exaggerated. Most of “No Hero”, in fact, suffered from that.

Aside from being over-the-top, Carver’s motivations never ring true. In fact, reading the rest of the series, there are several moments where he doesn’t act like who he actually is, like that godawful plane sequence in issue five, when he seemed completely out of character if you compare him to the Josh Carver in this issue. I’m not saying writer Warren Ellis didn’t know where the story was going since the beginning — he clearly did, he just wasn’t nearly as careful as he should have been to make it coherent.

In fact, none of the characters are coherent — Carver is just the least coherent of them all. Carrick Masterson was a potentially interesting, tridimensional character and now he’s been converted into a James Bond villain, and the “revelation” he took FX7 doesn’t come as the least bit surprising. Even more preposterous, though, is his power, which is explained so simplistically it leaves enormous scientific gaps in a story that so far had seemed pretty worried about avoiding them.

… then again, Ellis did write that cartoonish plane sequence, not to mention the scene in this issue when someone exposed to space fucking EXPLODES, or that for two issues Carver spoke perfectly well with no lips, so I take that last bit back.

Also, Carver defeats all the members of the Frontline so easily I have to wonder how these clueless imbeciles survived by themselves for so long. And Masterson himself, who is simultaneously portrayed as a genius scientist and an utter moron: while his whole world is destroyed around him, he fails to grasp who is causing all the mess despite it being BLOODY OBVIOUS. Let’s examine a simplified version of this story’s timeline:

- Two members of the Frontline are killed, opening up gaps for the Frontline to refill.

- At that moment, a boy called Josh Carver starts trying to get their attention and join their ranks.

- Masterson welcomes him in.

- EVERYONE DIES AAAAH OH GOOOOOD NOOO AAAAH

Is it that hard to deduce? Really? Couldn’t he have at least CONSIDERED the possibility of Josh being the problem? As the inventor of the drug, Masterson KNOWS that FX7 bases itself on one’s psyche to alter one’s body. Yet, Josh is turned into a monster and no-one bats an eyelid or even considers that he might be the main piece of the puzzle. And I have to question the brilliance of losing two members of your team and then hiring the guy who conveniently shows up out of nowhere and even more conveniently meets all the necessary requirements to join it.

Ellis does try to disguise it all with an attempt on Josh’s life on previous issues and etc., but it’s still poor storytelling. The final issue could have saved it, but instead it’s possibly the loudest, most obnoxious one in the series, with the “moral” of the story being shoehorned with captions in the last pages, and without an adequate build-up to it.

This is not helped by Juan Jose Ryp’s insanely busy artwork. And aside from being too busy, this time it’s downright mediocre as well. Facial expressions are atrocious — hell, the faces in general are atrocious, with his characters insisting on expressing every emotion through grimacing. That, and his art is difficult to follow — it’s not impossible to understand, it just takes more time than it should and breaks the flow of the narrative. When Carver sticks his fist into a man’s thorax, Ryp chooses a sideways angle that fails to make that clear, so when three fingers replaced the guy’s eyes and mouth, I had no idea how they got there (or that those were fingers), so I had to backtrack and examine the previous panels more carefully, slower than my typical reading speed (which is usually pretty adequate for most artists).

But the moment things really go bananas is when we’re in orbit and Ryp draws the Moon and TWO PLANETS just floating around, visible from Earth’s fucking ORBIT. What planets are those? Did Ryp even know? Digikore Studios certainly didn’t, considering they paint them all the same dull colour. I dunno, maybe the Frontline made themselves some planets too or something…

“No Hero” is the second part of a trilogy that includes the reasonable but flawed “Black Summer” and the upcoming “Supergod”. Unlike his magnificent sci-fi trilogy (“Ocean”, “Ministry Of Space” and “Orbiter”), Warren Ellis has so far done a seemingly hurried, careless job on this one.

Comic Review – Punisher Noir #2 and The Walking Dead #65

I thought Punisher Noir would follow the same vein of its first issue throughout the remaining three. Dull, bland and cliched, a story that uses the thirties and the “noir” genre as more of a gimmick, trying to add weight and importance to a plot that has been in more movies than imdb.com is capable of listing: father being harassed by mob, training son to deal with the world, blah blah blah.

