Last Call Comics: Wednesday 10/18/23

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.

Green Lantern: War Journal #2

My colleague Collier Jennings pretty much summed up why Green Lantern: War Journal #1 was such a powerful debut. But the thing I want to focus on is just how robust of a character study writer Phillip Kennedy Johnson is building with this book. As he mentioned in our own interview, PKJ’s a massive fan of John Stewart, and this book is a poignant exploration of the person beyond those green constructs. And while #1 was a truly solid start, I think PKJ and company hit the veritable second gear with issue #2.

Yes, there’s some big moments in this issue, including John’s first proper run-in with the nasty minions of the Revenant Queen, and even some important deets about their connection and even her possible origins. But as important as those tidbits will prove down the line, I think it was the much smaller, more intimate moments that really resonated. So many superhero stories focus on the secret identity as a kind of lip service; PKJ cares a ton about showing us John the man (who just so happens to have become a kind of living power battery).

It’s that commitment that makes more “tedious” moments — John interviewing for a gig at Steelworks, for instance — filled with endless emotionality. They’re not spans between the fighting, but a chance for John to be who he really is: a builder and warrior for goodness, and a generally caring and compassionate man in a world that needs more of that. It’s his robust humanity that makes him a real attraction, and any superheroics feel like a proper bonus (and an extension of his own humanity) as opposed to being the only reason why he’s worth following/watching. There is a heart to everything John does, and the story gives him every opportunity to show that off in a way that feels rooted in our own experiences as a person, employee, child, friend, etc.

And speaking of gushy emotional stuff, there’s a moment with John and his mom on the train post-interview. It’s not only even more great character development (that’s deeply moving for anyone with older parents), but there’s one frame where all of their history and context is framed so perfectly in the Metropolis skyline. That level of visual wonder is just one feat from artist Montos and colorist Alex Guimarães in #2.

In keeping with the humanity-first mission, the art team keep things fairly grounded. But even then, stuff like the train ride, for instance, feels perfectly stylized and brimming with momentum, a proper balance that interests the eyes without burying this poignant story under any needless flash. When the action does pick up — there’s a cool, horror-centric intro with some Lanterns and then a subsequent John-Radiant Dead confrontation at the end — everything feels big and bold. It’s just like PKJ promised: a big, ’80s-leaning action flick that promises over-the-top intensity. (The constructs from John, especially, are both really dramatic and yet fully in line with his whole “soldier/builder” gimmick.) Be it the spectral zombie design of the Radiant Dead, or just the sheer intensity of even the shading, it’s about adding a sense of power and presence to a story that’s a bit more thoughtful and introspective. The visuals draw out the story just enough but you still get two very distinct experiences that work wonders together.

There’s a really great ending that I wish I could spoil more, but it’s one of those things that feels like a big enough decision for the arc of this still-young book. But what I can say about it is that it feels in line with the many ideas at the heart of this book, and a balance between something emotionally cutting and very much a proper action flick cliffhanger. (OK, it involves a stabbing and subsequent transformation.) It’s an encapsulation of the energies balanced across this book, and something that further cuts to the very heart of John Stewart. I can’t wait to see what happens, and I know we’ll only appreciate our dynamic hero all the more. That, and we’ll get even more sweet space zombie action.

Final Thought: This Lantern’s secret weapon is his massive heart.

Score: 8.5/10

Subgenre #1

Matt Kindt is a strange dude. A genius writer and artist, for sure, but he’s got this deeply meta tendency that seems to run through his works. And I’m not just talking about more recent stuff like Bang!, but there’s also some rather interesting meta-fiction stuff across Mind MGMT (seems obvious enough?) and Folklords.

And while Subgenre continues this poignant exploration of the blurry lines between fiction and reality, it does stand out — for better and worse.

By “worse,” I mean this both is and isn’t a strong outing from Kindt on writing duties. Yes, the premise is a little trite — a man finds himself bounding between two realities, one as a cyberpunk PI and the other as an ancient warrior. But it’s Kindt’s wit and sense of commitment that makes this more than its gimmick — the PI stuff is proper, black comedy-tinged noir, and the ancient warrior bit is just exaggerated enough that it feels like a more self-aware Conan the Barbarian. At the same time, though, there’s some real issues with this debut that could be bigger concerns down the road.

