Last Call Comics: Wednesday 09/25/24

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 #11

Wyatt Kennedy, Anand Ramcheron, and ML Mirabella (“Night Flight”); Kassem Gharaibeh, Daniele Di Nicuolo, and ML Mirabella (“Night of The Bad Kids”); Alana Fox, Freddie Tanto, and ML Mirabella (“The Secret Life of Orvyn”); Brandon Graham (“Nights”); Wyatt Kennedy, Amina Pagnozzi, and ML Mirabella (“Bedtime Story”)

In recent months, Nights has given us (among many other things) both a Christmas story and a very special episode. With issue #11, the penultimate offering for the “first season,” we get an anthology offering organized as a “mixtape.” To some extent, it’s a breezier, non-consequential issue, where we see things like how Gray spends her nights while Vince sleeps, or some random shift at a video store. But the core value of these are in letting new players unveil fresh angles and corners of the Nights-verse, and to really expand the sheer joy, emotionality, and tone in new and interesting ways. (Graham really gets the tone of this universe, and the “Night of The Bad Kids” video shop tale could actually be a neat little, wholly tangential spinoff.)

And yet this wouldn’t be Nights if it didn’t still hint at the larger narrative that it’s been building toward for nearly a year. So expect not only Matt’s final day before embarking to Japan, but also some essential reveals about the big bad about to visit Santo Pedro. That balance, then, is like the best junk food you’ve ever had: fun and sweet and yet memorable enough because it’s well done and surprisingly layered/textured. It’s another way Nights is doing big things and doing it with endless cool, and in that space fans can explore this still-developing, totally robust universe with the joy and ease that’s required (even as these new corners are very much thoughtful and fully-formed). Enjoy this breezy little side quest because I have a feeling that issue #12 is about to get bonkers sauce to the Nth degree.

Final Thought: Another great “gimmick” that dazzles as much as it builds toward the future.

Score: 8.5/10

The Horizon Experiment: The Manchurian #1

Writer Pornsak Pichetshote, penciler/colorist Terry Dodson, inker Rachel Dodson, letterer Jeff Powell, and color flats by John Ercek

In case you’re behind the times, The Manchurian is why we need representation and the power of new/different perspectives. It is, on the surface, every bit the sexy, multilayered espionage thriller you’d expect from the Bond franchise. (The art really drives home the sheer power, sensuality, and overt style, and it makes this feel like the most robust and impactful blockbuster I’ve seen since the early ‘90s.) Yet the Chinese government “angle” not only updates the genre for a new, more weird and uncertain age, but gives it a different kind of emotional texture and significance. And taking that notion/concept even further, Calvin is a most compelling lead, someone who touches on the emotional, political, and thematic end goals of this book in this massively textured, wholly relatable package.

It’s a book that ultimately bridges gaps, bringing new energies into an old genre and taking hold-outs and exposing them to the kinds of stories you can tell when diversity and inclusion get their chance to shine beyond anyone’s hacky preconceived notions. It’ll razzle-dazzle you with its intrigue, smash your heart with deep emotions and stakes, and generally do things for the spy genre that emphasize it as this profoundly human storytelling tradition used to explore a world bigger than we could’ve ever imagined. And if all that weren’t enough, there’s a kind of inventive commentary about espionage and worldbuilding that’s executed without taking away from the popcorn-y goodness throughout. (If anything, it’s more proof of how this story balances celebration with a deeper inspection.) It’s a shame this is only (?) a one-shot, ‘cause I’d watch Calvin break hearts (and international laws?) for years to come.

Final Thought: A spy thriller with more depth, charm, and intent than you’ve seen in some time.