I was wrong. Punisher Noir, in a single issue, has gone from bland to utterly putrid. It is so bad it nulls out the decent artwork. Either Frank Tieri simply isn’t too into this, or he was, dunno, beaten up and drugged while writing this, or he writes like this all the time — and if it’s the latter, it boggles my mind how he stays employed. I don’t follow his work so I can’t tell, but it’s rare that a single issue of a comic makes me doubt someone’s talent as much as I’m doubting his right now.

I don’t get what is so hard about writing The Punisher. He is a psychotic ‘nam veteran who’s been waging a war against crime for thirty years and stayed alive by using what he learned on the army: searching for cover, aiming down a gun’s sights properly, using flashbangs, etc. You know, real combat tactics. Yet, most writers go for the “cool” instead of the “believable” and have The Punisher wield two pistols at the same time and just storm into a room of baddies, spraying everything with bullets without taking any kind of cover. Not that it’s necessary, since the baddies, in those cases, shoot with the same accuracy of a drugged squirrel.

Even after Garth Ennis wrote sixty fucking issues (aside from the great Marvel Knights run) of what could be described as the DEFINITE Punisher, a perfect portrayal of the character, there, great, PERIOD — writers like Tieri still fail to grasp the concept and in Punisher Noir #1, we saw Frank Castle during World War One leaving the cover of a trench, wielding two pistols (with skull logos on them, just to make things cheesier) and spraying everything with bullets while standing out in the open like a moron. And the story remarks its own dumbness by having that work out pretty well for him.

But while issue #1 could simply be described as “mediocre”, issue #2 stands on the edge of that cliff for a while until finally and proudly leaping off into the depths of artistic sewage. Instead of coming up with his own characters — you know, to make up for not coming up with a decent plot — Tieri takes FOUR characters created by someone else and adapts them to this story. And by “adapt”, I mean “shoves them in it carelessly”.

Three of these characters, hilariously, are from Ennis’ work: Detective Soap, The Russian and Barracuda.

Written by Ennis, Soap was an incompetent and terribly unlucky detective, but extremely determined and associated with people who could make up for his faults. In Punisher Noir, Soap is given a moustache and is actually a… pretty good detective, as the scene that introduces him tries so hard to make clear. Also, no pigeons shit on his head or anything of the sort, so he isn’t unlucky either.

In that case… why is he named Soap? Why use Ennis’ work if you aren’t going to use what made it GOOD in the first place?

I’m inclined to the answer: “Because Tieri is a talentless hack who uses other people’s work to try and add some quality to his own.” But I do not read Tieri’s stuff and can’t pass that judgement, but god damn is the man making an effort to suck by doing the same thing to TWO other characters.

The Russian shows up on a flashback, with Frank Castle fighting him on a train. I wonder if this is a reference to the James Bond film “From Russia With Love” — it looks very obviously like one, but I cannot fathom why anyone would think it’s an appropriate reference for a flashback happening in 1918 and about the Punisher. Still, the flashback, aside from being very badly written (The Punisher and The Russian almost effortlessly climb on the top of the train while exchanging one-liners), is utterly pointless. A filler and a blatant attempt to use Ennis’ success once again. It’s actually funny how Tieri tries to give this scene a point by having Castle tell it to his son and add “this is what happens when you get caught unprepared”. Sure, Tieri — a whole fight scene on a train between The Punisher and The Russian WASN’T an attempt to give someone else’s character a lenghty cameo, it was The Punisher teaching his son a LESSON. Of course.

Then we get Barracuda. While Soap got a moustache to distinguish him from his 21st century counterpart, Barracuda is turned into Karl Marx. Apparently, Tieri has a hard time coming up with his own psychotic mercenaries, so he sticks a huge beard on an Ennis character and uses him shamelessly — while not adding any of the stuff that made Barracuda a great character, like his omnipresent optimism.

And there’s Jigsaw, too, your instant go-to character when you want a villain for a Punisher story. I swear, if I ever find myself by some strange twist of fate writing the Punisher, I’ll start the story with Jigsaw being killed with no possible means of ressuscitation even for a comic book. Fuck him. He’s a shitty villain. “Oh, he has a face like a jigsaw, that makes him –” A SHITTY VILLAIN WITH A FACE LIKE A JIGSAW, NOW SHUT UP.

This shameless, careless use of other people’s characters — which isn’t necessarily bad if you can do it right, which Tieri doesn’t — is one of the two things that sinks this comic. Aside from those two things, the rest of the story is just bland and unremarkable.

The other thing is the villain Tieri does create, Dutch Schultz, is a pathetically bad ch — wait, wait.