The PI thing feels more robust and real so far, and the warrior part (relegated mostly to the end) both isn’t given enough of an introduction to sell the “twist” while feeling all the less significant given how much Kindt clearly loves the noir-adjacent stories (which he basically translates and remixes accordingly with his various spy thrillers a la Super Spy and Mind MGMT). I also am unsure about our hero, Verge, so far — sure he’s funny and self-deprecating, but he may not have the range needed to really sell the swap and make us readers feel connected to his plight in any meaningful way. Humor is one thing, but there needs to be more soon if this hero can exist beyond his inherently gimmicky nature. And don’t even get me started on his Navi-ass virtual assistant.

Now, in terms of this issue’s more impressive feats, you have to give it up to the art from Wilfredo Torres and colorist Bill Crabtree. I’d mentioned earlier that the art styles between the two are really well done. The neon-tined grit of the PI’s word feels just different enough from the pulp-y vibes of the adventurer, and yet there’s some clear and subtle cohesion between the two to draw home that connection when the narrative may only have hinted thus far. Torres’ lines feel big and bold while fostering a lot of the intimacy even amid some of the more breathtaking moments (cyber monk fights, capturing this far-flung cityscape, etc.)

In fact, with so much humor abounding, it’s the wrinkles in Verge’s face, or the tiny connections back to our own world, that extend and add to the current running through this issue. (Read: that purposefully hokey noir with a heaping helping of proper cyberpunk intensity.) Then you add in Crabtree’s colors, and you get a proper balance of grit and depth with the whimsy of some psychedelic tinges. That ideal translates across both worlds — there’s a kind of Keith Giffen-esque madness that exists in the adventurer’s space — and it’s hugely interesting and important even as the narrative struggles with really hitting its stride. The look of this book had to land from page one, and there seems to be enough force here that the story just might catch up.

I get that, over the last few years, we’ve had a deluge of meta-tinged comics. Kindt clearly led the charge to a certain degree, and his commitment and curiosity are a big reason why these very specific kinds of stories have taken off. Even if this story isn’t as strong as others — Bang! really nailed the rush and absurdity of this specific plot device — there’s evidence here that as these two worlds further blur, there could be a gritty slice of noir adventure awaiting readers. You’ve just got to hold on and wait for the walls to really start crumbling.

Final Thought: A meta story that you’ll want to get to know.

Score: 7.5/10

Local Man #6

Second seasons are an interesting conundrum. Sure, TV actors know each other and the story better, but there may not be the same kind of spark as the debut. I only got to thinking about how that’s the same for comics as Tim Seeley and Tony Fleecs launched the latest arc of their excellent series Local Man. And like Psych or Breaking Bad before it, this new story is as good as if not better than the debut storyline.

For one, we find our hero, Jack Xavier, in an interesting place. Having killed Camo Crusader, and still not able to play superhero, Jack’s having to deal with more crap from the ungrateful folks of Farmington, his tenuous relationship with the police, and a burgeoning affair with his old flame, Inga (who is seemingly some kind of supervillain/baker). And his back up against the wall is a good place for Jack — this debut issue has him in the perfect spot to be both coming into himself in this new “chapter” of heroics while struggling to make sense of it all. After the tension of the debut arc, it’s nice to see our hero get his footing — until it’s inevitably pulled out from under him.

And a big part of that is that Fleecs and Seeley have really stepped up their game as writers and showrunners, as it were. The appeal of that first arc was in watching Jack mostly stumble through things to varying degrees of humor and awkwardness. But as he’s gotten a better lay of the land, the creative team have been strategic in testing our beloved Crossjack. Sure, there’s the slightly gimmicky nature of the affair, but there’s also moves to legitimize him while teasing a few different foes (the other stuff with Inga but also a big-ending slice of horror that’ll certainly be a concern down the line).

And in doing so, the team have given Jack a more serious role and position in his story while keeping just enough levity and silliness to undercut him in the best possible ways. This arc feels more like prestige TV, and they’re pushing him into new territory by equipping him with just enough confidence and authority. As an extension of that, the townsfolk play a bigger role, and there’s a sub-plot with a deputy that could prove rather interesting — and if not, it’s just more color to this world.

It’s not just the story that’s stepped up — Fleecs (alongside colorist Brad Simpson) has done an even better job of distilling this world. Issue #6, especially, has a lot of different set pieces — a great confrontation in a local diner, a convo and reveal with Jack and the cops, and a kind of montage that really played up just how much this arc looks and feels like a proper TV show. And all of it felt varied and textured — with ample humanity across every moment and plenty of sight gags and the like that help show a greater level of engagement and overall planning between the art and the story. I loved that every moment — be it Jack deflecting bullets or having a terse conversation — are treated with the same energy and tone, which keeps the suspense and emotionality surging across the whole dang book.

