“I'll TILT-A-WHIRL You…!” Sometimes The Louder You Scream The Faster It Goes!

Just one comic, and not too many words. Oh, happy 4th of July, I guess. This one’s for all of my American buddies. (It’s got nothing whatsoever to do with the 4th of July, if I’m being quite honest.) SHADOWS ON THE GRAVE: "The Clown" by Corben

Anyway, this...

SHADOWS ON THE GRAVE #4 Art by Richard Corben Written by Richard Corben, Jan Strnad Dark Horse Comics, $3.99 (2017)

Shadows on the Grave (SotG) is a monthly B/W anthology comic featuring a spatter of short terror tales and a thoroughly muscular episode of a comedic barbarian serial. It could have just consisted of short stories revolving around the life cycle of  the Scarabaeus sacer and pin-ups of Brian Bendis in a variety of revealing swim suits, as long as Richard Corben was on the job. Because SotG is very much all about Richard Corben. Or his art at least. The thing is, look, the thing about the traditional draw of a comic, the stories, the thing about them in SotG is…well, they often aren’t really stories as such. I mean, they are technically stories, I guess, but they can kind of peter out a bit sometimes. In that sense they are a lot like the old DC “Mystery” books in that all the signifiers of horror are there but the narrative thread comes a poor second. Atmosphere is paramount where shadows drape the grave. Which is okay for me, but maybe not you? I mean, I bought this because it’s Richard Corben doing whatever he wants. And I am all about the Colossi of Comics doing whatever they want. Which is why Carla Speed McNeil’s Finder is an auto-buy wherever it appears; why Walter Simonson’s Ragnarök is the only $4.99 comic I buy without grinding my teeth; why Howard Victor Chaykin’s Divided States of Hysteria is…oops, moving swiftly on…  In essence, in much the same way that a Daily Mail reader comes for the sideboob and stays for the archaic right wing frothing which paints every monied white person over 50 as a besieged minority in their own country, I come to SotG for the stories but I stay for the craft.

SHADOWS ON THE GRAVE: "The Clown" by Corben

Stories which are, as I say, mostly exercises in style; attempts at inducing an atmosphere of creeping unease. The opener in this particular pamphlet of pulsating dread, “The Clown”, involves a bloke who does a bad thing at the circus and is gotten by a creepy clown doll. There’s no overt connection between his act of murderous larceny and his fate via macabre marionette. It’s just your stringently judgmental mind at work, Gidget. He could as well been singled out for smoking, or  calling the dancing lady a rude word, or just for wearing a roll neck jumper with a jacket. All of which he does, because he’s a proper bad apple. But it’s not really important. What’s really important is seeing how Corben does it. How Corben draws the lady dancer’s boobs floppaloppaling about, managing in just one static panel to suggest  more about the interconnectedness of mass and motion via the slightly down-market device of her go-go mammaries than the entire career of, say, Jim Lee ever has. How Corben draws a circus so tattily alive you can practically smell the cheap pot pourri of fried onions, exhaust fumes and cotton candy, almost hear the sharp cry of a freshly slapped child. How Corben captures the shabby glamour of the travelling fair, in short. All that’s the real pleasure.

SHADOWS ON THE GRAVE: “Flex!” by Corben and Strnad

Next up is “Flex!” which has far more structural integrity story-wise. Which it should well have, since Corben calls on his frequent partner in grime, Jan Strnad. Now Jan Strnad’s name may not be up in lights on the Broadway of your mind but he is an extraordinarily capable writer. Which may sound like faint praise but it’s more praise that I’d give most fan-favourite hawt hold-the-phone-! writers. More comic writers should deserve praise so faint, in short. I enjoyed Strnad’s horror novel Risen (written as J. Knight, Warner Books, 2001, ISBN 978-0759550384, GOOD!) quite a bit. It’s one of those small-town-steamrollered-by-evil things, so comparisons with Gravity’s Rainbow might not be entirely fair. More of a beach read, really; but that’s no great slur. Risen’s prose is efficient and it’s speedily paced but, you know, several times I admit the thought crossed my largely empty mind that it would work really well as a comic drawn by…Richard Corben!. Choke! And, Corben’s art is the star on “Flex”, but Strnad’s script lends the hokey wish-that-is-obviously-going-to-backfire premise enough of a casually raised eyebrow to bring everyone in on the fun. Most of that fun is seeing the outrageous contortions Corben puts human physiology through in the toe curling pay off to this cautionary tale of body builders. Ouch, fair made my eyes water so it did. OOF!

SHADOWS ON THE GRAVE: “Denaeus: The Black Quest” by Corben

Appropriately enough the hyperbolic muscularity, one of Corben’s key visual motifs, of “Flex” also saturates the episode of “Denaeus” which ends the issue. It’s appropriate because Denaeus is one of Corben’s hyper-muscular barbarian characters a la Den (the two are related in some fashion I’ve forgotten; it’s not important). It’s familiar territory for Corben, as familiar as his horror stuff but, because he is Corben (i.e. because he is awesome), it’s all as fresh as the meat on a newly felled steer. It’s the usual stuff about prophecies, heroes, mysterious mages, maidens and violence, but all enlivened and undercut by Corben’s typically modern approach to the dialogue. That and the fact Corben can’t even make a sand dune look dull. So you can imagine the artistic delights he throws like so much visual tinsel all over the pages during the violent slapstick of the Denaeus vs cyclops centrepiece. There aren’t many comic artists who can bring to the page a giddy blend of creatine, egg whites, Ray Harryhausen movies, Michael Bentine’s Pottytime, Johnson’s baby oil and John Milius’ Conan The Barbarian. In fact there’s only one, Richard Corben. Further, there’s only one Richard Corben. And Shadows on the Grave is what he’s doing right now, and that’s VERY GOOD!

NEXT TIME: Queersploitation, Canadian superheroics, Howard Victor Chaykin’s bizarre foray into Hanna Barbera territory, a crappy slasher movie franchise goes paper, Judge Dredd or, uh, something completely different? Whatever it is, it’s bound to be – COMICS!!! (If you have a preference let me know below the line. I’ll probably ignore it, but you could get lucky!)

“...Even LIMP, That Bat's Too Much For ME.” COMICS! Sometimes It's The Cat Which is The Unnameable.

This time out: a lady werewolf, the slightly lighter side of Lovecraft and a drunk cuckold finds the vengeance trail's gone cold. Midnight of the Soul by Chaykin, Arbutov & Bruzenak

What's not to love about that, am I right or am I right?

Anyway, this... SHE WOLF #1 All by Rich Tommaso Image Comics, Inc., $3.99 (2016) She Wolf created by Rich Tommaso She Wolf © 2016 Rich Tommaso

The slightly creepy theme (from my more than slightly creepy self) this week kicks off with Rich Tommaso's teenage werewolf comic. Pretty straightforward stuff you'd think, teenage werewolf comics; but you'd be wrong. Maybe. I mean she might be a werewolf, she might not, and if she is, well, she might have been bitten by one, or maybe a shape changing spell went wrong. Or she just doesn't like dogs and, uh, wait her boyfriend was a ...no, wait now she's fighting her priest but...maybe not. This hallucinatory narrative uncertainty is intentional, I would guess given that Tomasso's comic is a visually resplendent wonder indeed. You don't get the skill to draw something as phenomenally vital as this unless you know what you're doing. Of course, whether you want to let the reader in on what you are doing is another thing altogether.

She Wolf by Rich Tommaso

Now as we have all noted on numerous occasions, I am terrible when it comes to colour in comics but even I can see that colours here are some kind of spectacular you'd do well not to miss. At first I thought the colour coding of scenes was the key (red for dreams, blue for night, various for daytime reality) but everything starts to get blurry, and reality and fantasy are all mucked about, and you soon don't know which end is up. Which, you might hazard should you be able to rememebr that far back, is what being a teenager is like. (The way I remember it is this: being a teenager is A!W!F!U!L!). Tomasso certainly draws his heroine as a true to teenhood gawky flail of elbows and knees, like a young Laura Dern; in gangly contrast to the smooth swoosh of movement personifying the animal identity. Then there's the great scene where the Principal is reassuring our heroine, but she can also see a black and red doppleganger Principal whose every word drips mistrust and belligerence. Yeah, adults say they want to help you but they LIE because they HATE you! Man, it's a great scene. But then there are a few of those here. More great scenes in one comic than most series manage in toto. Tomasso's cartoony style may bely the horror, particularly in a viscerally unsettling dream sequence, but this lends everything a kind of comedic undercurrent. Or maybe it's a comedy with a horrific undercurrent. I don't know, but what I do know is I'm sticking with this one because Rich Tomasso's SHE WOLF is VERY GOOD! AAAAARrrrrrrrrrrrroooOOOOOOOOOAAAAOOoooooHHHH! WEIRD DETECTIVE #1 (of 5) Art by Guiu Vilanova Written by Fred Van Lente Coloured by Mauricio Wallace & Josan Gonzalez Lettered by Nate Piekos of Blambot ® Dark Horse Comics Inc., $3.99 (2016) Weird Detective ™ created by Fred Van Lente & Guiu Vilanova Weird Detective ™ indebted to the work of H P Lovecraft Text and illustrations of Weird Detective ™ © 2016 Fred Van Lente & Guiu Vilanova

Standing in stark contrast to Alan Moore & Jacen Burrows reverent and stately paced dark hymn to the majesty of HP Lovecraft, here we have Van Lente & Vilanova's somewhat more modern take. Mash-ups are still modern right? Because what WEIRD DETECTIVE ™ is is HP Lovecraft smushed up with the detective genre, hence the title. It's a lot of fun, whether it's more fun than PROVIDENCE I don't know, because anyone who measures fun is someone who isn't having any. Personally I had fun with both, just different kinds. WEIRD DETECTIVE is plump with cliches, but that's because the detective genre is filled with cliches rather than due to any lack on Van Lente's part. Van Lente in fact proves pretty smart at playing with the conventions and part of this smartness is displayed in his clever sense of humour. The scene where Greene watches TV detectives to get tips on behaviour almost buckles under all the referencing (Lovecraft, Rockford Files, Martian Manhunter, etc) but is instead impressive in both its levels of humour and intelligence. This undercurrent of drollery prevents things becoming too rote or too unpleasant. Because some of the book is pretty gross, there's the standout death by toilet but there are quieter horrors at play too. And all the horrors are derived from the Lovecraftian mythos and blatantly so. You won't be scratching your spade-like chin with this one trying to figure out the links, because the links come fast and blatant as Owen Smith's strings.

Weird Detective by Vilanova, Van Lente, Wallace & Gonzales, Piekos

I liked Vilanova's art, although it takes a dip near the middle of the book but swiftly recovers. His real world is realistic and his creatures are unpleasantly convincing. Let's face it, it takes no little talent to make unsettling some of Lovecraft's creations, which essentially resemble an overcooked carrot, some ping pong balls and a brace of drinking straws. The action is nicely done with a particularly good fall from a high place but Vilanova also keeps the quieter scenes interesting, such as the parts where our weird detective communicates with his cat through slight twitches of his facial muscles. Although any conversation with a surly cat is by definition interesting, I guess. WEIRD DETECTIVE is clever, funny, gross and GOOD!

MIDNIGHT OF THE SOUL #2 (of 4) Art by Howard Victor Chaykin Written by Howard Victor Chaykin Coloured by Jesus Arbutov Lettered by Ken Bruzenak Image Comics, Inc., $3.50 (2016) Midnight of the Soul created by Howard Victor Chaykin Midnight of the Soul © Howard Victor Chaykin

Lycanthropy and Lovecraft are creepy but the creepiest of all must be my fawning over the work of Howard Victor Chaykin. Occasionally some luckless naif will have the temerity to question why I like the work of Howard Victor Chaykin quite as much as I do. He, they often persist, always makes the same comic. This, and here is where their lucklessness comes in, spurs me to anecdotal reminiscence thusly: It was the 1990s and far too many people were taking Paul Weller seriously. One day I had a visitor who upon entering traversed the floor with the healthy, male clutter of batch (crispy tissues, ragged jazz mags, suffocated ashtrays, the glutinous residue of alcoholic frolics, etc etc) to the bookshelves.

Midnight of the Soul by Chaykin, Arbutov & Bruzenak

Despite the variety and fine taste on show said visitor was evidently puzzled, breaking their silence with, “You have an awful lot of Elmore Leonard here.” I conceded the truth in this observation, yet couched within my tone was my evident uncertainty as to why precisely that might be so remarkable. “But doesn't he just write the same book all the time?” came the withering parry. “Yes”, I said “but it's a good one.” Then I started searching for a vein. (Not really.) VERY GOOD!

Remember: Stay on the road. Keep clear of the – COMICS!!!

“I Miss Having Tits.” COMICS! Sometimes I Have An Emotion.

It's very hot today. Oh, and I see the world continues to misbehave. Sigh. Only two comics this time out. They're pretty good though. Well I thought so, at least. The Experts by Sophie Franz

Anyway, this... BLACK HAMMER #1 Art by Dean Ormston Written by Jeff Lemire Coloured by Dave Stewart Lettered by Todd Klein Dark Horse Comics, Inc. DIGITAL: £1.99 (2016) Black Hammer created by Dean Ormston & Jeff Lemire Black Hammer © ™ 2016 171 Studios, Inc., and Dean Ormston

This is one of those slightly cheeky comics in which all the characters are heavily reminiscent of popular superhero characters. Teeny tweaks have to be made so that Ormston and Lemire can use the archetypal aspects of the originals, but don't have to spend the rest of their lives in court rooms being sued by people who have only ever exercised creativity in their theft of the fruit of other people's talent. The upside of the Cheeky Tweak © ™ is the authors (writer and artist) can actually tell a real story with a point, during which the characters can change or even die; without every development being undermined by the knowledge that nothing too thrilling will stick, because the real money is in selling Captain Arsegrapes © ™ branded shit to kids. The downside is that, as here, changing C*****n M****l into a girl called Golden Gail means you don't get to be fellated on talk shows because, say, you have written The Tin Can © ™ as the same shit quipping character you always write but, crucially for World Peace, have instructed the artist to draw a black woman with a big afro like fucking Sheba, Baby (1975) just came out yesterday. AND THE WALLS COME TUMBLING DOWN!!!!! Now, over to Patrice with a funny story about Tom Hardy's dogs. Patrice...

Black Hammer by Ormston. Lemire, Stewart & Klein

The first test of a Cheeky Tweak © ™ is how good are the names? Because I don't know about you (who does? Your Rabbi. So behave.) but I am astounded people can still come up with good super hero names. Here we have Abraham Slam, Col Weird, Talky-Walky, Barbalien, Golden Gail, Madame Dragonfly and Black Hammer. I think that's a pretty nifty range of names. I'll not go into who they all map across to, because that's part of the fun of a Cheeky Tweak © ™ too. However, I will say that we find most of them trapped in a Small Town America © ™ setting which is so cliched it must be so on purpose, which suggests that all is not...as it seems! (foreboding music)! Finding themselves confined to Norman Rockwellville since saving the world at great cost, they have each adapted to differing extents, and as a whole have formed a bickering and somewhat unstable parody of the family unit. This is the most enjoyable aspect of the issue; having the characters interact and seeing how their interactions define them. Obviously for that to work they actually all have to have different characters, and, you know, not all sound like the same middle aged white male speaking through multiple mouths. Jeff Lemire has a pretty good handle on character as far as I can tell, and the upshot of that is I'd quite happily spend more time with these folk. Dean Ormston's not really being pushed yet, but he brings a creepy vibe to the normalcy (which is so excessively so it just isn't normal). I'm used to his fully painted stuff so I'm enjoying the McKeever vibe of his stripped back work here. There's clearly bad times ahead, maybe good times too, probably a whole lot of trouble en route, and it'll be fun seeing this bunch get shoved through the wringer. Oh, there's emotional subtlety too, I nearly forgot that. There's a really nice bit of business with Adam Strange Col. Weird whose space sickness resembles a cosmic form of senile dementia. His interactions with his robot pal, Talky-Walky, are kind of...affecting. Hoo-HAH! Anyway, it's a promising start and I'll probably stay on board. GOOD!

THE EXPERTS #1 All by Sophie Franz Retrofit Comics & Big Planet Comics, DIGITAL: £1.99 (2016) The Experts created by Sophie Franz The Experts © 2016 Sophie Franz

This is an odd one. It's a done-in-oner, and the synopsis while perfectly true may lead you to expect some kind of ALIENS on a seabase action fest, with maybe some of the character stuff from John Carpenter's THE THING, but in a Indie Stylee art wise. Because you should always be expecting that, because that would be a great comic. It wouldn't be this comic though. No, this comic takes the set up for a creepy horror movie (three experts on an isolated sea base surrounded by weird creatures lose touch with the mainland and, slowly, themselves) and twists it into an evocative mood piece; one seemingly constructed of vaguely related emotional set pieces presented via an inscrutable system of symbols unique to the author but anchored in the mundane we all share. Look, I know what I mean! Clearly then, it's the kind of thing I have a hard time describing. It's the kind of comic where one of the characters has turned into a fish but no one mentions it for so long you start doubting the fact that it is indeed a big fish eating and kvetching at the dinner table; the kind of comic where things happen but don't seem to happen so barely do they disturb the narrative meniscus, and when they do happen it's left entirely to you as to whether they were a good thing or a bad thing; it's the kind of comic where a dog can't speak French but can understand it; it's the kind of comic that's only 28 pages long but every page works; it's the kind of comic we need more of.

The Experts by Sophie Franz

Since it's the creation of a single brain it would be a task beyond my limited capabilities to disentangle the writing from the art. So I won't. Sophie Franz' storytelling here is exceptional stuff. There are all kinds of approaches to the colouring, including pastels for the in-story sketches, plain flat for the characters, thick washes for the sea and sky, and even colour without any holding lines at all when Frankie flips out a bit. The actual linework is mostly in a lightly Clowesian mold, which Franz uses to deliver some absolutely spot-on posture work (check out the panel on p.21 of the feet walking away from us: The Sauce? C'est Awesome!) and it's just generally and genuinely a visual delight. Despite its brilliance it still isn't going to be for everyone. It is after all the kind of comic where a dog is set adrift in a rowboat with a shopping list tied to its head, and (thanks to Franz' skills) it isn't wacky or odd, it's just plain moving. Ultimately, THE EXPERTS is the kind of comic that can make you cry without you knowing why. EXCELLENT!

Superheroes and dogs that cant speak French, it's gotta be – COMICS!!!