*does quick wikipedia search*

Sorry, Dutch Schultz was actually a real New York mobster during the twenties and thirties. But I didn’t read anything about cutting off his henchmen’s fingers (apparently ignoring they need them to hold a fucking pistol) or killing them for no reason, as Tieri’s Dutch does. Which makes me wonder why Tieri uses Dutch Schultz’ name if… oh, hahaha, sorry again, I am still considering the possibility of Tieri having any ability whatsoever to come up with characters of his own. So he uses a real life mobster and makes him cartoonishly evil. I half-expected Schultz to let out an evil laughter after killing a henchman he had previously crippled.

I can tell I really hated a comic when I write so much about it and haven’t even gotten to the artwork yet. Paul Azaceta’s work is decent, with good sepia-ish coloring by Nick Filardi and run-of-the-mill lettering by Joe Sabino — of course, with Tieri’s dialogue, ANY lettering would look run-of-the-mill. Sabino could have actually improved it by drawing penises inside the balloons instead of words, but alas he’s professional and apparently far more mature than I am. So.

In case you failed to grasp that by now, Punisher Noir is utter shit. Now let’s talk about a far better comic…

… which hasn’t been as good as it used to be. “The Walking Dead” has been suffering from a lack of aim since the exceptional fiftieth issue, which felt like a definite climax and kind of re-booted the series, putting everything back in square one. And from that point on, Robert Kirkman relied on stupid coincidences for a while and on repetitive character drama, until recently the series got back on its feet but still suffers from its main, long-standing problem — it just lacks a point. It doesn’t seem to be going anywhere interesting.

It’s still a readable and good series, mind you, but it seems to have lost a lot of its ambition. So what I’m trying to say is — after this arc, which deals with human beings who turned into cannibals to survive (hardly an original premise, honestly) — Kirkman should get the characters to wherever it is they’re going and give us some answers. Why are some zombies apparently sick and falling over? Why is — wait, actually, that’s the only answer being expected. See the problem?

All that said, issue #65 has some good moments. I especially like how Rick says he wants to hear every word of what Dale has to say to him (which promises not to be very nice, and about time since this whole Dale vs. Rick shit has been going on far longer than it should have), but I really like the dialogue between Rick and the leader of the cannibals, who is interestingly aware of his deeds and has a real understanding way about him, even as he tells you he’s going to hunt you down and devour you. You can imagine him, on a pre-apocalyptic world, as a perfectly nice guy, but in a post-apocalyptic one he’s now a monster.

While dealing with this new threat, Kirkman has had his characters… forget their own troubles. Perhaps way more than he should have. I mean, not long ago Rick was talking to a dead person on a broken phone. And Abraham was afraid of falling victim to his own killing urges. But elegantly, the cliffhanger of this issue alludes to these very characters doing something insane on the next issue, which might make up for that, adding some good narrative balance to the story.

Charlie Adlard’s art continues to be as efficient and clear as it always is, with his great panel distribution and, especially, the composition of those panels. He’s careful to leave space for Rus Wooton’s good lettering without sacrificing the beauty of his angles. Cliff Rathburn’s gray tones are very good but almost unecessary considering Adlard’s talent for shadowing. At this point, him and Kirkman are practically reading each other’s minds, almost in an Ennis-Dillon fashion. I highlight Rick’s excellent facial expression when the leader of the cannibals reveals something to him — it’s such a fitting expression you’ll recognize it when you see it.

It’s a good series. It is. But it used to be excellent. Now it’s a bit like it’s wandering around aimlessly. Sure, it’s character-driven, but even these characters are starting to lose their appeal and become repetitive shadows of their former selves, and while we’re just at the beginning of this slippery slope and Kirkman can still reverse this with relative ease, if it remains ignored it will just turn into another zombie story without that distinctive storytelling that made it something else.

Comic Review – The Boys #34 and Dark Entries – A John Constantine Novel

With Darick Robertson to return only on the next issue (although his covers have been excellent as usual), “The Boys” continues to be a very well-written, but visually problematic ongoing. The two artists chosen to be Robertson’s replacement, John McCrea and Carlos Ezquerra, are both competent in their respective fields, but unsuited for this story. And in this issue, Ezquerra — and his inker Hector Ezquerra — do a especially underwhelming job.