But ultimately what makes the art a step up from the first arc is that there’s a sense of deliberateness that informs everything — jokes that land more understated or action scenes that feel more pointed. And that kind of authority only comes as the creators feel more confident in their work. Oh, and since I’m throwing out accolades, Seeley and colorist Felipe Sobreiro did some great work in the Third Gen backup, pulling back on the “super ‘90s Image Comics aesthetic” that works better for this measured approach.

Local Man feels like a perfect superhero story for our time. Not just because of the whole MAGA subplot, but also because it’s both earnest and optimistic while never pulling punches in exploring what these stories really say about us as a people. The first arc was a solid start, with heart and humor galore. And this arc looks to build on that with new layers of both joy and intensity, and a focus on extra tight storytelling. I’m so jazzed, I’m ready to scream, “Six seasons and a movie!”

Final Thought: The hero life ain’t so bad as Jack enters new territory.

Score: 8/10

Hexagon Bridge #2

It was super easy to get lost in the sheer grandeur of Hexagon Bridge #1. Writer-artist Richard Blake created this magnificent series of impossible rooms and landscapes, defying the very nature of reality to build a very singular universe and this maddening other place, The Bridge.

But what happens now that the worlds have been established, and there’s spaces to fill with all sorts of whimsy and wonder (and maybe deeper and darker sentiments?) Well, in issue #2, we see what rests beyond all that grandiosity with some deeply human ideas and larger exploration.

While this issue doesn’t have quite the same level of physics-defying wonders, it still feels just as powerful. Blake manages to take a very intimate series of moments between Adley and her robot companion Staden and make them feel just as awe-inspiring. He turns the streets of some Italian village into a place with real magic, where the tiniest corners feel charged with supernatural power and where even the brickwork seems to have been laid by something other than man. And even with all that energy within this world, the sense of quiet intimacy and communal sharing remains untouched — a powerful dynamic that is somehow just as effective in making our heads spin with those aforementioned wonders.

There’s a clear sense of purpose to Blake’s work, as it tells so much of the story (the tone, the sense of timelessness while emphasizing future vibes, and even the bonds between characters) without ever feeling forced. It’s a world both grounded and filed with unspoken intent, and that feels exciting as we try and move through it alongside our leads. Is it a more subtle process? Sure, but I think Blake excels when he’s forced into these kinds of “quieter” spaces.

And just as Blake was grounding the look of the world, so too was he focusing the story itself. Without revealing too much, Adley and Staden are working together to prepare for their journey to find her lost parents. The whole gimmick here feels a little like Inception without ever actively aping that film; instead, it’s more like a structure to this world that helps provide some cohesiveness. And that deliberate gesture to bring things down and focus them allows for another kind of magic as the duo’s dynamic has quickly evolved. It’s clear they have history already but we’re seeing tiny moments — how they communicate, the way the talk about family and the nature of reality — that informs so much of their core relationship.

And it’s a relationship that feels purposefully nebulous — like childhood friends and colleagues and something altogether more undefined. It’s a paring that will only develop once they get to their mission, and it will further evolve as things become more otherworldly while still offering shape and gravity to the impossible proceedings. It really was the duo’s quiet friendship that felt like the most powerful construct here, and I’m excited to see what happens when it’s confronted by the sci-fi madness and layers of emotion that The Bridge seems to represent.

This book is interesting for managing to do so much world- and character-building in such an array of sizes and scopes. And even if that architecture is wildly compelling, it doesn’t quite add up to the inner workings of the people in these spaces, who explore ideas both emotional and existential in really novel ways. This book could very well “transform” again as the two prepare for their final trip, and I’m hoping that is the case. Because with every “shift” comes a new, more wondrous corner of this universe. Here’s to the next step, whatever direction it might take.

Final Thought: The best discovery has been the friends we made along the way.

Score: 8.5/10

Crusader #2

Crusader #1 hooked me with that most perfect combo: blood and guts, a straightforward fantasy tale, and a solid, slightly mysterious hero transported to a strange new land. But #2 adds a few wrinkles to our hero’s tale, and it’s just enough of that ol’ dark magic to feel really compelling.

It’s subtle enough, but writer-artist Matt Emmons (and letterer Andriy Lukin) are clearly building to something novel. This issue saw our hero and his “trusty” guide Grimbel making their way to a human stronghold, only to have things take a turn for the worse. It had everything to do with the Knight and his possible connection to this nasty group called The Masters. That little nugget of an idea plants some really important thematic seeds as a larger commentary on the Templars and religious killings and this idea of perceived morality. It’s a context that doesn’t feel essential but instead welcomes the reader to ask questions about their own understanding of these topics/notions. It’s subtle for sure, but I like that this book is building up something beyond just endless gore.