Score: 8.5/10

Kill All Immortals #3

Writer Zack Kaplan, artist Fico Ossio, colorist Thiago Rocha, and letterer Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou

If I’ve learned anything from Kill All Immortals (aside from don’t piss off Vikings), it’s the power of formulas. Because issue #3 shows how you lean into and also against these to tell really potent stories. So while we yet again get flashbacks and another confrontation with a brother, the Freya-Steinn battle isn’t just cool (John Wick on speed but with battle axes), but it explores a novel idea about personal freedom and how the family really view themselves. And while the Owen-Frey relationship is freshly injected with new tension and unease, Frey’s own response is really interesting and essential to us really understanding this expertly layered hero.

Even as the creative team further build a direct enough story about Frey’s journey to undo her family’s legacy, the twist at the end is generally surprising (and also on brand enough). Kill All Immortals is a lesson in genre storytelling, and how you can play around with tropes and energies to satisfy hungry readers and still give them something fresh and thoughtful. It’s a story that smacks of familiarity in the best ways and still engages readers head on with twists and compelling ideas about family, life, and the scope of the universe. So, never cross a Viking but also don’t ever think that you’ve somehow got this book fully nailed down.

Final Thought: Turns out having a formula opens you up to storytelling wonders.

Score: 8/10

Self Help #4

Writers Jesse Kellerman and Owen King, artist Mariana Ignazzi, colorist Fabiano Mascolo, and letterer/designer Ian Chalgren

The thrill of Self Help’s first three issues was in how it all slowly coalesced. By the time we get to issue #4, some of that initial excitement is gone, but only because things have fully snapped into place with a precision and power like you don’t always get with these stylized noir tales. Jerry is fully locked in to raise money for Darren’s debts to the Europeans; he complicates those efforts in a dumb but deeply revealing way; and he’s still got to deal with issues with his wife, Ms. Crawford, and an old face conceivably returning. There’s still lots of exciting aspects — Jerry’s aforementioned run-in with the tech bro/pawn is as hilarious as it is just emotionally resonant — but the book’s really done building to and laying things out. And now it gets the chance to really tell a story about a man trying to be good when he’s clearly not, and what it really means to help yourself in a world where selfishness and greed seem to be the de facto.

It’s less this free-wheeling experience by now and rather just a deeply solid story that’s smart, inventive enough, and able to balance all these many ideas/plot points as well as themes in a way that feels deeply satisfying. And it’s a change for the truly good as Self Help can now deliver its ending with the firmness and sense of definitude that will take this book from a solid premise to a truly important bit of crime comics. Now, let’s see what happens when this mad-dash caper really sets off with ample wit and emotional heft.

Final Thought: The story’s showing us its true face, and things are coalescing brilliantly.

Score: 8/10

Plastic: Death & Dolls #4

Writer Doug Wagner, artist Daniel Hillyard, and colorist Michelle Madsen

I’ve had plenty to say about penultimate episodes as of late, but Plastic: Death & Dolls #4 may be my favorite. The issue’s accomplishments are basically two-fold: pushing the drama around Cricket to its natural high point and really cracking open the shell of Edwyn in a major way. On the first front, expect lots of deep humanity and some action movie-level drama, as the book lays out a familiar story that really solidifies itself as being more than just a mere thought experiment about a sociopath. And as for the stuff with Edwyn, we not only get another wonderfully unsettling decapitation to remind us of our complicated relationship with the lovable murder, but a revelation about mommy dearest that should re-contextualize our relationship (or start poking and prodding it in some very important ways).

Both fronts prove how vital this issue is, and how Plastic continues to tell big, hugely important human stories in ways that both comfort and confront our basic assumptions about family, love, community, and the nature of violence. It’s not an easy prospect whatsoever, but this issue proves how deeply fun and exciting this interpersonal dissection can be when done right. What’s left for the finale? Why more heads to roll and hearts to break, naturally.

Final Thought: A great lead up to what should be a bloody, dramatic finale.