“COURAGE! He Is But A MOLLUSCOID MOUNTEBANK!” COMICS! Sometimes We're Making Whoopee!

A samurai, a shadow and a sponge. It's either a further trudge through my pull list or the best pop band ever. Let's see! The Shadow: The Death of Margo Lane by Wagner, Wagner & A Larger World Studios Anyway, this...

USAGI YOJIMBO #155 Art by Stan Sakai Written by Stan Sakai Lettered by Stan Sakai Cover by Stan Sakai Cover coloured by Tom Luth Dark Horse Comics, Inc., $3.99 (2016) Usagi Yojimbo created by Stan Sakai

In which our roving ronin happens upon a murder most mysterious and is reunited with his old friend, Inspector Ishida, he of the emotively animated mono-brow. With more than enough suspects, both likely and unlikely, our anthropomorphic investigators could probably do without the uncanny and bloody additions to the notorious “Hell Screen”. Hurry Usagi, the game is a-paw! I mean, a foot! (Ouch!) So, yeah, another super-solid exercise in entertainment by the man who is quite possibly Comics' Most Undervalued Talent, Mr Stan Sakai. There is nothing that is not very good about Usagi Yojimbo, so much so that it remains somewhat galling that each issue receives little to no acknowledgment of its existence by the comics' press. This then is the reward for consistent brilliance: silence.

Usagi Yojimbo by Stan Sakai

Meanwhile, The Hulk got shot by an arrow made of Dumb and someone got all school marmy because Wonder Woman doesn't go commando, and, quite rightly, that's all anyone goes on about. Alas, Usagi Yojimbo has to get by on clever plotting, consistent characterisation, barbarous action and a general air of amiable excellence. And then, when you've read it you can go back and marvel at how simply Sakai depicts his rain, how he creates the illusion of depth via varying the heaviness of his line, and how he expertly employs cross hatching to evoke texture. Every panel of every page proves Stan Sakai remains implacable in his delivery of high levels of artistry and entertainment. But never mind that, someone drew The Hulk with his cock out! Or The Hulk got shot by a cock! Or something. Oh yeah, more often than not the estimable Mr. Sakai finds time (as he does here) to pen a wee pin-up on the back cover, which is nice. Also, the letter column is one of the healthiest I've read, with people just genuinely reacting with unfashionable (ugh!) affection for the book and its author both. There's none of that creepy and needy validate me! Validate my tastes! stuff you usually get in independent lettercols; just pure heart. The cosplayer highlighted this issue is impressive alright roo, but, and I have no idea why this is, she just made me imagine David Keith replaced by a large rabbit for the final scenes of WHITE OF THE EYE. Why is daddy wearing hot dogs, indeed. That's a reflection on me rather than the talented lady in question. Man, I don't know what's wrong with me but I sure know what's right – Stan Sakai and Usagi Yojimbo. VERY GOOD!

SPONGEBOB COMICS #57 Art by Nate Neal, Vince DePorter, Derek Drymon, James Kochalka, Marc Hempel, Andrea Tsurumi, Maris Wicks, Hilary Barta, Jacob Chabot Written by Nate Neal, Vince DePorter, Derek Drymon, James Kochalka, Jay Lender, Robert Leighton, Maris Wicks, Chuck Dixon, Hilary Barta Lettered by Rob Leigh Coloured by Monica Kubina, Scott Roberts, Jason Millet Cover by Shawn Martinbrough (with thanks to Jacob Chabot) United Plankton Pictures Inc., $3.99 (2016) Spongebob Squarepants created by Stephen Hillenburg

As you can see by the text on Martinbrough's Hitchcock indebted cover this issue's theme is “noir”! But only in the loosest possible sense of “crime stuff”; you know, before a bunch of tedious old men start flapping their gums about what noir is or isn't. Look, it's a comic for kids about a talking sponge, so get back worrying about whether noirs can be in colour or not. Yeah, you take care of the important stuff, while the world goes to Hell in a handbasket. Anyway, as is mostly (but not always) the case there's a bunch of smile raising shorts. Sometimes there's only a couple, or just one, but they are always smile raising. It isn't the smile raising that’s in doubt, it's the number of stories within. I trust that's clear: SPONGEBOB COMICS is funny stuff.

Spongebob Comics by Hempel, Lender, Roberts & Leigh

And those titter inducing tales herein? Our porous pal's life is complicated when he crosses paths with a larcenous double, the new fish in prison reflects back on how his life was ruined by a yellow terror as implacable as a guilty conscience, a hilariously learnedly loquacious Patrick eruditely narrates the terrible tale of “Doctor Calamari” in a suitably German Expressionistic stylee (which, no, isn't noir but it is the root from which noir sprang. So go back to sleep, tedious old men.), there's a trenchcoat and hat PI pastiche, and Mermaid Man reveals the terrible secret of his stylish cape. And! Maris Wicks gives a one page shoal of facts about hermit crabs while James Kochalka remains James Kochalka. VERY GOOD!

THE SHADOW: THE DEATH OF MARGO LANE #1 Art by Matt Wagner Written by Matt Wagner Coloured by Brennan Wagner Lettered by A Larger World Studios Cover by Matt Wagner & Brennan Wagner Dynamite Entertainment, $3.99 (2016) The Shadow created by Walter B. Gibson

See! I told you about my LCS! They only went and sent me another Shadow comic! Again with The Shadow comics! I'm not old enough to remember The Pulps, people! I am old enough to remember Pulp though. In fact I'm old enough to have attended their final gig at the Magna Science Adventure Centre. Well, their first “final” gig. I'm also old enough to remember when words meant things, words like “final”. Grumble. Grumble. Mutter, mutter. So, The Shadow! Dynamite's Shadow stuff has been a bit variable, to be honest. There was that series which had a weird obsession with sinister Chinese laundries and had George Orwell fighting with El Shadder; it was okay and while the bit where George Orwell ended his adventure by going “Hmmm, ANIMAL FARM is catchy, but so is NINETEEN EIGHTYFOUR; which to write first?!?” was pretty hilarious, it was still nice to have a comic writer who knew about George Orwell. Then there was that one set in the present which was, well, terrible. After that it was all a bit patchy with Houdini cropping up and a Nazi car factory or something, but of late things seem to have settled down with Matt Wagner taking the reigns. And Matt Wagner? He can draw. Anyone who claims he cain't is all wet. And how!

The Shadow: The Death of Margo Lane by Wagner, Wagner & A Larger World Studios

Now I ain't ladling out no applesauce saying that this guy's blotto on graphic design and knows his onions when it comes to page layouts. I must have been all turned around for the last forty odd years because Matt Wagner's excellence has somehow passed me by. Sure and I wasn't giving his stuff the high-hat, I just never crossed its path is all. From the first page of this Shadow joint I was crushing on this stuff so bad I had to check my cheaters were clean. Storytelling-wise this ruckus is the cat's pajamas , and I ain't laying down a line. Boffo stuff all round. It's swanky stuff, on the up and up, I tells ya. Maybe it is just meat'n'taters, just horsefeathers story-wise what with alla them shenanigans with hats, flivvers, gats, cocktails, luxury liners and death traps. But, hey it's a Shadow comic and alla that guff is why we came in the first place. A ragamuffin it may be, but it's a ragamuffin swanked up like Valentino. That's gotta be worth the scratch. So I'm a few decades late for this party but I'm tellin' youse, this Matt Wagner kid's got the goods. Heck, he's got the VERY GOOD!s

Lips That Touch Liquor Shall Not Touch – COMICS!!!

“Later, Jeef Cooked The Best Northern Italian-Style Dinner Ever.” COMICS! Sometimes it’s Goodbye, Mr Chitts!

To celebrate the release of Batman vs Superman: Collateral Damage and also the appearance of The Punisher on Daredevil I look up at the corner of my living room and wonder if that’s dust or a cobweb. Deciding it’s just a shadow, I galvanize myself and consider a book by Gilbert Hernandez about a woman who kills zombies in the future. ‘Cos I’m dead classy, pal. FATIMA: THE BLOOD SPINNERS by Gilbert Hernandez Anyway, this… FATIMA: THE BLOOD SPINNERS By Gilbert Hernandez This book collects issues one through four of the Dark Horse comic book series FATIMA: THE BLOOD SPINNERS, originally published June through September 2012. Dark Horse Comics, $19.99 (2014) © 2012, 2014 Gilbert Gernandez

The more donnishly inclined may feel “in media res” a tad too high-falutin’ a term for a book which dives face first into the trough of trash with its mouth stretched quite so cheerfully wide but, nevertheless, FATIMA: THE BLOOD SPINNERS by Gilbert Hernandez opens with the world already more than halfway to being Hell in a blender. Also, I’m not sure what anyone even remotely familiar with the term donnish is doing buying a book like this; one where the cover sports a sturdily thewed female triumphantly erect amid the ketchup spattered and cabbagey looking heads of the downed undead. So, FATIMA: THE BLOOD SPINNERS, in stark and humiliating contrast to this review, gets straight in there; it doesn’t do that thing of “worldbuilding” for four issues, ending the book on a splash of Fatima picking up her gun for the first time. No, because Gilbert Hernandez is a busy man; those comics where people fellate themselves inside out don’t draw themselves! World building is for slow bozos, not the human bolt of creative lightning whose name is an anagram of “Blazing Her Tender”. When the book opens ol’ Blazing’s already got his world in place and his girl is in motion.

FATIMA: THE BLOOD SPINNERS by Gilbert Hernandez And what a world it is she moves through!  In the future it seems everything will be designed by the Jesse Marsh School of Architects, on the downside though everything will also be in the process of falling to bits, including the people. Because of drugs. Or one drug in particular – Spin. With just one dose users become temporary heptathletes, unfortunately within hours their eyes turn into runny eggs, their flesh hangs off them like an old man’s ball bag and long pig is dish of the day, every day. Zombies basically, or near enough to make you run like The Devil’s trying to goose you. This is what Fatima and her well-built compadres are up against. Alas, Fatima’s organisation seems staffed entirely by armed fitness fanatics who have not been chosen for their cerebral acumen. I guess a shortage of brains is a plus when up against zombies, but it’s a bit of a minus regarding the mobile action-figure cast’s twofold task – discover the source of Spin and find a cure. Strictly speaking though, that’s the source of the leak of Spin they’re after, since the government developed it itself; but then someone decided to entrepreneurially maximise the fiscal potential of the narcotic i.e. sell the shit on the sly. Fatima and her buff buddies engage in a number of savagely violent and cast-cullingly unsuccessful sting exercises, before things degenerate rapidly and discombobulatingly into a lurid maelstrom of horror, betrayal and sexual grotesquery.

FATIMA: THE BLOOD SPINNERS by Gilbert Hernandez

And, really, who better to so tastefully delineate such luridly diseased and repellently comical larks than The Man Hernandez. Here he brings his typically crisp and efficient cartooning to bear upon the apocalyptic horrors on show, finely calibrating the friskiness of his art to blunt just enough of the horror’s edge to make it fun. It’s not all fun though, FATIMA: THE BLOOD SPINNERS is a deeper read than it may at first seem. Fatima’s recurrent refrain of “Whatever” is droll stuff, until it sinks in that this is how she deals with the pain of the world she inhabits, at which point it becomes poignant in its futility. A mob beats someone to death so badly that Fatima can’t tell whether they were a zombie or just a luckless tramp, meanwhile she and her pals cavort about clad in invisibility jockstraps with hairdryer ray guns. In the white glare of the panel gutters years pass and entire cities are razed, but there’s space made on page for Fatima to indulge in artless double entendres regarding her hunky colleague. Society is advanced enough for flying saucers and AI channeling specs, but people remain human enough to still pay to be poisoned for pleasure. There are points being made here, points hidden amongst all the play.

FATIMA: THE BLOOD SPINNERS by Gilbert Hernandez

Given his past form it’s no surprise that Hernandez’ work here is intelligent and horrific. The surprise, if one there be, is given the extent of the intelligence and horror on show how much fun, how bouncily appealing, it all is. No mean feat when the book’s multiple Screaming Mad George-esque delights include a man giving birth through his face. The nimbleness of Hernandez’ artistic touch gives everything an adorably camp air which playfully wrestles with the sick shenanigans throughout. As your gorge rises its only Hernandez’ gleeful and seemingly guileless delivery which causes it to subside. Gilbert Hernandez creates and maintains a tone which is consistently inconsistent, which sounds impossible but through Art the impossible is attained or at least grazed, and Gilbert Hernandez is, lest you forget, an Artist. Still more, Gilbert Hernandez is a Rushmore Level Talent (©®™ Tom Spurgeon) even when drawing zombies being kicked in the face so hard twin jets of diseased blood spurt from their nostrils. Do I gush? Only like a severed artery, hotballs. Which is as it should be since FATIMA: THE BLOOD SPINNERS is VERY GOOD!

FATIMA: THE BLOOD SPINNERS by Gilbert Hernandez

NEXT TIME: Maybe a look at my pull list? It’s been a while since I put you through that particularly tasty Hell. Quality aside, I can categorically state here and now that that they are – COMICS!!!

"The Mysterious Phone Interference Spot." COMICS! Sometimes The Bole Of A Tree Is Just The Bole of A Tree!

This time John decides to publicly embarrass himself by looking at something way out of his league- LOVERBOYS by Gilbert Hernandez. He strained himself so badly he couldn't really think of anything to put here. Aw, bless. LOVERBOYS by Gilbert Hernandez

Anyway, this... LOVERBOYS Story and Art by Gilbert Hernandez Dark Horse Books, $19.99 US, $21.99 CAN (2014)

This is an original graphic novel by the dizzyingly prolific Gilbert “Betty” Hernandez. Now, I am an unforgiving man and so don't fool yourself for one Holmfirth Second that there are any kudos to be had in these parts simply for sheer volume of output, or even length of service. The rule of thumb hereabouts is generally that the more a comics author produces regularly then the less worthy of note it is. Given the vast quantities of pages which the Comics Machine demands filling each month it's little wonder that even the most talented authors find their gifts become stretched, until they are present only in homeopathic quantities. And those are the most talented, never mind the rest of the Trex merchants. Ugh. Of course if there's a rule of thumb then there's always going to be someone who defies it so strongly they don't just break it, they snap it right the Hell off. These people are the true geniuses (genii? Or are those the dudes in lamps?) These people are pretty easy to notice. After all they just broke your thumb, figuratively speaking. Yes, Gilbert Hernandez is one of them. And in LOVERBOYS he's on fine figuratively speaking thumb snapping form.

LOVERBOYS by Gilbert Hernandez

Because the big thing about geniuses, which we've established Gilbert Hernandez is, is that everything they do is worthy of attention. Me, I'll buy everything Gilbert Hernandez does. Eventually anyway; I have fiscal responsibilities beyond paper entertainment, alas. So, yeah, well spotted, LOVERBOYS isn't the kind of thing I'd generally seek out subject-matter wise. By way of engorged contrast to all those war comics I morbidly maunder about to excess, I guess LOVERBOYs is about what people get up to in times of peace; they get up to each other, up to the nuts, in fact. Folk in LOVERBOYS are very much making love not war, but as the philosopher Patrick Benetar trilled, Love Is A Battlefield. And so it proves here, but rather than a Stoeger .22 calibre Luger or a North American P-51 Mustang the weapons of choice herein are emotions and genitals. Yes, cockle warmingly, people will always find a way to hurt each other. We're an inventive species alright. In LOVERBOYS everyone is just looking for happiness but everyone is still getting hurt.

LOVERBOYS by Gilbert Hernandez

It may seem weird that I liked LOVERBOYS so much, because I am, for my sins, English. Being English I am genetically wired to recoil in flustered distaste from any hint of emotion, and to hide my face behind the paper whenever feelings are invoked at the breakfast table. Basically, and I think I speak for all Englishmen everywhere in this, getting through, say, as a for example, no offence and all that, Matt Fraction's backmatter is as pleasant as having to change the nappy of another person's child. And yet despite all that, despite the perfectly healthy English aversion to emotional engagement, despite the fact that LOVERBOYS is all about emotions I was all over LOVERBOYS like an embarrassing rash (a dash of penicillin, I'm thinking).

LOVERBOYS by Gilbert Hernandez

Mostly I liked it because Gilbert Hernandez, but also because I am quite an emotionally dark man and because LOVERBOYS is a very dark book. This darkness is beguilingly furtive and runs counter to the bright and open style art Hernandez employs throughout. It's a very loose and energetic style, a kind of rendering down to cartoony fundamentals, the apparent carelessness of which is belied by the strength with which such a style delivers its (many) emotional blows. It's a deceptively simple style and its chief deception is in making the complex interaction of the large cast across a lengthy time span appear as direct and lucid as an Archie comic. Which it sure as shooting isn't. But then, unforgivably, I haven't really told you what LOVERBOYS is. Hold on! The precis bus has just pulled into the station. Talk about timing. (Smooth, huh?) Anyway, the disparate characters of LOVERBOYS all orbit the flamboyantly chested teacher Mrs. Paz and their emotional interactions spiral to a crescendo which result in collateral damage; damage which extends nor only to insidiously infect the children of the town, but also the actual physical town of Lágrimas itself, when the explosiveness of the situation stops being figurative and becomes dangerously literal. At the risk of being awarded a cash prize for Perceptiveness I'm kind of thinking a lot of LOVERBOYS is metaphorical rather than literal. We have a Mrs Paz (i.e. Peace) who lives in the town of Lágrimas (Tears), all the cats have disappeared, people's jobs (teacher aside) are nebulous and just in case there's any doubt there is a mysterious bunker in which whispering secret stealing “little people” live alongside dynamite. But alongside this in baffling harmony are quite perfectly realistic human interactions. The mundane and the fantastic are intertwined in LOVERBOYS like, uh, lovers. And like such coupling any friction between the two disparate elements is purely pleasant.

LOVERBOYS by Gilbert Hernandez

Oh, don't worry the book's called LOVERBOYS but it's visually a PG-13, with nary the sight of a gristle whistle and all the spelunking in lady caves happens off page. The emphasis is very definitely on the emotional fallout and undercurrents the physical stuff sets in motion. A lot of the time LOVERBOYS reminded me of a Douglas Sirk movie, but one where Douglas Sirk died on the first day of shooting thus forcing Russ Meyer to step in and with the end results so heavily censored that all the heaving and shrieking ended up on the cutting room floor. So, you know, don't be giving this book that teeth grinding stuff about how it's just some old dude whacking off in public, because all that's on show here are the insidious dangers and slow damage incurred by the innocent search for happiness. Which is to say - life. And if you find life itself worth whacking off over you better pace yourself or you'll chafe. Pacing, however, isn't a problem for Gilbert Hernandez who keeps on keeping on and here with LOVERBOYS proves himself once more EXCELLENT!

