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.
City Boy #6
Courtesy of DC Comics.
City Boy has been compelling and entertaining enough across its first five issues. We’ve gotten to see the development of a young hero, Cameron Kim, happen almost in real-time — while getting even more goodness from Superman, Batman, and Nightwing.
Yet there’s been no denying that the book had some key issues, and that includes delaying Cameron’s development (with just a tad too much filler to boot). But issue #6 is the end, and it proves to be both definitive and quite declarative for the boy who controls cities.
On the surface, writer Greg Pak really tries to stick the landing by bringing in the aforementioned trio of super-superheroes. And that’s in addition to emphasizing Darkseid’s plot to get Cameron to build a new version of Apokolips. Yet amid all the superhero hijinks, Cameron remains a true star, and we get a really powerful string of “achievements” from the young hero. He certainly earns closure regarding his mother, but more importantly, he finds a path of understanding and enlightenment that helps him with both his grief and his continued development as a hero. And through that emotional process, he saves the day, in a moment that feels like we’re actually seeing a proper hero step up. If that weren’t enough, it puts a nice cap on this book’s continued interest in cities as a metaphor for community and memory, and how we use the world to remember and honor that which is most essential.
I think in a way, having that emotional core packaged with a very DC story (i.e., slightly cheesy, mostly charming sci-fi kookiness) helps ground the poignant arc without hampering its impact — and while further establishing Cameron as a future player in the DCU. He still doesn’t see himself as a proper hero, but then maybe that’s a good thing: as they did in making us reconsider what cities are for society, so too has the creative team given us a new understanding of who the heroes are and what we expect from them. Cameron embraces and relinquishes certain hero stereotypes, and he emerged from this saga a compelling figure for a more grounded, nuanced DC.
As much as I loved Cameron’s efforts in this story, I don’t think he was quite as well served by the art (from artist Minkyu Jung and colorist Sebastian Cheng). We got more goodness from the avatars of the three cities, which made for a consistency that also felt like a proper “device” in Cameron’s ongoing lore/story. And the stuff with Swamp Thing and The Green was executed in a way that felt like a proper balance to all this city madness, which visually created some great pockets and added layers throughout the issue. But other things — the design of the Intergang soldiers, the one-dimensional representation of Cameron’s powers beyond those avatars — felt underwhelming. In an issue with big emotions and development, the art made it feel decidedly basic, and while it didn’t necessarily take away from these moments, it didn’t really add that much.
I’m also a tad ambivalent of the “appearance” of Cameron’s mother — I don’t want to spoil too much of its emotional effect, but from a purely visual standpoint, it felt uneven. Likely because it leaned too far one way in the city vs. organic “dynamic,” and it took a powerful moment and made us very self-aware of the metaphors and concepts at its core. Still, the fact she appears at all (in any form) gives us a great moment with Cameron, and I’ll take that as enough of a victory.
If we’re to believe the issue, this is the end of Cameron’s story. But as with The Vigil, I’m hoping that Cameron gains added life in other stories/titles. It certainly feels like he’s got more to tell us, and while this first chapter was a tad imperfect, it was the start of a thoughtful and engaging individual who could help us really delve into ideas of community, grief, and the nature of everyday heroes. For him to vanish now seems unfair, and this City Boy needs a chance to keep building. But for now, his was a poignant tale, and even if you don’t live in it, it’s clearly worth a visit.
Final Thought: What he really built was a poignant story of community and grief.
Score: 7/10
Slow Burn #2
Courtesy of BOOM! Studios.
Scott Snyder may have already used this device, but Slow Burn is evolving like a fire. Issue #1 was the incipient phase, where this poignant noir set about laying the groundwork to really cut loose. Issue #2 is when the fire grows, and boy oh boy, did it ever grow in some inventive and hugely compelling ways.
For one, the story of Roxanne, Luke, and Zach changed drastically across this issue. I don’t want to spoil too much here, but this issue focuses on a fourth player, Patti, a resident of the abandoned coal mining town that the trio find themselves in after their daring violin robbery. And to some extent, this shift in perspective is really jarring, as we felt like we were just getting to know Roxanne and company. At the same time, though, it’s a brilliant move from writer Ollie Masters, as it extends the city’s role and that thematic tentpole while maintaining that connection with Roxanne and even giving us new insights and perspectives into what they’re hoping to do after leaving and even what sort of people could devise this half-cocked caper.
