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.
From the World of Minor Threats: The Alternates #1
Courtesy of Dark Horse Comics.
We live in a world where any property that finds success is instantly sized up for sequels and spin-offs. (I’m looking at you, weird Barbie fans.) But sometimes all of this talk can actually be merited, and something can actually spin-off with value in and of itself while further enhancing the existing story/series.
That’s very much the case for The Alternates. (Or, if you’re really proper, From the World of Minor Threats: The Alternates.)
Yes, just a few months after Minor Threats released its own TPB, the duo of Jordan Blum and Patton Oswalt — alongside new writer Tim Seeley, a new art team of Christopher Mitten and Tess Fowler, and some returning contributions from Scott Hepburn and Ian Herring — debut a brand-new book emanating from Twilight City. This time around, we met a menagerie of B-list heroes, including the shapeshifter Mary the Multi-Monster, the mutated Crab Louie, the Question/Rorschach-inspired Persona, and the aging hippie The Tripper. Only this second-rate super squad is dealing with a rather novel situation: having spent several years in a “mirror universe,” living out some rather dramatic and personally resonant alternate lives, they now must settle for life back in the dreary real world.
And it’s that novel little twist — like some indie comics spin on Inception but where everyone’s cast as Mal — that makes all the difference. I don’t want to spoil too much beyond that initial premise, but it’s a powerful way to cut right to the core of these characters even before issue #1 is entirely wrapped up. We both meet these characters in the same instance we’re experiencing the fallout of their ongoing re-immersion, and that whiplash, as it were, is readily effective in setting the tone for a book that’s a profound character study.
It’s also the thing that leans a bit more into the deliberately dramatic, which further separates it from Minor Threats proper. That first book was a comedy wearing a dramatic hat, and this book is clearly a drama that knows how to accessorize with pointed bits of comedy. But it’s done in just a way where where a lot of the gags — like the whole of Crab Louie, for instance — are deeply seriously and nonetheless earnest and even a tad depressive (but refreshingly so).
If these two books share any true DNA — beyond the ephemera of a universe that only matters as much as you want it to matter — it’s the main character. Where Minor Threats had Frankie “Playtime” Follis, Mary is our lens into this corner of the “Twilight-verse.” But both share a few important ideals and values — they’re trying to lead their own lives in the face of all of this madness, and to carve out their own existence. Where the former eventually embraced life as a cape, it’ll be interesting to see where Mary lands. (Her issues with her time in the mirror-verse are a central plot point thus far, and that fosters a lot of the initial tension surrounding the premise itself.)
As far as the art is concerned, there’s more to say beyond the sheer quality of it all. (The stuff with Mary’s powers, or the Tripper’s little storytime on his origins, are true standouts, and a sign of how much this book has cultivated a novel identity outside of its other “sibling” title.) And the fact that Mitten, Fowler, and Herring each grab different sections-pages is a solid way to make this book feel all the more textured and multifaceted. Yet at the same time, I think there’s some spiritual connections worth exploring between the two books.
There’s certainly more of a vivid, almost psychedelic quality that The Alternates has over Minor Threats, which makes sense given the characters and subject matter. But all of that is executed in a way to draw on the same mix of gritty urban reality and superhero escapism that, to an extent, defined Minor Threats. It’s not about a one-to-one comparison but rather finding similar ideas and aesthetics to mine to help really foster just enough cohesion between the two books. (For instance, some of the more mundane moments, like the Mary-Tripper convo in the cafe, feel spiritually familiar and open up other parts to grow.) And whereas you want that distinction from a storyline aspect, a visual connection develops this universe in a way that feels organic and thoughtful. It reminds you of connections rather than ham-fistedly bashing you in the face like some of the lower-grade Marvel TV-film properties.
It would be impossible to call The Alternates a success after just one issue. Yet there’s no denying that it surely set itself up for some big things, and to explore another side of superhero stories and their deeper emotional resonance in some truly compelling ways. Thus far, it feels like a book that asks us to examine our own relationship to these beloved tales, and if we all would do better to live in the fantasy or force ourselves to engage with a cold dark world. It’s not an easy prospect, but with a book like this leading the way, the journey will be as enriching as it is revealing.
Final Thought: This B-squad has A+ potential.
Score: 9/10
Something Epic #5
Courtesy of Image Comics.
I left issue #4 of Something Epic feeling a tad bit emotional. Certainly about the poignant journey of our hero, Dan, as a metaphor for the creative process. But more so the struggle at the heart of this book, and if I was willing to keep following writer-artist Szymon Kudrański across his own hero’s tale as he explores his love of art, storytelling, and superheroes. Because, sure, it’s been a dazzling experience but it’s also been one that’s tested the readers’ patience and commitment.