Garth Ennis, though, is in complete control of the story he’s telling, and I like the way Billy Butcher uses a “World War II” strategy to fight Stormfront. The reinforcements they had called on the previous issue are not a new character, like I had thought, but an old one I quite like and was happy to see again. And now, apparently, “the man from Vought-American” seems to be in charge of Vought-American, which puts things under a whole new light.

As usual, it’s Hughie that’s given the most attention, as he grows more and more uncomfortable with his job — something he says to the bed-ridden, comatose female for lack of any other ear. And the way Ennis ends this confession is intelligent and hilarious in its irony. The dialogue, as usual, comes off very natural without losing its cleverness, and Ennis leaves little unanswered bits for the next issues, as he usually does.

But Ezquerra’s artwork diminishes his efforts. His Billy Butcher looks nowhere near the “knowing smile” version Darick Robertson and, to an extent, John McCrea can do. In fact, his Billy Butcher looks an awful lot like Kev, from “The Authority”, another (excellent) Ennis character. But it’s not just character likeness and facial expressions that Ezquerra gets wrong (the latter by drawing eyes almost completely shut at any given time, making it look like all the characters are squinting for no reason), but also, and especially, one of his strengths — visual storytelling. Ezquerra doesn’t even bother to divide action scenes in panels, drawing the characters in several poses across the page in a sloppy, lazy way that represents a problem for letterer Simon Bowland — especially on the panel where a dialogue balloon comes from off-panel, but, with no panel divisions, Bowland is forced to make the balloon’s tail go off the right of the page, on the complete opposite direction the voice is supposed to be coming from — since the proper direction doesn’t have a line to indicate the end of the panel. Or, more accurately, there are no fucking panels. In fact, Ezquerra completely forgets to add bruises and wounds to The Boys after the fight (except for bandages, and if he forgot THAT I’d think he’d hit his head somewhere), forcing colorist Tony Avina to do everything himself.

Fortunately, on the next issue, Robertson is returning from his vacation in Hawaii to this ongoing and should get it back to its high visual standards. Fortunately, the writing standards continue to be as high as they always were, with Billy Butcher having a quick conversation with Mother’s Milk that opens up a very good question.

And, by the way, next issue is M. M.’s origin. I’ve been looking forward to that one.

“Dark Entries” is a graphic novel — or, as the cover says, a graphic mystery, which could perhaps refer to the artwork, but Dell’edera’s visual narrative isn’t that bad — by Ian Rankin. In it, John Constantine is tasked with finding out why a “haunted house reality show” called Dark Entries is scaring its participants not with special effects, but, apparently, by accident — the house itself seems to have gotten a mind of its own. And eventually, Constantine participates in the show himself.

That right there is one of the novel’s main, and many, problems. Constantine accepts this far too easily. And very stupidly. A man with his experience would never go so far into an investigation, essentially putting himself into a potential trap, without knowing what’s wrong. And yet he does, and the novel starts going crazier and crazier and relying too heavily on its own distorted mythology (like a broken chain of events that doesn’t allow some characters to go through a TV — yeah, if this sounds out-of-context to you now, sorry, but it still sounds ridiculous after hundreds of pages building up to it).

The twists in the story are hardly original — which in itself is not a problem if they’re well-executed and coherent. They aren’t. In fact, they weaken the novel, giving it a “camp” feel. Rankin’s depiction of Hell is especially ridiculous, and so is the addition of a villain in the third act of the story.

John’s relationship with the reality show participants is equally problematic, going from hostile to easy to hostile again, and then John bangs one of them, they casually enter their bedroom and act like nothing’s wrong despite them being half-naked on the bed. Simply put, it’s sloppy, unconvincing writing. Rankin is more interested in unveiling the story’s internal mythology rather than giving his characters coherence — despite John being just one of them in their eyes, they still bend over to whatever he has to say far too easily without dissenting actions or opinions.

Werther Dell’edera’s art is as bureaucratic as the writing. The visual storytelling is uninspired and even unclear at times, and his characters don’t have a lot for us to tell them apart. It’s such boring, simple artwork I find myself at a loss for anything else to say about it. So I won’t. At least, Clem Robins’ lettering is as efficient as it always is — fortunately, the letterer doesn’t try to create a different kind of caption for every character (a narrative resource Rankin overuses), since this could be even more confusing, so he keeps everything simple and with his typically beautiful font.

Overdone and extremely camp on its third act and ending underwhelmingly, “Dark Entries” is a story that portrays John Constantine’s world as being far lighter and easier than it really is, and the aforementioned “camp” feel is unsuited to the character, to use an euphemism. It reads like the first draft of a potentially good tale that should have been more haunting and well-planned.

