Welcome to another edition of Last Call Comics. Here, as we continually bolster AIPT’s weekly comics coverage, we catch any titles that might’ve fallen through the cracks. Or those books that we might not cover but still deserve a little spotlight. Either way, it’s a chance to explore more comics, generate some novel insights, and maybe add to everyone’s to-be-read pile.
Once more, happy New Comic Book Day to everyone.
Nights #6
Courtesy of Image Comics.
I’ve loved the whole darn run, but Nights #5 fully cemented all my glowing feels for this book from Wyatt Kennedy and Luigi Formisano. Not only was there more pop culture insanity, extra tasty human drama, and humor and heart galore, but the booked moved the Vince-Gray relationship forward as much as it blew open the confines of its own unique spin on horror.
But as issue #6 demonstrated, this book is only just getting started.
After issue #5, we learned a few important tidbits — namely, that Gray wasn’t a vampire after all, and was instead the victim/vessel for something very old and very dark. In issue #6, then, we learn more about that creature and her ties to the group’s beloved home of Santo Pedro.
That decision gives this book perhaps its most significant bit of direction, as there’s a real chance to explore the deeper history and terrifying lore that’s only really existed under the surface. The creators have teased it plenty enough, giving us little bits about ghosts and the alternate history, but this is the first time it feels like something massive has been unfurled across Nights — as if we’re done with the honeymoon part of our love affair and we’re waiting for something really dark to happen (and Tsukumary and her whole sordid agency are perhaps at the heart of it all). I love that we got to spend the bulk of this first arc really engaging with the things that matter, and now’s the time for the series to share key tidbits in an efficient, compelling manner to tell this continually novel and inventive slice of truly cosmic-sized horror.
At the same time, though, this book never forgets its many characters. All the momentum and direction in the world are great, but Nights is always going to be about the relationships within its pages. And, of course, that centers around Gray and Vince, who after their good times at the water park manage to end issue #6 with some really important development and interaction. I don’t want to spoil the scope of their bedroom entanglement (oops) because it does have a lot of value to shaping and informing the plot.
But what I can say is that this is perhaps the most direct and honest they’ve been with one another, and that connection continues to be breathtaking in its thematic and emotional value. They’re getting deeper and closer as the world extends, and through that we feel deeply the real heart of this book and its efforts to tell something fresh and maddeningly weird and intense through the perspective of a really well-developed relationship.
And there’s other developments for other characters, too, including a cool stepping up moment for Matt and a new angle into the machinations of Tsukumary. But all of it is about giving us some big moments and heaps of story potential to excite and engage while the Gray-Vince love story informs and extends the story in some big ways, drawing out the emotionality, nostalgia, and sense of reverence to make this massive conspiracy of ghouls and ancient ones all the more bloody and brilliant.
And speaking of all things bloody and beautiful, we once more have to thank artist Luigi Formisano (and colorist Francesco Segala) for another truly big issue. I thought #5 may have been the peak for Nights‘ artistic output, with lots of inventive shots and methodic body horror to draw out what this book does best in purveying truly meaningful and engaging horror. Yet somehow issue #6 outdoes that performance in some key ways.
I can say Gray and her “entity” have a knock-down, drag-out fight that feels really novel in the way the art team balances emotionality with big brutal sentiments to show the true cost of these fights. And that fight also feels like a powerful snapshot of what goes on inside of Gray, and yet that slightly obvious visual metaphor never feels overly hokey or involved; it’s a testament to the sincerity and creativity that goes into shaping this world. (Also Matt has a “fight” scene that made me think of Scott Pilgrim, and I love that tinge of a reference for speaking to the kinds of ideas and energies that Nights also does exceedingly well.)
Yet some of the best shots didn’t involve, say, limbs being removed, or Gray as some kind of new and improved version of herself that captures the joy and terror of her elevation. Instead, I found myself gravitating toward, say, Gray and Vince in bed, or some important interactions between Tsukumary and Vince. These moments expertly and unblinkingly captured the book’s interest in exposing characters in the way they settle and sit within the world.
Whether they’re bloody ghouls or just a dumb kid in love, having that important and effective foundation reminds us of why we’re here. It’s those “quiet” moments that pull us down for a gut shot from the creators, and I love the up and down pathway we’re (lovingly) forced to take as this book expertly curates a vivid story experience. There’s power and depth baked into the whole world, but if you sit with the less overt moments, you’ll find yourself shaking with the pure heart of it all.
The second arc/rest of this story (in May’s issue #7) is primed for some truly massive things. Like, what’s up with Gray and that wolf? Or, who does Tsukumary really serve? And is it crisis really averted, or is the end of the world still a totes possibility? While I await those answers with genuinely robust enthusiasm, this latest issue answered a few important questions of its own. Like, is the second arc going to be extra dramatic and juice? Yessir. Is there still more development for the world and its people? In ways we couldn’t fully know yet. And, most important of all, is Nights still one of the best books out there right now? Hells yes.
Final Thought: Let me say it again: Nights is truly amazing storytelling.