Sometimes Love speaks through - COMICS!!!

“Eat The OTHER ONE!” Sometimes I Love The Craft Of Those Who Make Comics About Lovecraft!

My patience having finally reached its end with regards the odd susurrations which emanated nightly from the fireplace in the south library, I tasked the scrofulous fool who tends to my needs with the dismantling of said edifice. Within seconds the lumpen oaf had caused to be dislodged a stone possessed of enough heft to crack his simple-minded foot in twain.  Ignoring his repellent and startlingly blasphemous utterances I knelt to seize a now-revealed sheaf of papers adorned with runes and symbols which resisted my understanding even as the lower orders resist cleanliness. Shooing the shambling, nay, hopping, cretin of a manservant from the room I set about the package. And it is those contents which, together with their effects upon my quite febrile mind, I shall now proceed to relate. RAT GOD by Corben, Corben, Corben, Corben-Reed & Piekos

Anyway, this… CROSSED PLUS ONE HUNDRED #5 Art by Gabriel Andrade Written by Alan Moore Coloured by Digikore Studios Lettered by Jaymes Reed Avatar, $3.99 (2015) Crossed created by Jacen Burrows and  Garth Ennis

CROSSED PLUS ONE HUNDRED is a comic by Gabriel Andrade and Alan Moore which is notable for the effectiveness with which the pair of storytellers have, over these five issues, ratcheted up the tension, even though the ultimate result was never in doubt. If there ever was any doubt then issue 5 scrapes it all away with a sadistic thoroughness by leading us by the hand and simply and directly pointing out just how badly everyone has misjudged the situation thus far. I liked the thing with the ostrich rustling, that was sneaky. Sure, everyone knew the terrain we were in, everyone knew that things were going to turn to shit; the only question was the precise consistency and extent of that shit. Well, now we know. Now. We . Know. Shit! The only question remaining is the same as that on the old Chainsaw Massacre poster: “Who Will Survive? And What Will Be Left of Them?”

CROSSED PLUS ONE HUNDRED by Andrade, Moore, Digikore & Reed

The other thing CROSSED PLUS ONE HUNDRED is is possibly the only comic which has the balls to treat Islam as a part of Western society like all the other parts of Western society; that is as a part just as likely to survive a catastrophic upheaval as, say, Christianity, ostriches or people’s libidos. But you know, don’t worry about it, let’s keep holding that golliwog thing against him, eh? (On second thoughts, since most comic book writers base their portrayals of Christians on John Lithgow in Footloose (CUT LOOSE!) maybe Islam’s better off as is). My only reservation with CROSSED PLUS ONE HUNDRED (besides how long it takes to type) is the nature of the threat; if the Crossed are just us (well, you; I’m beyond reproach) without the social brakes on then conditioning those brakes back in will just make them, er, us again. Or maybe that’ll be Moore and Andrade’s point. In the meantime CROSSED PLUS ONE HUNDRED is an intelligent and really quite frightening demonstration of the fatal consequences of complacency. VERY GOOD!

PROVIDENCE #1 Art by Jacen Burrows Written by Alan Moore Coloured by Juan Rodriguez Lettered by Kurt Hathaway Avatar, $3.99 (2015) Providence created by Jacen Burrows and Alan Moore

If CROSSED PLUS ONE HUNDRED is a tip-top exercise in feral terror then PROVIDENCE, er, isn’t. Yet. Fairness is my curse (it’s true!) and so it’s hard to judge one issue in; PROVIDENCE is paced for the long haul (12 issues) and the slow burn’s part of the deal and also part of the terrain. The terrain of CROSSED PLUS ONE HUNDRED is scorched earth and brazen violence, while PROVIDENCE is set squarely in the more sedate and stately terrain of H P Lovecraft’s oeuvre. That is , a terrain which appears stolid and mundane but soon crumples under the weight of the Hell which exists without. Of course before all Hell cuts loose (FOOTLOOSE!) Moore and Burrows have to spend time convincing us of the stultifying and repressed normality shortly to be torn apart. And maybe, juuuuuuust maybe, they do too good a job of that.

PROVIDENCE by Burrows, Moore, Rodriguez & Hathaway

Mind you, some of it is just super –enjoyable, particularly Moore’s insouciant use of decompression to pump up the suspense about the guy in the park and the tasty contrast between those spicily enticing parts with the dense pudding of exposition surrounding them. Look, there’s nothing wrong with decompression but using it for everything is like putting ketchup on every meal (Tip: don’t). So it’s nice to be reminded that when used well decompression can, uh, work well. Also of note is the classy way the book concealed the exact nature of the chink in our protagonist’s armour until the precise point at which it wanted it to strike home, and sent me spinning back to reconsider much of what went before. Burrows’ stiff and largely neutral art aids this particular appearances-can-be-deceptive reveal well, and while the mannered distance of the visuals may be quite in line with Lovecraft’s signature icy disdain I like a bit more life in my lines. The only really dud bit was the text at the end where Moore doesn’t seem willing to trust his readers and so flenses any uncertainty out of the preceding pages in a way which is both exhaustive and exhausting. Also, it’s clear the book is extraordinarily well disposed towards persons whose sexuality is other than the commonly accepted norm. Hey, I’m just saying, is all.  There's still everything to play for but, yeah, PROVIDENCE was GOOD!

RAT GOD #5 Art by Richard Corben Written by by Richard Corben Coloured by Richard Corben with Beth Corben Reed Lettered by Nate Piekos of Blambot Tingit Translations by Lance A. Twitchell Dark Horse, $3.99 (2015)

Serendipity strikes like a panther (there’s one in the book; good words there, eh? Seriously, this is Patreon level shit, people) as Richard Corben also splashes gaily about in the eldritch and gibbous influences of the Great Dour One, H P Lovecraft (with a pinch of Poe to boot). Of course the unapologetically pulpy Corben does so to blatantly different effect than Moore and Burrows’ cool exercise in control. RAT GOD is far more playful than PROVIDENCE, and all the better for it because instead of merely playing at Lovecraft Corben plays off Lovecraft.

RAT GOD by Corben, Corben, Corben, Corben-Reed & Piekos

In RAT GOD Corben has, over five feisty issues, brought the full plumminess of his fleshy and fecund style to bear on a tale of backwoods mutations, diseased family trees, pendulous breasts, Bombay Mix vegetation and splattery action. Corben’s approach to Lovecraftian lore is a far more red blooded and lusty one than the haughty reserve on display in PROVIDENCE. The collars are still starched but the necks within have a meaty quality suggesting the essential frailty their manners seek to mask. And the typically Lovecraftian catastrophic impact of dark forces on unsuspecting lives is hilariously played out in miniature every time violence sends our stiff protagonist into a burst of rag-doll-ish frenzy. As ever with Corben there’s a slapstick quality to the action which comically underlines the desperation of true violence. Sure, technically speaking writing wise Corben’s no Alan Moore, but as haphazard as his proceedings may sometimes appear, the irrepressibly antic tone of his approach can’t help but get him, and us, closer to the thing that truly scared Lovecraft - the animal in humanity. VERY GOOD!

In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits reading – COMICS!!!

“I Am The Storm...Returned From The Grave.” COMICS! Sometimes I See How Writing A Bit More Off The Cuff Works Out For Us All!

Ugh, January. Anway, I had a quiet hour or two so here's a couple of comics I liked in 2014 that I thought didn't get enough play. I'll just rectify that then... Starslammers by Simonson, Workman & Ory

Anyway, this... USAGI YOJIMBO: SENSO Illustrated by Stan Sakai Written by Stan Sakai Cover Colours by Tom Luth Dark Horse Comics, $3.99 each (2014) Usagi Yojimbo created by Stan Sakai

According to the yellow circle on the cover of each issue 2014 marked 30 years of Stan Sakai's comics featuring his titular samurai (sigh, okay; ronin) character. I would dearly love to bluff my way through this piece by pretending I was there at the start and remained a constant reader through the decades separating the character's first appearance in Albedo Anthropomorphics in 1984 and this 2014 limited series. Alas, for most of its publishing history I thought Usagi Yojimbo was one of those crappy B&W “funny” animal comics that boomed and busted back then. Burnt once by a purchase of Adolescent Radioactive Black Belt Hamsters I remained shy upon every later encounter with Usagi Yojimbo. Mysteriously, about three years back, I started buying Usagi Yojimbo. I can't remember why so this anecdote isn't terribly thrilling (let's pretend the fate of the free world hung in the balance) but the fact is I did, and I haven't stopped buying it since.

Usagi Yojimbo: Senso by Stan Sakai

Well, except for that brief period when Stan Sakai stopped making it to work on 47 Ronin (still samurai, but humans this time). With Usagi Yojimbo:Senso Usagi bounds back in a series set 20 years ahead of the regular series and with an atypically S-F slant. It's an odd move to be sure but it's working. In issue 4 Geoff “Shaolin Cowboy” Darrow writes in to compliment them on their paper stock. That's how well crafted this comic is – Geoff Darrow(!) is so excited about the paper its printed on he is moved to set pen to paper. It isn't just the paper Usagi Yojimbo: Senso is printed on though. Basically, Usagi Yojimbo: Senso works because Usagi Yojimbo always works. For me, anyway, and, chances are high, it works for everybody if they give it a go. The great thing about Usgai Yojimbo is it is at once for all ages (this does not just mean children) and is so beautifully crafted that every fresh episode seems as timeless as a legend. VERY GOOD!

STARSLAMMERS #1-8 Illustrated by Walter Simonson Written by Walter Simonson Colours by Len O'Grady (Colours in issues 1-3 based on original colouring by Walter & Louise Simonson) Lettered by John Workman Cover colours by Romulo Fajardo and Richard Ory IDW, $3.99 each (2014) Starslammers created by Walter Simonson

RAGNAROK #1 – 3 Illustrated by Walter Simonson Written by Walter Simonson Coloured by Laura Martin Lettered by John Workman IDW, $3.99 each (2014) Ragnarok created by Walter Simonson

In June of 2014, after giving his handlers the slip, Howard Victor Chaykin appeared at Special Edition: NYC where he said many things which were true and beautiful. The truest and most beautiful thing his louche larynx exclaimed was, “The only man of my generation that's still producing work that's not a parody of itself is Walter Simonson. Simonson's doing amazing work.” In 2014 Ragnarok proved this to be as true as a very true thing indeed. Also earlier in that same year Starslammers reminded us that Simonson had been doing amazing work for so long that that very longevity was kind of amazing in and of itself. It shouldn't have been a surprise since he never went away but, well, welcome to Comics - where Brian Bendis is taken seriously and Walter Simonson is taken for granted. (Comics – it's a visual medium. Write it down somewhere. Jesus.) For its first three issues Starslammers reformatted and reprinted the Starslammers 1984 Marvel Graphic Novel. The level of skill already present in this “old” work proved to be ridiculously ostentatious. Even back then Simonson had such a sure grip on pacing and truly cinematic presentation he ran the risk of leaving bruises behind. Also present, even back then, was John Workman's lettering; lettering so awesomely complementary that it became an inseparable and essential element of the stunning visuals on display. The remaining issues of the 2014 series re-presented the 1995 Malibu/Bravura Starslammers series.

Ragnarok by Simonson, Workman & Martin

This was the first time the full series had seen print and so the rejoicing in my tiny head was loud indeed. This later material proved Simonson hadn't lost any of his magic but had learned a few new spells as well. Simonson's work now flirted so hard with abstraction his ability to refrain from tumbling into incoherence was stunning. With Starslammers it might be an exaggeration to say that there was a lesson in comic art on every page but by the time Ragnarok rolled around such a statement was probably, if anything, selling Simonson and Workman short. Sure, Simonson's stories are fun, solid and entertaining genre stuff, but, in truth, I read his comics for the storytelling. There may well come a time when the old Gods die but, ironically, Ragnarok proved that time isn't here yet. VERY GOOD!

Basically I liked 'em because if either of those series were anything they were very definitely – COMICS!!!

"No WANDERING OFF." COMICS (and MOVIES)! Sometimes All Other Priorities Are Rescinded!

Hello! You can blame this one on a conversation I had at a party. I say party but at my age that's four men in a suburban living room with some nibbles and tinnies with the conversation always one slurred word away from movies. At that point it's all about ALIEN from my end of the couch. And so is this huge block of stale drivel. It's a bit wayward but if you stick with it I do mention comics eventually. Dedicated to the enduring magic of the wrestler, teacher and actor Mr. Brian Glover (1934-1997).

Anyway, this... In The Interest of Clarity & Fairness John Tells You What He’s Up To This Time Out

Bodged together with duct tape as they may be my sensors indicate a sudden flurry of micro changes in air density in the Dark Horse licencing department lately. Either this is to soften the sting of Weyland-Yutani Disney-Marvel nabbing back the licence to the children’s entertainment STAR WARS or because there’s a new ALIEN videogame out. Not actually being employed by Dark Horse I don’t really know. But it turns out that there’s a fat batch of interconnected limited series capped off by a finale issue. If I’ve got it right you’ve got four issues each of PROMETHEUS: RON & NANCY, ALIENS: PORK AND BEANS, ALIENS VERSUS PREDATOR: GREEN EGGS AND HAM, PREDATOR: FLARES & BEADS (or maybe they are all subtitled FIRE AND STONE, but where’s the fun in that, eh?) To top it all off there’s some bow tying by Kelly Sue DeConnick in a finale issue. No, I don’t know who’s drawing the finale but, yes, I know who’s writing it because that’s how comics (a primarily visual medium) works these days. So, you know, it’s been a while since I tried your patience so I thought I’d do something special for you. I ran the numbers and apparently in dollars the cost of all these comics comes to, let’s see, carry the one, and…a fuck-ton of money. It’s certainly a bit rich for my palate. So I’ll tell you what: I’ll look at the first issue of each. Financially it’s still a bit racy but that’s how much I love you. Hopefully the prospect of all this will grab you a bit more pleasantly than a big hand-crab trying to face rape you. Having actually read some of my writing I can’t guarantee that though.

It All Starts Promisingly enough But Then John is Immediately Side-tracked Into Talking About Movies he Hasn’t Watched For So Long He’s Really Just Talking About Memories And We All Know How Reliable That Jackass’s Memory Is

The idea was if nothing else I’d have a good time because, well, I’m enormously selfish and also because I really like ALIEN movies. Except after a moment’s thought I realised I didn’t. You can skip to the comics if you want at this point. It’s like a Choose Your Own Adventure Review!

Do you want to listen to an old man moan about movies turn to page 2.

Turn to page 243 and hear him complain about comics.

If you roll a 6 go and spend time with someone you love.

Take A Picture To Capture That Magic Moment Where He Shows Enthusiasm Rather Than Belittling Disdain or ALIEN (1979)

I do like ALIEN; ALIEN is great. No complaints on that score. ALIEN is the movie that comes for you in the night. ALIEN is one of those movies which you watch for the first time and you feel something click firmly home and you know you will be watching this movie for as long as you are watching movies. I have been watching ALIEN for about thirty years with the odd break here and there to live this life thing and I still never get bored of ALIEN. ALIEN is. ALIEN. ALIEN. ALIEN. Jeff “Altered States” Lester wrote about ALIEN here because Jeff Lester is a man of great taste. (Although in his characteristically dazzling piece he forgets that the big difference between ALIEN and STAR WARS is STAR WARS is for children.) Some of you might remember Jeff Lester and his partner in wonder Graeme McMillion$ from before. Before they set out for the new life which awaited them in the off-world colonies. I wonder how their new Patreon funded life of steak and fine wines is working out for them. Watch out for that gout, guys! Anyway, ALIEN; the pinnacle of people trapped in a hostile environment being picked off one by one movies. ALIEN; crew expendable: story of my life; story of all our lives. The massive (I’m talking creative not financial; sheesh) success of ALIEN is all very odd because ALIEN should just be a piece of enjoyably trashy genre hokum, but it is in fact far better than that. Decades after it burst into cinemas it still leaves me feeling soiled and twitchy after every viewing. And that’s hardly because I don’t know what’s coming; it’s because ALIEN has real power. ALIEN has the power of nightmares; the power of the poorly suppressed thought; the power of the suspicion that the Universe never got the memo about you actually mattering. In ALIEN as soon as they answer the distress call everything doesn’t just start going wrong, everything starts becoming wrong. I’m not even getting into all the stuff about the leathery egg sacs, organic openings and mobile, fanged phalluses (Phallusi? Phalluseseses?). ALIEN is. And it remains so to this day.

A Superficial Look At The Last James Cameron Movie He Enjoyed Ends Up With Us All In An Arcade In Cornwall or ALIENS (1986)

After that it’s ALIENS which is still good stuff. It’s James Cameron and the big thing about James Cameron is that the more money and freedom he has then the less interesting he gets. Luckily, with ALIENS he’s just about at the outer limits of my interest so I still have a good time. And that’s not bad for a movie that old; it still thrills and I still jump but it doesn’t wound like its progenitor does. There’s something redundantly comforting about ALIENS’ desire to explain (there are eggs; there is a Queen; they are like insects; I have killed the magic!) ALIEN doesn’t want you to understand what’s going on; some mystery stubbornly remains because, well, that’s unsettling. ALIENS explains things too much and becomes an action movie rather than a horror movie. It’s a very good action movie but it’s only a pretty good ALIEN movie. Experience tells me things get contentious quick with ALIENS but let me be clear here: I don’t mind ALIENS. The woman whose life I soil daily with my very presence thinks it has dated horribly. I don’t know, I think ALIENS still rocks. James Horner's urgent bin lids clatterthon of a score helps more than people admit. Could do without the kid though; Isn’t she plucky, now bugger off. Mind you, whenever the family unit goes on holiday we check out the arcades and have a pop on that ALIENS arcade game; the one with the mounted guns. That game is always somewhere in every arcade. I saw a new game where you shoot animals like an American but I don’t think that’ll catch on in Cornwall. Animals, no. Xenomorphs, yes. Stands to reason. Since I am a wholly regrettable human being I can only guess that the secret of a long lasting relationship is hunting down the ALIENS arcade game and playing it together. So, yes, I don’t mind ALIENS but it isn’t ALIEN. And, yes, someone out there will prefer ALIENS to ALIEN because the world will always need people who are mistaken.