Comic Review – Unknown Soldier #11, Herogasm #04 and Batman And Robin #03

My reviews of “Unknown Soldier” are, yes, getting a little repetitive. The writing is exceptional, the lettering is brilliant, the artwork is poor, the colouring is amateur. In fact, artist Alberto Ponticelli seems to be unable to draw faces now, as well. The guy Jack Lee Howl calls has a face that — well, more accurately, he doesn’t have a face, just a bunch of poorly-arranged lines that would make Rob Liefeld proud. And now that I’ve gotten to the point of comparing Ponticelli’s art to Liefeld, I think continuing to bash it is useless. Suffice to say, it’s bad, and colorist Oscar Celestini doesn’t help — in fact, he makes it worse. Now. To the good bits.

The “Easy Kill” arc is dealing with a complicated moral choice that is even harder for someone like Lwanga Moses, a killer with a split personality, to face (get it? “Face”? Moses “facing” a oh forget it). On the previous issue, Moses was convinced not to kill Margaret Wells. Thanks to a beautifully-written speech by his wife Sera, he realized whatever good the death of Wells could bring would still be temporary, cheap and extremely bad PR (“Look! We kill famous actresses here! Help us out!”). However, Moses’ employers do not share this opinion, and he decides to team-up with CIA agent and professional loser Jack Lee Howl to prevent the assassination of Wells.

The relationship between Howl and Moses is one of this issue’s highlights. Both men know perfectly well they’re using each other to achieve their own ends, and when Howl tries to help Moses pull himself together, he does so clearly with his own interests in mind. In fact, this is one of the several moments where Clem Robins’ lettering shines. On the panel where Moses says “I’ve done some very bad things”, Ponticelli’s art goes for an awkward pose and an overly sad expression comparable to this one:

Robins compensates for this exaggeration by decreasing the font’s size, making it look like Moses is not only speaking in a low tone of voice, but also more to himself than to anyone. Hard to tell whether this decrease in font size was Robins’ call or Dysart’s, but it’s still very well-done nonetheless, and the lettering on the rest of the issue is typically very good.

Dysart also dedicates several pages to Sera and her difficulty in dealing with the discovery that Moses had an ex-fiancée, and that she and her father want to attend the Lwanga benefit dinner. Dysart’s writing is sensitive and develops her character immensely in a single issue — which, as usual, ends with an elegant sequence of panels and the title of the arc on the final page. And I must be fair — the first panel of the final page is a rare example of Ponticelli doing a decent job.

“Herogasm #04″, which at first seemed to be just Ennis sitting back and taking the piss out of superheroes for the sake of laughs, reveals a deeper storyline about what happened in nine-eleven in this book’s universe. And Ennis narrates it with his typical skill and excellent dialogue. The flashback that happens inside a brothel and that puts Agent Lucero in an awkward situation (to say the least) is priceless, and the whole sequence inside the situation room is very well-written.

The surprise here is John McCrea and Keith Burns, whose artwork got miles better all of a sudden. Achieving a good balance between cartoonish and realistic, they get the narrative right and especially, they get president Dakota Bob perfectly, nailing his confident face and iron will. I also like the shadowing, something McCrea, no matter what style he uses, has always been very talented with. Tony Avina’s coloring is also very inspired and detailed, going above “efficient”, which is the adjective I commonly use to describe it, and Simon Bowland’s lettering has shown equal improvement — it was already competent, and now it has moments of brilliance here and there, like in the moment Agent Lucero says something with several pauses, or a pilot begs Norad to let him carry out an order.

And finally… “Batman And Robin #3″. I will stop reviewing this book. Because, really, I don’t know why I’m still doing it. I hate Morrison’s take on Batman, and this issue has a villain called Pyg that goes “oink oink oink”. Enough. I’ll simply never like this book and my reviews will be biased because I hate the “Batman” run that bred this book in the first place. So, I stop.

(Quitely’s art is notably far from its usual quality, though)

(and the coloring AAAGH STOP REVIEWING)

Comic Review – Doktor Sleepless #13, Gravel #13, Punisher Max #73 and Punisher: Noir #1

“Doktor Sleepless” has been on a crescendo since it began. And I don’t mean just its complex story, but also its quality — it started well, with good writing and art, and is now brilliant, with Warren Ellis orchestrating the city-wide confusion like a maestro and Ivan Rodriguez delivering gorgeous and narratively exceptional artwork, showing a scary improvement since the first issue.

