Last Call Comics: Wednesday 11/20/24

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.

Convert #4

Writer John Arcudi, artist Savannah Finley, colorist Gonzalo Ruggieri, and letterer Michael Heisler

The best stories know how to build. And thus far, Convert has done a rather entertaining job depicting Orrin’s immersion into this strange world after the death of his entire crew.

Sure, it’s been a rather familiar story — I’d describe it as “Galactic Robinson Crusoe” — but it’s also been uncannily gorgeous and unfurled its larger philosophical questions about community and the natural order of things with precision and intent.

But Convert #4 goes from another link in a solid chain to a full on story explosion. The issue sees, after a breakdown in the alien-Orrin relations, our young, unprepared hero settle into his role as “new Provider.” And by settle, I mean he’s wracked with grief and doubt, questioning his relationships and role in this society. It’s here that Orrin’s artistic soul and singular circumstances clash in glorious existential uncertainty, and he pushes the emotionality and tone of this whole book to new heights (and/or corresponding lows).

It takes a lot of the themes at the heart of these “stories” — the savior complex, survivor’s grief, cultural appropriation, the sovereignty of indigenous communities, etc. — and unfurls them to glorious new heights. It’s the first time this book really had the chance to full on sprint both emotionally and thematically, and it reached dizzying speeds of intensity and power. I dare you not to walk away from this issue feeling the weight of the world in that most depressing but satisfying of ways.

And so much of the heft and impact wouldn’t be the same without the visuals. In the early “days” of Orrin’s journey, things felt more orderly as he tried to describe and catalog this new world. And the art’s warmth and precision were this expertly built thing — about a man trying to hold tight to a world he couldn’t grasp with a vision and sense of heart that he thought might aid his chances.

Only at the end, when things have clearly slipped from Orrin’s grasp, the art feels revitalized in ethereal joy. There’s a flow and sense of momentum to a grizzled Orrin hunting, or his “lessons” with the former Provider. As Orrin has entered a space of profound unknowing (about himself and the world, even as he also knows so much), the world reflects that in glorious, psychedelic wonder. It’s a surreal rush of beauty and violence that perfectly captures the emotional and thematic beats, a dizzying montage of a man trying to hold onto himself in a time and place where all of those ideas and truths seem to exist in a fluidic state. Try as he might to control the world around him, Orrin finds himself in the absolute wilderness emotionally, physically, spiritually, etc.

And that’s basically where Convert wants him: prepared and sturdy but utterly unsure. Because this story may have taken a very dramatic and impactful leap with its finale, but you can’t deny the space it built in its entirety. One where our lead doesn’t get easy answers, but has been through this profound journey of personal transformation. That for as much as he’s seen, he still very much has so much to learn (or, maybe learn that he can’t know some things and instead simply must be). It’s a wild but beautiful place for Orrin, and something that resonates with each of us in our own singular journeys. Things may be over for this miniseries, but there’s so much more story humming and breathing out in the ether.

Final Thought: Really good stories don’t end so much as they alter your brain chemistry and values.

Score: 8.5/10

Dead Eyes: The Empty Frames #3

Writer Gerry Duggan, artist John McCrea, colorist Mike Spicer, and letterer Joe Sabino

Just like with issue #2, Dead Eyes: The Empty Frames continues to establish itself even further. Not only as a worthwhile sequel to the original series, but a generally weird and compelling slice of noir.

And once more that comes from the continued might of the art team. As I’ve documented already, The Empty Frames has a more kinetic, uncontrolled style overall, and that’s massively important for Martin/Dead Eyes’ continued plans to steal precious artworks from the local mafia. In this issue, said schemes reach their apex as Martin breaks into the don’s home (thanks to a family funeral set in motion by our “hero”).

If you hadn’t already guessed by now, everything goes wrong instantly and in the most delightful ways imaginable. The crux of that is a messy, chaotic fight between Martin and a thug, a confrontation that encompasses the gross-out humor, gags, intense action, and general unpredictability that defines this book. It’s a fight choreographed by both the Coen Brothers and Seth Rogen, and a perfect snapshot of how this latest story pushes the tone, tendencies, and possibilities of this story (while respecting the “lineage” of that first arc). It’s unwavering in its depiction of violence (and tummy problems…) as to give us an even more wild and vivid experience, and to see the lows Martin struggles with in order to finally get that big win.

And in living in this extra heightened world of spewed blood and bold sound effects, Martin is becoming an even more compelling and complicated lead. In that first arc, he felt a bit more rigid and controlled (even as he had his moments of relatability). But in this second arc, and issue #3 especially, we’re seeing more and more behind the mask.

The whole premise of this story was, to an effect, him coming out of retirement for an aforementioned big score. Only as he makes his way deeper into this “second chapter,” Martin is more lost and unsure than ever before. He moves on with his mission regardless, dedicated to making it right for his wife Megan, but amid the bloody, chaotic scenes, he’s becoming increasingly unstable. But in a good way — to let us how scared he is, how much he’s reliant on luck (and how that makes him feel), and even that he knows his chickens are about to come home and roost. He’s less a gimmick or an “ideal” than in the first Dead Eyes; he’s a man scrambling in situations slightly out of his control, bashing toward a dream that’s becoming increasingly unachievable. While he makes good progress in issue #3, we get the sense that our hero still has much to lose (and learn) as he smashes his way toward a life that’s increasingly a pipe dream.

And in that way, The Empty Frames has really set itself apart as something with great insight and narrative depth. It’s not just a silly, zany caper marked by blood and guts, but a meditation on getting older and tackling your last opportunities for happiness with vigor. Or, how there is no destiny in life, just the mad scramble of our wants and needs. Maybe it’s just a story about one dumb guy with an opportunity not to make it right, but to not be as wrong anymore. Either way, The Empty Frames is only getting started in stealing our hearts and minds.

