The last five years has irrevocably changed the world.
COVID-19 really brought to life a lot of systemic failures across society, and it also showed people both a malice and kindness they never knew existed. In turn, that shaped how people looked at art, culture, politics, social norms, healthcare, etc. — we have all been undeniably transformed by this singular moment in history, for better and worse.
But perhaps the creators of Dark Honor don’t see it all with nearly as much reverence and gravitas.
New from Image Comics, Dark Honor takes place in March 2020 during the pandemic’s earliest days. Here, Rain, a recently paroled gambling addict, comes home to help out The Hundred, the “strong arm of the New York underworld” led by her father, Josef. As the world grapples with social distancing and sickness and death galore, Rain must “unite the last elements of the fading crime gangs in one desperate attempt to fight back” against a “criminal mastermind mounting his takeover.” Basically, Dark Honor is The Godfather meets Banshee set amid a global pandemic.
Courtesy of Image Comics.
And, hey, that descriptor alone should be enough to get me on board. Especially when, visually speaking, the world feels properly intense and gritty. As he proved with the excellent Kill All Immortals, Fico Ossio knows how to capture big, bloody action with an auteur’s skill. There’s a shootout to kick-off issue #1, and Ossio’s line work fosters the kind of bloody madness that shakes up the ol’ brain pan and disarms your sensibilities. And colorist Raciel Avila is right there, adding a blend of glamour and filth that really captures the uniqueness of NYC (while fostering an edge of horror to extend the city’s sudden abandonment and sense of unease).
Sure, sometimes I wanted a little more overt control regarding the art — to really make this feel more like a slick crime caper — but that bold vision of a New York on its knees aligns really well with Rain’s return and the state of The Hundred leading into this existential crisis. It’s also the little touches — people wearing masks, abandoned street corners — that add to the almost haunted aesthetic of this city (while not feeling like they’re being needlessly overt with these editorial decisions).
The real issues, then, are that as much as the visuals bring us into this singular historical moment, the writing pushes us right back out. I generally like the work of Ethan Sacks on books like Star Wars: Bounty Hunters; he knows how to portray sullen, violently inclined heroes/anti-heroes in a way that’s truly satisfying. However, the addition of filmmakers Brian DeCubellis and K.S. Bruce complicate matters, and what we end up getting is a generally lackluster Steven Seagal film.
Courtesy of Image Comics.
Sure, the idea itself is heaps better than any actual Seagal vehicle, but it’s the execution where things are truly lost. That mostly means we get really hokey lines/references about wearing masks and social distancing. (I won’t spoil these bits so you too can have fun dramatically rolling your eyes 360 degrees.) And that whole sensibility — a ’90s action flick you watched on a grainy Cinemax feed — really permeates the rest of Dark Honor. It’s far too many bad one-liners, talk of viruses, and even a speech from the “big bad,” Grigor, where he likens COVID symptoms to beating a man to death. It’s not anything overly offensive in theory, and if I were 16 circa 2001 I would have eaten this shit up like a slice from Joe’s Pizza.
Only, I’m not 16, and I lived through this harrowing moment like the rest of you. So while I’ve tried to spend the last half-decade or so understanding people’s reactions, especially when it came to musicians and comics creators making their art, I just don’t get Dark Honor. I absolutely believe a little humor (burgeoning on satire/spoofing) can be a way to handle even the worst traumas. Only, this wound is still far too fresh, and hacky jokes and cheesy female assassins just don’t feel like the right response. Perhaps some of that’s just because the book’s general quality and excellence, but even something done with the utmost artistic and creative passion still might not be enough.
There’s a solid reason many comics haven’t directly engaged with COVID. Sure, there’s been viruses and similar sentiments and storylines addressed, but very little in terms of stories placed peak-COVID. And it’s not just about respecting the millions that died, but rather recognizing that the world moves at a particular speed. Supposedly, the formula for comedy is “tragedy + time” — there’s certainly enough tragedy here, but not nearly enough time. So we inevitably get readers distracted by their own pained experiences, and/or a world which really hasn’t reconciled exactly what COVID meant to us collectively. (Possibly because we jumped from the fire to another, similarly-sized fire with Trump’s second administration — who can tell?!)
Courtesy of Image Comics.
Either way, we can’t really see the value of placing a crime story like this one in the context of COVID because all we can see is ourselves thrashing about in this moment. We are all changed, but none of that’s settled in a way where we can satire, recontextualize, or generally re-experience it through fiction as to truly and meaningfully see ourselves in some new light. It’s all still noise in some ways, and that doesn’t work for a story with a certain sheen and approach.
What we end up with Dark Honor #1, then, is an OK enough crime story that asks too much of us and doesn’t offer enough reasons to fully engage during this pivotal debut. It’s a story that tries to make us excited with its cheesy-cool vibes and endless bloodshed, but that isn’t self-aware enough to see we need more from this process. (Just to reiterate, though, the art at least lays a solid foundation for the story experience.) In short, it’s a story with a good idea, but neither the luck, insight, or fortitude to really execute its vision.
Ultimately, it’s both a victim of its own poor planning and general happenstance, and it’s hard to tell which aspect I blame more. Or, if I’m still too disconnected to care in a way that might prove valuable whatsoever. It’s as if I want to say I’m not mad but disappointed, but even I don’t know what ratio of bothered, bored, or upset I’ve actually achieved.
Courtesy of Image Comics.
So, the question begs: Will I read on for Dark Honor #2? Probably, if only because I’m sort of an idiot and glutton for punishment. I often have hopes when a book with promise initially bumbles it, but this time around, I’m not really sure Dark Honor even achieved that baseline distinction. Instead, I’ll read on just because I want to see how bad things might get, and if even a tiny sliver of extra time can make this tragedy really sing. Just as I felt during COVID itself, I don’t exactly have hopes for the future of this uneven, slightly feckless fantasy of thoughtful urban noir.
Now, please, somebody get me some bacterial soap for my sensibilities.
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