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.
The Sacrificers #4
Courtesy of Image Comics.
If anyone cares, I’m mostly recovered from the massive ending of The Sacrificers #3. It wasn’t massive because of how groundbreaking the events actually proved to be — the gods literally subside on an “elixir” made of the sacrifices! — but rather the resulting emotional devastation. That rather quiet, unassuming way the creative team absolutely broke our hearts. Luckily, issue #4 is a quieter moment of reflection — and an opportunity to prepare for even more heartache to come.
The pacing of this whole series so far has been interesting given that writer Rick Remender tends to go all out in his many other books. But this latest issue proved why a slower, more deliberate pace works best. It’s a chance to see the gods themselves argue about their actions, with camps forming between those who happily do the “elixir thang” to sustain this world and those who want a change from the selfish posturing. (The former is mostly Luna, who is becoming a really interesting character and a proper foil to the fiery Lord Rokos.) And yet in that moment of philosophizing and pontificating— which is accentuated by Remender’s flowery dialogue that adds a lot of heft to the proceedings — there’s a seed lain for what might come, and a sharp uptick for the plot itself feels like a way to get this book moving from its slower world-building.
And while I missed out on more stuff with Pigeon and the other sacrifices, we get a couple of really great moments with his dad, who has a gut-wrenching breakdown of sorts given how flippant he seemed to be toward his son and his “fate” in issue #1. And that father-son dynamic informed another big moment of this issue as Rokos’ daughter went about chasing after a god (or god-adjacent character) in perhaps our most definitive moment of prior plot enhancement. I’m not sure what her intentions are for sure, but this larger thread across the issue gave us the best parts of the story in a nice, tight package. Things got going even as we still retained that deliberate pace that feels super important to this title’s emoting — so basically a victory all around.
In a way, the art itself further drove home just how much that pace really matters, and what it offers this story. Artist Max Fiumara and colorist Dave McCaig have done some truly impressive work in the previous issues — I’m still obsessed with that blue tone of the aforementioned elixir (and that just speaks to just how much of this book’s power is the aesthetic wonders and all-around vibe). But in this issue, rather than some decidedly big, eye-tantalizing feats, the real accomplishments were more subtle. The huge impact of Luna smashing her drink; a quiet stare between Rokos’ daughter and the rest of the partygoers; and even something basic like the familiar-unfamiliar shape of her “dog” — these moments had so much power and context packed into their tiny frames.
And yet the grandest such moment came when we saw, in detail, just what the elixir actually does to the gods. The way that the whole process is made to look and feel significant— before the sheer insignificance of it all comes crashing down on our heads. It’s a proper distillation of the entire book’s running premise of how meaningful and sad these gods are, and how they zap our life for their own small needs. (Gee, could there be any real-world parallels?!) It’s just proof positive that this book’s true power is how it holds out hands and leads us to these big moments before letting our own brains and backgrounds inform the sheer devastation of it all. And the fact that it all looks so dang sharp and inventive only adds to this unique experience and this story’s sustained ability to continually shake us to our core.
There’s some proper adventure to be had once we get to issue #5. And while I can’t wait for it — and, again, that better mean more stuff with Pigeon — it’s my hope that this book retains that smaller, quieter focus and accompanying ability to jab our souls with tiny blades. If it can, then this will be a book most of us will never recover from, no matter the available elixirs.
Final Thought: Drink up the wonderful pain, me hearties.
Score: 8.5/10
The Midnite Show #2
Courtesy of Dark Horse Comics.
Admittedly, Cullen Bunn and Brian Hurtt weren’t exactly innovating with the debut of The Midnite Show. But where we got a so-so premise — what if fictional monsters came to life?! — we got a rather compelling exploration of horror as a tradition. That debut laid the foundation for a dissection, by way of a story, as to why these tropes and figures play such an important role in our shared understanding of the world and one another.
Except the only thing truly terrifying about issue #2 is just how woefully un-scary it all proves to be.
Still, I should give credit where credit is due: Hurtt (alongside colorist Bill Crabtree) continue to build this truly horrific world. There’s some great action (face eating!) and monsters designs (I love the patchwork spin of Frankenstein, and even the novel spin on The Dweller). Plus, we get a brand new monster of sorts — the Necro-Wolf — that feels as wonderfully sill as all great horror should in part.
These positive designs are good enough to even support some of the more lackluster design choices — the rag-tag group of humans who escape the theater, for instance, just feel painfully underwhelming and have little personality beyond their respective roles. (And I can’t tell if that’s another level of this book’s genre critique-dissection or a sign of something even more dire for the remainder of this story.) Either way, the art is doing what it should, and in this issue especially we’re building a world that speaks directly to the elemental experience most of us have with classic horror.
The issue, then, is with the story itself. With the debut, I could mostly forget about the issues having to do with any perceived “blandness” and/or half-cocked execution. But mostly because there were some really great ideas about the nature of horror fandom, the role of these movies in exploring human interactions, and how these characters address our own fears and doubts. And, sure, there was some more of that in this issue, including some really subtle digs/comments about the downside of horror (or our weird relationship with it) and how our own connection to these stories can have a downside. But mostly there was something else lurking in the shadows.
