One time, I read that the best way to deal with change is to, in fact, change yourself.
I don’t recall what context I heard that from, but I’ve chosen to take Knockoff Kant’s own words of wisdom under consideration exclusively in my readings of Death Fight Forever. (I could’ve applied such knowledge to my daily life, but that seems downright laughable at this particular moment in time.)
Because after a decent start between creators Andrew MacLean and Alexis Ziritt — where Bash Biggle and Marla Mendoza’s unlikely team-up against Lord Slyther proved to be as potent as it was deliciously bonkers — we got thrown a real curve ball with the introduction of Al Gofa. And while Death Fight Forever #3 was a little lacking in the emotionality department, that switch also proved to be an invigoration for this “simple but deceptive” story — an injection of a fresh aesthetic and approach that was just different enough for a brief “recharge” of our initial excitement/interest.
Now, as we change artists once more for Death Fight Forever #4, I’m not only more prepared for the big shift, but I feel even better about it overall. Hey, maybe change ain’t so bad after all!
Courtesy of Image Comics.
As much as Ziritt and Goya deserve ample praise, Sam McKenzie may be my favorite pick for Death Fight Forever so far. In a chapter where Bash and Marla storm an office building to battle Slyther’s minions, his blend of cartoonish joy and left-of-center absurdity were the right choices. The way McKenzie exploded heads is like the most depraved Looney Tunes I’ve ever seen. He added a tinge of modern-day Cartoon Networks-ian joy to our leads, which both counters and adds to their existing aesthetic as sweaty characters in a modern Contra remake. And even the way McKenzie depicted office workers felt like a new and promising way to beat that long-dead horse of satirical fodder.
McKenzie’s style is the right kind of joyous and depraved, and that’s exactly what Death Fight Forever has been all along. So for McKenzie to drop right in at the absolute perfect time didn’t really feel like much of a change at all. Rather, it felt like the book growing and evolving along the path it had laid out since day one, and then finding the tools to tell that story at this point in its “lifecycle.” It was different enough to reflect the particular demands of this moment (an especially wild cascade of dumb jokes and supreme violence) but nailed what is essential to Death Fight Forever (the overt nostalgia, the subtle social mockery and dissection, the emphasis on exploring human expression and anatomy, etc.) It was but wasn’t different, and McKenzie slipping right in is a testament to both the artist and the book at large.
Courtesy of Image Comics.
Perhaps the best part of McKenzie’s arrival, however, coincides with the “return” of the emotional weight that defined Death Fight Forever issues #1 and #2. (Or perhaps both “arrivals” are connected…) In a book that’s meant to be basically a late ’80s action film on 24 gallons of PCP, MacLean’s script made real, meaningful time for Bash and Marla. The former’s been on a path of self-empowerment, growing out of the shadow left by his brother’s death. And the latter left Slyther’s reach to try and become a better person. It’s been a development arc full of as many dumb jokes as actual growth, but the fact that it was missing (or maybe less overt) in issue #3 proved just how thoughtful and poignant this book was at its core.
Now, the emotional uptick in Death Fight Forever #4 does come in my least favorite way imaginable: obvious dialogue and exposition. In previous issues, it’s been via glancing looks or told through a specific lens/other device — just hidden enough to let us really uncover this insight for ourselves. But I’ll give the creators a pass as the explanation happens not through Bash or Marla speaking, but a new character in The Monsignor, the best kind of “Evil No. 2” we’ve seen in some time.
Courtesy of Image Comics.
Aside from his dope hat, The Monsignor’s real power is the vaguely meta infusion he provides. (There’s also a couple other meta tinges in this issue, and I for one welcome this book playing around in that way given its primary influences.) It ultimately feels less heavy-handed and more like a conversation between readers and the creators. It’s really a peek behind the curtain, if you will, to remind us of the stakes at play and that this book does have so many layers. And I find that engagement approach extra endearing: Not only is it fitting with the whole “this is basically like a video game” framework, but it framed the character work as a kind of objective. That this issue wasn’t just about fun, mindless violence, but that there’s so much on the line here. It’s the book making use of its “gimmicks” in the absolute best way possible.
Mostly, though, I like how this “reveal” about Marla made me feel. I dare not spoil it here, but it does add to her whole arc of turning away from evil and reclaiming goodness/justice. It makes her feel all the more layered, and while the story of Death Fight Forever belongs to both characters, Marla has always resonated a little more for me given her movement across this book. She’s always been someone really grappling with it all, and after this issue, we have both more optimism and increased uncertainty about how she’ll eventually land. It’s another wrinkle in a book that never really needed ’em to begin with, and yet the creators have always given us this rich core alongside 1,000 exploding heads/bodies.
Courtesy of Image Comics.
It’s a story meant to move you by obliging but never forcing any engagement whatsoever, working to make these connections when all we need is blood, bullets, and badass babes. And, sure, if you just wanted a ::checks notes:: spinning hat that can destroy helicopters, you’d be awash in immaculate, retro-tinged action. But by focusing on the people (and the violence as a sweet treat), Death Fight Forever becomes a story we’ve all told at one point. One about seeking our better angels; finding strength in others; leaving bad situations (especially when they’ve felt too good for so long); and how to change for the better.
The fact that Death Fight Forever hasn’t really said any of this even remotely out loud (again, except briefly in this issue) is a testament to its power and importance. That “change lesson” I’d mentioned earlier will be especially important as we move to the fifth and final issue in June (with artist Erwin Papa). And while I still expect just a smidgen of post-artist swap discomfort, Death Fight Forever‘s story prowess has taught me one extra valuable lesson: If you leave yourself open to some awkwardness and uncertainty, you too can find a power capable of exploding grown men in cheap business suits.
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