But gore fans still got some bloody goodness via a brief run in with the story’s “villain,” Pilgrim. I shan’t spoil their conflict but it’s another decision that I think takes this beyond the realm of some fairly basic fantasy and into a place with more subtext and greater, more inventive stakes to boot. There’s also a new group that may be coalescing around the Knight (either to aid or track him down — it remains to be seen), and it’s just more evidence that this story isn’t satisfied to simply blast readers with streams of crimson blood.

Which is maybe a good thing as this issue’s art didn’t have quite the visceral impact as the debut. Sure, I think there was way more personality, especially with Grimble and even the Knight himself emoting (even while never taking off his helm…) Even the aforementioned group got to shine with lots of potential and personality despite appearing on just one page. The problem, then, is that Emmons’ style is seemingly tailor-made for this dirty, slightly janky violence, and without more of that “punctuation,” the rest of the world can feel a little flat. Or, more accurately, it’s the violence where we see the power of his line work and the sudden and aggressive energy it can infuse into a single moment. It’s a style that’s really suited to engaging readers head on and confronting them with the larger context for what all this bloody mayhem represents — and the fact that it was left to one scene doesn’t strip all of the power from this book but perhaps consolidate in a very specific and somewhat uneven manner.

Too much violence can certainly be an issue in some stories, but the violence here clearly plays a vital role in fostering emotional connections and defining and contextualizing people’s motivations. When the gore hits, it really does land in a big way, and the fact that we were slightly short-changed in this issue felt like a genuine letdown as the rest of the story laid some vital ground work.

Crusader speaks to me not just because of all the dope sword fights but because those battles forge a path for this story. The fact that more is being done to ground and extend these characters — and make us question who is doing what and why — feels like a victory worthy of celebrating. It’s my hope that the added tension just builds into even more epic displays of savagery that only help push this world in bigger and more intriguing directions. But whoever loses what limb and to whom doesn’t matter much to me as long as there’s even more bloody conflict ahead.

Final Thought: Is there more to life than murdering goblins?

Score: 7/10

The Forged #5

It dawned on me that perhaps I oversold issue #4 of The Forged. That there’s no real way a sudden shift toward palace intrigue could have been so dang compelling after massive space battles with falling cruisers. But it really was that powerful — a great way to slow down and appreciate the world painstakingly forged by the creative team (writers Greg Rucka and Eric Trautmann and artist Mike Henderson).

And not only that, but as things slow down even further in issue #5, we get an even more compelling vision of not only this world but the rich and interesting people that reside within its boundaries.

The bulk of this issue was really a series of vignettes into the lives of our titular team. We got to see Push perform surgery (and why she’s so determined to be the best); watch as the mute Hap tried to forge some important relationships outside of the team; and why Victory is the most badass leader imaginable (and the lynchpin for the rest of this book). Heck, even the Empress revealed herself more, and her fan-girling over Victory was a novel spin for this god-like being’s ascension into a real person. It’s such a slow and deliberate issue and yet it felt so wildly important — a way to explore these characters as they lived their lives doing the things they hold dear and facing the struggles away from the endless warring.

It occurred to me that there may be a number of valid reasons as to why were seeing deep behind their battle helms — chief among them so that we can feel even more sick when the palace intrigue turns into some massive conflict. But then whatever the reason, I’ll gladly suffer for getting to know the whole squad. It’s worth whatever future heartache waits us readers as I see these characters in new and compelling lights and not just as stereotypical space marines in an inventive but altogether familiar sci-fi universe. If anything, all that nuanced personality and deep-seated emotionality makes this world and this book more than its predecessors, and it turns a mostly direct story of space war into a proper drama with actual stakes for us readers.

From a visual standpoint, the previous issue got away with the slower pace because we got to see so much of the world and its many layers and aesthetic influences. But even as this issue moves the camera into extreme closeup territory, things aren’t any less compelling. Seeing Hap on the range, for instance, is a shorthand for her skill and disconnect with the world that she so desperately wants to overcome. Victory’s hand-to-hand skills, meanwhile, served as a powerful reminder of how she approaches the world and problem solves (and also it’s just dope as hell). It’s not always about putting these characters in amazing settings and seeing what they have to offer but making the settings work for the characters as they try and create some bonds with the readers in sharing vital parts of themselves.