“Thus arse RHEUM-ARE CuNDRoll!” or ALIEN3 (1992)

I’ll be uncharacteristically direct: ALIEN CUBED isn’t exactly a good movie. People let it off a lot because of its ‘troubled production’ and because David Fincher went on to do FIGHT CLUB. Me, I like it better than I probably should because it is filled with British accents. If ALIEN is HP Lovecraft’s BLUE COLLAR in space then ALIEN CUBED is HP Lovecraft’s PORRIDGE in space. It’s both comforting and amusing to think that in the far flung future no matter how far you go from Earth your lugs will still rattle to a Yorkshire bark. ALIEN CUBED is even more special to me because one of the accents is bellowed by Brian (KES) Glover, who not only looks like my Uncle Kenneth but, better yet, once pulled his car in on North Bridge to ask me and a mate directions to the digs he was due to stay in while treading the boards at the Civic Theatre. Yes, later in the ‘rub-a-dub-dub’ over some ‘laugh and titter’ we did both wish we’d told him to “stick to the road and stay off the moor”. I guess that’s not really my anecdote as such because I hung back in my usual fear of life but I nicked it anyway. Sorry, Justin. If you ever look up the unused scripts for ALIEN CUBED by William “Neuromancer” Gibson and David “PITCH BLACK” Twohy you’ll appreciate the filmed ALIEN CUBED even more as neither of the rejected scripts seem too concerned with the Alien. In fact they seem to begrudge the Alien’s contractually obliged interruptions of, respectively, the cold war analogy and the space prison hijinks which form the bulk of them. Both scripts continue the shift started by Cameron in ALIENS from movies about the Alien to movies about other things which happen to have the Alien in them. While ALIEN CUBED fails to be the former it at least struggles like a good ‘un not be the latter. Sure, like Twohy’s script, there’s a prison setting but, endearingly, Fincher & Co are clearly trying to make the Alien central again. The movie works hard not to have the Alien secondary to a larger analogy but to be integral to any analogies which might be occurring in the movie’s vicinity. I mean, it is a bit of a mess so I don’t quite know what it’s on about but I can tell it’s trying to be on about something; that always gets points in my book. I just looked and there’s a rejigged version on my Blu_Ray (I know; swanky!). It’s supposed to be well different with the Alien coming out of an ox rather than a dog and Brian Glover telling a protracted joke about remembering the Alamo (not really). I was surprised that, apparently, none of the dropped footage included Steven Berkoff as the movie largely consists of sweaty bald Englishmen shouting in thick accents so he seems an odd omission. Anyway, I should give that a decco. I’ll come back and edit this bit if I’ve had time to watch it. (I guess I didn’t get time.)

For The Entertainment of Children And The Easily Amused Faecal Matter is Referenced To Excess or ALIEN RESURRECTION (1997)

Similarly ALIEN RESURRECTION had a ‘troubled production’ but no one lets it off because it’s shit. It’s very pretty but it’s still shit. Here all ALIEN CUBED’s spirited resistance to the insistent trend of the Alien movies away from the Alien was steamrollered into the dirt. The result is a glossy action movie with a great cast (Brad Dourif!) and spectacular set design saddled with a script so shitty it smears everything about it. Worse, it might as well have had irradiated shih tzus in it as the Alien. My favourite reaction to this movie was that of the late and very great H R Giger in a documentary where, commenting on the Nu-Alien, he said something roughly on the lines of: “It was a piece of shit. Quite literally a piece of shit.” This terrible, terrible waste of everybody’s time, money and effort was written by Joss Whedon, but apparently it’s not his fault. He also did CABIN IN THE WOODS which I watched last week and that was also a piece of shit; this time because it was too busy being impressed with itself to actually be a movie. It was a lot like someone who thinks they’re above horror movies telling you about a horror movie they’d seen rather than, you know, watching an actual horror movie. It would have made a decent five minute skit, basically. Of course that’s because I’m old and certainly not because 90 odd minutes and several million dollars is a bit excessive for what is basically a smug joke about Scooby fucking Doo. Anyway, I’m sure that isn’t Joss Whedon’s fault either. So, yeah, where we? Oh, while ALIEN started it all off by beggaring expectations ALIEN RESURRECTION ends things by beggaring belief.

“I Ain’t Got Time To Bleed.” Or All The Other Stuff He’s Not Really Going To Bother Pretending He’s All That Interested In or PREDATOR/PREDATOR2/PREDATORS/ALIEN vs PREDATOR and PROMETHEUS

You shouldn’t really look so surprised when I tell you I really like PREDATOR, after all it is another people in a hostile environment being picked off one by one movie. It also has a script that’s as tight as a nut and just rolls like the goddamn thunder. Everything about it is great except the guy starring in it, but everything about PREDATOR is so great I can put up with him. Ugh, that guy; not even ironically, you feel me? PREDATOR 2 is okay; if it came on I wouldn’t leave the room but I wouldn’t seek it out either. People who know about science (“science-tists”) have told me that PREDATORS is a bit dodgy on the old science front. I’ll take their word for it but I thought it was a great-stupid pulp premise which, sadly, stubbornly refused to ignite the expected flares of delight in my hind brain. Maybe it’s because Adrien Brody is as convincing an action hero as Rod Hull. Also, Laurence Fishburne looked like he was in more danger from gout than predators. Maybe he was Patreon funded too. Now, you all know me and how I live in fear of being called an elitist but, holy fuck, really, I mean, those ALIEN VS PREDATOR moves sure suck. I’ll admit I’ve only seen the first one as that was enough; it was like an uncharismatic jumble of cut scenes from a video game. Perhaps the second one is the SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS of people in a hostile environment being picked off one by one movies. After all, at our works’ Christmas do (pies in a pub; the glamour of it all!) last year a gentleman in his twenties revealed these AvP things were his favourite movies. EVER. Yes, even better than COLOR OF NIGHT. I know! Basically though it’s hard to feel I was at fault in my dislike since by this point it had not escaped my notice that the Alien franchise was reduced to the level of ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN. Oh, and I haven’t watched PROMETHEUS. Can I go out and play now?

Meanwhile Back At The Point or THE COMICS!!!!

PROMETHEUS: FIRE AND STONE #1 Art by Juan Ferrya Written by Paul Tobin Lettered by Nate Piekos of Blambot® Cover art by David Palumbo Dark Horse Comics, 22 pages, $£3.99 print/digital or $1.99 digital after a period of time (2014)

This begins oddly with a prologue featuring a probe which is mobile enough to travel billions of miles through space and smart enough to analyse an entire environment but is neither smart nor mobile enough to avoid somebody’s foot. This foot is either a shout out to the movie (which I haven’t seen) or a secret to be revealed at its own sweet pace; it’s hard to tell because the story then jumps forward around 129 years whereupon Tobin proceeds to treat us to, well, a rerun of ALIEN basically. Sure, Juan Ferrya busts his talented nuts trying to disguise this by draping everything in the high-end hotel bathroom aesthetic of PROMETHEUS as opposed to the bedsit squalor of ALIEN, but it’s basically ALIEN all over again. That’s not a bad idea but unfortunately everything’s kind of pumped up to the extent that it starts to undermine things. There are a lot more characters here than in ALIEN but they are a lot more unlikeable and a lot more stupid, particularly as most of them are scientists and particularly as the ALIEN crew were verging on the suicidally daft in the first place. These Prometheans just sort of wander around blithe at the sight of all these “phenomena” (bit of science jargon there, cheers) which at best should necessitate a reconsideration of some of the more fundamental assumptions humanity has made about the nature of existence, and at worst strongly hint that the whole place is more dangerous than a jumper made of those bloody lethal Japanese kitchen knives.

These great minds of science find weird goop displaying the qualities of everything ever in chaotic flux and then casually slip a bit in their pocket for later; requests like “Can I take these alien ants which have displayed unprecedented ferocity back on the ship?” are met with “Oh, go on then.” These geniuses would play Twister in a room full of bear traps. The comic ends when they discover just such a room and decide to open the door without, I don’t know, “scanning” it or whatever science can do by 2219. I’m pretty sure by 2219 science will be able to tell us what’s on the other side of a door. Something to look forward to there. Anyway, some dude who is dying of an unspecified illness, maybe space-gout, is going to do something really stupid, a lot of people are going to die screaming and, er, Juan Ferrya sure draws pretty. He’s got this colouring thing going on where it looks like he’s done it all with really hard coloured pencils (yes, I know but with a computer; thanks) and I found that interesting. His attractive and sedate visuals are quite appropriate to what is basically a set up cum travelogue issue. It may have taken a whole lot of stupid to get things moving but PROMETHEUS: FIRE AND STONE is professional enough stuff: OKAY!

ALIENS: FIRE AND STONE #1 Art by Patric Reynolds Written by Chris Roberson Coloured by Dave Stewart Lettered by Nate Piekos of Blambot® Cover art by David Paulmbo Dark Horse Comics, 25 pages, $3.99 print/digital or $1.99 digital after a period of time (2014) This series takes place before the events of PROMETHEUS: FIRE AND STONE #1

If you’re anything like me (and for your sake I hope not) you’ll often wake up in the night wondering what happened to that bunch of colonists we didn’t see in ALIENS. Well, rest easy, pilgrims, because this comic is all about what happened to those colonists we didn’t see in ALIENS. Basically they got attacked by Aliens flew to the moon where that PROMETHEUS: FIRE AND STONE comic took place and got attacked again. If this bunch had any luck it would be shitty. This series starts off with a bang and rarely lets up; consequently it’s all largely running and screaming like a someone’s thrown a load of Aliens into a January Sale. So it’s to Chris Roberson’s credit that he still manages to introduce his cast and demonstrate the characteristics which will define them for the duration of the mini-series. However, it’s to his demerit that this is all largely just running and screaming because that relies on the art being strong enough to stop it all feeling a bit breezy; a bit lightweight. Before I get stuck in I would like to say that the artist, as with all modern artists working from other people’s scripts, has my sympathies. I imagine the script probably read a lot like this: (Obviously I have no idea what the script looked like. Maybe Chris Roberson described everything to the last detail and even provided breakdowns and sketches. I’m just assuming here which is always a really excellent idea; I’m having second thoughts about this bit now. Hope no one notices.)

ALIENS: FIRE AND STONE

PAGE 1 (3 Panels)

We are on that planet from ALIENS or something.

PANEL 1: The colonists are running and screaming.

COLONISTS: EEEEEE!

ALIENS: HISSSSSS!

PANEL 2: An Alien gets a colonist. (Have fun with it!)

COLONIST: AGHHH!

ALIEN: HISSSSSS!

PANEL 3: There are now less colonists but they are still running and screaming.

COLONISTS: EEEEEE!

ALIENS: HISSSSSS!

That type of thing is good for an artist because they can do what they want but it’s bad because the multiplicity of options is just as likely to paralyse. It takes quite a bit of work and talent to make something like the above visually impress on the printed page. Here the art is by Patric Reynolds, the guy who did CITY OF ROSES in DARK HORSE PRESENTS. I didn’t like his art there but it works a bit better here. A bit. His line is still unsettlingly flakey suggesting everything in the world he’s depicting is inordinately friable (I’ve probably said that before; it’s still true). I don’t have some beef with the guy, he can clearly draw but he’s not really the best choice to illustrate a lot of running and screaming. Mostly because conveying motion would be handy but his panels resemble movie stills. And while everyone looks human and has a definite look it’s another case of the Amazing Photo Faced People. There’s a very real difference between someone pulling a “oh noes!” face and someone actually scared shitless; ask your dentist. He’s gamely attempted to adapt his photo referenced style to Aliens but it looks a lot like he’s got some photos of apes lunging about and scratched out an Alien shape over the top. However, since the script calls for the Aliens to be out in the open a lot Reynolds does have a tough remit. A lot of the threat, the unsettling otherness, of the Aliens just dissipates when you can see them (which is why you don’t see it properly until the end of ALIEN; basics, people!) In a further bid at appeasement I will say his space scenes are pretty nice, but they are few and far between; mostly it’s just running and screaming which he’s not really suited to. Again though, his art isn’t terrible; most of the issues I’ve sadistically outlined as problematic are ones shared by a lot of comics artist. Doesn’t mean I have to let ‘em past! As harsh as all that sounds none of the book was woeful so ALIENS: FIRE AND STONE #1 gets OKAY!

ALIEN VS PREDATOR: FIRE AND STONE #1 Art by Ariel Olivetti Written by Christopher Sebela Lettered by Nate Piekos of Blambot® Cover art by E.M Gist Dark Horse Comics, 25 pages, $3.99 print/digital or $1.99 digital after a period of time (2014) This story takes place between the events of PROMETHEUS: FIRE AND STONE #4 and PREDATOR: FIRE AND STONE #1

This one picks up after most all the cretins in PROMETHEUS: FIRE AND STONE are dead. Most of them probably forgot to breathe, or maybe set fire to themselves because they were cold or tried to eat some live tigers. To avoid spoilers as to exactly how stupidly they died the book keep things vague, but it looks like the sickly dude did in fact do something fantastically ill-advised. Understandably then the unlikeable security guy has locked him up while they and all the other survivors fly off in the unattractively designed ship. It quickly becomes apparent that whatever the stupid thing the sickly dude did was it involved a Synthetic, Kevin Eldon. The effect on Kevin Eldon is a bit of a mixed bag; he now appears to be caked in a thick coating of icing but, balancing this, he can control it to make deadly fondant limbs. And while he’s now mentally inclined towards the more batshit end of the scale he can also control Aliens like they were hunt dogs. God giveth and God taketh away, is my take away there.

Most of the issue is Icing Covered Kevin Eldon casually strolling through the ship while talking and setting his Aliens loose on all the survivors. As if that weren’t a big enough pile of trouble some Predators take a break from killing wildlife on a garishly hued nearby world and decide to join in. Ariel Olivetti illustrates it in his usual style; the one which lurches unpredictably from genius to godawful. Sometimes even doing so between elements within the same panel. I think I was a bit tired at this point because both the art and story seemed a bit confusing really, but I did like how they solved the problem of getting Predators into the mix; they just show up! I know that might seem a bit simplistic but I don’t know how much sophistication you should realistically expect at this point. It’s ALIEN VERSUS PREDATOR after all not ALIEN VERSUS MACBETH. (Give it time though.) OKAY!

PREDATOR: FIRE AND STONE #1 Art by Christopher Mooneyham Written by Joshua Williamson Coloured by Dan Brown Lettered by Nate Piekos of Blambot® Cover art by Lucas Graciano Dark Horse Comics, 25 pages, $3.99 print/digital or $1.99 digital after a period of time (2014) This series takes place after the events of PROMETHEUS: FIRE AND STONE #1-4 and ALIEN VS PREDATOR: FIRE AND STONE #1

This gets off to a strong start with a cover showing a Predator sneaking up on young Frank Miller who is apparently clutching what appears to be a severed Alien penis. Nothing inside lives up to that promise but I’d still argue this is the best of these comics. And I’d argue that despite the fact that this one has the slenderest wisp of a premise of any of the books I bought. Here, the unpleasant security dude has escaped from the confused mess of AVP:F&S#1 into this comic where he and his two chums are hunted by a Predator. That’s it. Three dudes on a spaceship get hunted for 25 pages. Then there’s a bit of a twist because there’s another three issues to go. As basic as the setup is (it’s Predator and people being hunted is what Predator fans pay for) I’d still argue that it’s the best comic here. And not just because I’m an argumentative **** but because it’s the best at being a comic. And I’m betting that’s all down to Christopher Mooneyham. I imagine the script he received wasn’t much in excess of:

PREDATOR: FIRE AND STONE #1

PAGE 13 (3 Panels)

We are on-board THE SPACESHIP PERSES. It’s dark because of course it is, but we can still make out space ship stuff like corridors, ladders and stuff and things. It’s dark but not that dark.

PANEL 1: Unpleasant Security Man, Cocky Cannon Fodder Boy and Bald Lee Van Cleef Walk along the corridor.

UNPLEASANT SECURITY MAN: It’s hunting us.

COCKY CANNON FODDER BOY: Dude, your Mom is hunting us. BURRRN!

PANEL 2:

Unpleasant Security Man, Cocky Cannon Fodder Boy and Bald Lee Van Cleef Walk along the corridor.

BALD LEE VAN CLEEF: How jolly.

COCKY CANNON FODDER BOY: We’re on an express elevator to Kitchenware! Going Down!

PANEL 3:

They stop walking suddenly because Cocky Cannon Fodder Boy explodes in a shower of guts. (Have fun with it!)

COCKY CANNON FODDER BOY: Ack!

BALD LEE VAN CLEEF: Tsk!

UNPLEASANT SECURITY MAN: Ooh! We’re in a tight spot now!

PREDATOR: BOO!

But, unlike the unfairly maligned (by me) Patric Reynolds, Mooneyham makes every page pulse with pulp energy and an almost loutish swagger entirely appropriate to the subject at hand. Dude sure likes his Klaus Janson but there’s plenty that’s purely himself here. I enjoyed looking at Mooneyham’s Predator so much that that alone was worth the admission price. His Predator is just perfect, like a scarred spider carved from the pith of an orange. There's real impact on the page turn reveal when that dude shows up. BOO! This is genre comic book art from a time when comics didn’t bow and scrape before television. A time when comics didn’t tug their forelock in the presence of movies but instead revelled in their very nature. It’s genre comic art from a time when comics were proud to be comics. There is a feast of storytelling devices within this comic that put the polite “cinematic” devices of the rest of this bunch to shame. The comics above all largely work in long shot, medium shot and close up; they work largely in landscape panels with a daring inset to pop the monotony. And if its coincidence that all those terms are interchangeable with movie making then, well, it isn’t is it? And I get why it’s legitimate, to an extent, that the comics above treat the pages as screens (because after al I read them on a screen) I should stress that Mooneyham’s pages treated as pages worked just as well. If not better. By embracing the native skills of his medium Mooneyham provides a comic far more akin to movies than any of the placid and pretty offerings preceding it. Basically compared to any of the other Dark Horse comics above PREDATOR: FIRE AND STONE #1 is like a box of fireworks going off in your face. It is very much not that the comics above are bad as such ,and they certainly aren’t wrong with how they go about things, it’s just genre comics are such weird things now, they come from such a weird place that I am just so grateful to find a comic that’s happy being a comic. Hell, one which exults in being a comic. It’s hardly Human Diastrophism but it’s bloody well done so: GOOD!

Phew. Believe you me no one is more glad that's done than me. Cheers and all that.

You still don't understand what you're dealing with, do you? COMICS!!!!

"The Day Terry Vanished." COMICS! Sometimes You Should Take Off And Nuke The Idea From Orbit. It's The Only Way To Be Sure!

