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 #5
Courtesy of Image Comics.
Anyone who has read my reviews knows just how much I’ve adored Nights. The story — a young man named Vince relocates to an alternate history Florida and falls for a mysterious vampire girl named Gray — has been a truly masterful effort from its creative team (writer Wyatt Kennedy, artist Luigi Formisano, and colorist Francesco Segala). It’s this wild melding of True Blood, Kids, Twin Peaks, and Scott Pilgrim — a powerful story about found families, first love, growing up and getting wiser, thriving through chaos, and what happens when the world really buckles under your feet.
But like all good things, they must come to an end — sort of. Nights #5 is basically the series’ own “mid-season finale,” which inevitably means a cliffhanger ending until the story starts up again. So, can Nights keep my interest and adoration at their fever pitch, or is the honeymoon phase all but over?
And, as if there were any real doubts, Nights once again delivers perhaps its most thoughtful, impactful, and beguiling issue to date.
That’s because the creative team managed to achieve this book’s biggest strength — balancing the supernatural madness with more intimate humanity — in a way like never before. So, what starts out as a fun day at the waterpark for Vince and the crew (it all makes me think we’re in some lost Len music video) quickly becomes a far more harrowing examination of Gray’s true identity. Talk about the best kind of whiplash.
That balancing act I mentioned means that the fun, silly stuff still retains heaps of power from an emotional and narrative perspective. The Vince-Gray relationship, especially, takes off here in a major way — the pair flirt and connect hardcore, and in that way it feels like a massive payoff for this continuously entertaining and uplifting pairing. Their relationship has very much been the beating heart of this book, and to see it coalesce so perfectly across this issue just expertly demonstrates how much this book is very much a love story — a very weird and twisted love story, sure, but endlessly obsessed with celebrating and dissecting that most human construct. It’s sweet and thoughtful and a really multifaceted/layered relationship, and one that I think informs the way this book approaches other “bits” of emotionality to give us these organic explorations of real and true people. Their burgeoning love affair is also very much the way the creative team pulls us in and melds our expectations for the deluge of spooky stuff.
And in issue #5, there was quite the spooky little reveal/twist. As you’d expect, I can’t really spoil too much, but it does involve a bit about Gray’s true nature and how that connects to the big event this book’s hinted at since issue #1’s ending. What I absolutely can say about it is that, first and foremost, I love the way it plays with certain horror/supernatural tropes, and it’s another way that this book has used a new angle or perspective to get us thinking about the value of horror in some extra novel ways.
But even more than that, this decision gets us to see Gray and her humanity (or maybe lack thereof…) in a whole new light, and to consider what she is, what that means for her (and others), and how that informs the larger, world-threatening arc of this series. It’s the kind of thoughtful and deliberate twist that definitely shocks the ol’ brainpan, but once it’s had time to settle you’ll likely feel just how on brand it is in terms of this book’s interests in finding that pure sense of humanity amid all the gore and horror. It’s a really powerful demonstration of this book’s inventiveness and creativity, and how it’s always geared toward displaying and extending the ways we interact and relate to these characters.
And, as you may have already seen coming, a big part of that process is the work of Formisano and Segala (with some color assistance from Gloria Martinelli). I’ve noted quite a few times over the first four issues just how much the visuals provide a language for this book — one that shows the true shape of this alternate world (and what value that holds) as well as cementing the undertones of humor and insanity that give us more depth and texture to these characters. And issue #5 not only continues all of that but it may be the most satisfying and effective of this first story chunk.
Without revealing too much more about the issue’s big reveal, it gives us lots of really great giant monsters and even some solid body horror. The art team not only deliver in a really powerful way — they’re masters at giving us these intense, dramatic flashes of pure gore in a way that feels grounded and respectful of the story’s human-first mission — but they’re especially inventive in their efforts. Issue #5, especially, shows just how much they’re able to blend novel influences and design efforts to make something really powerful.
Whether that’s crafting some vaguely Stranger Things-esque monster, using really intricate body horror to extend a reveal around Gray, or even just playing with angles and perspectives regarding another reveal (this one’s about the “space” within Gray), it’s about balancing intensity with brevity and playfulness to shock and delight the reader into tumbling head first into this story. Even the more “mundane” stuff at the waterpark (pre-reveal) feels really exciting and kinetic, as if there’s so much life and joy on the page that it may spill into the gutters of the comic itself.
To some extent, I think that just proves how the team treat every moment (poignant and/or horrific) with the same kind of attention and general care. But I also think it serves another purpose, and one that the art of issue #5 really crystalized. It’s this sense that nothing and everything is this bright beautiful joke and this really soul-crushing slice of horror. That you can, for instance, have a blood-soaked demon child eating Junior Mints, and that it’s not just a funny and scary gag but this third thing that feels similarly important. This mostly novel hobbling together of ideas and energies to both subvert and affirm our expectations in a way that feels really refreshing.
In a book that balances so many competing interests and aesthetics, it’s clear with this issue that the real power of this book is so much more vast and understated. That we don’t just see and feel dichotomous things, or come to new contextual understandings, but rather it’s about finding some deep gems in the crack between all of this. And in that way, Nights tells a story that’s massively forward-thinking — even as it filters it through a massively familiar lens of TV, comics, film, etc.
Like any show worth a damn going on a mid-season break, I’m going to earnestly miss Nights. As someone who reads and reviews plenty of books a week/year, it’s clearly not just a favorite but something that continuously gets me re-thinking and re-evaluating comics storytelling and even the scope of horror, human drama, etc. When it comes back (in a month-ish), I’m sure it’s going to find even more new ways to delight, unnerve, beguile, scare, and generally charm as we arrive at a perilous but intriguing place in the story of Vince and Gray (and their friends and family, of course). The one upside to this small break in this story? You non-believers can rectify that and get caught up pronto.