Score: 9/10
Newburn #16
Courtesy of Image Comics.
You ever flip open a comic and your hands are shaking? That’s how I approached issue #16 of Newburn. Because over the last seven or so issues of the story’s “second half,” Chip Zdarsky and Jacob Phillips have built a deeply harrowing slice of noir. A story with gritty and mystery to boot, sure, but it’s really been about the moral implications of Easton Newburn and what happens when that kind of man is pushed to his breaking point.
And that end seemingly came in issue #15, as the arc of Easton’s downfall — and Emily’s ascension in the crime world — coincided with a big, dramatic moment that highlighted this run’s massive storytelling powers. So, what happens in the grand finale, and has Newburn fallen really prey to his own perilously built castle on sand, or did our favorite antihero get to win out in the end?
Coming into #16, we see that #15’s ending was likely no tease. As such, in #16 we focus primarily on Emily’s career post-Newburn a short time after his, um, departure. And I think it’s a novel enough but nonetheless genuinely effective way to end this book. As much as this arc and series at-large have been about dissecting Newburn, Emily has had a real solid performance as well, as the creators have tried to show her as Newburn’s equal in some key ways even as she’s very much her own person (read: with different takes on their work and her own continually compelling, informative backstory).
In the finale, we really get to see that play out with a solid little mystery that shows Emily not as “Newerburn,” as she’s nicknamed, but someone who maintains the peace per her predecessor but does so in a way that feels more transparent and thoughtful in nature. Emily really does have the skills to do this in a way that Newburn might not have, and we see this cemented in how she treats her burgeoning partnership with the former journalist Natalie Serotta. That dynamic shift was an unexpected highlight of this issue, and the kind of definitive proof that this was just as much Emily’s book all along. It’s less about learning something shocking about her as she steps up, but rather we see this character coalesce and crystallize in a really effective manner.
Still, the question begs as to what actually happens with Newburn in the end. As it’s presented, I originally thought they’d treat ’em like Lester Ballard in Child of God (he dies quickly and without much pomp and circumstance and we’re left to grapple with that). But without spoiling too much, what we get is closer to the end of a Christopher Nolan film. And, yeah, silly me for expecting otherwise, especially since Newburn is very much beloved by his creators. But I would have preferred the quiet, more depressive ending than the more, let’s say, hopeful one we got instead.
But the more I thought about it, the more this treatment made sense. This was always about exploring Newburn without condemning him, and we get the measure of a complicated man even if his fate doesn’t fit his circumstances. If anything, I think this ending does align Emily and Newburn a bit more — it’s a powerful demonstration of this book’s dual interest in family and legacies and how darkness can bring about light. And when they’re more aligned like this, I think we get a better, more focused understanding of their various similarities and differences, and how much they may have influenced and shaped one another. This was a vital relationship in this book, and it’s good to see that even if the ending was a total slice of wish fulfillment, it did something to honor the larger spirit of this book.
Of course, we can’t talk about the true spirit of this book without mentioning the art from Phillips. Across both the series but certainly this arc especially, Phillips has done truly dazzling work, balancing the grit and heft of a typical “cop story” with something all the more warm and compelling, resulting in a world that felt stylish and approachable in the same breath. Toss in Phillips’ penchant for big-time action scenes, and Newburn’s aesthetic has always been top notch.
Issue #16, then, could have been a real challenge as it mostly involved lots of extended convos and character work. (Even if it also featured a quick but brutal action scene that I think feels like a proper Phillips trademark). But as he’s done so far, Phillips’ overall design work and the way he portrays both places and characters does great work in translating the intensity, anguish, tension, etc. happening in the story, making it all feel really real but in a subtle, deliberate manner. As part of that, I think there’s a kind of minor “Newburn-ification” that Emily undergoes in this issue. It’s not in a way that impacts her as a character, but as she was working with Natalie to solve a new case, we got the same kind of physical presence and the overall air of brooding intensity and depth.
That treatment only added to this issue’s efforts to compare and contrast Emily and Newburn, but it also spoke to how much of this book’s visual potency remains in the small touches and details. In this issue that included some standout onomatopoeia/lettering work and how Emily’s journals are both featured and de-emphasized here — it’s all about cracking open the sides enough to let people play around with the book’s interactions and sense of mystery with a little more quiet focus. Phillips’ work has such power and control in every measure, and while I often think about narrative over art (and the distinction between), his work here feels like a masterclass in the scope of truly great crime stories.
And that’s mostly what Newburn was/is: a great crime story. Maybe I didn’t initially love the ending, or think that it had the same level of ferocity as the remaining story (even as it was still effective). And without once more revealing anything substantial, I think we can see that this “Newburn-a-verse” may still have some story to tell (and with Emily at the lead). I’m all for it, really — she’s a great character who has earned this status through a complicated and robust story. But even if nothing else happens, Newburn was a solid success, an understated and powerful story of one man’s convictions for justice, getting lost along the way, and how it’s our relationship with the world that can make the final difference. Thanks for the trip, Mr. Newburn.