That’s right, it has been a while! No flies on you, me old mucker. Cringing apologies duly tendered and all that. Just so you don’t think The Savage Critics don’t love you anymore here's some words about a comic.

Anyway, this… DARK HORSE PRESENTS #2 Dark Horse Comics, $4.99 (2014)

Resident Alien: The Sam Hain Mystery Chapter 2 Art and lettering by Steve Parkhouse Written by Peter Hogan

by Parkhouse & Hogan

This one is called Resident Alien and is about an alien who is a resident in a Small Town®©. (Small Town is ® and © The United States of America.) Sometimes there are crimes and he kind of ambles around them in DHP but actually solves the crimes in other series outside of DHP. I’m guessing he solves them because I haven’t been sufficiently moved to follow his placid antics elsewhere. Could be maybe he doesn’t solve them; maybe he just kicks back and whittles, makes a scale model of the Mary Rose in a bottle, then someone walks past at the end and mentions they caught the Canned Peaches Killer, ayup, so they did, you betcha. Like I say though, I don’t know; maybe he hunts the killer down and exacts brutal and uncompromising revenge but then feels a bit sad about it so it’s okay that he did that. There’s a lot of that crap about these days so I’m quite receptive to a series where the main action involves some nail-biting box unpacking because Res Al is moving house. (Always label your boxes and ensure you pack the kettle last, so you unpack it first; top moving tips there, no charge). Ramping the thrills right up there are also some scenes of the Feds methodically failing to pick up his trail. I guess this isn’t exactly heart stopping stuff unless having crumpets instead of toast gives you palpitations (the razor’s very edge!) It’s an inoffensive and gentle mosey around familiar tropes in a kind of early Sunday evening TV fashion. No disrespect is meant when I say I can easily imagine it being on TV in the ‘80s with an elderly Bill Bixby in a latex mask helping out the character actor residents of a Small Town®© while The Authorities (Tony Danza) unhurriedly fail to track him down. Of course on TV you wouldn’t have Steve Parkhouse’s wonderfully precise yet sketchy art. Art which is unusually attentive to everyday details to such an extent that you are struck by the odd revelation that most comics just vamp this stuff. I’m so used to seeing characters wear Clothes (Shirt, Trousers, Shoes) and live in a House on a Street that Parkhouse’s unforced work here makes the hum drum as visually interesting as any alien world. It also enables Hogan’s amiable script become a decent comic regardless of any televisual ambitions. After all, I always figured my Mum secretly hoped Bill Bixby would run off with her so I prefer comics to Television. Resident Alien is GOOD! comics.

Dream Gang Chapter 2 Story & Art by Brendan McCarthy Lettering by Nate Piekos of Blambot

by Brendan McCarthy & Nate Piekios of Blambot

This one is called Dream Gang and is about a gang of people in dreams. Or something, dreams figure in it though. I don’t think it’s about anything really, I reckon McCarthy’s just larking about which is okay by me. Because Brendan McCarthy can really draw; breaking news there. McCarthy’s lines are just brimful of confidence and so assuredly loose that his art has all the appearances of random doodles miraculously converging just shy of sense. He also knows how to colour stuff in and while I am dreadful at appreciating colours I do know the colours here are bright and inviting since the sight of them from a room length away caused my son (“Gil”) to express an interest. Maybe he can explain it all to me; maybe it is just crazy deep (man). I mean, I like it but McCarthy’s bull-headed insistence on evading clarity can get a bit wearing. It’s also kind of weird to me how Dreams are always this short hand for the imagination frolicking in delighted play and that they are just obviously Technicolor gear and fabgasmtastic but in contrast real life is all grey drabbery. In dreams I have never ridden a marsupial boat on a tangerine river under a liquorice sky. And nor in dreams have I walked with you. More often than not I wake up feeling like someone’s been at my soul with a bone saw; gone at my very essence with a craft knife or something. Not so much Yellow Submarine as Das Boot when everything creaks just before the ocean bursts in. I guess me and Brendan McCarthy will just have to beg to differ when it comes to dreams. GOOD!

Wrestling With Demons Chapter 2 Art by Andy Kuhn Written by Jimmy Palmiotti & Justin Gray Colours by John Rauch Letters by John J. Hill

by Kuhn, Palmiotti, Gray, Rauch & Hill

This one is called Wrestling With Demons and is about a man who has to wrestle with demons. Literally. Not metaphorical demons like eating too much chocolate or boozing until he shits himself or a penchant for bouncing his wife’s head off the worktop. No, proper demons. Which he wrestles. Literally. I’d hesitate to suggest either Palmiotti or Grey is coasting but I will just point out that Steve Niles manages to do this kind of workmanlike sticklebricking of stale ideas all by himself. Last issue was the introductory chapter with decent dad and sassy kid bonding on a road trip before it turned into Fight Club for Demons (and Dads who want their sassy daughter back). I just made it sound really interesting didn’t I, like Joe R Lansdale or something. While Lansdale would routinely turn something this slight into a fast and nasty blur of invention and profanity here the set up just sits around going from predictable beat to predictable beat. Oh, these comic writers and their beats. You need a bit more than beats, folks. But then I remember when beats were nice boys touching each other in pretty cars in between smoking menthol cigarettes and typing be-bop prose & poems. Beats. Anyway this is astonishingly dull stuff considering I used the phrase “Fight Club for demons”. I was watching this movie Shooter the other day, because it was on while I was sitting still for a bit and after a while I was watching the background because I don’t live in America and I like to see what it’s like. Also, the movie was predictable shit so in a defensive move my brain was focusing on the setting. I think it was set in San Francisco because there was a bit where he drove down a hill really fast and the only hill anyone ever drives down really fast in movies set in America is in San Francisco. I didn’t see Brian Hibbs so maybe it wasn’t set in San Francisco; it’s not an exact science. Yeah, I know, it was probably filmed in Canada for tax reasons and they tilted the camera to make it look like Mark Wahlberg was going down a hill. Movie magic in action. Anyway, the big thing I took away from Shooter was that America isn’t really fussed about architecture is it? No, not your old stuff, you’ve got some nice old buildings; we probably built them so, y’know, you’re welcome. Mostly though you have these big things which yell “FUTURE” and then everything else is all boxes. Big boxes and little boxes, yes, but basically boxes. (And then there’s the odd nice old bit here and there like someone spread Barnsley over 3,794,100 square miles) So, boxes with a big shiny thing or two stuck in the middle, that's you that is America. Now, it’s possible, maybe, perhaps, that I could be misjudging the architecture of what is essentially 50 discrete cultures there. But then basing an impression of an entire nation’s architecture on five minutes of an unnecessary Mark Wahlberg movie will do that. My real point is that the actual movie was dross but I found something to keep my synapses firing. So, I was reading this Wrestling With demons and I tell you I appreciated Andy Kuhn’s artwork a lot because everything else was just rote time wasting. Basically compared to the writing in Wrestling with Demons, which was as tepid as an unnecessary Mark Wahlberg movie, Andy Kuhn was America. And it was still just OKAY!

Banjo Art by Declan Shalvey Story & Colours by Jordie Bellaire Lettering by Ed Brisson

by Shalvey, Bellaire & Brisson

Sometimes I wonder whether or not reading comics from such a young age has somewhat degraded my finer sensibilities. Never have I wondered this more than when I finished reading a prettily illustrated and lightly written short revolving around the power of music and memory, in which a young girl wishes only for her father to return from the savage bastardry that is war, and my first thought is disappointment that there wasn’t a final panel of a skull telling me that “..the only victor in the WEIRD War is DEATH! HA! HA! HA!” Sometimes, I appal even myself. GOOD!

Action Philosophers: Action Philosophy! Art & Lettering by Ryan Dunlavey Written by Fred Van Lente

by Dunlavey & Van Lente

My favourite Philosopher Fact is that Nietzsche claimed to have caught syphilis by sitting on a piano stool. But back to the comic and I’d have thought this was the kind of quirky attention getter that would be kicked straight to the curb as soon as the either of these classy dudes got a regular seat at The Big Table. But no, here they are soiling the joint with wit and intelligence like they actually care about this stuff. Alas, they are playing to an empty house because everyone's pissed off to watch Shooter. GOOD!

Aliens: Field Report Art and Colours by Paul Lee Written by Chris Roberson Lettering by Nate Piekos of Blambot

by Lee, Roberson & Piekos

Here Lee and Roberson commit a few scenes from the movie Aliens straight to the comics page. Almost. It’s an attempt to graft the new Aliens series (ALIENS: TURNER & HOOCH) into the canon. You know, so that it counts. God forbid it just be good. So Hicks notices the spaceship from the new Aliens series (ALIENS: CHEESE & PICKLES) on a monitor. Limited to a single page (and it could easily have been limited to a single page) this would have been a cute little come on. Maybe with a jokey nod at those Hostess Twinkies ads. Okay, maybe not. It doesn’t matter because this is 2014 so it isn’t a page long, no, it goes on for pages more than it should and then tells you to go buy ALIENS: SONNY & CHER; wherein you won’t find anyone from Aliens (well, except the aliens obviously) but you will find the ship Hicks saw on a screen in that one panel. Lee’s art is lifeless and flat while faithful to the source but he dismays everyone when he chooses not to draw Paul Reiser and instead hides him with a shadow. While I know I’m supposed to be all out of touch and stuff even I have a sneaky suspicion that all this Alien activity is due to the release of that new Alien videogame, ALIEN:ISOLATIONISM. Apparently it’s about Alien in America during the period just before it entered WW2. What? Yes, I suppose isolationism is a misnomer for American foreign policy at that point but since the game isn’t called ALIEN: NON INTERVENTIONISM I worked with what I had. (Our Motto: there’s a reason this stuff’s free.) Back in reality, the game looks proper good and all. I’ve heard it’s hard as time served in San Quentin but well authentic. There’s even some DLC (yes, I do know what that means, cheeky.) where you can play as members of the original Nostromo crew. Who doesn’t want to play as Yaphet Kotto!? Who doesn’t want to wander about effing and jeffing about bonuses in space. If it tells me to “Find Cat” it can **** off; it’s the escape pod for me, baby! Ma Parker raised no fools. EH!

Peppered throughout this issue are various spot illustrations by Geoff Darrow: Scrumdiddilybloodyumptious and no mistake, me old plumduffs! VERY GOOD!

Right then, this issue of DHP was a bit lacking to be honest. But that’s the thing with anthologies; there’s always an element of pot luck involved. I appreciate reading a bunch of stuff I probably wouldn’t have sought out and that’s probably the true value of a book like this; reminding me how good Andy Kuhn is or that some comic writers still think about the world. The big mistake in this latest iteration of Dark Horse Presents is the lack, two issues in, of any Howard Victor Chaykin. I don’t want to influence anyone or anything but DHP would be a little bit richer in content if it had more stuff like that one where General George Armstrong Custer survives Little Big Horn, becomes President and invades Canada. All in about 8 pages too. Just saying. In conclusion, I had a decent enough time so I’ll go with OKAY!

Hope that'll do ya, because you know what don't read themselves - COMICS!!!

"Don't Make A Noise Or I'll Send The Devil A Henchman." COMICS! Sometimes My Eyes Get A Rough Ride!

Content, he said tersely, and spun upon his heel to leave.What? Conan. It’s Conan. It’s always been Conan. So cleave the break asunder and have at it with much vigour.

Anyway, this… CONAN AND THE PEOPLE OF THE BLACK CIRCLE #1 - 4 Art by Ariel Olivetti Written by Fred Van Lente Coloured by Ariel Olivetti Lettered by Richard Starkings & Comicraft Dark Horse, $3.99 each (2013/4) Adapts Robert E Howard’s The People of the Black Circle Conan created by Robert E Howard

In which I decide to purchase one of Dark Horse’s apparently endless stream of Conan series. Because they are apparently endless aren’t they? But only apparently because everything ends (even Friends, thank Crom). Since his arrival in the Dark Horse stable (ho ho ho) Conan’s been busy; he’s been busy being a Barbarian, a Cimmerian, a King, he’s even done a Bob Hope/Bing Crosby movie (Road of Kings) and now he’s an Avenger (in the general sense rather than the specific sense of Steed and Mrs Peel or those Marvel children’s entertainment movies). This series, Conan and the People of the Black Circle was of fixed length so, yeah, new readers sharpen your axes here. I jumped on board, as they say on the trolleys (Ding! Ding!). And why not, I have no beef with Conan; fact is I like the fact that there are always Conan comics going on somewhere, it gives life a sense of stability. When you get to my age that’s important. Hey, maybe Conan can fill that gap when Star Wars goes Marvel. Can the audience for the children’s entertainment Star Wars be replaced by that for the geriatric pulp sniffer’s entertainment Conan? Doubtful isn’t it? But that’s Dark Horse’s concern, mine is whether these comics were any good.

And the comics comprising Conan and the People of The Black Circle were pretty good because for starters the job Fred Van Lente does is a good one. Here he adapts a Robert E Howard short which means, as it is from the source of all things Cimmerian, it’s all as Conan-y as any Conan fan could want. Yeah, Van Lente does a good job though I did get a bit lost at times with all the to-ing and fro-ing and odd names but that’s not really on Van Lente; it’s more on Olivetti’s tendency towards visual uniformity and basically, let’s be fair, my personal inability to focus properly on narratives concerning people and places called things like Pizzazz the wizard and the city of Chuffbundle. I’m not joking either (about my failings; of course I’m joking about the names; get real, hot pants) those made up names just slip right off my brain and since those names come with the territory (the territory of Slickpiddle) it’s hardly the fault of the comic, Van Lente or Robert E Howard. Since someone who shys away from reading books with maps in the front enjoyed Conan and the People of The Black Circle I’d wager a cheeky smile at least that for a fan of this stuff this is good stuff indeed. There’s certainly plenty going on, there’s no little intrigue, some surprising developments and a both a wider scope and a greater level of characterisation than I, at least, have come to expect from Conan comics. The wizards aren’t just bad men clad in black potato sacks pointing gnarled fingers and hissing, they have a plan, and one of them even has the hots for a lass in harem pants. And as for the lasses, well, yes, the ladies have some agency; one of them is a bad lass and the other’s a princess but even the regal Rita (not her real name) holds her own (as well as Conan’s; calm down, it’s consensual). And Conan? Well, Conan’s Conan but maybe there’s a little more going on under that sofa arm of a brow than usual, but then Conan’s never been quite as thick as he was in that original flick. Nice one, Fred Van Lente! But then there’s Ariel Olivetti. Yes, there certainly is Ariel Olivetti.

Now, I know you don’t think so but I almost do myself a mischief sometimes looking for reasons to like things. I know you think otherwise but that’s because, and we’ve all noticed this, you’re really quite negative and you project that onto me. So while it would be easy for me to spit like a wet cat about the art of Ariel Olivetti I’m going to first say that he gives good Conan. Ariel Olivetti’s Conan is certainly a sight worth seeing; you certainly know he’s about when he’s thugging up the page. Here Conan is all pink tautness, oily sheen, vein bulge and black bangs; like a man shaped pork banger topped with a lady’s wig. There’s a hint of Big John Buscema’s broken nosed Conan about the face (and who broke Conan’s nose? John Severin. Fact.) but Olivetti’s Conan would wear Barry Windsor Smith’s sinewy Conan like a feather boa. He’s good, Olivetti’s Conan, I liked him; looking good out there, Conan. In fact all of Olivetti’s figures are good, really good; there’s a definite sense of density and conviction in the details which really sells them. And if there’s a tendency towards sameness (and there is; I mentioned it early, keep up) only intensive effort could avoid this when costumes and face foliage are, as the material dictates, so interchangeable. And, really, why expend that effort when ninety nine per cent of the people in the panels will shortly be dead. Because after all this is a Conan story and if you looked down on Conan with God’s eye then you’d see him as the point of an arrow of corpses stretching round the globe to a small village in Cimmeria. Yes, Olivetti’s people are quite, quite convincing even though the hats they wear look liked iced gems. Especially so, even. Unfortunately (and it’s the bane of my life too, so I sympathise) people have to exist in a world and the world Olivetti gives us here is somewhat less than convincing.

Which is weird because a lot of the time it consists of photographs or computer modelled scenery far more realistic than his convincing but clearly fantastical figure work. And so Olivetti’s excellent figures occupy a world seemingly wrought from combining snaps taken on the Olivetti family Tuscan holiday (circa 1987; caravans airbrushed out) and bits of children’s plastic castles. Being as kind as can be at its best this approach creates a wonderful sense of Harryhausen-ness with the discreteness of the elements (and the clear artificiality of one set) forcing your mind to just go with it; to just deal with it. Unfortunately a lot of the success of that approach in movies rests on the presence of motion for your imagination to be swept along by. Alas, motion is something comics are not known for possessing being as they are largely static in nature. Mostly then Olivetti’s approach flops flat on its face as firmly as a Gwangi with lassoed legs. Being slightly more realistic with the praise then, it’s a lot like that collage stuff Richard Corben did in the 1970s but I didn’t like that much either, and I like Richard Corben’s work significantly more than I do the work of Ariel Olivetti. Also, it’s 2014 and I’m not sure it’s a good use of more technology than got us to the moon to replicate mistakes made in comics four decades ago. For Corben those effects were a step on the road to a better artistic place but for Olivetti they threaten to become an artistic pothole he’s decided to curl up and kip in for the duration. And finally, to be most unkind; at its worst it’s a goddam eyesore. Bit of a mixed bag visually then. Sometimes Olivetti’s approach hits the cinefantastique jackpot and raises Van Lente’s solid efforts but mostly it doesn’t and so Conan and the People of The Black Circle can't quite get higher than OKAY!

And having no further concern, he and his companions sought adventure in the…COMICS!!!

“Sometimes I Ride A Horse Too.” COMICS! Sometimes I’m not Bored, I’m Actually Quite Entertained. But Thanks for Asking, Klytus!