Patti’s whole presence here really reinvigorated the story with a new sheen of yearning and discontent, furthering this deeply human story with new angles and energies that still feel connected to sullen, aching foundation laid in issue #1. It’s jarring, yeah, but then it all just kind of works, and this issue gives us so much more of what we want from this tale. (Which is not only perspective into these characters but this larger sense of frustration and how their tale ultimately feels like a story of people coming together to improve their lives or at least feel less isolated). That doesn’t make it any more hopeful — I’d argue this issue was super depressive, like a midwestern noir from Richard Linklater — but we’re getting more of a shape and path to the narrative while still getting all these rich pockets of humanity to explore. I think after #2, what the team are working toward has changed, but it feels like a spin that works given that it honors these characters while tracing their path beyond these burnt down places.
The art, meanwhile, didn’t have quite a dramatic turn amid this second issue, but the team of artist Pierluigi Minotti and colorist Alessandro Santoro still had quite the masterful performance overall. Patti’s world meant the use of flashbacks, and I love the slightly grainy, hazy quality to those instances — it did its part to tell time but mostly it was about extending the aesthetic and adding surprising shades and textures to this rather bleak but still utterly beautiful world. Having those little pocket moments, as it were, wasn’t just about new visual tidbits being spun into the mix, but also trying to tell more parts of the story with a wholly visual language while emphasizing greater involvement from readers.
But I think if there was a kind of noticeable “improvement” in this second issue, it was the sense of humanity that existed via the art. The debut had lots of depth but there was some quiet grace and thoughtfulness that informed how we’d see characters engage and respond. In this second issue, be it the face of the grandpa, Zach, or a few instances with Roxanne, there was a much more visceral and unnerving tinge to these characters. Sure, this issue merited such deeply strong reactions, but the heightened intensity of it all felt like a way to grab us even more firmly and further this issue’s “theme” of shocking the reader and dropping us into new circumstances to elicit a response. Maybe this issue didn’t feel as slick and inventive as #1 on the surface, but it was the tiny moments and details that proved effective in building this world and creating an atmosphere that made readers experience these very strong responses. And few books these days can do that with a still wholly minimal and streamlined approach.
Apparently part of the growth stage of a fire is the flashover, where everything combustible in the area sort of goes up in full. That mostly feels perfect for encapsulating this issue: everything has clicked and it’s all exploding forward in unison. This fire certainly doesn’t look like I thought it would, but that’s a move that’s only proven just how masterful this experience has been already and the prowess of the creative team. Whenever this blaze is headed next, it’s going to likely consume us all in the best way possible.
Final Thought: Slow Burn continues to set us ablaze with its deep mystery and wells of emotions.
Score: 9.5/10
Local Man #7
Courtesy of Image Comics.
Issue #6 of Local Man felt like a massive turn for the story. With the debut of a new arc (“The Dry Season”), writer/artists Tim Seeley and Tony Fleecs gave us something that felt like a prestige drama, complete with gritty dialogue and a murder-mystery surrounding a youth club. It felt like an organic development as this series further solidified its reputation as a daring new title for modern superhero comics.
But lest you forget this is also a proper comedy, issue #7 brought the dick jokes and sight gags to boot.
Which isn’t to say that things weren’t still very serious. What we got at its core was a proper bit of direction for Jack: he’s figuring out who he really is, how to use his powers to help people, and how he can be a hero in a way that still means something to our lovable loser. And he’s in the midst of a pretty heady little case, one that involves some old heroes, a possible horror angle (with a lake monster?!), and a small town reeling with more death that further shapes and defines its future. It’s still very much dark and gritty (like a more streamlined True Detective), and there’s all these threads that work in unison. (I continue to be intrigued by Inga, Jack’s on-again/off-again love interest, and how deep of a role she plays in these sinister proceedings.) But you also get so much more than that very stuffy drama.
Without revealing too much, Jack goes on a very meta spin in #7, complete with interactive word bubbles. And that’s not to mention a hilariously misread text convo, more general weirdness (Jack has a very “Hunter S. Thompson lost in the woods” experience), and a side character named, and I kid you not, Coochie Poo. (Give me a Coochie spinoff, now!) And this humor doesn’t just cut the tension but rather it adds to it — it makes everything feel like one massive emotional experience for Jack. There’s murder and jokes and hippies and immortal dogs and all of it makes sense. It’s about building this universe around Jack and letting him explore it in new and inventive ways. It’s about creating this place of insanity and emotionality to show us what kind of man and hero Jack is becoming as he moves down this deeply weird path. I never laugh too hard that I’m not still scared or intrigued, and yet no amount of drama can ever ruin the magic of Coochie.
