Welcome to another edition of Last Call Comics. Here, as we continually bolster AIPT’s weekly comics coverage, we catch any titles that might’ve fallen through the cracks. Or those books that we might not cover but still deserve a little spotlight. Either way, it’s a chance to explore more comics, generate some novel insights, and maybe add to everyone’s to-be-read pile.
Once more, happy New Comic Book Day to everyone.
Nights #3
Courtesy of Image Comics.
If Seinfeld is The Show about Nothing, then Nights is The Comic about Many Things. And issue #3 taught us that the more things added to the fray, the increasingly compelling this weird and wonderful book becomes in front of our very eyes.
Most of it, though, is filtered through the burgeoning relationship of Vince, who is still getting his balance in an alternate history Florida, and Gray, the mysterious vampire girl with a million secrets. This relationship increasingly serves as the beating heart of this book, and writer Wyatt Kennedy intricately constructs so many of the plot points and the larger story development around this rich and organic pairing. After the zig-zag effort across issue #2, this issue builds things out in a way that somewhat subverts expectations, but mostly just reflects back the Vince-Gray relationship as this kind of running metaphor for this book’s world-building and blending of genres and influences. It’s sweet and tender and oh-so multifaceted, and it serves the book by giving us a big thread to follow.
Yet even with the lovebirds at the center of all this, the issue still managed to begin laying the groundwork for the larger story. Namely, after the twist ending of #1, and the monster action of #2, we’re seeing more of the story develop through some rather important questions (and minor teases). Like, just what has Gray been doing with her rather long life, and why’s she in Florida? Just who keeps track of the so-called “oddities” that exist in this world, and what’s it all really mean? And just what might happen to get us to the world “teased” in #1?
They’re big, vital questions that carry with them some important character introductions and more threads woven into the already healthy storyline. They stem from, in part, the Gray-Vince pairing, but they’re just as singularly important and vital — it’s like a proper sitcom, but instead of the gang from Friends we have vampires, ghost skeletons, and mask-wearing supernatural bureaucrats pushing this tale along. It’s a solid balance between enjoying this dynamic and letting it slowly unveil the grander world/conspiracy.
Speaking of the larger world, artist Luigi Formisano (alongside colorist Francesco Segala) had noticeably even more opportunities to play with big set pieces and also some really inventive spins on the details and fringe work. In issue #3, there’s certainly some solid action, including a nasty fight between Gray and a monster/oddity, but mostly the issue seems content in relishing in the minor moments. In some ways, the bulk of the intensity and sense of action-like significance came from those smaller, more intimate moments. Whether it’s a kind of parallel-ing between Vince and Gray during the fight, new scenery extending the world’s aesthetic (love that train that’s now a coffee shop), and even the angles and placement of people in scenes to demonstrate mood and tension, the art revels in this “minor” touches.
For one, it plays nicely with the intimate core that is Gray and Vince, but there’s something else informing this gentler pace and outlook. There’s so much going on from a character and narrative perspective, and the art really needs to scale it back and still maintain that force to really make things flow as efficiently and intriguingly as possible. And both Formisano and Segala work really well together to give us as much detail and depth as possible, making even tiny moments and gestures (like a certain badass skateboard being gifted) feel significant without forcing any of this sustained connection. It’s a big world, and there’s just so much to appreciate.
With this issue, Nights has officially cemented itself as my favorite book of the year. This weird little hybrid tale packs so much into each issue, but it always maintains what matters most: the heart and wit to make this giant-sized story really work. Kennedy and Formisano are clearly building toward even grander things, and as long as that core remains, it’s going to be something to explore with true gusto. Forget what I said earlier: it’s The Comic about Many Truly Cool and Awesome things.
Final Thought: Another issue down, and Nights grows ever more robust and life-affirming.
Score: 9.5/10
Subgenre #2
Courtesy of Dark Horse Comics.
Of all his many deeply meta projects, Matt Kindt was clearly swinging for the fences with Subgenre. The only problem was the somewhat uneven start of issue #1, which bungled the dueling realities of a barbarian warrior and a cyberpunk PI. Issue #2, though, is a step forward for the series — even as it remains to be seen if that’s a good or bad thing.
To some extent, what helped this issue is that we get to see more of our fantasy warrior and that “perspective.” Sure, the PI was all slick future tech and noir-y attitude, but it’s the warrior that just felt more robust and open-ended. Part of that was the visuals (from from artist Wilfredo Torres and colorist Bill Crabtree): I think the pulp-inspired take here just works better in this setting, and the streamlined world of fantasy actually opens up more pockets for experimentation, texture, and nuance. (The work of Torres and Crabtree also seemed to shine more, which makes me think this dark, brutal setting plays nicely with both their collective style and the larger scope of this story.)
