Comic Books

‘Precious Metal’ #1 is a profound prequel and so, so much more

‘Precious Metal’ is the kind of prequel we really need.

June 4, 2024

I’m not a big fan of prequels or sequels. And, as it turns out, neither is Darcy Van Poelgeest.

When we spoke recently (you can read that very chat as of Tuesday morning), Van Poelgeest expressed the same mistrust and uncertainty for adding on to a beloved series. So, then, why reunite with Ian Bertram for Precious Metal, a prequel set 35 years before 2019’s beloved Little Bird? Well, because that first series got into his head, and Van Poelgeest needed to work something out.

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And this latest entry will get in your head, too, as Precious Metal #1 smashed my initial hesitations for a truly powerful story in and of itself that still expertly extends the “Little Bird-verse.”

It begins, just it did with the first book, with Bertram’s own art (as supported here by colorist Matt Hollingsworth). It’s the overall tone and feel of Precious Metal that really sets it apart, and makes it feel, as Van Poelgeest also touched on in our chat, more like another story from the same universe. Whereas Little Bird is wholly bright and fantastical (fitting for a story told through a young girl’s eyes), there’s more grift and heft as we see an earlier version of this world from the eyes of mercenary Max “Sarge” Weaver. I instantly thought of William Gibson’s Neuromancer mixed with Terry Gilliam’s Brazil — this intense and psychedelic spin on cyberpunk that fills me with a dash of wonder but also a sizable drop or two of terror and depression.

Courtesy of Image Comics.

While things feel appropriately muted or restrained, there’s no denying the sheer power of Bertram’s singularly vivid and weird art backed by Hollingsworth’s solid, textured colors, and how just deeply magic that still feels. The end result is both a unique visual identity and also a powerful continuation of Little Bird in a way that respects that book’s efforts and Precious Metal‘s own “agency.”

This book is where we clearly get to see a different side of the world — Little Bird had some neat bits of technology and whatnot, but for me the most impressive bits were the vivid scenery (be it the Canadian wilderness or some solemn church facility) as extended and/or contrasted by these larger-than-life characters (especially the massive, eye-consuming Axe).

But in Precious Metal, in keeping with the cyberpunk vibes, we see a lot of city life thus far, a larger cross-section of people (who affirm the Gibson-ian vibes while serving a different purpose entirely), and more tech (Max’s weird tentacle arm, for instance, has new life here, and it’s a singular example of the feel of this world and how it views the connection between people and technology). I love that this change of pace feels more intimate to the point of being almost claustrophobic, and how important that is in likely speaking to something truer about Max’s experiences.

Courtesy of Image Comics.

That, and some of the other tech here seems almost more advanced and also streamlined (there’s a kind of armor/helmet for a new lead that’s visually compelling), and how that then speaks to the way this era is both grittier but more secure and advanced than the world of Little Bird. It’s all a powerful way in which the visuals have set Precious Metal apart as something familiar but operating with new themes and energies to make this book truly novel and wholly re-invigorating.

It’s a power that this book needs considering the slightly more familiar nature of the narrative at-large. Because, from a structural standpoint, we’re once again faced with a similar enough story involving Max hunting down a “modified” (read special) child in a way that feels very much Little Bird-esque in its scope and configuration. (It reminds me of Bioshock Infinite: “There’s always a lighthouse, there’s always a man, there’s always a city.”) But I don’t see this as a downside — if anything, it’s clear that this is not only a solid and familiar way into the story, but it further speaks to Van Poelgeest’s own comments about working something out. More specifically, how family is very much central to this whole series/story, and how the connections and interpersonal dynamics are pivotal to our understanding of this world.

Courtesy of Image Comics.

But Van Poelgeest quickly works to move from that structure in some key ways. For one, I think the use of language is notably different here. Yes, there are still these deeply poetic narrations (extended by the always-sharp lettering of Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou) that create a certain tone, exemplify the drama and emotionality of this story, and play up the religious tones/undertones in a really effective way. But I also get the sense that things feel more dire or defeated, as if the language has been better tailored to our specific “hero” of Precious Metal. There were some big, harrowing ideas in Little Bird, but in Precious Metal, there’s just a greater sense that the veil of whimsy or fantasy has been done away with, and the world is a bit more foreboding and gruff in all the right ways. It’s an approach to language that feels wholly connected to this part of the world and to the needs of Max and how he’s very much searching for something.

But it’s not just a modded child, either. Max’s focus in Precious Metal is very much about memory: he’s lost some part of his, and he wants to see who he really is and what the bent of his life really looks like. And I think that specific focus works in a few key ways. For one, it really plays nicely into the overarching theme of family and how we remain connected to the world (the religious stuff across both books is very much the same). It also allows us to have a different perspective on Max than the one we might have forged in Little Bird. That book saw Max shift back-and-forth morally a couple times, and while he ended up mostly on the side of angels, he was clearly still a complicated man.

Courtesy of Image Comics.

Precious Metal never tries to mitigate that, but by emphasizing memory, it allows us to see how we’re all shaped by things inside and outside our control, and how Max is very much a pawn in a larger game. That never excuses what he may do (in this book or eventually in Little Bird), but it does complicate our relationship to him, and that’s how you have really engaging leads. He’s not the man he will be, and we get to enjoy meeting him again for the very first time.

Without spoiling too much more from our interview, Van Poelgeest also mentions how he’s got a third book he may want to do after Precious Metal. Regardless of where that book would continue from/build on, I’m overjoyed that this isn’t the end. Because Precious Metal feels like it’s very much this fully-developed, seemingly alive story, and we’ve been invited in to explore the people, places, technology, and ideas.

And while we very much get to meet this lush creature with ample heart, it’s also clear that there’s even more secrets to crack and energies to uncover/embrace. If more sequels/prequels were like Precious Metal, than the world would be a storytelling paradise.