Final Thought: A fitting enough ode to antiheroes and outsiders.
Score: 8/10
Black Hammer: The End #6
Courtesy of Dark Horse Comics.
I’ve been a little hot and cold toward Black Hammer: The End. For one, I love that writer Jeff Lemire has revisited this franchise through the lens of a multiversal calamity. And that artist Malachi Ward has done an absolutely amazing job in presenting a whole series of universes with such vivid life.
But I can’t always say the end product has been the best version. There’s a sense that things lingered, and that it took a time to get to the book’s real focus (Lucy/Black Hammer and her family). Plus, we didn’t always get the most multiversal madness for our money.
But we’ve finally reached the end, and I have to say I’m satisfied enough — even if I still can’t help but wonder what could have been.
It starts (as it often does) with Ward’s own art. As mentioned, he’s been killing it across the first five issues, and from truly inspired character designs to poignant displays of humanity and, of course, oversized action scenes, Ward has been the reason it’s so easy to fly into this story (even when the narrative maybe wasn’t quite as so sure of itself).
In issue #6, we get what may be Ward’s finest shots. Be it a giant two-page spread of the heroes flying into action, some deeply personal stakes attached to a robust, Black Hammer versus Black Hammer fight, and just this endless infusion of romanticism, the art in #6 captured the fear, promise, joy, and bounty of multifaceted emotions you’d expect from a multiversal battle coming to a close. Ward’s efforts have facilitated so much of our reactions to this book, and while he can make us cry and smile with lethal efficiency, what we see in this issue is an artist controlling so much more with an ease and sense of creativity.
There were times when I could almost feel the weight of these moments on my chest, and it drove home the significance of this event in a way that hasn’t fully happened by now. It captured moments big and small, and expertly contrasted them with depth and intensity to get us to see the true scope of this event and how we as the readers were just as much a part of this massive universe (or universes, really) undergoing some significant changes and growth. Ward’s art captured that with a clarity and measured stoicism that made connecting to the world itself so deeply easy.
And while the Lemire-penned story maybe wasn’t always so effective in doing the same, I do think issue #6 is a marked improvement. (Or, another improvement since issue #3.) Here, Lemire continues to draw things down closer and closer to Lucy and her family (and, of course, the “original” farm family). While I still think that denies us some connection with other characters — Sir Skulldigger was neat but he never really gets meaningful screentime until this final issue — I get why Lemire opted to take this approach. It’s about showing us the size of it all, and bringing it down to what this whole franchise has always been about: this specific “family,” yeah, but also our relationship with them and how the multiverse might complicate, extend, etc. that core dynamic.
It made the main group feel special, and this issue went about trying to give ample attention to each character. Sure, Abe only really got to recapture some glory, and Barbalien maybe felt a little ignored, but Lucy and Colonel Weird, for instance, left this issue with more nuance and deeper character arcs than ever before. Through that focus, we not only see what Black Hammer may be all about (finding family and meaning in the weirdest of places) but how that story might evolve as it possibly enters a new chapter.
And, perhaps as an extension of this doubling down, I think Lemire also used this issue to play more with the metatextual elements that come both with the series in general but especially multiveral stories. It reminded me of what Matt Kindt is doing with Subgenre: exploring his own career and what he still has to say as a creator. Issue #6 facilitated a lot of that for Lemire, but rather than just looking back and celebrating this series, he’s perhaps trying to tell himself that there’s more stories to tell even when this one’s all wrapped up.
That instilled this whole book with a greater, slightly more delightfully depressive tinge (all things end, but that’s OK cause they mattered even just to one person), and that felt like a hugely important step. This event needed real stakes, and it’s clear by this issue that those were to show just how alive this place is, and how it’s connection with its creators and audience can shift/develop as necessary. As long as we all understand that there’s a path and trajectory to all of this, then we can enjoy it for all its worth.
If anything, knowing our relationships to this canon then frees up everyone to approach Black Hammer in a new way, and with the understanding that this whole thing works for us until it doesn’t. And when that moment comes, everything will be OK because these heroes are very much doing their own thing even when we’re not looking in on them. You’ve just got to remember there’s a whole brilliant, shimmery multiverse a churnin’ away.
Without revealing too much, though, it seems like Lemire isn’t quite done with Black Hammer. If anything, he may be retiring some part or elements of it to tell a story through the multiverse. Does that prospect, then, ruin this event? Can you really have an ending if you never use it? And I think the answer is yes you can — The End clearly demonstrated that there’s heaps more to tell, and we can honor what was and what will be by treating this story as some larger shared experience.
People may come and go, but family and friendship and doing the right thing will always exist as universal positives. (That, and it’s our duty to pass this light even if it makes us a little sad.) And for that lesson alone, Black Hammer: The End achieved its goals with chutzpah, joy, and passion — any missteps you can just chalk up to multiversal hijinks.
Final Thought: Endings and beginnings and the magic of a life well lived.
Score: 7.5/10
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