At the same time, though, I just think Kindt’s writing came alive here — he seemed unsure of the identity of our cyberpunk hero, and with our warrior, we definitely get more vulnerability and pointed showcases of humanity. There’s a kind of nakedness to the warrior’s over-the-top monologues, and from that we get not only a more well-rounded character but one who seeks to explore his situation and thus add to the deeply meta angle of this story. From that development, Kindt also does something that felt missing in #1: connecting these two worlds. Again, the bulk of the issue was dominated by the warrior, but I think some of the monologuing actually echoes the PI and, more importantly, the primary thematic interests. And, if nothing else, when the PI does appear toward the end, it feels less like a “jump” this time around and more of an organic development for this book’s interests.
But just what are those interests? Well, it’s all very meta, but not in a way that you might think. Kindt and company do use the issue to tackle the tendency of most meta-centric stories to basically be, “Hey, you’re a story and I’m your creator!” It’s not exactly clear just what this angle will ultimately represent, but from the groundwork laid out in this issue, it feels like a commentary on the creators’ supporting role to their creation, and what power stories really have. The issue, then, is likely that I’m just not sold on the prospect of this “development” — especially given that meta stories often like to play the shell game with truth and character motivations.
Because if you’re going to get meta with it, you really need to have some fresh perspective, and so far, all of this feels like an inventive spin but it could just be more needless hot air. I’m clearly intrigued by the initial work here, but I’m just as concerned that it’s more razzle dazzle that won’t help us understand storytelling as the book intends, and that there’s more cheap gimmicks (like the I.P. Man) trying to inflate this story’s strengths in achieving its rather lofty end goals. For now, though, I’ll give credit to the issue for making the moves to play out an especially grandiose meta arc with equal parts passion and overt joy.
I don’t want to spoil it that much, but there’s a moment in this issue where the warrior is told that if he wants something, all he has to do is ask. And that got me thinking about just what this book may be doing in dissecting storytelling (being open and above board with it), and the warmth and deliberateness it might employ to reach those objectives. Perhaps that’s what we owe it in return: the civility and intent to keep going as it unfolds in front of us. And for now, I’m willing to do that and just a little more.
Final Thought: Subgenre is still building, and the end result could be a triumph or a meta letdown.
Score: 7.5/10
Bloodrik #1
Courtesy of Image Comics.
You know that fantasy trope where our protagonist just so happens to be the savior of the entire realm? (See Link.) That ain’t Bloodrik.
Instead, writer-artist Andrew Krahnke — who is collecting several Bloodrik stories for a three-issue run on Image Comics after years of self-publishing — treats Bloodrik the warrior in a far different light. He’s mostly about trying to survive the hellacious lands he finds himself in, eeking out just enough food to satisfy his gargantuan flame. Sure, I already made the Seinfeld joke in the Nights review, but it’s funny how much that also fits here. Bloodrik is the anti-fantasy story, all the blood and violence without the promise of it meaning anything grander whatsoever. Mostly.
That very concept is driven home by the actual art. The obvious scenes are filled with so much epic intensity — like Bloodrik fighting a snarling beast, or readily and greedily consuming the extra bloody flesh of a dead deer/elk. (It’s also further driven home by this excellent framing device of a sword being forged that plays with old fantasy tropes with wicked and unwavering delight.) But it’s also the little moments — the fiery intensity of waiting with a bow drawn nearly to its breaking point — that feel as brutal and all-consuming. That dynamic is obvious enough: Krahnke is trying to show us that survival alone is a bloody and maddening process, and having to save the realm of Gyranthea or whatever pales into comparison to living in a cold, murderous world.
But I also think these moments give way to the book’s real accomplishment: humanizing our barbarian protagonist. It’s these moments of tedium, as it were, where he daydreams or reveals some level of joy and/or frustration regarding his situation. And that’s when we see him for what he really is: not just some brute killing his way to another day, but someone with a rich inner life (richer than we’d expect at least), and how he develops amid this onslaught of violence. In that sense, he’s maybe just as human as we are — or, as Krahnke’s own intro demonstrates, maybe even a stand-in for artists/creators amid an unforgiving world. Either way, there’s a light and joy (and even something more emotionally complicated) in seeing Bloodrik’s core play out in this novel fashion. It’s almost sort of sitcom-y in its efforts, and it’s a treat to engage with a character in a means and setting that’s often about ignoring or transcending flawed humanity (i.e, “traditional” fantasy).
