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.
Bloodrik #3
Courtesy of Image Comics.
One of my favorite meals growing up was chicken and rice. Sure, it’s a super simple recipe — my dad cut up the chicken into cubes with scissors and always used too much cream of mushroom soup — but it always filled me up.
And Bloodrik issues #1-3 have been that same meal for my perpetually hungry soul.
I think part of the appeal is that writer-artist Andrew Krahnke has never tried to make this series more than “giant hungry barbarian looks for food.” From that rather “simple” formula, he’s made quite the hearty meal of the fantasy genre. It’s about consistently giving readers what they want — ample ultraviolence and rehashings of Conan and Kull stories — and doing so with a commitment and quality where you can feel Krahnke’s own love for these stories and genre. And while it’s never been the most complicated formula, Krahnke has nonetheless wrung new life from these “tropes,” and given us a kind of day-in-the-life perspective or angle that adds even more humanity to the bloody adventures of our rather muscular friend.
Still, as much as I really liked the first two issues, I think the third may somehow be my favorite. For one, Krahnke wraps up the narrative in a really compelling manner, as Bloodrik makes his way up the mountain to find the last house/hut with a still-burning flame. I won’t spoil what exactly Bloodrik finds, but let’s just say it’s a proper conflict that offers a few important things. The first is a kind of “conclusion” to this story, which has always felt more free-flowing than other “Conan-ian” offerings, and that feels extra essential. If it’s all about the blood and madness, we don’t need too much structure here to really engage with Bloodrik — but it sure is nice that there’s a kind of momentum and arc to his adventures that makes us feel like he’s a real person and not just a murder machine.
But if you’re looking for evidence of his brutality, this issue may be the most intense of them all. Krahnke spends a few solid pages on one especially brutal kill, and he shows off his maddening skills with shading, color, and line work to elevate Bloodrik’s efforts to a proper art form. And I truly mean that: this kill renders this almost Renaissance-esque beauty to the way he rips flesh from bones and mutilates the human form — it’s a true sight to behold for a few different reasons, and more proof that Krahnke is doing something really important with all of this carnage. Even if it’s just wish fulfillment for weirdos, that passion once more comes through, and you feel the real power of this book and its place in some grander canon.
But the “surprises” don’t stop there, either. Each issue also includes a back-up story, and just as the main narrative’s a proper real gut-wrencher, this other entry (about Bloodrik’s slightly humorous run-in with a crow) is actually important. It’s no mere B-side, as it were, but it continues the tale of Bloodrik in some really novel ways. If the main tale was about tracking the larger story of Bloodrik, Krahnke used the secondary tale to actually push Bloodrik forward in terms of his personality and skillset. Now, don’t expect some masterful bit of character development, but then that’s not the point, obviously. But what we got was still about letting Bloodrik learn a lesson and gain personal insights — even if said insight was just about being a better murder machine. It’s still a really chaotic and violent story, but that tinge of emotionality was grounded in just such a way that it extended our understanding of Bloodrik.
And to accompany that, I got the sense that Krahnke took a more “peaceful” approach to his art, and we got less overt carnal goodness and more giant landscapes and scale to place the mighty Bloodrik into some thoughtful context. It was another subtle but effective design choice from Krahnke, but the end result was that it gave us a chance to humanize Bloodrik further and to see him in the grand scale of his world. In that first story, he was a burning inferno of might, but this second story made him slightly smaller and almost weak, and that made his growth all the more impactful. It’s about trying to provide new truths and understanding to familiar characters, and with just a slight shift of emphasis and coloring, Krahnke was able to open our eyes to some grander truth about this absolute madman. Yeah, blood still flowed like a river, but it was meant to make us think and not just inflate our heart rates and illicit primal joy.
I could see why some folks might have skipped out on Bloodrik entirely. There’s an idea that if you’ve seen one Conan story, you’ve seen them all. But I’d argue that Bloodrik is leagues ahead of his carnal colleagues, and his is a tale of profound humanity. It’s a story brimming with darkness and gore but also endless heart, and one that strips away larger context, storylines, and history to tell us something that speaks firmly to our hearts. Maybe you’ll get something different from following Bloodrik around, but my experiences were one of pure joy as I watched this force of nature figure out his place in the world. That sometimes meant tearing stuff apart, but it also meant a reaffirmation of the most important parts of ourselves. Now that’s a meal I’ll remake for years to come.
Final Thought: A bloody good end to a truly brutal journey.
Score: 9/10
Pine and Merrimac #2
Courtesy of BOOM! Studios.
Sure, I get that the appeal of most detective stories is a grizzled but lovable lead and a proper mystery/case to chew on. But what if it’s also about more dynamic, nuanced character development and the power of a loving relationship? Who knows if Dashiell Hammett could ever write Pine and Merrimac, but there’s no denying that the actual creative team (writer Kyle Starks and artist Fran Galan) had some real success as issue #1 laid some meaningful groundwork.
Now, though, the question begs: can this new kind of PI story thrive as we delve deeper into our extra robust leads, or should we go off ad read more Hercule Poirot or Miss Marple?
