Comic Books

‘The Holy Roller’ #4 turns a near-gutter ball into a winning performance

‘The Holy Roller’ continues a mostly two steps forward, one step back approach.

February 20, 2024

I called issue #3 of The Holy Roller something of a turning point for this series. After a mostly good first issue, it was issues #2 and #3 that saw a balance between the stupid jokes and serious commentary coalesce into a generally promising book.

Now, though, the question begs if our young hero Levi Cohen has really built a worthy start to his superhero-ing career, or if he’s still mostly joking around.

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And the answer is a little bit of columns A and B for the (continued) comics equivalent of a spare.

Because there’s lots of things I really loved about this issue of The Holy Roller. The first third or so is basically Levi running around bashing sexists and racists in the face. It’s a solid mix of great superhero action from the art team (artist Roland Boschi and colorist Moreno Dinisio), who find really impressive ways to achieve both whimsy and gore in these inventive set pieces. Meanwhile, the writers — Rick Remender, Andy Samberg, and Joe Trohman — once more find a similar cohesiveness between humor and heart in their writing. (There’s not only some great fight-centric puns, but a kind of meta bit that I think reflects the book’s development perfectly and furthers this title’s thoughtful dissection of superhero stories.)

Both of those bits — inventive fight choreography and measured jokes — felt like the book’s identity really coming together. All of that made clear that this book is not just a send-up of superhero stories, but it’s trying to tell one that feels relevant to our divided times. It’s more clearly becoming a book that rides the line between something elemental and classical and totally irreverent, and through that everything feels familiar and also decidedly more progressive. It’s a superhero story where the joy and energy are the tent poles, and that allows the story to shine as both something oddly hopeful and affirmational (like any good hero’s tale) and still self-aware enough to poke fun at the pomp and circumstance of these tales (and in a way you don’t always find in 2024).

Main cover by Roland Boschi and Moreno DiNisio. Courtesy of Image Comics.

At the same time, though, I think there’s some big enough concerns with this issue. For all the joking and pun-making, the book was meant to be this very serious and thoughtful response to the Trump-led rise of “-isms” over the last decade or so, and how we all have to stand up and confront these slimey bullies to reflect what’s actually good about our country. And, to an extent, the first three issues did a great job in building a villain with the Henry family, this gaggle of scumbags who are basically the best version of a Troma villain. The fact that Levi basically crippled their eldest son in the debut instantly forged a dynamic like a more jokey Superman and terribly awful Lex Luthor. Even some of the art around the Henrys — the smarmy look of their lot and even the way some of their underlings took a beating — felt like the kind of wish fulfillment you’d want with a really solid villain.

But in issue #4, the Henrys felt a little too jokey at times. In a moment where the father/family leader is making some grand speech about their lineage and destiny and all the malarkey, it just felt a little too silly and not quite sinister enough. Sure, that’s coming from someone who has read way too many superhero comics, but you have to actually fear your big bad and not just make jokes about their pudding-eating eldest child. And that’s even when I factor in this notion of satire amid the Trump era, and how leaning into the idiocy and fecklessness of your villain feels like a really smart choice (and, again, maybe a little more wish fulfillment).

Variant cover by Michael Avon Oeming. Courtesy of Image Comics.

But it all just rang as far too much, and that’s been a constant issue (or at least looming threat) across these first few issues. It’s the time when I feel like Remenders’ comic-first approach buckles slightly to the non-comics writers (Samberg and Trohman), and that always feels like a dangerous prospect. Not because those two aren’t talented — the heart and humor has to emanate in large part from these two “rookies” — but we need more of a “streamlined” approach if this book can balance its aesthetic and approach with its more heady mission.

Despite my issues, I do think issue #4 leans more toward being a proper success than anything else. Not only because there’s a damn solid Tombstone reference, but also that the big “problems” of this issue — the over-the-top tendencies — seem increasingly like a decent enough problem for a book. Based on issues #2 and #3, the creative team can course correct easy enough, and there’s still five or six more issues of this series to further fine-tune this whole story. But even without all of that, I think I’ve come to see that too much (be it humor, joy, absurdity, etc.) isn’t so much a deficit but an opportunity waiting to be seized upon. As the intro section of this issue proved, when the book nails its “formula,” it’s hard to beat the sheer connective potential and the generally powerful bit of comics storytelling that does occur.

Even if that wasn’t sustained across the entire issue, and some of that sheer oomph threatened to overturn this book’s momentum, you can’t fault the creators. It’s a very specific time for this rather specific book, and the fact that it’s doing inventive things (even if that’s just giant-sized satire with unflinching dedication) is worthy enough to celebrate. This book’s whole approach to building a new kind of superhero means there’s plenty more corners to face. Even if there’s a small pile of dog poo around the next one, that doesn’t mean they’re still not running full steam ahead toward the brightest of futures.