Score: 7.5/10

Standstill #2

Writer/colorist Lee Loughridge and artist Andrew Robinson

I think I had some legitimate complaints about Standstill #1. Mainly, whether we could have a story featuring time manipulation that felt novel and could say something new. But I mostly forgot all about those as issue #2 felt like a genuine thrill ride. I’m convinced that Ryker Ruel is my new favorite bad guy, as he spends the issue showing off the device in a doubly violent, hugely stylized killing spree that’s expertly laid out and endlessly entertaining. But the good guy still gets his time to shine, and scientist Colin Shaw’s plan to confront the still-unknown Ruel acts as structure and counter to the villain’s efforts. It’s a brilliant plan: take the slow, deliberate approach, build the tension between these two opposing ideals and forces, and give us all the adrenaline we want from a time-stopping action extravaganza.

It’s a way for Standstill to make its mark in its own way, and to battle against this overarching trope in a way that feels perfectly over the top and still a generally solid story about how we’d all respond to power and the importance of rules in a chaotic world. And even if it backsteps narratively, shoot more car assassinations and backroom confrontations directly into my brain. Because if we’re really going to do this story for six more issues, that sense of visual might is doing a lot of work to make Standstill function as something utterly and completely vital.

Final Thought: Complaints aside, the second chapter brings the heft with action and character work.

Score: 7.5/10

Convert #2

Writer John Arcudi, artist Savannah Finley, colorist Miguel Co, and letterer Michael Heisler

Convert‘s second issue doesn’t help much in the “this seems familiar department.” If anything, as Orrin makes his way into a group of roaming aliens, the Avatar connections feel stronger than ever. But the creative team find even more ways to make this book stand out amid a familiar narrative. The art continues to dazzle, as the alien world is strange and lush (like 2000 AD meets Annihilation), and that gives us something novel to connect with and explore. Orrin may be following a similar path a la John Carter, but there’s a sweetness and vulnerability to him that makes for a more engaging and textured lead. And Convert also takes a more grounded approach to Orrin’s immersion, focusing on his work to both capture/study and integrate within this society in a way that emphasizes that we’re all equally curious explorers. The book very much understands what it’s doing (the issue is even framed in that we mostly know what happens to Orrin beforehand).

The aim, then, isn’t to innovate or break new ground but tell this rich and robust story about how communities work, the ways we’re all connected through ritual and pretense, and the true stakes of discovery as our species eyes the future. It’s an expert way to build on the momentum from issue #1, and Convert now exists as this even more lively alien world that welcomes us to walk through it with life-giving wonder. I can’t wait to see what new steps Orrin takes, because we may know the path, but I know the destination is far, far more enriching.

Final Thought: Buck off the deja vu as this series is still doing wholly new, inventive things.

Score: 7.5/10

Universal Monsters: Frankenstein #2

Writer/artist Michael Walsh and colorist Toni-Marie Griffin

The appeal of Frankenstein #1 was in the body part-centric premise and Walsh’s mastery of thrilling horror movie visuals. While the second of four issues doesn’t really follow up too much with those aspects, it’s not as irksome or half-cocked as I’d expected. Rather, we get a chance to humanize both Fritz and Dr. Frankenstein, who in the debut seemed like bad caricatures of ’40s movie villains. In fact, we see how they’re both chasing this “goal” to prove themselves, and how they are united in this pursuit for their own destiny and how driven they are to transcend no matter the cost. Add in even more visual wonders — lots of big, brooding looks and scenery that shocks and unnerves — and issue #2 is a bit of a pivot that shows the true range of Walsh’s vision.

Frankenstein has always been a deeply human story, and one about our relationship with death and the definition of our humanity. It’s all that still, but now it feels more alive than ever, overcoming the confines of its genre and corresponding connotations for something that’s not just a scary gimmick but also about the dirty, filthy tendencies of life that make it actually worth living. I definitely want more of our young “hero” next time, but this issue softens and humanizes this book into something so much more vital and telling. And, yeah, there’s still goth vibes and monster fights, so enjoy those as the side dishes.

Final Thought: Even more human elements are doing wonders for this old monster.

