There’s a rush that comes from opening the newest issue of Tramps of the Apocalypse. It’s that same rush you get at the movie theater, minutes before the feature starts, when you’re lugging a bucket of hot buttered popcorn and a fizzy soda to your seat, knowing that when the lights go down you’re going to see something pretty damn exciting and memorable.
Issue #1 came out of nowhere last month and instantly became my favorite new comic. With its grindhouse-flavored female rage, brutal action and attitude for days, it was a book that I reread numerous times. Now comes Tramps of the Apocalypse #2, written and drawn by Alice Darrow with colors by Hugo Blanc, and guess what? It’s another winner, as enjoyable (if not more so) than last issue.
Baby, Belladonna and Babette, having dispatched a gang of thugs last issue, continue traveling the post-apocalyptic landscape searching for an ancient relic that will give the person possessing it power to rule over the wasteland. They drag along the whiny milquetoast Cecil, a man who claims to have an expert knowledge of the terrain and the relic’s location.
Darrow fills the book with lots of subtle (and not so subtle) shots at entertainment’s penchant for catering to the male gaze. In a couple notable panels, as the trio of women and Cecil roll across the desert terrain in their VW Beetle, Cecil pleads with them from the back seat and Babette responds, with only her prominent cleavage being shown. The contradiction of Babette’s rotund breasts in the foreground with Cecil’s sweaty begging face in the background is hilarious. It’s reminiscent of the old sexploitation films of the 1960s and 1970s, particularly the films of Russ Meyer and Doris Wishman, where the boobs were always bigger than the budgets.
The three main characters rage at the world and each other. Baby questions everything Belladonna says but is constantly being blocked by Babette, who seems to feel more for Belladonna than just platonic kinship. They’re not the most three-dimensional characters ever written, but for this story it works.
The post-apocalyptic environment is of the Mad Max variety, where deranged people (mostly men) prowl the highways in every bizarre type of van, truck and car imaginable, dredging up weapons and car parts from the carcasses of dead people and decimated vehicles along the way. It’s a setting that’s rich for stories and colorful characters, and we get another great character this issue with Master Quest, who rules over a small part of the Wasteland and is gunning for the women after finding out they took out a few of his army.
Riding a bicycle and sporting a wraparound visor, jeans, and no shirt, he looks like some bizarre disco/freakish version of Scott Summers. He’d be clownish if he wasn’t so formidable. He’s the first serious threat the women have faced in the series so far, armed to the teeth with guns, knives and even grenades. It’s a thrilling battle, dotted with hilarious moments as Cecil flounders around amidst the action.
Darrow’s art is stark and efficient, a reflection of the barren landscape the characters are traveling. Coupled with Hugo Blanc’s minimal coloring, the book has a unique look unlike anything else on the stands and I look forward to seeing more of it (and Belladonna, Babette and Baby, of course) next issue.