Oh hey, I wrote about some comics. Wonders never cease do they? By Laming, Parker, Boyd & Bowland

Anyway, this… KINGS WATCH #1 to #5 Art by Marc Laming Written by Jeff Parker Coloured by Jordan Boyd Lettered by Simon Bowland Dynamite Comics (2014) $1.99 each on Dark Horse Digital, $3.99 each on Paper Flash Gordon created by Alex Raymond The Phantom created by Lee Falk Mandrake The Magician created by Lee Falk

By Laming, Boyd, Bowland

Kings Watch (or King’s Watch as it inside the comic) is a five issue attempt by Dynamite to blow the dust off several Kings (no apostrophe) Features characters for the largely bemused perusal of a 21st Century audience. I say largely bemused because while thanks to the joyously tatty energy of the 1980 movie everyone still remembers Flash Gordon his fellow Features have fared less well in the public imagination. Once again neglecting to check with everyone everywhere I feel fairly safe in saying that The Phantom movie of 1996 is not as fondly regarded as Flash’s outing despite the dolorous presence of Patrick McGoohan and the haunting sight of Billy Zane running around the jungle like a muscular grape. As for Mandrake the Magician and the movies I’m afraid even I haven’t a clue, darlings. Comics wise it appears The Phantom has been less dormant than I thought having recently appeared in series published by both Moonstone and Dynamite, and Flash has had a recent series with Alex Ross covers and a readership confined to one nice man in Ottawa. The only movement on the Mandrake front seems to be a newspaper strip collection due to appear before our very eyes shortly. It’s all a bit messy really isn’t it? So, I guess Kings Watch is intended to both streamline and refine these properties with an eye to maximising their potential across a range of multimedia platforms going forward. Or, you know, whatever people in ironic glasses say in rooms with white boards while sipping overpriced coffee bought in from a quaint little bodega down the street. The rest of us should just be concerned with whether these old characters are in are good comics.

By Laming, Parker, Boyd & Bowland

And they are good comics and what helps is that (some of) the characters have had a bit of a remodel for The Now they are intended to inhabit. Flash Gordon and chums require very little refurb with Parker simply, but effectively, updating Flash as a thrill seeking but focus deprived athlete par excellence; Dale remains female and the strange choice is made not to make her a regretful super assassin (“She Could Kill Any Man Alive! But She Could Never Kill The Sadness Inside!”) but rather a level headed, resourceful and strikingly unflappable human being (FFS! Who can relate to that? At least give her guns in her eyes or something!), and Zarkov as the comedy nutter gets most of the laughs via the drunken arrogance which colours his genius so vividly. Having read none of his recent outings I don’t really know how much tinkering Parker had to do but here The Phantom is a mass of scar tissue and arthritic inflammation poured into a bright purple body suit topped off by a domino mask and a zebra patterned truss. He could be a tiresome violent old man type but Parker gives him a nice line in dead pan humour which lightens him up a bit. The character Parker seems to do least to is the one who would seem to require the most tinkering to avoid obsolescence; Mandrake The Magician. Parker doesn’t reinvent him as an “edgy” young street magician or a clapped out old Vegas showman with a tragic past but instead, and remarkably, seems to leave him pretty much untouched. Yes, in King’s Watch Mandrake the Magician remains a magician from back when magicians dressed like the Kaiser was coming to dinner and it wasn’t just serial killers who sawed ladies in half. All this tickling’n’tinkering was just dandy by me because the appealing goofiness of the characters remained; it just wasn’t front and centre like it used to be, that’s all.

By Laming, Parker, Boyd & Bowland

The actual series these characters inhabit may be somewhat stately paced but each issue does contain, in varying but satisfying proportions, an action set piece or two, some engaging character work, a sure sense of progression and, just past the mid-way point, some rather unfortunate developments surprising in both their sweep and suddenness. Let’s just say London’s in it and if London’s in your American genre comic you know that things have probably gone shit side up. The good guys are on the back foot because, unusually for a bad guy, Ming actually has a pretty good plan. He’s quiet droll as well, Ming is, which I liked. Not as much as I liked the fact he wasn’t coloured bright yellow because these properties? Probably a bit of racist baggage, yeah. But Kings Watch deals well with this throughout and the ending subtly recasts things in the direction of greater inclusivity so anyone worrying about all those racist bits from the past of these strips can relax. Unless those were the bits you like, I mean UKIP supporters read comics too; besides The Daily Mail, I mean. Me, I was particularly taken with the bit near the end when everyone realises what they have to do to stop things getting worse and the attendant cost it will inflict on them. I liked this bit not because I love to wallow in other people’s misery (although I do) but because refreshingly there’s no weeping and wailing, there’s no pages of E*M*O*T*I*O*N*S like it’s the backmatter of an Image book, no, they just go and do it because, heroes. Remember those? Well this comic does. Damn straight. With the modern tendency for comics to actually avoid an ending it’s worth noting when one as good as the one here appears.

By Laming, Parker, Boyd & Bowland

Those still awake will note I’ve treated the series as a big lump rather than individually teasing out the art, the writing, the colouring and the lettering. That’s just because I didn’t have time (like Graeme & Jeff I am involved in a Secret Project; mine is Not Getting Sacked, it’s an on-going thing) and also because the fact that the end product was so enjoyable should be testament to the work of all involved. Kings Watch is solid stuff with everyone pulling their weight but no one single contributor showboating and overshadowing the others. Thankfully then there’s no real reason for me to drone on for several hundred grammatically suspect words about Parker’s steady pacing, entertaining characters, or even to single out his unobtrusive humour which seems to occur naturally from the premise, strengthening rather than undermining the drama; nor need I flail desperately about trying to explain why although I still find Laming’s art a little on the stiff side he has come on great guns since I last saw his work on American Century, and that while his art may be more efficient than astounding efficiency is nothing to cock a snook at. Apparently though I do have time to say I thought there could have been a bit more of a stylistic differentiation between the discrete elements of Mongo and Earth to ensure their interaction carried a bit more visual fizz. Hey, I even noticed the colours because some of the FX and palettes really popped on a screen and I say screen because, yes, I continue to force my face into The Future. And because I read Kings Watch in Digital the choice to present most of this series in largely widescreen panels punctuated by the odd splash page for impact worked a treat. Guided View worked fine for most of it and then a bit of manual intervention on the splashes. (Make your own jokes up on that one, knock yourself out. My treat.) Remarkably, old as I am I managed to navigate the thing without soiling myself and crying. Of course I could really do with some advice about how to get images off my tablet and into Photobucket. (I was kind of getting a bit desperate for googled images by the end of this but I think I got away with it.)That would be almost as GOOD! as Kings Watch was.

Now dispatch War Rocket Ajax and bring me some – COMICS!!!

“The Weaving of Ornate Tapestries Glorifying Our Ancestors and Their Bygone Way of Life." COMICS! Sometimes I Treat You Like My Local Library And Continue To Patronise You!

This week I visited my library and took out and read a recent-ish TPB of some quite old Conan comics, 1982 or thereabouts. Then I tried to put my thoughts about ‘em into what them there clever folks call words. I think it worked out about as well as that usually does for me. Probably a lot less well for you. One thing I did discover was that the Hyborian equivalent of Occam’s Razor was Conan’s Rock:

Anyway, this… THE CHRONICLES OF CONAN VOLUME 20: NIGHT OF THE WOLF AND OTHER STORIES Art by John Buscema, Gary Kwapisz, Ernie Chan, Steve Leialoha, Bob Camp & Rudy Nebres Written by Michael Fleisher Lettered by Janice Chiang Coloured by Peter Dawes, Wil Glass and Donovan Yaciuk Conan created by Robert E Howard Dark Horse Comics, $18.99 (2010) This volume collects Conan the Barbarian issues #151- #159 (originally published by Marvel Comics), newly coloured, with all of the original series covers, a foreword comprising the first short part of an interview with Ernie Chan, and with a brand new pinup by Ernie Chan.

My first thought on seeing this book was to wonder who in the name of Belit’s water wings needed twenty Dark Horse volumes of reprinted Marvel Conan comics. My second thought, and one which ran so hard on the heels of the first it risked tripping it up, was how could I get every single one of all those twenty Dark Horse volumes of reprinted Marvel Conan comics. Seeing Conan comics on the shelves of my local library had transported me (sigh; yes, that’s right, figuratively not literally) back to the days when those Marvel comics were actually coming out and also back to the days when my reading erred towards quantity rather than quality. This is a point often overlooked when it comes to kids and reading; it doesn’t really matter how good the reading matter is, it only matters that there’s lots of it. Basically, the kids that do read, well, they really read. They really go for it reading wise, those kids that read, and quality doesn’t really come into it. They don’t even particularly have to be interested in what they are reading, they just have to not be disinterested in it. Which is why I find it baffling that Comics Companies act like the kids demographic is beneath them. First, nothing is beneath Comics Companies (nothing, I say!) and second, Kids would eat that violent crap they poop out up with a spoon. Or if you’re uncomfortable with the unfortunate and unintended mixing of kids and scat back there let’s say they’d read it with their eyes. After all, the young me read every Robert E Howard (REH) etc Conan book in the library but I didn’t actually care for them all that much. I didn’t dislike them or anything. I only really remember that the covers were the most exciting bits, they were published by Sphere (I don’t know why I remember that; I was boring even then?) and I enjoyed the Conan comics way more. Years after it came out I remember getting that Conan Treasury Edition (#4) from a market stall on a day trip to Blackpool; at the stately age of ten Barry Windsor Smith and Roy Thomas’ adaptation of REH’s Red Nails seemed like the most grown up thing in the world. Except for my Dad, anyway. Of course the twin hidden tragedies of this opening, digressive and purely warm up paragraph are that I no longer have that Conan Treasury edition and the young me is dead now. So, let’s see what the old me, in his bitterly truculent way made of some old Marvel Conan comics reprinted between two covers by Dark Horse.

By Buscema, Leialoha, Fleisher et al

It takes Michael Fleisher a couple of issues to get over his impulse to regularly update us on the state of Conan’s thews (e.g. in #159 they are “bronzed”), and this initially distracted me from noticing that the stories in here are pretty basic on the Conan Scale. Which is okay because, and I make no apologies for this, I don’t mind my Conan being basic. Your basic Conan story should involve a woman, a wizard, a monster and a horse. Conan should ride off on one of those carrying another after having have killed all the rest. Usually he’d ride off on the horse with the woman but we’re all more open minded these days so more permissive permutations may be indulged in the safety of your own skull. Michael Fleisher (with an assist from Buscema, see later) recognises that there’s still plenty of room to manoeuvre even within that format and gives us werewolves, demons in metal dungarees, flying people, Hyborian Age rohypnol and other things I’ve forgotten. To be honest Conan stories have a hard time holding my attention, mostly because of the made up names which just fail to gain traction in my head. Except when there is a wholly unintended comical effect. Such as when Michael Fleisher names his winged lady character Alhambra. Now, he may be doing so purely for the evocative sound of the name; he may even have in mind the famous Spanish stronghold built circa the 9th Century which remains a notable tourist attraction still worthy of the Moorish poets’ description of it as “a pearl set in emeralds” (citation needed); however, and alas, Alhambra also has a namesake in Bradford, West Yorkshire, which is a theatre built in 1913 which remains a notable attraction during the Christmas season for anyone wishing to subject their children to the sight of Christopher Biggins dressed as a woman and talking about the size of his pumpkins. Additionally and endearingly a lot of these stories contain a panel which seems to be an overly literal visual representation of a colourful but slightly unsuccessful imaginary sexual euphemism; see Conan strangle an eagle!; see Conan stab the Demon’s heart!; see Conan sup from the lady’s cup!

By Buscema, Nebres, Fleisher et al

Of particular interest in this volume is the fact that John Buscema is allowed a few extra links in his artistic chains so he can stumble out of his inky illustrator’s cave and trespass for a few steps on the sun warmed ground usually earmarked for those weavers of dreams, the writers. What I’m saying is he gets to chuck some ideas and plots at Fleisher for a quick polish and a very nice how do you do to boot. Pleasingly the quality of the stories takes a swift upswing with Buscema trying to open things out of the established formula a bit with a lighter tone and a particular eagerness to get some expanded characterisation going in the vicinity of Conan himself. At times the barbaric One appears downright avuncular. This is dangerous ground Buscema is treading, however, as I personally believe that the occasions when Conan experiences emotions should be kept to a minimum; when he does feel something more than hunger, anger, lust or disgust at men who perfume themselves and live by words rather than actions (PAH!) he should always have a sort of slightly surprised air like a lion seeing a hot dog stand for the first time. But that’s just me, basically John Buscema does okay with the pen as well as the brush. Who knew?

By Kwapisz, Fleisher et al

Gary Kwapisz provides the art for an issue and also a couple of covers, all of which are nicely done with promise aplenty; but I won’t lie I don’t really know who he is. I was just going to make a crack about how his name sounds like he probably left comics and went off to play chess in a tin foil hat but I realised that would be rude and dismissive which isn’t like me at all(!), so I Googled him instead and found out that he’s still active in comics; he recently illustrated a Chuck Dixon series about the American Civil War (as opposed to the English Civil War which I imagine Chuck Dixon finds somewhat less interesting). So, yeah, Kwapisz’s stuff here is nice, being sinewy as opposed to Buscema’s brawn. But this is Conan and so art wise this is John Buscema’s show. Or, more correctly Ernie (Chua) Chan’s show. For even a great noble beast of an artistic Shire horse like John Buscema must have been tiring by this stage and Chan’s inking works hardest of all the inkers present to bolster Buscema . Certainly as we join John Buscema here, several years into bearing most of the weight of both the colour Conan and the B&W Savage Sword of… magazine, his art is typified by body language, staging and character design worn into familiar patterns by the repetition inherent in his colossal workload and the insanity inviting narrowness of the subject matter. Were the “he” in question not John Buscema this would likely be a critical hit, but as it is even the most cursory of his pages retains a well-honed gift for flow and all the essential cues other hands would require to beef it up to presentation standard. Basically, on these pages John Buscema’s art is saved from the gauzy weightlessness of a harem dancer’s veil by the efforts of both the inking (mostly by Chan (Chan’s the man!) but also Leialoha, Camp and Nebres) and, surprisingly, the colouring by various hands. Now (spoiler!) I’m not usually a fan of modern comic colouring technology applied to old timey comics but here I reckon it works. Earlier Dark Horse Conan volumes disastrously swamped Barry Windsor Smith’s delicately evolving lines under all the technological bells and whistles available; a no doubt well-intentioned but ultimately ill-judged attempt at updating the art which ended up resembling only aesthetic philistinism (he said sputtering wildly). Here, however, the colours lend vigour and spark to art which, unlike Windsor-Smith’s, is open enough to accommodate all the technology Dark Horse can chuck at it.

By Buscema, Chan, Fleisher et al

It can’t come as much of a surprise given its title that THE CHRONICLES OF CONAN VOLUME 20 showcases a series past its prime. But nobody herein disgraces themselves and every story between its covers is entertaining if not entirely sensible. It’s pulp fluff that was meant to entertain for the moment never giving a fig for posterity yet here it is in 2014 and I had a good time so I say THE CHRONICLES OF CONAN VOLUME 20 is OKAY!

And remember, what is best in life? COMICS!!!!

Wait, What? Ep. 143: The Score

Simpsons Alan Moore: Knows it; wishes to settle it.

Happy New Year, fellow Whatnauts! Graeme and I are back with another installment of the external manifestation of the constant internal chatter constantly haunting your brain.  After the jump: the link and some hasty show notes written by a dude with a cold trying to get this wrapped so he can take a nap!

So, first and foremost:  you do remember we've shifted to a fortnightly/biweekly recording schedule, yes?  You're not going to miss us that much, I know, what with the hundreds of hours of entertainment pouring at you like candy-colored magma, but we do appreciate you continuing to tune in, and hope our latest round of agreeable disagreements will provide your day with a bit of pleasure...

00:00-16-49: Greetings? Our first podcast of the new year and on the plus side, we’re on it within the first ninety seconds, talking about that lengthy Alan Moore interview (that as of recording time, Graeme had read in its entirety, but Jeff, alas, had not).  Unfortunately, for the first ninety seconds, there are subjects we are not nearly as “on it” (such as talking and saying the proper year out loud, etc.)  But make sure you listen to Jeff and Graeme have a very polite dispute on Alan Moore/Grant Morrison’s far less polite dispute. 16:49-34:22: As much as we probably could’ve lingered on Moore’s interview forever (had Jeff read it, anyway), we had other fish to fry: we were recording on the day of the Image Expo.  We go over the announcements and our impressions. (Sadly, they’re not, like, actual impressions.  We don’t alternate trying to talk like Robert Kirkman or whatever, but I think you know what we mean.) 34:22-1:06:02: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...  Marvel got the Star Wars license! (yes, we have some old ground to catch up on.)  Jeff frets about his digital collection and talks about why (in the face of mounting evidence that he should not).  Also discussed:  whether or not we’re excited about Marvel having the rights, age differences and Return of the Jedi, the book market, and more. [Note:  the Marvel exec whose name Jeff couldn’t remember -- and whom Graeme couldn’t remember at all --  is Ruwan Jayatilleke and some of the stuff Jeff is talking about comes from here. 1:06:02-1:30:43:  Discussion of the rumors that the Amazons are Kryptonian descendants in the Man of Steel sequel!  Jeff wanted to talk about this rumor (originally mentioned and clarified here).  Naturally, we talk a bit about The Man of Steel (since Jeff finally saw it), Star Trek Into Darkness, plans, theories, ideas, and stuff.  Because I grew up in the '70s, I re-read the last part of that previous sentence and realized how much I sound like my fifth grade teacher. 1:18:23-1:30:43: “Hulk Hates Puny Relaunches!”  With its third reboot in as many years, is The Hulk a title that just can’t work?  Or is this barely any different than Marvel’s relaunch of Daredevil? There’s a brief lull in the conversation for 2014’s first mini-Techpocalypse but it's actually surprisingly small.  Would that it were our only one. 1:30:43-1:45:27:  Other topics, covered a bit more quickly:  the leaked cover of Amazing Spider-Man!  Original Sin, the upcoming Marvel crossover event!  Shia LaBeouf!  This should've led to a more in-depth conversation about comics we’ve read recently, including the Astonishing Spider-Man & Wolverine miniseries by Jason Aaron and Adam Kubert; and Detective Comics #27 by a mess of people including Brad Meltzer, Bryan Hitch, Francesco Francavilla, Gregg Hurwitz, Neal Adams, Peter J. Tomasi, Ian Bertram, John Layman, Jason Fabok, Scott Snyder, Sean Murphy, and others.  But then we get derailed by another tech problem so instead we change gears and talk about… 1:45:27-1:54:28: Misfits!  That cheeky bastard of a show recently wrapped up and Jeff finally caught up on it, and we discuss the finale.  (Despite a lot of complaints on Jeff’s part, the show is worth digging up over on Hulu and having a watch, if you can put aside any preference on your part for internal logic of any kind whatsoever.) 1:54:28-end: Closing comments! Apologies! Reminders we have moved to that fortnightly schedule, so we will be back in two weeks! Closing show music!