Score: 7/10

Old Dog: Operations #1

“Backdoors” (Declan Shalvey and Clayton Cowles): A story that bookends the title and also offers a solid enough entry into this anthology-style collection. Its true achievement, however, is giving us more familiar Old Dog while hinting at a sci-fi-leaning future for the series’ next chapter. 6.5

“Reflections” (PJ Holden, John McCrea, and Mike Spicer): Holden’s narrative approach understands Jack Lynch and expertly explores his complex inner life. Married with McCrea and Spicer’s gritty and intense art, this is the best non-Shalvey story. More is less, folks. 8.5

“Tear” (Declan Shalvey, Matias Bergara, and Sofie Dodson): A+ for the ample body horror and how it feels contextually exciting. And the same goes for helping us better understand Lynch’s, um, unique origins and situation. But it doesn’t have enough heft and impact, and it feels a little disconnected from this larger story. Seriously, lots of gore, though. 7.0

“Pug and Poodle” (Rory McConville and David O’Sullivan): A close runner-up to “Reflections” in terms of impact and value, as it shows the folks that Lynch calls his fellow agents. A bigger, more robust universe only helps Old Dog feel even bigger, and that there’s heaps more story to tell. That, and it casts Lynch in a new, ever more complicated light. 8.0

“Spear Maiden” (Sumeyye Kesgin): Totally loved the sharp injection of fantasy/dream elements; another great visual counter. However, it simplifies the Keelin/Jack relationship too much, and that emotional minefield deserves more nuance and space. Still, maybe something mostly feel-good actually has a place. 6.0

“06/06” (Declan Shalvey, Luke Sparrow, and Dee Cunniffe): This one suffers from a lot of the same issues as “Spear Maiden”: too much sentimenality and an over-simplification of the hurt Keelin grapples with regarding Jack. It’s an overly obvious statement whose only real value is that it looks sleek and sharp. That, and at least it gives us a better timeline for Jack. 5.5

“According to plan” (Leonardo Romero and Triona Farrell): This one was nearly my second fave offering, and it would’ve been had it contained a touch more contextual value. Still, the even sleeker visuals were a great addition, and we got to see the scope of Lynch’s hijinks as a field agent in a fun, action-heavy tale. Had more stories been less involved, this could’ve defined the pace/scope of the anthology. 7.0

“Carrot/Stick” (Alex Paknadel, Chris Sprouse, Dexter Vines, and Declan Shalvey): Did I love the story for its premise, ample body horror, and connotations for Jack’s role as a returned field agent? You betcha. But I also couldn’t shake that this still could’ve been a non-Old Dog story regardless of context, and it left the story in this weird third place. That, and some of the humor seemed a little outside the scope of the series. But, hey, it’s still sick AF (in more than one way). 6.5

“Descendant” (Charles Soule, Gavin Guidry, and Chris O’Halloran): This one had me feeling confused. On the one hand, it leans into the more sci-fi-centric scope for newer Old Dog stories, and it adds to Jack’s weird, rather involved status. On the other hand, it didn’t get much time to really shine, and felt a little stunted just to get to the second half of “Backdoors” with a neat visual trick. But, hey, bonus points for bringing Animorph vibes to this universe. 6.0

Mission Debrief: This collection achieved a few key goals: 1) build Old Dog‘s scope and status before it returns in 2025; 2) showcase new talents, who added something novel to the series; and 3) display the larger thematic and emotional potential of this ongoing narrative. Maybe not everything clicked as well as some offerings, but there’s so much energy and life churning here that Old Dog now seems bigger and more open than ever before. Mission success, agents.

Final Thought: An anthology just as you’d expect: just enough upsides with a few accompanying shortfalls.