And, OK, maybe that’s a wee bit of an exaggeration. Especially since issue #2 proves that this book’s strengths lie beyond just some really great character work surrounding our heroes, Linnea and Parker Kent.
Still, the Parkers’ dynamic does continue brilliantly here, extending in a compelling and deliberate manner. They have such distinct personalities — Linnea proves more troubled and nuanced, while Parker is clearly a boy scout with a solid left hook — and yet their chemistry pops off the page. It’s once again more than their extra witty repartee; together, they reveal themselves in these interactions, and to get us to care deeply by solidifying as real people right before our very eyes. It’s a genuine treat so far to see how the Parkers manage to share themselves while still keeping the onus on the ever-growing mystery, and through that process we get something that’s not just deeply human but massively exciting and engaging. It’s about characters serving not just as an intro to this world but inviting us along with a real passion and intensity.
Of course, as compelling as the people are — and that even extends to the background players in the town of Jamesport — the mystery really got a chance to shine in issue #2. It was mostly about a missing girl in the series debut, and that’s grown to be something all the more layered and compelling even midway into issue #2. I don’t want to spoil too much about what the Parkers discover, but let’s just say it involves a creepy island base, aforementioned missing girls, and the prospect of a conspiracy that reaches the height of political powers in Jamesport and beyond. But the way that Starks has built this mystery, it feels like it won’t be as direct as we might expect. (And even if it is, it’s still going to be a massively relevant tale of politics and conspiracy theories.)
That sort of nuance to the larger mystery isn’t just satisfying — that’s the arc of any case worth a damn — but makes this all about the people and the sheer humanity that informs what makes this book really intriguing in the first place. It’s a case with real layers, and at every turn in this issue we feel properly challenged by what this all might turn out to be. Toss in some slightly supernatural and/or horror-esque tinges (the end felt a little like The Omen), and it makes me feel like Starks’ narrative is really trying to make us do some proper work. That little added effort to confront us only extends the levels and means of humanity that shape and inform this book, where everyone gets the chance to really shine and thrive throughout.
Of course, you can’t really have all that humanity and intense engagement without the work of Galan on inks and colors. In the first issue, Galan (and I’m quoting myself yet again) balanced that “cartoonish approachability [with] being just stylized enough to feel inventive and refreshing.” It was about respecting the characters’ personalities and finding ways to grow and extend that accordingly.
As one of the biggest achievements of this second issue, we get even more of that. Linnea, for one, has a proper range of looks and body language that feels extra prevalent and sharp, and that really shows us the kind of depth and complexity that she exudes in every panel she’s in across #2. Meanwhile, Parker is obviously a more physical force, and Galan captures that by somehow injecting charm and emotion when he’s, say, bashing someone in the face. (Also, there were just so many inventive shots for Parker’s pummelings, and it’s the small touches like those that lend him some real force.) It’s these similarly little touches — a sideways glance or an bit of shadowing on a face — that lets us not only understand these characters’ motivations but also how they engage and react to one another and the larger world and the ways this informs their personal growth. It’s among the most personally-laden art that I’ve seen in some time, and it captures every idea and the corresponding energies so perfectly.
At the same time, though, I think this issue also excels because of how it builds out the world around the Parkers. Which is to say, it’s not just about giving their personalities the spotlight, but adding new bits, gimmicks, scenes, etc. that show the real scope of this world. It could be as simple as a gag where Parker’s fist makes a cartoon noise as it slams some bad guy, or the sheer power and intensity of a moment where some bad guys get turned away by an explosion. Those moments are where we feel the weight of this world and the kind of intensity, beauty, madness, violence, etc., and that energy isn’t just exciting but it makes our already quite lively characters feel even more alive and churning with big moods and sentiments.
Then, you add in some really great tweaks of both color and shading at key moments — namely on the island and toward the issue’s gripping finale — that feel even more captivating, and in a way that almost unsettles or disarms readers. It’s a scene with a modified look and feel that fully plays with the subtle undertones of horror bubbling under the surface, and that not only further grows the world but does so with a quiet heft to really mess with our sensibilities and understanding. It’s added proof that as much as this story delivers the really big moments, it’s only getting started in building a mystery that we can barely see.
So, yes, all of that robust humanity continues to keep me locked into this story in some really essential ways. But the fact that this book continues to add new layers, and hint at ideas I can’t fully wrap my head around just yet, demonstrates that Pine and Merrimac is already the best kind of detective story. It pulls you in close, keeps you actively engaged and continually second-guessing yourself, and waits to let the sheer weight of it all dawn on you after the dumbbell has already slammed into your chest. I for one can’t wait to see how our new “friend” continues to redefine great private dick stories with endless creativity and cunning.
Final Thought: No mystery here: this book continues to demand our energy/attention.
Score: 9/10
Kneel Before Zod #2
Courtesy of DC Comics.
For the most part, I agree with Piper Whitaker’s review of Kneel Before Zod #1: it was a damn pleasing start from the team of Joe Casey, Dan McDaid, and David Baron. (That, and it feels like Casey was made for more DC stories.)