If this arc really is about stepping up, then Seeley and Fleecs have done that in a way that feels more advanced or thoughtful than a lot of other superhero books. Where those titles would only be interested in, say, making some gritty hellscape for their heroes, Jack gets a more nuanced and spellbinding experience because that’s what he means to both us and his creators. They’re combining and spinning together so many influences and ideas, and it’s working because this book both challenges and celebrates tropes of the genre. It embraces all that is stupid and cheesy as well as the transcendent, and in that act we get a proper spin on what superhero comics can really be about.
I had the thought that maybe we’ll get a super duper dark turn for #8. (Maybe Pepper will murder someone?) And if we do, it’ll make sense regardless because this book’s taken the time and interest to buck certain tropes even as it embraces others head on. It’s a story with so many sides, and each new issue brings it all into the fold in the name of deeply affecting storytelling. Jack Xavier is our hero, and I will watch him stumble and triumph from now until forever.
Final Thought: This issue is both a laugh riot and an existential cluster bomb.
Score: 8.5/10
Sirens of the City #5
Courtesy of BOOM! Studios.
With issue #4, Sirens of the City wanted to see what happens when our hero, Layla, becomes truly motivated. And, for the most part, it surely helped: her sudden uptick (surrounding her new relationship with her mother, Lilith, the progenitor of all monsters) did wonders across that whole issue. But in #5, Layla plays a different role, and the issue is both all the better and decidedly lacking for that rather important decision.
When I say lacking, I mean there’s the potential for some downsides/concerns. This whole book is meant to be Layla’s story — that of her immersion as a Succubus and into maturity (thanks to an accidental pregnancy with what’s basically the monster messiah). And yet in #5, she feels sort of like a bit player. She’s moved aside in such a way that some of her hard-fought development felt a touch wasted here. It’s sort of like she’s back at square one, and it all feels a tad irksome considering the slow, deliberate path she’d forged in trying to come into her own. It felt like writer Joanne Starer found a new vein of contempt for her creation, and pushed her to the side while making her out to be more bratty and fickle than ever before.
But with the rest of this issue absolutely cooking, that decision made infinitely more sense. Yes, to an extent this book became less about Layla in issue #5. Marisol, for instance, seized a lot of the potential I’d seen in her since #1, and she got plenty of big developmental moments (supplemented by more compelling visuals from artist Khary Randolph). Marisol felt like a main character in a big way, and it did a lot to give this book a shot in the arm. Heck, even the big bad (The Rat King) seemed more fleshed out as he and Mari engaged in this issue. And it’s not just our lil “water bug,” either — Lilith and her lover, the vampire Diane, not only had some really impactful interactions but their whole dynamic added some new layers to the issue’s ending. It felt great that, after some focus on Layla, we see just how nuanced and evocative her “supporting” cast truly is, and that makes the whole book feel all the more elevated. It’s a larger, more complicated world around Layla, and anyone can hold the story when it’s so demanded.
Yet as much as this was about other characters getting their time to shine, everything ultimately comes back to Layla (mostly). Everything was made to keep the onus on what she will do in #6: can she seize her destiny and possibly help her people, or is she going to be a tragic bit player in her own story? That kind of spin really played with the core themes of this book (i.e., being young and helpless and finding your own path in life) in a way that kept Layla vital and integral even as she didn’t get nearly as much “screen time” in this issue. It wasn’t about making the other characters more important to serve Layla but creating layers and textures that prove this is Layla’s story even as it’s just as much the story of her family and friends. In that way, everyone is elevated in the name of meaningful storytelling, and showing us how complicated her path is by layering and contextualizing it with an equally complicated backdrop. I feel more invested across the board because there are no bit players — everyone is essential in this supernatural soap opera.
Of course, I can’t finish a review of this book without special mention of Randolph’s art. As he has across the other four issues, Randolph once again dazzles with #5. In a book about big emotional statements from several cast members, the visuals here worked to achieve new levels of depth and inventiveness. Whether it’s the Broadway-esque treatment of Mari’s movements in figuring out her own role, the lovemaking and conversation between Diane and Lilith, some pretty intense Succubi/Incubi fight scenes, and more expert use of shadows and pops of color, Randolph had a star performance amid an amazing run. He gave us vivid emotion and endless violence and robust theatricality (often in the same panel) — and it served the issue’s mission of building this world both around and away from Layla’s core efforts. There was quiet romance and startling bloodshed treated in a way that it all felt equally important and cutting, and Randolph has fostered such a powerful aesthetic that perpetuated every path and decision with brutal but elegant efficiency.
There’s going to be even more big emotions and massive stakes as we head into the finale. But while I don’t think we’ll have a problem reaching that proper climax, as it were, I don’t want issue #5 to be seen as just some bridge. This whole chapter set out to achieve something new for this story: bigger emotions, bigger movements, and bigger landings. It achieved that by further creating this rich and compelling world around these equally rich and compelling characters. If this were somehow the end, it’d be a vibrant and impactful end, and one brimming with the greatest magic of all: endless humanity.
