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.
Local Man #8
Courtesy of Image Comics.
If you love a good dick joke, issue #7 of Local Man was like a veritable symphony. But like an actual symphony, the larger story has so many more moving parts, and a robust level of complexity to match. Issue #8, then, shows us those layers in what’s perhaps the most involved, revealing, and dynamic issue to date.
While we’re only technically on the third issue of “The Dry Season” arc, writer/artists Tim Seeley and Tony Fleecs have placed a lot of different pieces on the board: Jack Xavier’s development as a hero (including the true extent of his powers); what’s going on with Inga and the Future Forum; Jack’s relationship with the police (especially the sheriff, whose wife he’s currently schtuping); and a rather grotesque monster. All of those threads align in some part across #8, and what we get is a properly elevated story that, in addition to being hella entertaining, shows why this title is so important.
For one, few other titles have as diverse an emotional palette these days; issue #8 is a seedy mystery, Will Ferrell-ian comedy, and torrid drama all rolled up into one. There’s enough ideas and stakes to satisfy these “tent poles,” and through that process we get a more well-rounded story that explores ideas of superheroes, small town life, nostalgia, and second chances. Issue #7 felt like a moment of otherworldliness and overt surrealness; issue #8 uses some of those energies to color and inform this world and align these new ideas and sentiments in devastating fashion. Seeley and Fleecs are interested in placing this story in a weird and wonderful nexus of aesthetics and ideas, and what we get isn’t necessarily confusing but a multi-layered adventure into how these ideas relate and what they say about the larger experience of human interactions/relationships.
It’s about creating this rich tapestry — which, as #7 and #8 proved, the creators can emphasize and de-emphasize accordingly — and using it tell more robust and compelling stories. It’s not just a superhero comic or a tale of coming home again; it’s all of those rolled into one shiny package that injects new ideas and perspectives into these familiar tales. Through those efforts, Seeley and Fleecs give us something to connect to while pushing new understandings, and the end result is something more humorous, compelling, and foreboding than any of its single parts. It’s a proper universe of storytelling might, and as things coalesced in this issue, we saw the sheer scope and power of it for the first time.
At the same time, however, you wouldn’t be wrong to feel like this was a rather busy episode. The creators filled every second try to both mess with our heads and hearts as they build the layers to this story. It’s a great issue, but that process can leave you trying to sort out the landscape even as it draws you in with its weirdness and whimsy. Luckily, that’s where the art comes in — and there’s plenty of what I’d call “telling moments” across issue #8.
They were instances where the team used different aesthetics and approaches to help explain a characters’ motivations and current status. Or, how characters interacted in the past and present, and what that says about their larger connection. Even furthering some of the meta bits from #7 (i.e., breaking down the boundaries of comics storytelling structure) has a lot to say about the creators’ own efforts to make this story feel truly novel.
The point is, they’re simple but hugely effective visual devices that help emphasize the story’s efforts and give us a simple thread to follow as this story grows every more complicated (but without ever feeling burdensome or over-involved). Some of the proper highlights included a split scene between Inga and Jack from years ago and today, and the way that 1) their relationship is central to the story but also 2) how that development may actually inform Inga’s still mysterious master plan. That, and the use of a kaleidoscopic color palette as Jack sees part of the town — maybe that says something about his perspective on this place?
All of it together both corrals and enhances the larger story, and does so in a way that we have solid ground under our feet even as we know the world is quickly and efficiently building toward something even more grand and robust. And that’s not even mentioning big set pieces with the mystery creature, or how Seeley and Fleecs use things like text messages to shape the world, or an action figure to demonstrate emotionality and big story threads. In an issue where the story expanded in a massive way, the art did the same even as it tried to give us boundaries and shape to this grandiose experience, and it did so with a careful consideration that pulls us into this story even further.
Issue #8 has only further cemented why Local Man is among my favorite superhero comics. Because it’s so much more than that at its core (even as it wears that distinction as a proper badge of honor). It’s a book that takes this essential story structure and does something new and inventive in the name of the proper storytelling tradition. It wants to scare, delight, and unsettle as much as it wants to make you believe, and through that process, we get something wholly familiar and yet still utterly daring. No matter what shape issue #9 takes, one thing is clear: Local Man is a beast that’s only still just getting started.
Final Thought: Local Man is the hero for all modern stories about superpowered paladins.