Well, that wrapped things up, didn't it?  Okay then, we'll see you -- oh, what's that?  The actual podcast?  Oh yeah, well, that's available by now probably on iTunes, and our RSS feed (and I was supposed to look into that other RSS service Al from House to Astonish wanted us to consider but I haven't done that yet) and, in fact, directly below:

Wait, What? Ep. 143: The Score

As always, we hope you and enjoy and thank you for listening!  And now, if you'll excuse us, it is naptime in the hopes of a speedy recovery.

"Gara Gara!" COMICS! Sometimes They Are MANGA!

Konichiwa! What follows is almost Zen like in the purity of its pointlessness. Unless…unless you are one of the three living people who have not already read these old manga comics. Comics which are now available again in a new series of petite omnibooks. So someone must not have read them, right? C’mon, throw me a rope here!

Anyway, this…

If you have never read any of the manga comics and are a bit trembly about starting then this one’s for you! Because cards on the table; fox in the henhouse; monkey in the nunnery; I know sweet FA about the manga comics. When it comes to the manga comics I’m not your man. Gah! So, given my impressive indolence when it comes to the appreciation of other cultures I just read these as comics. Just opened ‘em up and read ‘em. Treated ‘em like comics, see. Crazy.

LONE WOLF AND CUB OMNIBUS VOLUME 1 Art by Goseki Kojima Written by Kazu Koike Translation by Dana Lewis Lettering by Digital Chameleon Lone Wolf and Cub created by Goseki Kojima & Kazu Koike Dark Horse comics, $19.99 (2013)

Hey, as far as I can tell (and I may tell a lie, inadvertently) these comics originally appeared in 1970, as indeed did I. Bouncing Buddhas, these comics are as old as I am! Luckily they seem to have aged somewhat more gracefully. Unlike Lone Wolf & Cub I was not originally created by Goseki Kojima & Kazuo Koike and serialised in Weekly Manga Action Magazine, nor did I form the basis of a television series and a string of successful films before being reprinted in English by FIRST! comics in 1990 and, following FIRST’s demise (but no demise in the thirst for these comics) thereafter by Dark Horse Comics. This is Dark Horse’s second third (thanks, Ben Lipman!) go round at the material. This iteration is digest sized but impressively girthed. It’s a thick little brick of a book is what it is. This edition of Omnibus Vol.1 ends with Half Mat, One Mat, a Fistful of Rice in case anyone with an incomplete collection of the previous volumes wanted to know when to hop on board.

At the back of the book there are some author bios from which I cravenly cribbed the previous factual bits and a glossary of terms pertinent to the Edo period Japanese setting. Initially you’ll be flicking to this glossary every time you meet an unfamiliar word but you’ll soon get caught up in the flow of the narrative stream and your insecurity will erode to nothing as you use context to impose meaning; much as you do with your native language. English, I ‘m talking about English there, in the case of our American friends. Look, I don’t want the elbow patches and chalk dust connotations of a glossary to put anyone off; it’s useful and a nice touch but you’ll be too busy reading some 700 pages of great comics to bother with it, or as the experts would have it: 700 pages of great manga.

Don’t worry about the words and the possibility of babel-jabber. In fact the translation by Dana Lewis reads smoother than a lot of English speaking comics writers’ work. Since the top names in US comics write like they learned English via correspondence course (and a lot of the lessons went missing in the post) I’m not sure who this reflects best on. The only jarring note is struck when sometimes the speech of the peasantry mimics that familiar from Westerns; this may sit oddly atop the images of Edo period Japan (“Consarn that dangdurned Emperor!”) but the genres have enough surface similarities to make this decision explicable. And it does create a clear divide between the scrofulous ones and their betters (who aren’t; they never are). On reflection this contrast between the earthier utterances of the proles and the formal rigidity of their masters nicely reinforces the divides. It’s such a good translation that it enables the quiet genius of the original writing to shine. Lone Wolf & Cub does many things but one of the things it does best is present a portrait of a repressive society and all the unhealthy sexuality and violence roiling beneath the social constrictions. The storytelling is remarkably convincing in its period detail although, full disclosure, I am neither Japanese nor a historian; so the fact that there aren’t any car chases and no one checks their wristwatch is the only level of historical accuracy I can vouch for.

I hear that all reviews must now contain some words about the art. So, yeah, let’s do that. Sadly I have sod all reference for Japanese art except for that Great Wave by Hokusai I had on a calendar once and a picture of a lady with a squid I saw in The Guardian the other week; one that was altogether too rude by half. Luckily for all of us inadequately prepared reviewers Lone Wolf and Cub has a built in entry point for palettes moulded by the North American comics tradition. The sentient reader will note that the cover to this first volume is by Frank Miller and Lynn Varley. This dynamic duo provided the initial run of covers for the FIRST reprints (followed by Bill Sienkiewicz and then, I believe, Matt Wagner. Pedigree stuff there, kids). The art of Miller and Varley’s Ronin (DC Comics, 1984) had been cheerfully blatant about showcasing its debt to the work of Goseki Kojima and Miller had vocally championed Lone Wolf and Cub in interviews at the time. Miller’s stylistic lifts are revealed to even my uninformed eye at certain points in this volume (the straw of hats, motion lines forming figures, etc and etc) and nowhere are these lifts more apparent than in the graveyard scene which closes out this book. That’s how good Goseki Kojima is here; Frank Miller took a leg up from him to reach his pinnacle.

And make no mistake Goseki Kojima is damned good here. The world the series inhabits is concretely defined with clear demarcations between the austere human constructs and the lush natural sweep of the land itself; the similar socio-economic demarcations between the folk populating the book are also succinctly sketched. So much so that one who knows less than zero about Edo period Japan grasps instantly and easily a wealth of information about what was seconds ago unknown and alien. And then there’s the action. The savagery of which, with its barrage of brutality and people coming apart like mud in heavy rain, is never in doubt. The violence in Lone Wolf and Cub is awful in exactly the right way.

Lone Wolf & Cub is, I guess, primarily about Fathers and Sons. It can’t help but be about Fathers and Sons because when you are an itinerant assassin for hire saddled with a son, every day is Bring Your Child To Work Day. Usually comics about Fathers and Sons continue the bad rap Dads have. This very comic might be about how bad this dad is too, it’s hard to tell; it’s open to interpretation. He clearly loves his son and this love is reciprocated. Lone Wolf so loves his cub in fact that he is taking him to Hell with him. Sometimes you can love too much. Obviously Social Services might have something to say about having the kid feign drowning to lure an enemy into an unarmed swim or riding his dad’s back in a swordfight with a mirror strapped to his head in order to provide a surprise advantage.

But there aren’t any Social Services, or indeed any form of supportive infrastructure for those less fortunate. Which is odd because everybody here is paying taxes, some people are paying so much tax it is killing them. And you pick this up as you go along; Lone Wolf and Cub is really quite political. But it is so in a very gentle way. The squalor of the peasantry, the machinations of their betters (who aren't; they never are. It bears repeating) and the way a whole Society can be its own worst enemy are powerfully but subtly conveyed by every page. But never, ever, in a dull, dry or dreary way. All that smart stuff is smuggled in under cover of a series of chapters that hop from genre to genre with no sign of sweat or effort. There's a chapter with the grubby brio of High Plains Drifter but set in a spa town; an episode recalling nothing less than Inspector Morse; an excursion into religious symbolism; a prison break revenge saga cum murder mystery; never a dull moment is what, I'm saying.

Lone Wolf & Cub is truly humbling in its mastery of comics and the heights of entertainment it reaches. It's from the past and another country and they really do things differently there. For the duration of Lone Wolf and Cub it’s hard not to think that they do things better.

Sometimes Lone Wolf & Cub is still as a pond; sometimes Lone Wolf & Club dances like the fire. But Lone Wolf & Cub is always EXCELLENT! Because Lone Wolf And Cub is always – COMICS!!! (or MANGA!!!)

(I’m worried about the kid though.)

"This is Worser Than Washin' An Elephink!" COMICS! Sometimes It's Like I'm Shouting This At You While I Run Past!

Borag Thung, Earthlets! I have been quiet of late but I rested easy in the knowledge that the delightful Messrs Khosla, McMillan, Lester and Hibbs had been satisfying all your comicy needs to the highest of standards as ever. Not that I was resting you understand. So, practically writing this one as I move towards the door...Anyway, this... David Lapham from The Strain in DARK HORSE PRESENTS  #28

POPEYE:CLASSICS #14 Written and drawn by Bud Sagendorf IDW/Yoe Books, $3.99 (2013) Popeye created by E.C. Segar

Some issues of POPEYE: CLASSICS are available from the Savage Critics Store (which you have all quite patently forgotten about. Sniff!) HERE.

Month in month out the nautically attired freak faced grammar mangler continues to pleasantly baffle me with the weirdly logical escalation of the ludicrous incidents which comprise his preposterous adventures. Since Popeye, for all his charms, is in fact a fictional construct I’m going to place the credit for this consistently entertaining package at the door of Bud Sagendorf, a real life man (now deceased) who went done drew and writed it all. Fans of the magic old men do can marvel at Sagendorf’s use of long shot silhouettes to prevent a total nervous breakdown from having to repeatedly draw a train in what are quite small panels indeed. As a special bonus Sagendorf serves up some right nice visual gaggery, the best of which are the parts where sound FX have a physical effect on the drawn environment they inhabit. Basically they hit people on the chin is what I’m saying there.

Bud Sagendorf from POPEYE CLASSICS #14

In this issue the main tale involves Popeye buying a railroad, Olive Oyl’s demanding customer, an attempted hijack and a visual stereotype of a re..native American (altho’ in the world of Popeye this might actually be a vacationing accountant in racially insensitive fancy dress). Then there’s a story where Popeye buys the world’s cheapest and laziest race horse, another story where Popeye and Olive simultaneously seek to teach Sweetpea a lesson and demonstrate their poor parenting skills by scaring the shit out of the wee tyke in an abandoned mine, and a short with Wimpy being out foxed by a cow (“a lady of the meadow”), there’s a text story as well but I skipped that. Bud Sagendorf wasn’t writing for the &*^%ing omnibus is what I’m getting at here. Popeye is printed on weirdly bloated pages, haphazardly coloured and always, always a welcome arrival in my field of vision so I’m going to say it’s VERY GOOD!

THE SHADOW ANNUAL 2013 Art by Bilquis Evely Written by Andre Parks Coloured by Daniela Miwa The Shadow created by Walter B. Gibson Dynamite, $4.99 (2013)

Man, I’m not exactly Sammy Stable at the best of times (“No shit, John!”) but the temporal shenanigans in this thing almost gave me a panic attack. It’s five minutes ago! Now it’s three hours later! No, hang on, it’s five years earlier. No, it’s been seven hours and fifteen days. And nothing compares. Nothing compares. To yaaaooooooooowwwww. Clearly the comparison being begged here is that this comic is like Brief Encounter but starring two psychopaths and set in Vegas before Elvis conquered it.

Bilquis Evely from THE SHADOW ANNUAL 2013

Even more clearly it’s not like that at all but instead is very much like having to find your train in a busy station where all the clocks show the wrong time, people keep getting stabbed and shot and you’ve found yourself in the company of some boring jabberjaw who won’t shut up about his first love. Shadow, dude, move on. This is unseemly in a man of your standing. Fucking chin up, old son. As for the art, well, it’s okay, it’s alright, but there’s a tendency for noses to look like the owner has a heavy cold. That’s Sean Murphy’s influence (influenza!) in action there. So, a nice idea, not terribly well executed at a price point I want to hit with a stick makes this EH!

DARK HORSE PRESENTS #28 Art by David Lapham, Neal Adams, Richard Corben, Steve Lieber, Patrick Alexander, Ron Randall, Menton3, Michael T. Gilbert, Aaron Conley and Geoff Darrow Written/plotted by David Lapham, Edgar Allan Poe, Richard Corben, Neal Adams, Caitlin R. Kiernan, Ron Randall, Steve Niles, Michael T. Gilbert, Janet Gilbert and Damon Gentry Coloured by Lee Loughridge, Moose Baumann, Rachelle Rosenberg, Jeremy Colwell, Michael T. Gilbert, Sloane Leong Lettered by Clem Robbins, Nate Piekos of Blambot, Ken Bruzenak, Steve Lieber and Damon Gentry

Dark Horse Presents is an anthology so, you know, it’s a bit all over the shop. Mostly though it keeps its footing on the shiny tiles and rarely sends the display of stacked tins (Pork and beans! For the poor!) spinning madly about. First up, David Lapham reminds me how good he is at comics with his The Strain chapter. Even though I have no particular interest in this property and there's a bit of cultural shorthand verging on the cliched Lapham quietly did the business on every page to ensure that the final panel came as a punch to the guts and I actually wanted to read what happened next. Later in the ish Lapham resurfaces with the conclusion to his introductory Juice Squeezers tale which, with its teen focused Cronenbergyness, proves to be the kind of nuts that comics would benefit from more of and yet truculently resists embracing.

Michael T. Gilbert, Janet Gilbert and Ken Bruzenak from Mr. Monster Geoff Darrow’s spot illustrations continue to amaze with the visual conviction with which they deliver scenes at once grotesque, impossible and droll. In a similar fashion to the comics Darrow produces elsewhere, comics which chafe some SavCrits so (but, strangley, not this eminently chafeable one), Sabretooth Swordsman with its surprising Savage Pencil influences is an optically delirious but narratively slight piece.

Aaron Conley, Damon Gentry and Sloane Leong from Sabertooth Swordsman

Richard Corben chucks out another Poe adaptation which is notable primarily for the truly scintillating colour work executed therein. I am absolutely horrible at appreciating the colour in comics but even here, even I, had to stop and marvel at more than one point. Ken “The Chameleon” Bruzenak is here in several different stories and in each case serves up lettering apposite to the pieces in question; in the very traditional Trekker his work is attractive but modest while in Mr. Monster he provides an ostentatious display of madcap fonts.

Richard Corben and Nate Piekos from Edgar Allan Poe's The Assignation

As a whole Mr Monster, additionally armed as it is with Michael T Gilbert’s invigoratingly loose art, continues to cock a scruffy snook at seriousness; which I like. Mrs. Plopsworht's Kitchen by Patrick Alexander succeeds in making physical and emotional abuse funny which is an interesting type of victory. Oh, and there’s some other stuff here; Steve Niles producing his trademark pound shop horror; Alabaster continuing to not be anything I want while not actually being terrible and Blood by Neal Adams continuing to be Blood by Neal Adams. Overall though I had a good time so DHP was GOOD!

JUDGE DREDD CLASSICS#3 Art by Carlos Ezquerra Written by John Wagner & Alan Grant (as T.B. Grover) Coloured by Tom Mullin Lettered by Steve Potter Judge Dredd created by John Wagner & Carlos Ezquerra IDW, $3.99 (2013)

Look, before I start acting like a pissy arse let’s get this one thing straight: these are great comics. I know this because it isn’t the first time I’ve bought them and it certainly isn’t the last time I’ll read them. When I first read them they blew my school socks off (not a kink; I was at school). The Apocalypse War was where Carlos Ezquerra returned to the character he (co) created after an absence occasioned by unfortunate editorial decisions. Carlos Ezquerra was back and Carlos Ezquerra meant it. Carlos Ezquerra drew the cremola out of The Apocalypse War even as The Apocalypse War blew the world of Dredd to grud and back. Because The Apocalypse War was where Wagner & Grant (AKA T.B. Grover) took all the pages of world building that had gone before them and applied a match. After The Apocalypse War the world of Dredd would never be the same again. Really. In The Apocalypse War Dredd made a decision no man should ever have to make, a decision only a man who was not a man could make, and the following decades of the strip have shown the consequences and ramifications of that decision fashion Judge Joseph Dredd into a man at last. With The Apocalypse War Wagner & Grant’s breathlessly hi-octane narrative pace in tandem with Ezquerra’s consistently brutal style created an epic that looked like the end of everything but was instead the birth of the strip’s future. These are great comics.

Ezauerra, Wagner, Grant, Potter and Mullin from The Apocalypse War

Alas, when I talk about greatness I’m talking purely about the pages of comics in here. The actual physical pamphlet comic is a bit lacking. You know, these are great comics. Do I repeat myself? I repeat myself. Great comics, so how’s about a bit of care and attention; a bit of respect. That’ll have to remain purely theoretical because, oh, he’s off now…The cover’s a bit lacking for starters; look, I’m all about negative space and clear, crisp design but that looks a bit, well, I don’t think it achieved its aim. Imagine if they’d rejigged an original 2000AD cover featuring The Apocalypse War. Trust me when I say the new cover would be a poor second. Then, oh dear, the inside front cover seems to think this story is called Block Mania but it isn’t; Block Mania finished last issue. This story in this issue, (which is all reprints and cost $3.99) is called The Apocalypse War which is why I’ve called it that through all the preceding verbiage. Then between each chapter there’s a perfunctory full page graphic. Grud on a Greenie! I realise the space has to be filled due to the page counts of each episode but could you not have had a bit of fun, IDW? Got a bit creative? Maybe stuck the original covers on there instead, or blown up a portion of a panel pop art style like on those DC Kirby/Ditko/etc Omnibooks? You’ll notice, IDW, that I’m not even daring to suggest you commission some, choke, original content. I mean I realise reprinting decades old comics and charging $3.99 a pop might not allow for such largesse. Sarcasm there.

Ezauerra, Wagner, Grant, Potter and Mullin from The Apocalypse War

Then there’s that weird waste of space at the bottom of the page. Again, I appreciate you don’t want to mess with the size ratios but, drokk it all, that’s some token stuff there, IDW. And there's a page out of sequence. A page out of sequence in a comic of reprints selling for $3.99! However, I am okay with the colouring. Obviously, I’d rather they hadn’t bothered because the art was drawn for B&W (except for the opening spreads) but I understand Americans are fond of their colours. There they are America: enjoy your Colonial colours! Moan, moan, moan except this is all basic stuff. I'm hardly asking for Cher to sing live in my living room here just some vague pass at professionalism, if you please.

Ezauerra, Wagner, Grant, Potter and Mullin from The Apocalypse War

So, a confounding miscalculation on the part of IDW here; this material is readily available in a number of other formats and has been for decades so making a new iteration stand out from the crowd would, I’d think, be imperative. Making your books expensive and ill-designed is certainly a novel approach. Luckily, these are great comics so even though the crime is Fail the sentence is GOOD!

Anyway, I'm off now. With any luck I'll bump into some COMICS!!!!

"You Can Only Get In So Many Fights." COMICS! Sometimes They Are Sublime!