Now, having recently wrapped up issue #5, I can say that the struggle has only intensified.
I love that Kudrański continues to pour out his heart through these characters — even as the seemingly endless barrage of dialogue buries the reader (and really cuts into the art, which has always been a more effective encapsulation of Kudrański’s deeply personal efforts). I’ve always adored most of the character designs, like the wacky duck and the half-faced hero — but not even that inventive spin can really help me escape the notion that this continues to be less of a personal world to fill with his thoughts and feelings and more a slightly inventive spin on Ready Player One. There’s as much to love as sort of feel annoyed by at this point, and it’s becoming increasingly hard to balance these takeaways and still give Kudrański the leeway needed to really push this story to where it might go. Because after five issues, it still feels too early on in the narrative arc, and his ceaseless world-building is really starting to feel more like arrested development.
It’s all the more maddening because Kudrański does some really great things across this latest issue that almost make up for both the story’s overall uneven-ness and its lack of a solid direction. That begins with Dan’s opening battle with a kind of VR-video game knight. Sure, it’s the most RPO-esque moment here, but it’s also a place where some of the monologues feel less overt (even as they remain as heavy as ever) and we get to see a moment of poignant understanding into Dan’s world and this novel idea about community and artistic expression (and the value of forging bonds as a way to feed the soul).
Part of that is that Dan engages pretty thoughtfully with his “mentor,” Alter, who hasn’t played nearly big enough of a role thus far. (He seems to emerge/step up as a central enough part of issue #4.) And that’s a shame as Alter grounds a lot of Kudrański’s pontifications and focuses it in a way that we can really experience Dan’s process of growing and learning. Similarly, he’s also got some solid moments here with a possible love interest in Dalia — she’s not nearly well developed enough but merely having that avenue only further helps connect this book to something more tangible, and to weigh it with a real humanity over theoretical ideas about art and humanity.
What those more engaging and appealing moments in #5 prove is that there’s something here to this book — a story of an imperfect hero trying to face the dark and find something better for himself. The issue, then, is it readily gets lost — lost in needless jokes, overly sentimental expressions, overt homages and influences, and the sense that we can’t stop pondering for 10 seconds in order to build up the actual story.
I talked about chasing this book some more in my review of #4, and this latest issue further showed that there’s at least some potential payoff to that journey. The problem is, then, is whether it’s truly enough, or I’m experiencing some kind of comics-esque Stockholm syndrome, where I feel like this book can fly when maybe it can only mostly hover. The question, then, becomes if I continue onward — the first arc end’s with November’s issue #7 — or maybe I’m better served cutting lose prematurely. Or perhaps the question is really if I’m so affected by this book, maybe it really is a success somehow? I’ll go sit and dwell on all of that until issue #6 debuts.
Final Thought: Is there magic here or am I fooling myself?
Score: 5.5/10
Saint John #1
Courtesy of Dark Horse Comics.
I’ve got just enough low-grade punk angst in me to grimace at tie-in and/or “sponsored” books. So it’s no wonder my inner Greg Graffin raged something fierce when I heard that the clothing brand Portland Gear had teamed up with Dark Horse Comics to launch a new book, Saint John.
And the resulting book both affirmed some of my fears, and made me think that I really ought to lighten up.
It helps that there’s some real talented attached to this book in writer-artist Dan Schkade (Lavender Jack) and writer Brennan Wagner (Grendel) — even if Portland Gear is also listed as a “writer.” Still, the main duo of Schkade and Wagner build a mostly compelling tale around our titular hero — who is a real-world superhero who actually seems effective — as he meets a reporter (Tori Slate) to show her around the Rose City.
And, to a larger extent, the whole thing is just a celebration of Portland, but told through the lens of superhero stories. In that sense, we get to see the city’s identity laid out in mostly earnest terms — exploring some of the upsides and values of the city as reflected in a man who actually tries to represent it while saving commuters and breaking up neighborly disputes. Is it the most effective storytelling device? Not always, especially when we go a little overboarding in connecting everything back to Portland instead of using the city as some springboard into these larger themes. But there’s moments where John and Tori get to connect and engage outside of the endless gimmickry of it all, and there’s heaps of potential to this relationship. It feels like a modern reworking of the Lois Lane/Superman dynamic, and I’m hoping they can further hone in on this slice of humanity over the endless talk of the city’s pristine parks and endlessly rainy days.