Part of me missed some of the grander set pieces of the last issue, and the way that world felt so big in scale (and even hinted at some of the larger mysteries and themes building here). But a smaller scale feels nice, and there’s still inventive devices and other plot points used to suss out the world and to get us thinking about what might be building. (For instance, there’s certain technologies and foods depicted that create connections and distinctions between this world and our own.) So much of this book has been big impactful moments, and it’s nice to see that same heft continue even amid a rain-soaked kiss.

I tried to think about what might happen in the book’s sixth issue. Maybe more quiet moments of characters sharing ideas and light romance? That could be swell. Or it’s the moment when it all goes to hell and the world explodes into utter chaos? Also a really swell idea. But I don’t care which path we take as I know the story works in service of its characters and our relationship with each and every one of them. Things will explode and more drama will unfold, and I’m likely to care deeply and completely no matter the arc of it all. If I’m overselling anything, you’d be wise to read for yourself just to be certain.

Final Thought: This slice of palace intrigue just got way more intriguing.

Score: 8/10

Wild’s End #5

I think the word “penultimate” sounds scary for a reason. It’s meant to be a tad foreboding — the thing right before the end, with all the uncertainty and tension you’d expect. And a lot of that informed how I went into issue #5 of Wild’s End: after last issue’s emotional displays and thematic explanations, the next to last chapter had to have some impact to really matter. And as it has thus far, the book did mostly deliver.

This time around, we got more of a plot-centric addition to the story, as Skipper, Eddie, Roddy, Flo, and Bernie plotted their big mission to bring down the Visitors’ tower and save their fellow townsfolk. It was a decidedly slow moving affair — with heavy emphasis on the prep work — which felt a touch irksome given that we’ve only got one issue before the end and we spent a lot of the time dealing with a slow moving truck. Still, that pacing seems to work perfect for this book, and it’s a chance to really let characters show off. Skipper showed a rare and heartbreaking level of awareness, and his convo with Flo really felt like it encapsulated both the book’s overarching story and some of its emotional undertones. Eddie, too, continues to shine, and the book is building him as this savvy and capable young man, and that has me both excited and a tad worried for the book’s final act.

The only real downside from these great character-centric moments is that we only got a little more of Thom, the blind shut-in who has a really great gruffness to him and plays really interesting alongside the others (especially Roddy). Still, it felt like a way to keep the focus on the plot — where we really needed it — and fill those spaces with great character interactions and quiet moments to explore their motivations and general well-being leading into the finale.

I’ve never mentioned this in my other reviews, but writer Dan Abnett does a damn fine job of distilling the English way of life to us non-Brits. It’s a tendency done throughout the dialogue especially, and it’s nice to see something authentic and which also feels very attuned to this rather specific experience for our seaside denizens. I mention that as artist I.N.J. Culbard fosters much of the same with the art, especially across this latest issue. It’s in the way the group’s truck bends and leans; the state of Thom’s home; and even in the way Flo carries herself in the back of a scooter — these are powerful demonstrations of how ordinary and charming these folks are, and their power comes from the fact that there’s something unwaveringly real and textured to their lives and appearances. It’s a way to create some baseline of reality at which point the alien stuff and the resulting madness feels all the more believable and all the more menacing to boot.

To some extent, we can all imagine this happening in a day dream. But it’s the way the world feels so thoughtfully constructed that means any shift often rings especially important and profound among the readers. This issue exemplified that proper balance, and all that prep work actually laid the groundwork for our continued immersion in this quaint nightmare.

There’s so many theories and ideas bounding through my head as I gleefully await the sixth and final issue. What’s going to happen with Eddie and his continued stepping up? Will Roddy do something drastic and/or dumb? And what (possibly) final lesson could the Skipper have for us all? I want more than anything for it to turn out all OK even as I think this book is too smart and brave to simply slap that on our plate. But whatever the end looks like, it’ll be worth it for this trip to this most weird and wonderful little hamlet.

Final Thought: Friendship and adventure shine bright amid the continued invasion.

Score: 7/10

Junior Baker The Righteous Faker #2

Maybe I was wrong about issue #1 of Junior Baker The Righteous Faker. Sure, I think Joe Casey is still a strange man (and akin to a working man’s Jonathan Hickman). But as issue #2 revealed, there’s some solid things taking shape that could make this book interesting. But also a really heavy mind-bomb straight to the ol’ cerebellum.