Score: 7/10

Violent Flowers #1

Writer/artist/letterer Maria Llovet

Someone once told me, “If you’re going to do it again, do it with style.” That may have been about writing a fart joke, but it also holds true for sexy, sexy vampire stories like Violent Flowers. Think True Blood for weebs as the book sets out to tell something novel in this very sultry space. The revenge angle (the cursed vampire Erzsebet returns from her watery grave for blood) is an uncomplicated but deeply effective framework. Same goes for our lead Carnelia: she’s stubborn and passionate and maybe unprepared, and she’s already got ample motivation and fire in countering Erzsebet’s plot. But what we all came for — the extra naughty vampire action — is delivered in full as Llovet’s line work oozes raw sensuality, and her inventive layouts are top tier. (Two words: mid-air sex-fight.)

Fans of Llovet’s other work (Crave, Faithless) will find the same decadent drama and queer-centric explorations, albeit with a narrative that feels a little more sturdy (again, if a little direct). Don’t expect something totally mind-blowing, but Llovet is a clear devotee of the genre and brings the big hits that are shaped and crafted in an especially compelling configuration. The long-term power, then, will likely be in the in-fighting and blood-letting, and in how the supernatural and the mundane interact with great joy and texture to liven up if not invigorate a story from the Anne Rice catalog. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it — that goes double for naughty feuding vamps.

Final Thought: If you love messy vampire drama, this one has extra sharp fangs.

Score: 7/10

Biker Mice from Mars #3

I certainly stand behind my two previous Biker Mice from Mars reviews, but even then I felt a little ineffective. Because there really wasn’t a robust or extra compelling way to try and explain what this story had done right and done so efficiently. The way it engaged nostalgia in just the right way to feel exciting. How the art snapped with the joy of the cartoon even as it felt newer and bolder. And how the cheesy but heartfelt focus on family and community (and a little romance to boot) was generally uplifting. The third and final issue of the “Mars War” arc cements all that as well as a larger idea about Biker Mice: it’s a comic that never demands and always gives. (Like a neighbor who lets you use their Wi-Fi.) That’s not to say it wasn’t challenging or complicated — Biker Mice very much asked OG fans to suspend their apprehension and/or temper their expectations.

And in doing so, we got something fresh about a rather silly little idea, and a story that made big emotions and big ideas about collaboration and caring seem totally fun and cool. This finale, especially, does such a great job giving us this massive issue-spanning battle between the mice and the Plutarkians that’s all great one-liners, explosions galore, and the sense that you can learn something and still enjoy the sheer geekery of it all. It’s a dynamic that makes me feel like a kid again but still self-aware enough to really appreciate the way these kinds of stories play with our sensibilities and our love of the fantastical to really make an impact. Biker Mice is just Saturday morning cartoons and sugary cereal for the heart and mind, and I can’t wait till they roar back in 2025.

Final Thought: Comics that make ya wanna do a cartwheel.

Score: 7/10

Patra #2

Writer James Robinson, artist/colorist Scott Kolins, and letterer Jim Campbell

Unfortunately, issue #2 feels like more of the same for Patra. The art is, once again, perhaps the single saving grace — the opening clash between Patra and crazed killer Jeremy Jones is a psych-horror dance sequence that’ll delight and unsettle. But the dialogue and character development continues to be irksome and tedious; Dr. Dakari continues to be the only seemingly human figure (and he may run into some roadblocks that curtail his arc), and everyone else just feels like janky cardboard cutouts. There’s at least a clearer path for the story, as well as some really expert hints at the larger “conspiracy” of murders/murderers, and both of those do a lot to help cut through some of the tedious tendencies of this story.

At the same time, it feels like it takes forever for this book to get to its point, and even then it merely hints at a half-cocked “surprise” ending. (The reveal would’ve been better if it had landed with less trash dialogue and general uncertainty.) Part of my brain is already saying to give up on this book, and that its core issues are just too structural in nature. Yet that gloriously horrific art and the new shard of direction have me willing to give this a third issue based on that potential alone. But if things don’t turn around in a major way, I’m axing this thing like Lizzie Borden.

Final Thought: The real crime is this half-cocked story with just enough potential.

Score: 6/10