Score: 9/10
Slow Burn #3
Courtesy of BOOM! Studios.
In my review of issue #2, I compared Slow Burn to a growing fire. Because where #1 set up the story of Luke, Roxy, and Zach, issue #2 expanded this tale by focusing on Patti/Patty, a resident of the husk of a town where our trio are hiding post-violin-nabbing. And while it was clearly something of a pivot, it was clear that writer Ollie Masters was laying the groundwork for a deeply poignant crime tale about how things go wrong and what we do in the aftermath.
But what happens when your blazing literary inferno transforms into, say, a bushel of arugula or a $2,000 Chihuahua?
Because that’s the only way I can aptly describe the impact of the pivot across issue #3. Not that it was somehow less consuming than your average forest fire, or that it was that massive of a left turn. Rather, we pulled back before the crime ever happened to focus on Kary, Roxy’s deadbeat dad and the man who originally stole the seemingly mythical violin.
And I use the arugula/Chihuahua analogy because that’s most apt in describing just how mind-smashingly awesome Masters and company executed this perspective/turn. Because, without revealing too much, it first becomes a kind of origin story in the most direct way, literally explaining how the violin entered into play in the first place. But it becomes so much more, and just as I was beginning to miss the events with Roxy and the “gang,” I realized what this chapter actually represented: an explainer for this entire world (mostly). Which is to say, why Roxy responded the way she did, the things she’s trying to escape (and the things she can never truly escape), and how this lineage of desperation didn’t start with Kary but is so much deeper and pervasive than we can ever truly know.
It also includes a kind of twist with another family member, and what that then says about who these people are to their core and the sheer layers of trauma and pain (and maybe selfishness?) that inform these dynamics. This focus, then, isn’t just the ultimate origins story but a powerful encapsulation of this whole story. It should inform the way we engage it (or not), and maybe even how things might develop, both emotionally and from a storytelling perspective. It didn’t so much zap the story’s momentum, but pause everything for a second to super-charge these relationships and give us so many more layers (to an already fairly layered story).
I thought momentarily that it’s quite brave to use one of five issues like this, but then I think it’s a masterful move from Masters as he clearly structured this series with lethal efficiency. Maybe I don’t appreciate Kary as much as the others, but his presence jump-starts the book in some really novel ways.
Plus, that focus on a more robust crime gave plenty of really novel opportunities for artist Pierluigi Minotti and colorist Alessandro Santoro. Thus far, the pair have done a really great job in giving us quiet moments of tension as they built the small town (and even their version of New York City) to echo and reflect all these layers of grit and psychic pain.
But when things take a decidedly action-heavy spin in this third issue, Minotti and Santoro are there to meet the challenge head on. They give a lot of energy and heft to shoot-outs and even a moment with someone nervously hiding in a dumpster. Part of that, I think, is they approach these more dynamic moments with the same kind of people-first focus, and that presents a vivid slice of humanity and drama that just so happens to be generally thrilling. Together, they’re pros at creating scenes where the details and humanity feel like they might (in the best way) overwhelm your emotional core. And then, a mere panel later, they’re presenting some singular but deeply effective moment of violence.
The end result, much like the narrative’s own efforts to bound fluidly, is a kind of emotional ping-pong-ing that makes everything land squarely, like a shot to the gut. Their use of blood and violence, especially, is measured without being less impactful, and they’re willing to shake us without obsessing over the use of these devices. Also, nobody draws medical scenes that have as much humanity while giving me the absolute heebie-jeebies.
Just because Slow Burn doesn’t fit with the whole growing fire analogy anymore doesn’t mean this book ain’t still white hot. If anything, its seemingly unpredictable path and overall evolution demonstrates that this book is growing in ways that both defy our expectations and still give us the kind of singular noir that we’re clearly yearning for collectively. So far that’s a story of heartbreaking devastation and one of the true, deeply complicated nature of family. You’d be wise to follow along further no matter how uncertain or perilous the coming path.
Final Thought: You can’t track this bad boy as it rips your heart out.
Score: 9/10
Black Panther #7
Courtesy of Marvel Comics.
We’ve all heard that old adage that sometimes to go forward, you’ve got to go back. That’s how the creative team of Black Panther rebounded from a mostly meh 5th issue — #6 was a solid way to explore the origins of Kivu’Ma and how that would inform T’Challa’s eventual confrontation.
But now that we’re back in the present with issue #7, was this “break” ultimately the right step, or has the book somehow fumbled entirely?