For one, the connection between this book and its 2012 “sibling” seems to be more clear. Our pal Dizzy Baker seems to be on the case as to why there’s no more superheroes, and while it’s not explicitly laid out (unfortunately), it’s clear that that’s the biggest story of the day and the sort of thread that pulls him along. (Or, at the very least, questioning why this world is so dark and bizarre.) It takes him into a few weird places across this issue, including a creepy church and a strange warehouse where something most bizarre is being refined. Still, don’t get too bogged down in the details — Dizzy is mostly working through his own issues. As he stares down the barrel of fatherhood and his own grapples with the bottle (both of which he sort of botches here), it’s a chance to pontificate on the state of things.

As he stumbles into this very peculiar mystery, it reveals all sorts of notions and ideas about the state of the world and the need for heroes; his endless search for truth and what value that really has; and even how so much of the world’s madness is conquered just by entering that next door. Casey’s monologues have a bit more weight this time around, and they feel like a really earnest way to dissect some of these big ideas (reality, heroes, modern life, etc.) in connection with the bonkers journey that Dizzy finds himself currently traversing. The writing is sharp enough — Casey knows how to bring the philosophical heft — but it helps a ton when some of the story actively syncs up with all these thought experiments and musings.

Once again, though, artist Ryan Quackenbush does some wonderful and truly brain-melting things. I think some artists might take what’s happening — endless philosophical deluges — and maybe respond with something softer or “easier.” But not Quackenbush, who seems to instead reply to some of these diatribes with the most wildly and psychedelic art this side of a black light poster. Whether Dizzy is sharing a moment with someone from the cult/church (that whole thing really fostered intimacy in some uncomfortable and thematically relevant ways), or we’re following our hero traipsing through the burnt down rubble of the old world (it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t, and that made all the difference), there’s so much power in every panel. Quackenbush is an expert at not only blurring the lines of reality and fantasy to play with our sensibilities but also to extend certain motifs and drive home the fact that we’re ultimately trying to explore some very elemental questions about who we are and the roles out our beloved heroes.

But no matter how strange things get, there’s always that core of humanity (like with Dizzy and the baby stuff), and that keeps you exploring some heady terrain no matter how intense it gets or reminds you of bong water spilled on an oil slick. It’s always that nougat of realness that colors every moment so that you can continually follow Dizzy with enthusiasm amid even the most meta and/or intellectually overwhelming of moments.

It’d be easy to say that I preferred issue #2 to the debut. And, to an extent, that’s true — it feels like when some of the bigger values and goals of this book become clear and we get moments to really explore these ideas alongside Diz’s own stumbling through this world. At the same time, however, it’s not nearly as simple: this book is a tad more complicated than some of that, and maybe it’s part of a larger journey that may alternate between easier and poignant moments and things that require a little more work to fully consume. It’s a strange trip, indeed, but something that could be worth it if we can keep our own hero in the center of his existential maelstrom.

Final Thought: A bit more mass and gravity to this wildly psychedelic tale.

Score: 7/10

Sirens of the City #4

Issue #3 of Sirens of the City was really about getting to feel for our hero, Layla. A chance to understand how wildly complicated her life had become since she became pregnant, and what her fate as a Siren does to further exacerbate that complex situation. But with the all-new issue #4, it’s less about commisterating with our young friend and helping her actually get stuff done.

The end of #3 revealed the fate of Layla’s mom, the mother of all demons herself, Lilith. In #4, then, the pair had a chance to get to know each other — and by that I mean, they mostly bicker about their non-existent relationship as Lilith tries to help her daughter embrace her powers. The tension between the two isn’t just extra juicy and compelling but it also spoke for the larger theme across this issue: motivating everyone toward action. Layla has some insights into the role her baby may play in the supernatural showdown to come with the male Incubi; Mari (still grappling with her mother’s loss) is ready to step up as a leader; Rome is lagging behind a bit, but a pairing with Davi could get him in the game; and everyone else (Sirens and Incubi) are readying for that big final showdown.

It was an issue for connecting the history and emotions built across the first three issues into something utterly explosive, and writer Joanne Starer is really coming into her own in this book. Things aren’t just happening but everyone feels fully primed to tackle the layers of context that come with this ancient and dense world of magic. And that creates more compelling figures and more intriguing dynamics, which is going to be crucial as we build to the final two issues. It’s the first time in this book where I think every story thread and subsequent possibility has clicked into place, and where we’re feeling some potent blend of fear and excitement for the battles (physical and emotional) ahead.