Final Thought: A rather intimate issue (in ways both beautiful and stomach-churning).

Score: 8.5/10

Standstill #4

Writer/colorist Lee Loughridge and artist Andrew Robinson

It really was Standstill #3 where we started to see that this wasn’t your grandpa’s time travel book. (Was Peepaw a big Timecop fan or something?) And that only becomes more clear as we make our way into an important midway point with issue #4.

For one, the morality of our “big bad,” Ryker Ruel, continues to be uncertain — he may be a psychopath, but as we learn in issue #4, there could be some reasoning behind his killing spree. Does that make him ultimately just? Maybe not, but it does complicate our relationship.

If anything, this infusion of added sympathy only makes Ruel’s movement feel even more exciting as we’re forced to reconcile with our continually textured intimacy with the man. Especially when said intimacy looks so damn great, like the expertly paced, super sleek torture that he enacts toward the issue’s end.

On the other end of things, we’re also learning more about our hero, Colin Shaw. Sure, the brilliant scientist is trying to rebuild his time-stopping device to stop Ruel, but why did he steal it in the first place? And just how well do these two know each other?

Sure, Shaw’s more obviously the good guy, but by poking holes in his shiny armor, we’re seeing the larger context of this situation and how no one’s truly innocent. Similarly, through more artistic feats, we get to see how the device really works and is connected to Shaw/Ruel. It’s a powerful encapsulation of the lengths they’re willing to go, and how much our Lancelot may instead be obsessed with his own heroic prospects.

There were some other highlights, too — finally getting to see the “frozen time world,” for instance, was a small but mighty moment in further understanding what it takes for these men to do what they’re doing. That, and the slow burn pacing of this story continues to work really well. It helps, of course, that the issue ends with a really solid tease/climax, and one that moves the story forward at the right (read exciting) increments.

Still, the fact that our hero is only just getting caught up by issue #4 proves 1) they’re taking their time to let these energies and tension settle and 2) that timing only complicates our immersion and consumption of the story’s core themes (which are, again, “obsession, control, and the perilous state of our modern social norms.”) After issue #4, you could also argue that this book’s about the world’s complicated morality, and that the end results of our actions matter just as much as the decisions we make along the way.

And it’s that kind of deliberate uncertainty that makes Standstill so deeply entertaining. It’s got its own ideas and ways of doing things, and it’s just as likely to make you mull things over as it will dazzle with more sweet action. It’s deeply human in that it’s not only interested in our morals and relationship to the world, but it takes the time and effort to engage with us above all else. There’s still heaps of story left to tell, but if time travel is somehow the least exciting part of your story, then you’re clearly onto something.

Final Thought: This slow burn time travel thriller continues to be shiny and full of substance.

Score: 8/10

The Body Trade #3

Writer Zac Thompson, artist Jok, and letterer Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou

Across its first two issues, The Body Trade has asked a simple enough question: how far would you go for family? In the case of our lead, Kim, that becomes “Can a loser finally trying after a life of disappointment actually make good for his dead son? Or, is Kim’s pursuit of Charlie’s body yet another exercise in waste and wanton destruction from our bearded protagonist?”

As we see in issue #3, there may actually be something to Kim’s “conspiracy” regarding how Bio-Mem acquires and processes donor bodies. It’s maybe not what you’d think (at least so far, it seems more like corporate greed and ignorance over some nefarious plan). But that doesn’t change the fact that this issue is a big moment for Kim, and we see him almost elevate accordingly.

A big chunk of that’s a slightly more cinematic approach to the overall pacing and look/feel of a few key scenes, like how a driving montage connects Kim to some grander tradition of action stars. But fret not, as Kim is still very much a scumbag in all the best ways — Jok’s whole gritty aesthetic manages to facilitate this in a massively important fight scene at a Bio-Mem facility. (The bloody, street brawl style helps just as much as an inspired bit of weaponry for Kim.)

Even Kim and the Bio-Mem field agent have another solid scene that shows Kim’s true capability as much as how his whole “shtick” feels out of touch with/outdated in this world. (Again, their whole dynamic is so key, and they’re beginning to connect slowly in a way that adds to the core humanity of this title in ways that feel extra satisfying.)

What we really get, then, is not just Kim stepping up and becoming an increasingly robust lead, but the whole world of this book is developing in some key ways. The aforementioned scene at Bio-Mem, for instance, isn’t just bloody and brutal, but it’s showing Kim the cost of his pursuit and the real impact that he’s having in the world. That, and there’s going to be a system that fights back and may have more secrets to reveal than what we’ve seen already.

And with this development, it’s no longer just a sad story about a grieving father, but placing Kim in a scenario to test him — his sobriety, his ability to build a new life after Charlie, and even his understanding of the true face of the world. It’s that process, I think, that will cultivate even deeper insights and understandings, and let us see Kim beyond his grief and how death exists in our world and as this concept that we’re forever scratching at collectively.

To borrow my own phrase, The Body Trade feels freshly elevated in all the right ways. It’s very much about one man’s singular struggles, but as that man grows ever more complex and textured, so too does it start smashing at its own walls and growing so much bigger.

But, again, it’s growth that feels earned and measured; be it the bigger, bolder action, or just the way Kim’s desperate confidence extends, all of it is tied to the book’s core. Which is to say, everything is in pursuit of that “core question,” and we’re seeing just how far Kim will go. (Like with the issue’s direct but bloody great cliffhanger.) The only question you need to ask, though, is, “Do I have to guts and heart to follow Kim down this road?”

Final Thought: A huge issue visually, emotionally, and contextually for this deeply human noir.

Score: 7.5/10