Final Thought: I can’t hide it: Nights is peak comics storytelling.
Score: 10/10
Green Lantern: War Journal #6
Courtesy of DC Comics.
Among the many insights gleaned during our recent chat, writer Phillip Kennedy Johnson cares deeply for John Stewart. He (alongside artist Montos) have used the first five issues of Green Lantern: War Journal to uplift and delve into the Stewart, exploring his family, his status as a Lantern, and his place in an ever-changing universe with ample heart and commitment.
Now, though, issue #6 signals the end of the series’ first arc, and all the work of those first five issues comes down to this moment. Will all that care and concern for the character end in a grandiose finale, or does it take much more than friendship with fictional characters to make a book really sizzle?
And, to a massive extent, I think issue #6 works really well as a wrap-up. For one, it takes all the major threads — John’s relationship with his mom, his back-and-forth with the Revenant Queen, the state and shape of his powers, etc. — and wraps them up in a neat little bow. There’s still clearly more story ahead (as you’d want, obviously), but we get some really important puzzle pieces here to help inform the story going forward. That said, I don’t think it’s this massively exciting finale — Kennedy Johnson and Montos opt for a more understated landing. But if you’ve been a PKJ fan for some time, and you’re also studied enough in Lantern lore, this finale still hits with the heft of a green construct semi-truck. But if you’re a more casual/less well read fan, then perhaps some of the force may be lost on you slightly (even as the story itself still fully works).
I think a big part of that success is that the creative team try to accomplish two kinds of feats: the big, super dweeby comic stuff and the more emotionally potent stuff (and clearly there’s some solid overlap/interplay). In terms of the former, there are (as hinted at in our interview) a couple big reveals in this issue — one around Stewart’s “ascension” as the Guardian and Builder and the other regarding the true nature of the Revenant Queen. These big moments still matter — it just feels like there’s this bit of showmanship and razzle dazzle needed to give people something to sink their teeth into in the most “basic” and direct way.
It’s why I think the efforts of Montos feel especially gripping in these instances — there’s so much crackling energy and sheer force built into the line work that we feel the power of John’s understanding of his new role and what it means. And when the dialogue undercuts that moment — actually playing into some of the quiet genius of John as the problem solver and architect — the end result feels like this massively satisfying moment with actual layers and texture. It’s a shot of nerdy goodness that invites you to contemplate this moment’s more insightful underpinnings.
A lot of the same holds true for the Revenant Queen moment: there’s heaps of visual wonder — a really excellent layout alongside just an absolutely gorgeous and unsettling depiction of the Queen — and then what it all might mean. And in staring at the sheer eye candy, we’re left to quietly piece it all together, and that process is really rewarding as a moment of much-needed reflection amid a story trying to stick a few different landings. By giving us that space, then, all of those ideas and sentiments can fully and truly land. All of it is giant-sized sci-fi goodness that makes contextualization and reaction the fun challenge that it should be for readers.
Still, as important as those moments are, I think some of the more satisfying stuff came when the meaning or purpose of something was even more understated, or it felt significant in a less overt manner. I’m thinking about the way the Stewart-Shepherd relationship evolves over this issue, or the continued exploration of John’s relationship with his mom and family in general. Instances that, while not caked in pure nerd magic, seem just as important as anything else given how much time and energy the team put into their development and eventual landing.
The Shepherd stuff, for instance, does certainly look cool — from a layout perspective, a big moment is contrasted with the Revenant Queen stuff, and that makes it seem all the more powerful. However, the creative team quickly remind us how it’s more directly connected to John’s transformation than anything with the Revenant Queen, and while that seems a touch obvious, I think it’s a really cool sleight of hand to grow John in the eyes of this hesitant “rookie” — and in a way that paints this as less of a massive transformation. Rather, like the physical change itself, the Stewart-Shepherd relationship grows because John believes himself to have that potential as a leader and mentor; he’s not stepping up but rather stepping in, and he’s had the skill and clarity and wisdom all along to be this mythic version of himself (for Shepherd and just in general). In that way, it feels we’re revealing more layers to John rather than having to change him somehow to prepare him for the next chapter.
And, again, the same mostly holds true for stuff with his mom, Shirley. While they don’t have much interaction this issue, Shirley tells a story about a fabled knight (John, duh) that defeats a dragon through sheer force of will and commitment. And while these moments (including a really effective re-telling at the end) don’t seem visually potent (but nonetheless charming), there’s this slight reveal that happens that matters so, so much. It takes that whole concept (John’s mythos and role as evolving story hero) and “corrupts” it slightly, and through that we can see the increasingly robust connection between John and the Revenant Queen as well as the larger stakes behind what happens with John at the issue’s end. It’s a way where the visuals play much more of a more supporting role to the storyline, and through that we get both a nice bit of symmetry as well as another way that this series operates to engage, extend, and maybe even subvert our own responses and general emotions.
We won’t have to wait long for the new arc to begin, and that one promises a “shocking twist [that] has sent John to the far reaches of space and time” for a mystery with the “Dark Star of Fenn.” But I’m glad to have at least a few weeks before issue #7 to further reflect on this arc’s ending. Sure, arcs wrap up all the time, but this one felt truly special — a finale that gave us massive visual wonders, heaps of emotion, and a story with layers galore. It was a proper “first season” for John Stewart, as he grew and extended in massive ways even as his new story clearly isn’t done being told. It’s a singular glowing instance of what happens when great creators usher in something new for equally great characters.
Final Thought: The legend of John Stewart grows ever greater.
Score: 8/10
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