Now, as I’ve done with every other review so far, artist Khary Randolph deserves ample praise. Sure, there’s some big battle-centric set pieces in this issue, where Randolph’s expert use of shadow and darkness and his forceful lines imbue the page with big emotions and bigger tension. But that’s not his only feat across an issue that balanced big supernatural fights with lots of character development. The stuff with Layla and Lilith, for instance, was great — not only did the purple versus blue bits really draw out their dynamic, but there was so much emotion tied to the pair’s angry looks and snarling that it bashed you about the face with how palpable it all truly felt.

The same goes for something as simple as the set designs: be it an upscale apartment or some rat-infested den, everything fosters so much about the characters that fill these places, their subsequent dynamics/relationships, and even how we might feel about them. (Again, Lilith is a prime example of this, and so much of her true self seems to happen in quiet visual moments over any of her sassy, dripping-with-attitude dialogues.) And speaking of repeating myself, the smart and minimalist color choices continue to be such a rather big deal — in #4, it creates interesting pockets of subtext when red is used as blood and Jell-O. The fact that I can get so excited about Jell-O, then, only proves the masterfulness of Rudolph’s work here.

It’s hard to fully quantify just what issue #4 felt like as a whole. It was about conflict fostering achievement, but even that feels like a gross misrepresentation of the chess pieces that were moving about this issue and how expertly everything’s aligned for #5 and #6. So, yeah, it’s about that but also the way these relationships forge us, and how we find ourselves within these pairings. It was a mighty representation of how far not only Layla but the others have come, and what some struggle has done to shape them for the war ahead. It may not have been easy for them to live through, but it’s damn entertaining experience for the rest of us.

Final Thought: Prepare for a clash both deeply personal and wildly magical.

Score: 8/10

Scrapper #4

To live with a cat is to know a certain truth. At least that’s been my experience in becoming a “cat dad” in recent years: there’s a certain mix of warmth and brutal honesty to these animals that you don’t get with an uber loyal dog. They are, in short, a kick in the pants as to how you match up as a caretaker and even a human in general. And as it turns out, they’re also pretty good at getting super-canines out of a rut.

The end of Scrapper #3 saw our canine friend completely disarmed by SMITE, with nary a friend, his super collar, or even a strand of fur to be had. Luckily, Scrapper gets saved by a group of cats in #4, and they go about quickly helping him to hatch a plan to save Daisy and Tank and deal a heavy blow to SMITE’s plans for hypnotizing the people of the city/world. But more than just giving the book a proper shot in the arm — something this book has struggled with in terms of building sustained momentum — the cats had other benefits.

I’d like to think that writers Cliff Bleszinski and Alex de Campi chose these “unlikely” allies because they offer more nuanced and subtlety, and that certainly played out quite well across the issue. They’re more motivated and cunning than our super loyal, slightly dumb doggie friend; they’re funny without coming off as any less capable; and there’s enough cat-centric shows and films where you already sort of feel like “feline freedom fighters” makes sense. (I’m thinking of SWAT Kats and even The Aristocats — seriously.) They’re really the perfect mix of gimmickry and personality to sell some of the larger themes and tendencies of this story even better than Scrapper — and all without taking the spotlight away from our brave doggo friend. It’s a little decision, but it made this book feel all the more warm and lively and approachable at a time when it really needed to flourish.

And so much of that is the design of the cats, courtesy of artist Ryan Kelly and colorist Jordie Bellaire. (The duo’s actually been on the book since issue #3, so apologies for the mix-ups on my end.) Whether it’s weird, evil-looking cats stalking the shadows, or the fluffy genius of Mr. Snowballs (that’s the spin-off title, FYI), the cats’ mere presence had some surprising range. And from that range we get a lot of the cats’ emotional power and general narrative effect — a cat for any emotional need done with ample grace and depth. (Kelly and Bellaire really gel together, and they’re not only working on the same wavelength, but their work also connects nicely back to Sandy Jarell.)

I wish I’d see a bit more of the larger world in this issue —aside from some sweet robot dogs — but I guess the focus being on the cats was a great way to show us something about the city’s look and feel as represented by these toe-bean-having agents of chaos. And as a big enough part of that, they cats are the ones with the right balance of humanity and cutesy cartoon animal, and through that, even Scrapper’s more super stoic dog look felt grounded, and that only made his efforts feel all the more believable. The cats really were this big force across the issue, and the reason why this book is humming now more than ever.