Final Thought: The world here grows all the more rich, nuanced, and spellbinding.
Score: 7/10
Quest #4
Courtesy of Image Comics.
Like some other big life events, I’ve never actually been on a proper quest. But I know that whether you’re seeking to save a princess, or toss some cursed bling into a volcano, there comes a period when things coalesce. That’s happened in the first three issues of Quest (well, issue #1 was mostly a dead end/waste), and it really and truly happens in issue #4.
But just because the adventure is really getting started doesn’t mean there weren’t still a few big and notable surprises.
In issue #4, the main party (Anya, Tor, and Nuru) are rounded out by a proper supporting cast. That includes Ravinder, a mage from the realm of Menidush, and Ulf, a kind of viking stand-in. And getting to know these characters (and how they fare in a fight against demonic trees) really comprises the bulk of the issue. And it’s sort of playful and quaint and…it just really, really works. Mostly, it’s a chance to let this world address some of its ongoing issues, namely pacing (this extended “introduction” never once drags) while also creating space for genuine human interaction (there’s heaps of that here, including a funny moment with eating demon-rats).
And by adding in these energies and new character dynamics, the world feels all the more full, especially as it continues to build that Southeast Asian influence and aesthetic in new and novel ways. It’s not just more prevalent but more robust — be it Ravinder’s character design or the demon trees, there’s something inventive happening that makes caring for these increasingly well-rounded heroes all the more compelling. Plus, the book never forgets about our core trio, especially Princess Anya, who balances both a leadership role and the ongoing struggles with her kidnapped prince, Devyan. It’s a great place for this book to be, and even as it still feels early on in this “process” of journeying, there’s heaps to enjoy.
Yet, as I cryptically mentioned, the creative team — Jonathan Luna and Crystal Wood — don’t simply use the issue for an extended campfire sing-along. Instead, and without spoiling too much, they generate a rather important conflict that will be extra crucial to this remaining story. And that big time move still early on doesn’t extinguish the slow, gentle process of building this adventure; rather, it seems to keep us on our toes and show us what can really happen on these adventures. It’s a novel spin that’s sort of like a twist, but it works perfectly as this moment of heightened intensity. I’d both love and be sad if this moment means what I think it does, but the mere fact that Luna and Wood are engaging us head on makes me think there’s more layers than we can see right now.
The only issue with this ending is that it highlights one issue with the book: an uneven design spectrum. Sure, the heroes all balance fantasy traditions and lore in their looks, but there’s some monsters here that look and feel a tad hokey (and aren’t exactly in line with the feel of some other crucial elements in this book). It’s mostly a minor complaint, but it’s clear that there’s parts of this book that haven’t fully jelled (if they do entirely). Maybe chalk it up to more journeying ahead before things fully click in the bad guy department.
Quests are meant to be allegories, yeah? I think this one’s an allegory for friendship, and how we must be united in celebration of our differences in order to flourish. It’s a feel-good lesson for sure, and just one of the core things that’s working about this book. Wherever the adventure heads next, you can consider me an enthusiastic member of the party.
Final Thought: The more the merrier (in every possible way, it seems).
Score: 7/10
Wild’s End #6
Courtesy of BOOM! Studios.
After its own five mostly solid issues, we’ve reached the end of Wild’s End. Creators Dan Abnett and I.N.J. Culbard have given us an inventive enough tale of a small seaside town under attack from an alien foe, with lots of time and space spent to really get to know the cast and really take in the atmosphere. So, was the ending everything we wanted, or was this invasion all for not?
And it’s mostly a win, even if it doesn’t necessarily feel as such all the way through.
The pacing of issue #6 worked really well, and is one of the key reasons the finale landed in the first place. It was pretty much full speed ahead as the team (mostly Roddy and Flo, with a proper assist from Thom and Eddy) set about their plan to blow the alien lamp posts to kingdom come. It felt like a proper change of pace for this book — with so much action happening in a short amount of time, that speed was necessary to keep our attention for that final dead sprint toward the finish line. The story also leaves itself open for possible new chapters, doing so by providing a sense of completion while opening up this alien “conspiracy” to new and terrifying levels. Again, a solid overall performance that felt definitive while adding to the layers of horror and survivalism that defined a lot of this story’s core.