Leaving aside my half-assed musical analogies, this series is easily Ellis’ strongest title on Avatar Press. The titular character finally appears after several issues behind the curtains, and he appears not only on a splash page, but also looking much more vulnerable than we’re used to seeing him. And this is disarming — so far portrayed as an iconic character, Ellis and Rodriguez show the human being beneath the goggles, paradoxically at the climax of his mad scientist delusions.

In fact, Ellis and Rodriguez deliver a series of nine-panel pages that are nothing short of sublime, portraying the violence in Heavenside in a disconnected, almost random way as the Doktor goes back to assuming his role and the “camera” slowly zooms in on his face.

Now efficiently colored by Digikore Studios (making up for Andrew Dalhouse’s incompetent work as colorist), Ivan Rodriguez’s art has never been more beautiful. His story-telling is top-notch, and his human-figure drawing has shown considerable improvement, not to mention his good facial expressions (not only he can draw a convincing “mad scientist grin”, but John Reinhardt’s face as he says “I never said that” is ominous and frightening). His panel-arrangement is clear and organized, and his shadowing — which used to be sketchy — is much sharper. Seabra, a Brazilian artist, inks five of this issue’s pages, and he clearly followed Rodriguez’s style quite well, since I couldn’t tell which pages those were without the help of the credits page.

(as opposed to say, the pages in “The Boys” inked by Rodney Ramos, which look radically different — and actually better — from the ones inked by Darick Robertson himself)

I didn’t think, in the beginning, that I’d like this book as much as I do now. But I find myself eagerly awaiting the next issue, and very interested in the complex and clever story Ellis and Rodriguez are telling so well.

“Gravel #13″ is not as successful. Ellis and Wolfer went for a talky issue — which isn’t in itself a bad thing — but I realized, upon reading the same page for the third time because I hadn’t absorbed it yet, that I wasn’t too into it. It doesn’t really take the plot forward and — with the exception of the interesting legend told by a certain character (regarding a giant) — the people Sergeant Major Gravel meets in this issue have nothing truly interesting or new to say.

The problem is that this comic is coming to rely too much on a structure — in this story arc, for example, we see Gravel interviewing people on the first half of an issue and finding someone with powers to hire on the second. And in this particular episode, it’s just plain tiring. It’s a “meh” kind of read that is partially saved by Wolfer’s competent artwork (with equally competent coloring by Juanmar) — his human figures need a lot of work, but his visual narrative and composition make up for most of it. The splash page showing a cop being victim of magic is quite good.

However, I find myself, contrary to “Doktor Sleepless”, not all that thrilled by the cliffhangers — even the one on this issue, which promises to answer the long-standing mystery this arc is about, failed to make me curious.

“Punisher Max #73″ surprised the shit out of me. Because it is VERY good. I did not expect this level of quality after Garth Ennis’ departure, but Victor Gischler is doing an excellent job of crafting an entertaining story while staying true to the protagonist — well, mostly. I will admit I have mixed feelings about the jokes Frank Castle makes in this issue, but they never go into over-the-top territory.

What does go into over-the-top territory is the story itself, and in this case this isn’t a bad thing. Gischler knows how to extract humour from the situations he puts The Punisher in, and the last panel is hilarious by presenting an even bigger threat than the immense Earl (who kills a gator with his bare hands in this issue).

Maybe comedy is not something you’re expecting from Punisher Max, but I accept that with a change of writer a change of tone might come as well, and as long as the character is still himself, that is okay. Gischler proves to be a thorough storyteller, giving us some insight even into the thoughts of the guy the Punisher had on his car’s trunk (and who inadvertently turns out to be Castle’s salvation).

Goran Parlov is at the top of his game, and so is colorist Lee Loughridge. Together, they deliver beautiful visuals and Parlov displays his usual ability with facial expressions — few are as capable as he is in that area. He nails, as always, Castle’s face on any given moment, which is vital in counter-balancing the jokes Gischler makes Castle say. And except for a mistake in the first page (“Ususally” instead of “usually”), Cory Petit’s lettering is efficient as usual.