But the thing that I kept thinking about during my reading of #1 was the idea that Casey mentioned in our interview about the family dynamic. Specifically, how much of a role Ursa (Zod’s wife) and Lor (his son) would play in the series. Sure, Lor got exiled (for his own good?) in issue #1, but it still very much felt like “The Zod Show” throughout the debut.
Until we get to issue #2, and the dynamic of this book has changed rather quickly — and seemingly for the better.
The main thread of this book isn’t just that Zod is trying to build up New Kandor as a proper force in the galaxy, or that he’s having to face some early uprisings from the Khunds — it’s that he’s maybe off his game. He sent Lor away in the first place because the boy dared question him, effectively demanding to see if the Kryptonian general still had the fire that made him a conqueror in the first place. That very thread grows even more robust in issue #2, as Zod and Ursa get into it in a major way.
I won’t spoil that confrontation — beyond that it’s brimming with huge emotions and massive ramifications — but I can say it strikes at that thing I wanted in issue #1: that sweet, sweet family drama. Unlike the Lor stuff, though, it wasn’t just about some Jerry Springer-esque joy of watching a family crumble; the Zod-Ursa thing draws home some of the bigger themes and messages within this book (i.e., not only Zod’s more complicated personal development, but notions of patriarchy, the nature of war and conquest, the role of violence in society, and even the ever-changing face of the family dynamic).
It was, as I think Casey spoke to during our chat, this idea of trying to use all of tension and unease to really delve into the heart of this character, and to give us this unflinching, sometimes sharp portrait of a man with so many layers (and some internal incongruity to boot). This second issue called into question a lot of our fundamental ideas about Zod, and it did so in a way that also enhanced and serviced Ursa in a major way. The first issue was a solid tease, but this was all about enacting something more pointed and deliberate to show us that there’s some interesting things happening as Zod grapples with age, history, feelings, etc.
Of course, you can’t discount some of the other, slightly less robust moments across this second issue. Mainly, when we weren’t getting our Springer on, a lot of the issue dealt with the kind of “logistics” of furthering New Kandor and battling the Khunds. It ain’t quite as engaging as some matrimonial mayhem, but I like the slower world-building stuff as a counter to all that emotionality. It feels a little like Game of Thrones in the regard — we see how the war is being financed or implemented operationally, for instance, and that just grounds a lot of this story. I mostly like how having all that added “mundanity” pulls us deeper into the story, and makes it even less this massive space opera of sorts but rather a deeply personal story about getting older amid an increasingly complicated universe.
To a rather noticeable extent, the art of McDaid and Baron did facilitate a lot of this book’s still-early accomplishments. The core aesthetic of this book, especially, has been nailed down since issue #1, and in issue #2 it grows more robust. It’s very much in line with the kind of story we’d expect from the “Superman universe,” and it really plays up the overt theatricality and sci-fi badassery that you’d want from this specific tale. (And that keeps it still very much a “space opera” even as it’s actively not.) Issue #2, especially, has some great interrogation scenes with Zod/Ursa and the Khunds as well as the aforementioned “planning/logistics” bit, each of which balances a sense of majesty and intent without impacting that very human focus that the story almost demands.
Still, I can’t shake the idea that there wasn’t more done to really extend the visual offerings of this issue. Sure, the aesthetic is great overall, but it doesn’t feel like there’s room to grow that in a way that hasn’t already been developed. It’s as if we’re stepping into a pre-formed world, and not one that invites us along as it develops. If we did get some of that process — where Zod was building this world up as opposed to seemingly showing us what’s already there — I think we’d feel all the more engaged. (Plus, I think shifting the angle to visuals that more fully build this world would feel more in line with the deeply human dissection of Zod at this book’s core.)
That’s not to say that there isn’t some really important and inventive visuals going on in this issue (aside from the stuff I already mentioned). The “convo” between Zod and Ursa, for instance, isn’t just compelling emotionally, but it feels really novel on the page. There’s some expert use of angles and even shading that draw out the intrigue and intensity of what’s frankly a rather large power shift of this book, and we feel the weight of it all as much as it just sort of dawns on us. The larger concern, then, is that I think the issue felt a little weighted around this interaction, and we didn’t get quite as many big, impactful set pieces. It’s especially confounding given that this book is all about those massive moments, and even more of them would only lend this book some added authority. That said, the Ursa-Zod moment does unfold and develop with precision and passion to spare, and that’s nearly enough of a focus given its real strength.
It’s sort of odd to think about Kneel Before Zod in the context of the ongoing DC Universe. Whereas all of that’s mostly about the promise of hope and new lineages (even if that involves giant alien starfish monsters), this book focuses on the corruptive nature of power and how slowly old worlds/idea/etc. die out. But it retains that same deeply human spark, and Kneel Before Zod works because it’s delving deep into the heart of man with an intent and curiosity that’s practically glowing. Now, let’s see what other insights and chaos Zod’s intergalactic journey has in store.
Final Thought: The balance of power shifts as our interest grows ever wider.
Score: 7.5/10
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