As much as the cats totally ruled, though, it would seem that at some point in the final two issues, Scrapper may have to go it alone. And while that’s going to be important as he tries to learn his own strength and grow in this hero’s journey, I’ll be a teeny bit sad if the cats don’t maintain their presence. They were a force to be reckoned with, and a shot in the arm for this book as it tried to sell this really weird and slightly silly tale. Sure, it mostly worked before, but after this issue, it really feels like the gimmicks and the overt cheesiness and all of that have clicked into some worthwhile slice of earnest storytelling about how we can all be heroes if we just do the right thing. Cats may not be the most easy to understand creatures, but in my eyes they’re g-d stars.

Final Thought: Turns out that cats rule (as storytelling devices, mostly).

Score: 7.5/10

Crypt of Shadows #1

I’ve said in the past that no one does Halloween anthologies like DC. Fortunately, that won’t stop Marvel from trying, as they’ve assembled a solid roster of writers and artists to try and scare the bejesus out of us. So, was their handiwork wholly heinous and horrific, or does DC continue to wear the Pumpkin Crown?

“Brick By Brick”
Steve Orlando (writer), Paul Azaceta (artist), and VC’s Travis Lanham (letterer)

This tale of a living haunted house checked all the right boxes: body horror (nails in faces!); ghoulishly delightful dialogue; and a proper villain/foe in The Bricklayer. Oh, and Scarlet Witch, too, who went ahead and turned a great story into something that felt infinitely more touching and human than it needed to be (without ruining our hokey Halloween fun). This was a bloody and sentimental start that nailed the cheese and humanity that makes the spooky season feel utterly and inescapably special.

“The Living and the Dead”
Cavan Scott (writer), Devmalya Pramanik (artist), Neeraj Menon (colorist), and VC’s Travis Lanham (letterer)

Deadpool’s appearance in these kinds of specials is as necessary as corpses and blood. Luckily, his battle with the hellish Zeeta was joined by N’Kantu, the Living Mummy. Sure, no one out-zings or fights Deadpool, but N’Kantu was just niche enough to make this tale feel like an entry from some forgotten ’60s anthology. Quick, simple, and effective, it was a pun-laden, frills-free bit of superhero posing wrapped in mummy’s bandages. In short, a story with a specific charm for the real horror heads out there.

“Without Fear”
Declan Shalvey (writer), Alex Lins (artist), Matt Milla (colorist), and VC’s Travis Lanham (letterer)

Whereas “Brick By Brick” teased some humanity over the horror, this story embraces that head on. Sure, an appearance by Man-Thing is terrifying in and of itself (especially as he starts turning Hand ninjas into charcoal). But this is a Daredevil story, after all, and thus it becomes an equally vital exploration of the horrors of misjudging others and what makes a real monster. It’s got flippy bits; endless heart; and a take on Matt Murdock that nails his pseudo-saint gimmick and general grace and intelligence. This is the giant-sized Snickers of this whole issue, for sure.

“A Soul Worth Hunting”
Sarah Gailey (writer), Eder Messias (penciler), Jonas Trindade (inker), Michael Wiggam (colorist), and VC’s Travis Lanham (letterer)

This is another treat that you think is horror but is instead something deeply poignant bordering on the philosophical. (Sort of like a Werther’s Original wrapped in Bazooka Joe.) Don’t get me wrong — the pairing of Hulk and Man-Beast versus Kraven the Hunter is a great exploration of the nature of humanity and accepting our darkest selves. At the same time, though, it’s the one story that left the horror gimmick behind too quickly for the realm of something more contemplative. Still, it’s a quick blast of fun, with great visual gags, and something to slam down before tackling your other treats.

“Out of the Shadows”
Al Ewing (writer), Paul Davidson (artist), Rain Beredo (colorist), and VC’s Travis Lanham (letterer)

I had high hopes when I saw Al Ewing had contributed to this title. And while it wasn’t exactly the body horror of The Immortal Hulk, it was truly macabre genius. Here, Victor Strange (haunted mirror ghoul and brother of Doctor Strange) acted as the book’s own Cryptkeeper, guiding us along each story with the intensity of a Rod Serling-Vincent Price hybrid. The whole thing felt like a proper way to tell an even more well-rounded story about Strange while offering something of a proper “twist” at the end. Hokey and horrifying, it felt like the beating heart of what made this is a unique entry for Halloween hijinks.

Final Thought: Sure, I still think I prefer DC to Marvel’s Halloween offerings. But there’s no denying that this title had a solid mix of laughs, scares, and even a regular sprinkling of more poignant topics/ideas. (That last bit really sets it apart for better and worse, and it feels like a compelling enough bent.) If someone gave me this in my bag on Halloween night, I’d share it with some friends instead of chucking it at someone’s house.

Score: 7.5/10