Because these bits just didn’t feel strong enough, at least in comparison to the rest of the issue, to make more of a difference. We spent far too long slowly and rather awkwardly building toward a story in which the monsters (every one mentioned but also Dracula and some mummy priest) vie for the title of “God of Monsters.” We needed much less needless exposition and more of that subtle dissection (and/or more sweet face-eating). And while every story needs to build itself, this narrative should just sort of do that with hints and inferences and leave far more room for the actual meat of this story: why these stereotypical plots and stories are more important than we ever really know. Without that winking eye and deeper subtext, all we’re left with is just stereotypes. Even good looking ones can’t really make up for how this issue felt either half empty or partially full with page-wasting moments and/or tidbits that mostly missed the memo entirely. It’s as if the plot didn’t know the thematic goals of dissecting horror, and you just feel embarrassed for that move.
Even with the lackluster performance of this issue, I haven’t quite given up on this title. I think there’s something here, a gem or two of deep contextual value, underneath the old filthy mummy bandages — even if I’m not sure it can all shine through. But I’m willing to enter into issue #3 with a machete in hand to see if we can cut this monster down to size or if we instead end up being eaten alive by the Creature from the Meh Lagoon.
Final Thought: For once, face-eating monsters may not be nearly enough.
Score: 5.5/10
Blood Commandment #1
Courtesy of Image Comics.
There was a lot to love and hate about Something Epic. For one, writer-artist Szymon Kudrański clearly poured his heart and soul into this poignant exploration of the power of creative expression. At the same time, the execution felt a little sluggish and burdensome — to the point that even I had to give up after issue #4.
And that book is something to keep in mind as Kudrański repeats a lot of the same threads with his latest Image Comics title, Blood Commandment.
The story itself is a prime example of what Kudrański does well — taking something a tad cliche and spinning in new ideas and other tidbits. Here, a father and son, Ezra and Wil Connelly, live in the woods following the death of the mother, Anna. They mostly hunt and drink milkshakes and engage in extended conversations about existence and belief (more on that later). And there’s also a twist that comes toward the end of this issue that pushes this from one kind of horror flick to another. And, sure, it’s a tiny decision but I think it demonstrates that Kudrański is clearly trying to engage with this grander horror tradition to try something new. It’s about being inventive as a storyteller but still doing so in a way that keeps the onus on something about the characters. In this instance, Ezra and Wil have this multifaceted relationship that welcomes the kinds of questions this “turn” presents.
As an extension of that, it’s Kudrański’s art that helps facilitate a lot of story’s greater potential. There’s some great proper set pieces here — one I can’t mention given it’s a twist — but even an early scene with fire feels important as a means of drawing attention and laying the groundwork for the bigger themes and ideas here. Still, it’s a lot of the smaller, more intimate shots and use of novel angles that really have the biggest impact. Whether it’s some weird perspective on a shopkeeper being “hunted” in his store, an unlikely zoom in on an eye, or even how the actual issue ends, it’s these “little” things that extend the inventiveness and really demonstrate just how thoughtful Kudrański is in approaching familiar ideas in a fresh way. They’re not always the most effective choices, and they can be jarring at times, but then that’s the point — it’s about making us feel uneven as he lays out this world and invites us to move forward.
At the same time, though, it’s clear that execution is often a larger issue for Kudrański, especially when it comes to the narrative at large. For instance, some of those big hefty chats between Wil and Ezra seem like a really great way to add subtext, but having these walls of text actually takes us out of the story. (It’s a lot of the same issue that I talked about when it came to Something Epic.) And it’s not just that there’s far too much to read; it tells us so much more than it ever shows us around these big ideas and concepts — and that feels really annoying given that there’s other, more subtle moments where Kudrański expertly hints at similar ideas and sentiments.
But it goes deeper still; it often feels like Kudrański is just trying to show-off his bright ideas and how smart he can be rather than create or foster these meaningful spaces for characters to properly share their insights/ideas organically. It feels like posturing for the sake of the author’s ego, and even if they’re somehow poignant and curious ideas, it forces us to connect with the creator and not his creations. And that’s if you can get through them in the first place, as the over-explanation often feels like something merely presented via the guise of actually meaningful storytelling.
And it’s at this point that I revisit a thought I had a few times during Something Epic: I think Kudrański needs a proper collaborator. Editors, translators, and others are good and all, and writer-artist project’s happen all the time, but this feels like something else. Likely it’s an instance where a creator is given free range, and without the efforts and influences of another, what we get is unfettered ideas that actually weigh down the generally great work that Kudrański is doing elsewhere across his solo projects. At least a collaborator might be able to tweak or rein in some of his more overt tendencies to drag on and pontificate far too much.
But there is no one else, and it’s just Kudrański telling this story. There’s some great humanity amid the horror — even as said humanity doesn’t always shine the brightest on the page. So this is clearly not Something Epic, but time will tell if that’s ultimately good, bad, or otherwise.
Final Thought: This commandment isn’t quite as divine as it ought to be.
Score: 6/10
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