However, “Punisher: Noir” is a good idea that Frank Tieri turns into shit with his blatant use of cliches and his poor portrayal of The Punisher –

– in fact, this is what most people who write The Punisher get wrong: the man himself. On the flashback showing Castle during World War One, it’s simply ridiculous to see him wield two pistols (with skull logos on them, no less) and charge alone into an enemy trench. Tieri doesn’t seem to get The Punisher is the most dangerous vigilante in the world precisely because he’s not a moron, let alone THAT much of a moron.

The way Tieri introduces his villain is equally laughable — the villain punishes his henchmen cruelly, in this case, by cutting their fingers off after pretending he wouldn’t do them any harm. Cliches like this are all over this book, which is a shame because it had so much potential. Thanks to Tieri, it’s predictable and brings nothing new.

However, Paul Azaceta’s art, colored by Nick Filardi with moody tones that fit the time period, is attractive and interesting. With better writing, it could really have some impact, but not on the service of a writer who thinks setting The Punisher on the thirties and calling it “noir” is enough. As for the lettering, Joe Sabino gives no reason to complain except for a moment where he dramatically increases the font size of a single word in the middle of a sentence (“Hell” in “Get the hell out”) — and he increases it far too much, making it look like the character has said it so loudly it’s incredible the windows don’t shatter.

All in all, it’s the same story involving mafia, protection money and etc. we’ve seen so many times, but with The Punisher — and a moron version of The Punisher at that.

Comic Review – Frankenstein’s Womb

After the previous, weak title published by Apparat, “Aetheric Mechanics” and, more recently, the painfully over-the-top spine-cock in “No Hero #6″, it’s very, very good to see Warren Ellis write something as subtle and beautiful as this graphic novella. And both these adjectives also apply to Marek Oleksicki’s gorgeous artwork. He and Ellis complete each other’s work with perfection, crafting a memorable piece about… well, everything. Connections in life, in the past, the present and the future.

The premise is something I wish I’d see more of in comics: Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, on her way to Darmstadt, stops to visit Castle Frankenstein. Once inside, she meets a ghostly monster that guides her through history, showing the future Mary Shelley the role she has to play for the future to come.

Opening with an amusing conversation and an apparently light tone, the novella is interesting from panel one. Soon the monster makes his first appearance, and is, from that moment on, always fascinating. Well-spoken, calm and wise, he creates a good chemistry with the curious and sweet Mary, which is vital, since that is the driving force of the novella. Watching them discuss anything is never, ever boring, since Ellis doesn’t forget to show the emotional impact the journey has on Mary — for example, her reaction upon seeing her mother’s face clearly for the first time, but in her death bed. The monster is not devoid of emotion either, far from that — when Mary wants to know about her death, he shows clear satisfaction in the vague, but benevolent answer he gives: “It is quiet.”

In fact, emotions is something artist Marek Oleksicki does very well — which is redundant, considering he does everything well. Not only he is technically flawless — his crosshatching and panel placing are impeccable — he does great character design (his Frankenstein’s Monster is superb) and is a fantastic visual storyteller. His composition is always brilliant, especially on the panel in which Mary sees a city in the 21st century; the look on her face is perfect, but so is the angle Oleksicki chooses to portray it: instead of zooming into her face, he zooms OUT and draws the “camera” close to her, so the background is wide and clear and seems to engulf her — which, of course, nails the point of the scene.

But the moment Oleksicki shows the true range of his ability is on the scene where Mary asks the monster if he is her “dead son”. As the monster replies “Perhaps. In a sense,” he gives the softest smile — a facial expression that is drawn so absurdly well it shows a whole spectrum of emotions just through the eyes.

When he’s required to draw splash pages — something Ellis uses more than usual (and uses well) since he’s not restrained by the twenty-two page limitation of monthly comics — Oleksicki does not disappoint either. His work is absolutely breathtaking throughout the whole novella, and I dare saying he’s the most complete artist I’ve seen in a long time. I just could not find something he doesn’t do well.

Aided by such talent, Ellis’ dialogue truly stands out. The monster’s speech is beautifully written. It’s not difficult to understand why, despite being clearly confused and frightened, Mary does not hesitate to follow him and never asks him to stop. She does say, in a moment of annoyance, that he makes “a poor Virgil”, but only so he’ll show her what she wants to see, and he promptly does. “You die, Mary, giving birth to the future,” he says to her in a particularly inspired moment.

It’s a beautiful story, told cleverly and with great pacing — a story that could have been interesting but also bland is, thanks to just the right infusion of emotion, something that feels complete and satisfying. A fascinating discussion about life had, in a way, by a mother and her child.

It’s, all in all, unique.