If I was irked at any point, it had everything to do at least partially with the visuals. Like, when some characters looked suddenly purple and then not again the next panel. (So they are humans, yeah?) Or trying to make important but still mundane moments, like John performing the Heimlich maneuver, radiate with the energy of a proper action scene. But these were mostly momentary intrusions into a mostly entertaining story, and that’s sort of how I felt about the larger theme/topic of the corporate sponsorship. It popped up just enough, without actively coloring the story at-large. When it was just a story, I could mostly enjoy it. But when there was this sense that we’re being pushed to celebrate every part of Portland, or we could feel the corporatization of some scene or piece of dialogue (see the Heimlich thing), it was hard to ignore the reason for this book’s existence.
Again, it was rather small moments that seemed to be mostly innocuous, but it did briefly shatter the reality of this world and take us out of the proceedings. There’s just enough here (in terms of story and the larger word) for us to settle back into an inventive story, but I fear that the longer this book goes on, those kayfabe-zapping moments will become stronger and/or more prevalent. This book’s already operating on some razor-thin margins, and any noticeable shift could be a big deal.
At the end of the day, I guess I can’t really fault Dark Horse and the creative team for this project. With the way modern comics is run, maybe it’s not the worst idea. (And, hey, at least it’s not more stupid NFTs, right?) However, I can’t help but shake the idea that without that corporate support, maybe this book might be different. Maybe any of those tiny missteps and little hiccups I’d mentioned earlier would feel all the more insignificant, like they would in any other “ordinary” book. But that’s not the case, and we have to engage this book for what it really is and not what we hope it could’ve been. Still, I’m willing to silence my inner bratty punk rock teenager to see how it all plays out for our mostly intriguing new superhero of the Pacific Northwest.
Final Thought: Corporate sponsors may be icky, but good comics are good comics.
Score: 6.5/10
Cat Fight #3
Courtesy of IDW.
I’ve never planned a robbery (or have I?!), but I imagine it’s done in phases. Like, casing the joint and then drawing up one of those cool maps-layouts or whatever. And to an extent, the first two issues of Cat Fight have done just that — prep the reader for some grand heist. But it’s not gems that creators Andrew Wheeler and Iilias Kryiazis are trying to steal but perhaps our very hearts and minds.
The pacing so far has been decidedly deliberate, as the duo wasted little time in setting up Felix for his grandma Kitty’s death and launching him headlong into a globe-spanning caper involving the Kit Kat crew and the nefarious Schrodinger. But issue #3 felt like it’s the first time some of those emotional undertones really got a chance to shine under all the wonderful heist-centric hijinks.
Part of that is the “ghost” of Kitty played a more substantial role, and she revealed her grandson’s grander legacy and the true crux of their dynamic. That in turn gave Felix a little more focus while really emphasizing what this book is about: a story of family (as told via an extended heist, of course). But it’s deeper still than the ideas perpetuated across issue #1 and 2 — as Felix realizes his connection with his grandma, and what the Kit Kat crew represents as part of that, we see a new side of the young thief. There’s a surge of commitment and passion that moves him from a pawn to an active player in this grander scheme. And a big part of that is his relationship with Tabitha, whole helps represent that much-needed human connection and what existing in the world with people really means. It’s an uneven, sometimes painful truth, but it’s one that Felix needs to hear as he dives deeper into this mystery and his own ongoing development.
As much as this really felt like Felix’s issue, you’ve also got to give ample props to Kryiazis. His art has been extra solid across this entire run so far, but it’s really issue #3 where I think everything just resonated all the more deeply and poignantly. It helps that, as opposed to say some of the thrilling train stuff across #2, this latest issue had a few different set pieces, as it were. Be that Felix’s brief clash with Ginger Tom, the stuff with Tabitha, the introduction of a big player in Blind Tiger, or even the James Bond-ian spin for Grandma Kitty’s “reveal,” there were more varied instances where the art got to develop the world and foster some of the emotionality in new and compelling ways.
There were even more design choices — including those of newer players like Mouser and Lucky Black — that weren’t just novel but grew Felix’s “family” in a way that felt aligned with him in some rather important ways. That’s very been a continued strength for this book as the art fills in some of the gaps and crevices left (purposefully) by the story to provide a really novel vision of this jewel-stealing wacky family tale. Kryiazis especially shines with action stuff, and with more enough of that here, we got to see his truly stylized work go big while driving home how personal this tale feels across each page.
To revisit the whole “planning a robbery” metaphor, I reckon there also has to be a moment where the plan sort of begins and you’re powerless to do anything but let it all unfold. That sort of feels like where we’re at after issue #3 — things have commenced with Felix and his battle with Schrodinger (and possibly even more with another Kit Kat member, Claude Davenport). Luckily, it seems like Wheeler and Kryiazis are methodical planners, and this ball of yarn is unrolling with maximum grace and impact. I can’t wait to see the trouble (of the emotional and heisting varieties) that still await our dear Felix.
Final Thought: This book’s gonna crack the safe around your emotions.
Score: 8/10
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