The great thing about Bloodrik’s adventures is that there aren’t really any “happy” endings; he just makes it through the latest bit of hell for the next day/meal. In that sense, I could watch him forever, and Krahnke has found something truly novel that extends fantasy like never before. He’s no brave warrior trying to get by, but just a dude who needs to affirm his life through blood and sacrifice. He’s the kind of hero we actually need over all the Conan clones in the world — your average Joe with a great axe and bow. It’s a genuine pleasure to meet ya, Bloodrik.
Final Thought: Blood and guts and the tedium of daily life make for exceptional comics.
Score: 8.5/10
The Sacrificers #5
Courtesy of Image Comics.
So far, The Sacrificers has been all about the slow, deliberate reveals. Like in issue #3, where we learned what goes into the elixir that’s consumed by Lord Rokos and the other gods. Or in #4, where we learned of the rejuvenative powers of their magic drank.
Issue #5 is far less deliberate, and its impact thusly feels all the more profound.
It’s not that the revelation in #5 is especially groundbreaking, even as it’s still especially effective. For one, it’s about some characters understanding the true nature of the elixir, which should spread like wildfire through the rest of the plot. But, two, it’s about who’s really making the elixir, which is a novel enough “twist” that should effectively tie together some major plot points and characters.
That last part, especially, is what makes #5 a really solid issue: things have clearly happened before but this is really the first time we’re seeing how all that will shape and influence the remainder of the story. Plus, it’s done by working to finally align the fates of Pigeon and Lord Rokos’ daughter, who are moving down the path from merely understanding the “elixir caper” (albeit with two very different set of experiences) to how this will ultimately inform their destiny. It’s my hope that we’ll get a proper tag team of sorts, and it could be a novel little spot to add even more kinetic energy to this otherwise thoughtful and poignant story.
As much as all this information and sense of development genuinely worked, I couldn’t help but feel a little uneven about it at times. Namely, I think writer Rick Remender has spent a lot of the story thus far really driving home the subtlety of this book’s dissection of “us vs. them” and classicism. But with the “rise” of the Foreman (the creator of the elixir) and why he does what he does, it all came to the forefront and felt more innately human. Sure, that’s a generally good thing, but I also think that decisions were made to ground these ideas/motifs in a way that felt too apparent — as if affixing them to the plot a bit more felt a little cheap and derivative.
I’d loved the “stealth-y” nature of these tent poles, and how they were teased as the focus came on the plot and the characters. Maybe it’s just the first time this story is becoming truly real, and we’re dealing with big events and moving parts beyond some ethereal efforts to tweak our emotions. It’s certainly going to be a more robust story after this moment, but I guess I wanted more slow burn before it all took off in front of our very faces.
It’s development, of course, made all that easier to swallow thanks to another top-notch performance from artist Max Fiumara and colorist Dave McCaig. So far in this book, the two creators have forged a daring and inventive world, tweaking parts of fantasy and sci-fi in a way to align them in new and interesting configurations. (For instance, both the animal characters and the designs of the gods together have been a way to explore the book’s big motifs in a subversive way and without relying on a proper “language.”)
But in #5, they gave us a few really important things. One was the bigger set pieces, including a really epic fight with the princess that I think wasn’t just important for her arc but felt like a way to generate excitement in a way that prepared us for the setting and speed of this book to come. (Even Pigeon showed off a bit, and it’s good to see he’s ready for some adventuring.) Secondly, I think Fiumara and McCaig infused more rich humanity into the tiny moments and pained faces across this issue; it felt almost as compelling and invigorating as the action. Mostly because I think that evocative core is what drew me to this book from day one, and it’s nice to see that remains a focus as this book’s momentum grows and the action pushes the pace up a few notches.
In some ways, it almost “made up” for this issue’s uptick as it made me feel deeply connected to these characters even as our understanding and context around them took off. In some ways, this story is still deciding what it wants to be, and that’s fair as it’s worked to build slowly before a kind of larger growth spurt and/or pivot of sorts. But it’s always shown us what we need to know and how to engage and sympathize with these characters no matter how grand or involved things might have become. It generally feels like a story of engagement over any of its messaging, and that means so much. It fosters a connection that I’ll maintain no matter where these characters may land.
The end of issue #5 leaves the possibility of a very epic moment, and one that feels like it could be a very stereotypical moment for some over-the-top comics supervillain. And I’m already OK with that (and also OK if I’m a tad off) as it feels like the natural move. Because after four intentful and impactful issues, this title deserves to really flex its wings and soar. If it’s already proven so poignant and cutting at one speed, and a bigger uptick, aligned with what this book does best, could only devastate us further. Now, hit us with the really big stuff.
Final Thought: Greater speed and a bigger story never take away from this story’s devastating emotions.
Score: 8/10
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