The issue, then, is that some of it didn’t resonate as you might have wanted. For one, Skipper and Bernie are mostly left out of the picture for the bulk of the issue, and that felt a little irksome. There’s a big emotional sacrifice involved (as you’d nearly expect in this kind of story), but it felt a little half-cocked — as if it was planned and completed because that’s the expectation and not that it was the right move. (Also, it happened in such an uneven way that any satisfaction from it felt more awkward and unnatural.)
It’s not entirely the storyline’s faults — the visuals of the issue just didn’t pop. For a chapter with aliens and explosions galore, nothing really landed with the oomph and heft you’d expect, and it almost felt like one-note approach that hindered this book’s more meaningful send-off. It wasn’t bad by any means, but it didn’t exactly scream “finale,” and since this book was building to something slowly and deliberately, it’s hard not to feel a tad bit robbed. Sure, there’s always other chapters in the works, but didn’t this one deserve a tad more?
I in no way shape or form regret my time reading Wild’s End — it delivered a solid and compelling story. The fact that it missed the mark at the end by a few degrees isn’t a failure of the narrative at-large but is instead likely a weird lesson in disguise. These slow-burning stories are an investment, and even if the end doesn’t explode in wonder and sci-fi madness, that never lessens the bonds we’ve forged with these characters (even as it still feels a tad depressive). I’d certainly read more from this world, even if my next experience is colored with a tinge of apprehension and not outright joy.
Final Thought: Endings ain’t easy, and this one reflects that in ways both good and bad.
Score: 6/10
Alice Never After #5
Courtesy of BOOM! Studios.
From one ending to another, we arrive at the finale of Alice Never After. It certainly has been a strange and curious journey presented to us by writer-artist Dan Panosian and artist Giorgio Spalletta, as they reconfigured and extended the story of Alice. It certainly had a rather dazzling start, even as the last couple of issues felt a little uneven. But once more the question begs, has Alice completed her hero’s journey, or is she lost amid the endless maze?
Unlike our finale in Wild’s End, I think this one felt a little more robust and pleasing in all the right ways.
This book’s biggest “achievement” across issues #1-4 was how London (drawn by Panosian) and Wonderland (by Spalletta) were juxtaposed — it created a proper little mystery. And while the barrier between the two finally collapses, as it were, within issue #5, it’s only a touch disappointing. That’s because the journey for Alice is done in just such a way that the story continually finds balance between the two worlds (the truth promised by reality and the comfort and confidence of Wonderland). Alice has clearly changed, but in a way that feels deliberate, as this issue gave her a shot of clarity to bring it all together. Whereas I mourned that collapse preemptively l, that natural coalescence feels important as it serves Alice’s distinctive interests.
If I missed anything, it was the way this core juxtaposition played out visually — with lots of pockets of a grittier, stylized reality playing nicely with the sheer madness of Wonderland. But this issue mostly made up for that “deficit”: whether it’s the softer touches of a convo with Edith and her father, or the heightened drama of a Cheshire Cat and White Rabbit showdown, we get the best of both realms perfectly balanced to inform Alice’s experience and her overall path of development. It certainly added more depth and drama to an already fairly fleshed out overall universe, and this story finally clicked in a big way because of that grander turn of events.
Still, I can’t exactly say this was a perfect execution for Alice’s “maturity.” I certainly liked the reveal with the White Rabbit in #5, but it dragged on way too long. And the part with a maze could have been more impactful, but it simply wasn’t given nearly enough time. And speaking of time, I would have loved more of Alice’s return to the real world, and what that would actually mean for the character and its larger effects on other characters (namely, her father).
Still, I think this issue highlights an ongoing thread of this entire series: grand ambitions but an uneven execution. Issue #5, especially, highlights that with its concerns of uneven timing, “segments” (like the White Rabbit stuff) that land but then further saunter about needlessly, and an imperfect marriage of the real and what’s just fantasy. Yes, a balance was achieved, but it begs the question if things could’ve been a little more streamlined, and what that would have likely done for our immersion in this mostly delicate process. There was whimsy and intrigue galore, but it mostly took its time to ring true for readers when the energies were already there waiting to be discovered.
I certainly hope that, much like with Wild’s End, we get even more from Alice Never After. There’s so much more story for Alice to tell as she embarks on a new life, and one that’ll have its own unique challenges and drama (especially as the creators find new ways to maintain the influence/presence of Wonderland). Still, this title wrapped up neatly enough, sticking the landing (mostly) for a story that’s truly about the magic that comes when you find the light in the dark (and vice versa). Maybe you won’t want to throw a tea party after, but this should leave you with a solid 6.5 on the “Cheshire Cat 10-Point Giant Smile Meter.”
Final Thought: The fantasy is over and a mostly interesting reality awaits us.
Score: 6.5/10
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