I think the answer’s that we’re entered some generally interesting ground after #7. That’s because writer Eve L. Ewing has managed to balance two big pillars: 1) a continually developing story and 2) tidbits that still feel fresh and inviting.
That first part means some movement in the brewing gang war between the Nkisu and the Ilongas, and that wasn’t just hugely exciting but it also paved the way for even more meaningful story advancements. Namely, this issue did a lot to address the Batman-esque path T’Challa has found himself on since issue #1. Without revealing too much, it meant some pretty insightful explorations of the man vs. the mask, and even a chance for our king to delve into his new city.
The fact that it generated new leads was rather secondary — this was a chance to humanize our stalking hero and play around with that whole Batman dynamic that I’ve joked about in a way that actually provides some real growth for our lead. His secret identity of Ize the delivery man/driver/etc. is more effective than Matches Malone — it’s a profound way to strip T’Challa of his edge and history and let him be an actual person, and that grounds this whole journey in some extra important ways. If we’re trying to push Black Panther forward as a hero, I can’t think of a better path than to place the king in a new context of everyman, and let him understand himself through that massive contextual and emotional shift.
Luckily, he had some help in that department with his own James Gordon type, the lawyer N’Yobi, and it’s truly great to see that character advance to a proper support character in a time where T’Challa needs that (beyond his family and any Avengers pals), There were other similar threads, too, including Aliinya, a Nkisu family head, who felt sorta like a Talia al Ghul type — and even if not, I think a properly nebulous foe like this is a great direction for T’Challa. And speaking of nebulous relationships, Beisa returns in the continued role as Catwoman-esque figure to show just how dynamic and complicated Black Panther’s world has become.
As for the second part, it mostly stems from a really great tease at the issue’s finale. I also won’t spoil that, but it features a player from a slightly unexpected corner of the Marvel Universe, and another great step to extend and complicate T’Challa’s business. That development, plus the aforementioned advanced Batman-ing, shows why this series is in a good place storyline wise. We’re getting a very specific process (transforming T’Challa) as it’s also finding ways to extend that process and keep it novel and exciting for any new readers that pop in. The end result is something that balances a growing pseudo-lore and growing its audience — a story that is becoming something vital and important without making a massive deal of the process. A series that keeps itself bright and shiny even as it puts in the slow, methodical work of developing its rich, organic cast. Not every book can achieve this, and it’s taken Black Panther a second to get there. But this feels like the moment where this book’s momentum and intent finally clicked into place.
I wish I could be nearly as congratulatory and celebratory given the art of this issue (from the team of penciller Chris Allen, inker Craig Yeung, penciller/inker Mack Chater, and colorist Jesus Aburtov). That’s not to say there weren’t some proper highlights. Like, how Ize/T’Challa’s city tour montage was really interesting and further added to the city’s role as a proper character. Or, how a drive between Ize and Aliinya both furthered the city and helped explore the nuances and crevices of these decidedly similar characters (i.e., prince/princess living under the weight of their heavy family dynasties).
But beyond that, I think what the art team gave us was more of the same, and even as that’s really solid insight into this corner of the world and some fairly solid action scenes, it just didn’t match the pace and intent of the story. At a moment when things seem to really coalesce, I found myself more interested in revisiting moments that clicked emotionally rather than trying to find some hot new incoming scene. Maybe that’s the point of a well-crafted story, but then it isn’t exactly conducive to the story-visuals marriage that defines properly reading comics.
What made scenes like the Ize/Aliinya drive compelling was the marriage of story with the way the city enhanced or undercut that moment — not a lot here visually was able to achieve that same kind of sheer force. Even the big character reveal at the end just didn’t pop visually, and the real “oh snaps” came mostly from the story’s slow tease and grand reveal. The art team here’s shifted slightly a few times, and so maybe that’s why things can’t fully transcend. But if they can’t align soon, this book could be unprepared for its continued advancement in a major way.
And advancing forward is really the only move this book has left after the shot in the arm in issue #6. But based just on issue #7, there’s enough here to demonstrate that Black Panther is (for the most part) ready to continue its march to a fully-fleshed out, generally exciting book that fully grows the lineage of our titular hero. Let’s just really turn up the heat from here on out and see how our hero truly shines.
Final Thought: An interesting chapter for this story’s immersion as a generally vital series.
Score: 7/10
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