Death to Pachuco #2 was a proper achievement.
Not just because the creative team (writer-letterer Henry Barajas, artist Rachel Merrill, and colorist Lee Loughridge) had continued their story in such a tight and efficient manner — it was an achievement for modern crime stories period. Be it the Chicano-centric storyline, the sheer depth and familiarity, the historical significance, and/or just the character- and world-building, Death to Pachuco felt like it had done something important so quickly.
And while issue #3 doesn’t quite live up to the same benchmark, Death to Pachuco isn’t exactly done dazzling audiences.
The best way I can encapsulate the issue’s biggest “concerns” is with a single phrase: “That’s great, but then what?” Which is to say, we got some cool and interesting thing across Death to Pachuco #3, but they didn’t feel as if they said enough, or were somehow sustained in a way that mattered as much as it ought to for the larger story. The end result is an issue that’s quite good, but only just that.
Courtesy of Top Cow/Image Comics.
Take, for instance, the intro, where we see Ricky Tellez’s harrowing origins as an orphan. Both visually and across the dialogue, the team are unafraid to portray his parents’ substance issues in this deliberate, organic manner, and that balance of grit but also integrity is what has defined this book from the get go. (There’s something truly powerful about a needle presented with such focus and clarity, it brings home the issue and makes this “version” of L.A. increasingly real and tangible.) And yet while we know it’s a tease, or just a bit of background for further establishing Tellez, it also feels like a random moment that’s detached from the overarching narrative.
It doesn’t resonate back in the story in any sort of meaningful way, and it just feels like more insight into a character we’ve already seen to be quite established. It’s almost if we understand Tellez better after this issue, but it doesn’t click in the present times, and our capable PI just keeps on being a badass. Which is great for this kind of story, but if we’re going to humanize our lead, I guess I wanted it to feel more robust and effective, as if he’s grappling with something and not simply having overcome his very real trauma. We almost see a glimpse of his “softer” side during a breakfast with Esmeralda, but it just feels stifled.
Courtesy of Top Cow/Image Comics.
And speaking of the Garcia sisters, we also get a similar “there but not quite” moment with Rosalinda as she sits in prison. As real as Tellez has felt across these first three issues, it was exciting that the team were going to give Rosalinda a little spotlight. And, on the surface, she does get a chance to be a badass by taking on another inmate. (The fight scenes in this book always feel so grounded and tense, and it’s a testament to how the humanity informs everything across the board.) There’s even some hint of a larger conspiracy that may be creeping into Rosalinda’s jail cell, and that feels exciting not only for the tone and rising tension of this book, but giving us someone just as vivid and robust as our PI pal.
Yet it’s another moment that just feels a little too small, and we don’t really get enough from it emotionally, narratively, etc. It’s as if the moment happened and then we needed to get going to the next story beat. At this point, we’re more than halfway through with Death to Pachuco, and I really want bigger moments to start landing at their maximum capacity. Getting stuff that’s only pretty good — when this book is clearly capable of something truly great — just feels a little underwhelming. We need a string of Truly Big moments and developments, and the longer we go without ’em, the less time this book will have to stick the landing.
Courtesy of Top Cow/Image Comics.
And that inability, as it were, may be due to the fact that Death to Pachuco is seemingly better at these smaller, less “definitive” moments over really generating some proper momentum. Let’s go back to the diner with Tellez and Esmeralda Garcia. Yes, Tellez’s crack at vulnerability is iffy, but the dynamic between the pair crackles with the warm sensuality you’d expect from any classic ’40s noir. And that chemistry is a vital part of this book’s ability to bring us in ever deeper: They’re not just pushing a story along, but capturing the personal/social dynamics of this time, sharing vital insight into their roles as Chicanos in a time of great injustice/political violence, and they do so in a way that feels grounded and approachable. It’s just a conversation over chorizo, but you’ll actually dine on all the sweet, sweet layers in this intimate moment.
And Death to Pachuco excels even when you boil things down beyond a single story element/component. I’ve noted across each review so far how much the creators nail the lives and personalities of this community, and how that fosters this level of immersion I haven’t quite experienced in many other books. But in Death to Pachuco #3, that’s even found in Barajas’ own lettering, which manages different styles and feels based on the person. (And even when there’s singing a few times across this issue, it feels perfectly musical like few other techniques.) Again, it’s a mostly small thing, but there’s just so much life and humanity infused within; you get so much about someone’s personality, morals, emotions, etc. based on such a simple but effective device. It’s just more proof that not only do the team get this story to its last strand of DNA, but the details can power so much of your experience when everything else might have issues or flaws.
Courtesy of Top Cow/Image Comics.
Beyond that, there’s one more dynamic across issue #3 that really gets at the whole motif of “That’s great, but then what?” I mentioned in my review of #2 that the sailors (who have been stirring up an increasingly violent beef with L.A.’s Mexican-Americans) had been expertly humanized. That continues in #3 — again, not so much that you feel actual sympathy, but that you better understand their end goals and motivations. The ending of #3, especially, escalates their violence in such a way that these people are even more real, and even if they’re also quite despicable, you can at least better guess at the core of emotions and allegiances they feel and how twisted that devotion becomes in order to carry out some increasingly awful campaign. They’re the bad guys, yeah, but some intimacy is important (even as it’s also quite uncomfortable).
Our connection with these sailors, then, comes in stark contrast to Mr. Eduardo Miranda. Without revealing too much more of the issue, he’s basically a person of supreme interest in the murder of Carlos Urbano (and thus the facilitator the Zoot Suit Riots). Only Miranda feels a little one-dimensional across this issue, and while that makes sense given the role that he’s meant to play, he’s almost too much of an unknown. There’s dialogue and other characterizations that feel underwhelming, and considering how real even the sailors are, I just wanted more depth and humanity to Miranda at such a vital story point. I have every belief that we can get some big moments from him in the remaining story, but right now I wanted an imperfect man and not a borderline caricature.
While Death to Pachuco #3 doesn’t give you as much as we needed right now, the final product still does enough for the big picture. And while I do think it’s less of an achievement overall, I’ve already engaged and connected with this story enough to know that a rough path and/or some “growing pains” aren’t enough to halt this book’s momentum. We’ve got all the players coalescing, the tension expertly building, and just enough time to build the story alongside much-needed face-time with everyone. This team’s “good” is still plenty darn great, and I can’t wait to see what else this story has to accomplish.
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