The arc of The Holy Roller thus far — aside from being about a young man coming home to a fascist nightmare and getting beaten up a lot — has been getting out of its own way toot suite. Issue #1 clearly had potential, but the asinine displays of humor really took the wind from its sails. Issue #2, then, addressed a lot of those concerns, checking some of those sophomoric tendencies and even pushing forward the emotionality and power inherent to this story.
And issue #3 sees this title further turn that robust potential into something really interesting.
It was clear from the beginning that Levi Cohen was going to be a different kind of vigilante (and not just because he uses a bowling ball to bash fascists). He was clearly hesitant to give into those kind of immature dreams of life as a superhero, and he only ever did what he did to try and save his own hide (even as he clearly showed a proper disdain for bullies).
This latest issue, then, tries to maintain that kind of “realism” by offering Levi a chance to have one life only to eventually feel compelled (as all great heroes eventually are) into a life of service/standing up to baddies. I can’t really spoil how that happens, but suffice to say, it once again is both a thoughtful, wholly organic decision by the writers — Rick Remender, Andy Samberg, and Joe Trohman — to push our boy forward in a way that’s aligned with and in celebration of these pillars of family and memory (especially as it relates to the modern Jewish experience).
It’s a series of moments that feel like a really sharp step up in terms of tone and intent, but in a way that doesn’t ignore the purposefully schlocky quality of this Troma-esque story. If anything, that more “serious” approach — giving Levi a purpose to embrace — only opens up novel spaces for a couple of dumb but effective zingers. (Plus, Levi’s endless humor in the face of serious odds is becoming a really great trait, like the aw-shucks qualities of Superman.) That contrast between the decidedly serious uptick and the ongoing “streamlining” of the humorous bits feels like a great path for this book, and the thing that adds to its commentary on modern superhero stories (to which it facilitates this tone that both honors the genre as it subverts it entirely).
Courtesy of Image Comics.
When we’re talking about the balance for this book, you have to consider the role that the art played. Over the first two issues, artist Roland Boschi felt like the best choice for a book that wants to play around with ideas of “cartoon” violence, that aforementioned Troma-esque sense of “quality,” and something akin to old-school superhero comics. The end result worked really well to balance and extend the narrative in some important ways, even as #2 did feel a slightly over-focused on smaller scenes and moments.
But in issue #3, we get the infusion of colorist Moreno Dinisio, who makes all the difference in pushing this issue to new heights. Because of Dinisio’s more muted, slightly meditative take on coloring, it felt like everything that defined this book’s visual aesthetics — a kind of exaggerated form of humanity — now felt all the more nuanced, as if things were more raw and dramatic without taking away from the inherent quirky charm of it all. There were some solid action scenes once more — like Levi’s big “fight” in a jail cell — but the emphasis was less on disconnected feats of cool villain-bashing and more on how to portray these specific moments with a touch more gravitas.
It was the same thing with more mundane scenes, like Levi and Ami Henry’s convo in a car, or Mr. Cohen and Levi’s friend Jamal conversing over video games. Not only were they slow moments of build for the story — all about adding stakes and letting us reflect on big tent-pole ideas — but their depictions worked to feel really compelling despite their inherent “mundanity.” A lot of it came to the angles and shadows, sure, but I also think that new approach to color did wonders for these scenes and their ability to exude power even if they don’t involve a skull-splitting bowling ball. It all speaks to my larger wishes for issue #2, and how I’d hoped we could see more of this world. Even if it’s not much else beyond a car or a new room, it’s the way these places exist that feels important to the story’s efforts to build a more robust world for us, the audience, to then place our hopes and fears for these increasingly real characters and their big ideas about life and family.
The Holy Roller is at a kind of turning point after issue #3. It’s a place where Levi may be ready to step up in a way that we’d hope, and in terms that we can really understand (i.e., through the lens of a truly novel take on superheroes). It feels like the bumpers have been taken off, and we can see what kind of man he just might become, and that feels wholly exciting given the layers of this title. If Levi can further maintain the same balance of humor and intent, and delve deeper into this dissection of family and community, this book should further pummel us into submission.
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