So, I got a chunk of time and I devoted it to this comic. I hope you enjoy reading this but even more I hope you enjoy the comic in question.

Anyway, this...

MIND MGMT Issues 8 - 12 (The Futurist parts 2 - 6) Story, Art and Cover by MATT KINDT Digital Production CLAY JANES Design MATT KINDT with ADAM GRANO Assistant editor IAN TUCKER Editor BRENDAN WRIGHT Publisher MIKE RICHARDSON MIND MGMTTM © 2013 MATT KINDT Dark Horse Comics Inc., $3.99 each

MIND MGMT is a monthly periodical comic book published by Dark Horse. It is my favourite regular arrival in any care package I receive from my LCS. And yet I have been largely silent about it after an initial burst of typically irritating hyperbolic and grammatically challenged enthusiasm. This is because it literally just stopped arriving. (Literally because literally means literally; literally does not mean figuratively. Literally.) Despite all the horror stories one hears about postmen, quarries and pension cheques it seemed unlikely that my erstwhile deliverer of pizza menus, demands for money and paper based parental chiding had been losing them in transit. (Losing rather than loosing, because it seemed unlikely he had been setting them free like tagged owls) Now, because I have a pretty laissez-faire attitude to my LCS it took me a while to cotton on. Also, at some point in any interaction with my LCS we usually fall out because I say unkind things about Brian Bendis or Mark Millar both of whom are dear to the heart of my comic procuring Billy Batson look-a-like. Displaying an enormous amount of restraint I remained civil and so following an exchange between myself and my LCS the logjam has been cleared and I ended up with a big lump of MIND MGMT to pore over. (I did not pour over it because I am not a sentient liquid.)

As I said before I dazzled you with an outburst of pedantic fireworks MIND MGMT is my favourite regular comical periodical. This statement should not be confused with any claims that MIND MGMT is the best periodical comic currently being produced. Part of maturity is realising that because you like something doesn’t mean it is good. I like lots of awful things but I don’t pretend they are good; I just like them, er, because. MIND MGMT isn’t awful MIND MGMT is...but that bit's at the end. Suspense there, I'm going for suspense. It is entirely possible that I like MIND MGMT and MIND MGMT is also good. Let's see...

I won't go on about the story MIND MGMT is telling (it is a good story; a conspiracy story) but I will go on about how MIND MGMT is telling that story. Because what MIND MGMT is really about, the real pleasure of MIND MGMT, is a man who is using the medium of comics to its fullest. Or at least the fullest that I am currently exposing myself to. Like a Millhaven butcher Matt Kindt uses every part of the animal. At the heart of every conspiracy story lurks a dependency on the revelation of the connectedness of previously thought unconnected things. The formal thematic fun starts with the very covers of each issue of MIND MGMT. Indeed each of the covers of these six (and also issue 7, the first part of The Futurist arc, which arrived so long ago it has become part of the papery lining of my garage and was thus unavailable) contain the cover of the previous issue in a a kind of Matryoshka doll effect. The cover of 7 is a poster which appears on a lamppost on 8; the cover of 8 appears as an album cover on 9; the cover of 9 appears as a TV image on 10; the cover of 10 appears on a pile of magazines on 11; the cover of 11 appears in a flurry of incriminatingly revelatory papers on 12. None of these appear forced; they all appear organic; they all make sense. Which is the key to conviction in any conspiracy story.

The inside front cover isn’t an advert (there are no adverts for MIND MGMT except for fake adverts; later. Suspense there again.) it is a single page piece introducing an outlandish character or concept. There are many outlandish characters and concepts in MIND MGMT and the more Matt Kindt throws at the reader the more the reader’s natural resistance to outlandishness is eroded. Like the application of a pleasant pumice stone to the horny warts of the reader’s disbelief. Be forewarned, be forearmed, these may appear fun things of fluff to add to the patchwork but this may not be the case. They may also foreshadow concepts or characters which may rise to later prominence in the series. This is a distinct possibility. It has happened before, it may happen again. At the very least they are a fun bit of world building and probably more honest than that Seamonkeys advert.

The next 22 pages form the bulk of the issue; the narrative guts if you will. The pages of MIND MGMT are not like the pages of other comics. Every page taking place in the narrative present is presented as a page of comic art. Art complete with the editorial blue lines which mandate the format of such submissions. As though the events we are witnessing are a report submitted after the fact to an organisation which requires all reports to be submitted in the form of a sequential graphic narrative; a comic. For the first part of this sequence of issues the left hand margin of these pages is torn away and replaced by a second narrative. This second narrative is Premeditated: A True Crime Novel. In the world of MIND MGMT the word true should be distrusted at all turns. It is written by one of the characters about events involving other characters. In this way it again builds the MIND MGMT world’s past even as the reader witnesses the MIND MGMT present. Although the MIND MGMT present is also the MIND MGMT past, as we witness events retroactively. Later issues return us to the form established in the initial MIND MGMT issues with the left hand side restored to the conceit of the blue line guidance in the form of MIND MGMT FIELD GUIDE extracts. Both novel extracts and guidance function in the same way: at times these literal marginalia appear to comment upon, reinforce or undermine the events on the page which they border. This may be intentional, it may also be the result of the human mind’s natural inclination to seek patterns in chaos and its remarkable facility to do so where none exist. It is not unlikely that MIND MGMT knows this. Where there is clarity there is also confusion; this also is the hallmark of successful conspiracy stories. In issue 12 the margin text becomes a warning pink transforming into DISBANDING PROTOCOL. Shit is kicking off big time story wise at this point and the comic itself seems to respond in kind. MIND MGMT is self-aware.

I will not dwell on the actual contents of the story pages as they are where the bulk of your initial pleasure will be focused upon reading these issues. Suffice it to say that they are event packed, intelligent and move with a fierce propulsion. In fact so fierce is the propulsion that Kindt’s art, art so sketchy and rushed looking in comparison to the static lifelessness of much on the stands, is a totally appropriate form for this content. The water colouring effects are a bold and evocative move and like all Kindt’s artistic hallmarks allow for speed of production with no loss of communicative efficacy. It is a very heavy style and if it isn’t to the reader’s taste then that’s that. But what initially appears rough and imprecise does reveal itself to be suggestive of a great number of emotional subtleties. It’s here that I realise I’m making MIND MGMT appear a bit dry and perhaps more of a slog than a pleasure. This failure is mine. MIND MGMT has an enormous sense of fun despite the bleak and serious surface of its happenings. One of the great attractions of MIND MGMT is its very playfulness. Playfulness of form (which is what I’m mostly getting at with this piece) but also playfulness of content. Jokes, I’m talking about jokes there. Horror, pain, loss, unresponsive genitals all these things are part of the human condition but so is humour. MIND MGMT doesn’t do quips as such, but it does do jokes. God save me from quips. My favourite joke was page 9 of issue 11. Here in one panel Kindt effectively summarises and good-naturedly parodies the Oni series THE SIXTH GUN. Also of note is the mind expansion sequence on page 2 of issue 12 where what seems to be a reference to Campbell & Moore’s comics masterpiece FROM HELL appears. There may well be references and connections I missed. I don’t doubt it. That’s what re-reading is for. MIND MGMT invites re-reading like notions that Jack Kirby was just a work-for-hire stooge at 1960s Marvel invite scorn. MIND MGMT is a comic which appears to be conscious of other comics. Playful, like I said.

Initially pages 23 and 24 appear to be a more fulsome return to the inside front cover concept. Here a deeper look at a tangential character is occasioned. It is a character who has appeared before but the backups are a neat sleight of hand. They do build the character and inform previous events with greater significance but, well, the biggest development in the series thus far seemed to me to occur here. It’s in this sequence that the true nature of a main character is revealed and the fact that Kindt used the simplest visual trick in the book to misdirect me so successfully gave me a warm feeling. When someone tricks you and you ares o impressed you want to thank them it isn’t just a trick. It’s magic. MIND MGMT is comics magic.

The back cover of MIND MGMT is always an advert but the back cover of MIND MGMT is never an advert. It is an advert which is not an advert. The advert will be connected to the contents of the issue you have read and functions as a final bit of playful worldbuilding. It is an advert for itself. Even at the last, right up to the last page MIND MGMT is revelling in what it is – a comic.

I enjoy the story MIND MGMT is telling but more than that I enjoy the way MIND MGMT is telling me that story. I am not unaware that Matt Kindt’s periodical pleasure has successfully attracted attention from the televisiual media. That’s nice, I hope that works out for him but MIND MGMT started out as a comic and it’s as a comic I’m concerned with it. And, having read it and having thought about it I have to give MIND MGMT my highest accolade. MIND MGMT innovates on every page and it makes those innovations look obvious in retrospect. That’s genius. The innovations are integral to the story rather than empty tricks laid atop bland doggerel in order to create an impression of substance where none exists. I have not enjoyed a monthly periodical comic, I have not admired a mothly periodical comic, as much as MIND MGMT since AMERICAN FLAGG! I am in awe of MIND MGMT. I am in awe of Matt Kindt. MIND MGMT is EXCELLENT!

MIND MGMT is many things and it will be many more but first and foremost MIND MGMT is – COMICS!!!

Them's Fightin' Words, Joe Casey.

In the absence of the dulcet tones of Mssrs. Jeff and Graeme... It should go without saying that all that follows is my opinion.

So, quietly and without much advance hullabaloo Dark Horse Comics made its entry…or rather its re-entry…into the world of Superheroics with Catalyst Comix #1

There’s a lot to recommend this book.  There’s a lot to recommend this series, really.   But, as with all things...a caveat.

First, if you’re a fan of offbeat capes and unique delivery systems this book may be for you.  The story starts by spinning out the various circumstances of the principal characters at the time of a major crisis.  It’s a cool set-up.

Second, if you’re in the mood for that trademark Casey dialogue (Snappy, knowing, and biting all the right brassy reference points) this book may be to your taste.

Third, all the art here makes some really bold style choices.  The list of influences is long enough to go up one arm and down the other.  Scioli / Kirby is all over Frank Wells.  Er, FRANK WELLS!  I see a fair amount Ross Campbell waiting in the wings of Amazing Grace.  The Change Agents benefit from an odd marriage of Sylvan Migdal’s Curvy and Geoff Darrow of all things.  Also, it should be noted there may be many - MANY - more influences here.  I am a stupid neophyte, not Frank Santoro.

A quick aside:  As all contributors are given credits as ART it’s hard to tell whether Brad Simpson colors the whole thing.  He is the sole credited colorist and could be the standout player for bringing such a diverse sensibility and individuality to all three chapters.  But, since it’s a little unclear, I hesitate to take credit for the color choices away from the individual artists.  It’s a really nice component of the book.  Especially worthy of note is the Change Agents chapter.  The colors there really set that section apart.

But then…there’s this.  And, from this point, for me, what was a nice exercise in genre bending becomes something else.

Whoa.  As the title says, Them’s Fightin’ Words.

So, by this, you’re led to believe that Casey’s taking some bold stance.  Some US VS. THEM classic bully wrestling storyline.  DAMN THE MAN and all that shit.

Except he’s using existing IP.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comics%27_Greatest_World

And, really, the US VS THEM manifesto should be retired.  If I could give this venture one bit of advice it would be to ditch the shrill “NO!  WE’RE DIFFERENT!  WE’RE RUSHING THE GATES!” mentality.  It’s passé in 2013.  We’ve played that game out.  Walking Dead, The Image re-emergence, SAGA, Vaughn and Martin’s Private Eye…

That game’s over.

There is no US VS THEM.

There’s only US.  Start pitching this series as what “WE” do at Dark Horse.  This is how “WE” chart the course.  As long as you’re hung up on showing “The Mainstream” they’re outdated you’re playing by their rules.

But, therein lies the problem.  You’re using THEIR methods.

This comic is riding generic names like Titan and Amazing Grace because it’s easier to do that than create your own thing.  DH Publisher Mike Richardson said yes to this because Dark Horse OWNS THE COPYRIGHTS.  He was one of the original creators!  So, you know, go ahead and show me how not mainstream you are by doing the ONE THING mainstream comics are reviled for more than any other ONE THING amongst the comics going Secret Society.   Don’t blame me when I ask if Barbara Kesel, Randy Stradley, Jerry Prosser, and Chris Warner are getting their royalty checks off of this “bold new line in the sand.”  When people ask Brandon Graham what he’s doing working on Prophet when he doesn’t own it he smiles because he’s in on the joke.  He’s taking money for work and not trying to pass it off as anything more than that.  It’s a check and he’s never pretended anything different.  NEVER.

Dark Horse and Joe Casey in particular are pretending to kick down the door of Superhero books but decades on from the ownership disasters of Miracleman and Zenith no lessons have been learned.  Kirby, who Casey so openly apes in the Frank Wells chapter, might SPIN knowing that this is being put forward as CHANGE and DIFFERENT.

A talented car crash of artists is pouring their work into a corporate funnel and this is the new version of “line drawing?”  This is the bold new stance?

It’s a good comic with lots to recommend it but please…don’t tell me it’s one thing – pretend to me it’s new ground – when it’s plainly more of the same.  Let it be what it actually is, the Dark Horse Corporate Super Hero Line.

Don’t tell me you’re re-inventing the wheel when it's the same old grist stone that's made a fine powder out of creators for the length, breadth, and depth of the industry.

"Do They Still READ In The Future?" COMICS! Sometimes It's Great To Be Rude!

It was Half-Term last week hence the silence. Yes, the blessed silence. But now your God has failed you and I am back! It has been quietly suggested that I put on hold my tribute to Charlie Drake and maybe look at some comics this time. So, no actors who were dead before you grew your big teeth this time out. Just comics! Just lovely, lovely comics! But were they lovely? Hmmmmm? Anyway, this... NEXUS by Steve Rude & Mike Baron

ALL STAR WESTERN #20 Art by Moritat (Jonah Hex) and Staz Johnson (Stormwatch) Written by Justin Gray & Jimmy Palmiotti Coloured by Mike Atiyeh (Jonah Hex) & Rob Schwager (Stormwatch) Lettered by Rob Leigh Jonah Hex created by Tony DeZuniga & John Albano Stormwatch created by Brandon Choi & Jim Lee DC Comics, $3.99

I kind of liked this issue. I don’t know whether the worms have finally reached my brain, or what but twenty issues in and this one almost clicked. I’m not exactly the most demanding Jonah fan either, I just enjoy the scar faced twat in a hat going around kicking up dust and making life brutal, difficult and short for folks. I prefer it to be a straight western but it isn't a deal breaker.

Jonah Hex by Moritat, Gray & Palmiotti

No, I don’t mind Booster Gold turning up for no reason that is ever going to be explained (hey, that’s just how comic books roll these days). I’m just pleased the book has a bit of a spring back in its step. Maybe it’s the beneficial effect of getting Jonah out of the city and into the countryside? Like when you ferry troubled youths by coach out into the boondocks to stroke goats. Moritat’s art seems a bit more lively and engaged although that might be due to the brighter and more varied colour palette in use. Watch these backgrounds though, I’m not a native of the Americas but I’m pretty sure mesas aren't mobile. Like I say I don’t expect much really and this delivered that making it OKAY!

RED TEAM #2 Art by Craig Cermak Written by Garth Ennis Coloured by Adriano Lucas Lettered by Rob Steen Cover by Howard Victor Chaykin Red Team created by Craig Cermak & Garth Ennis(?) Dynamite, $3.99

More like RED MEAT amiright, soft lads? Here Comics’ Firmest Handshake Garth Ennis turns his surly attention to a tale of cops taking the law into their own hands. I’m sure that will work out really well for everyone involved. At the minute it isn't working out too well for me. I guess my LCS sent this as Howard Victor Chaykin is doing the covers and I like Comics’ Deepest Voice Garth Ennis’ war comics. So, okay, fair enough. I’m not turned off by the concept either. I’m always up for that old story which ends with a bunch of people dead or drenched in blood while sirens scream closer and those who aren't corpses suddenly realise why there are rules.

Red Team by Cermak & Ennis

Maybe it won’t go that way, after all Comics’ Hottest Curry Garth Ennis spends enough time (i.e. too much time) explaining how his characters can smoke in a government building that it must surely (surely!) pay off later in an example of Chekov’s Fags! Maybe everything will go swimmingly but the racially and sexually mixed cast will succumb to a series of smoking related diseases. Maybe not. But hopefully the series will avoid plummeting into maudlin sentimentality like a sloppy drunk slurring on about The Old Country as the barkeep dials for a taxi. Not an uncommon occurrence in work by Comics’ Softest Hearted Big Man Garth Ennis. This thing seems written for the screen (no, the page and the screen are not interchangeable) and the art just isn't up to the job of hiding this. It gives me no pleasure to say that. In fact I’ll leave it there except to express the hope that you really like that panel I picked because you’ll be seeing a lot of it on these pages. RED TEAM is not a complete wash though and that’s due mostly to the dialogue of Comics’ Hairiest Chest Garth Ennis. It’s good dialogue and it means RED TEAM is OKAY! That probably still won’t save me from a beating though.

THE SHADOW #13 Art by Giovanni Timpano Written by Chris Roberson Coloured by Fabricio Guerra Lettered by Rob Steen The Shadow created by Walter B. Gibson Dynamite, $3.99

Everything in this book is so familiar that the sight of your face in the shaving mirror delivers more surprises. This issue is impressive only in its devout refusal to bring anything new or interesting to bear on the join the dots plot with its transparent mystery, its space wasting reluctance to provide more than one speech bubble in a panel and…oh...look, there’s a three page sequence of a drunk man going home, going upstairs, pouring a drink and being surprised. No. That’s not comics, that’s just horseshit. I’m not even going to scan a picture of the contents as the fewer people who see this then the less damage done to those involved. Honestly, I’m doing them a solid here. Or a salad as they say in Nyawk. So, no offence to any of the people involved here as we all have bills to pay but this was AWFUL!

WONDER WOMAN: #20 Art by Goran Sudzuka & Cliff chiang Written by Brian Azzarello Coloured by Matthew Wilson Lettered by Jared K. Fletcher Wonder Woman created by William Moulton Marston and H. G. Peter DC Comics, $2.99

This is an atypically action packed issue but all too typically when the dust settles the forward plot motion is infinitesimal if not entirely illusory. With its large cast, stateliest of paces, squandered artistic talent and elevation of chat at the expense of incident it’s hard not to see WW as Azzarello’s attempt to bottle a bit of that drab Bendis magic. Luckily, despite his heroic efforts, Azzarello appears incapable of attaining such low levels of blandery. For starters his characters don’t sound like they are recovering from traumatic blows to the head; trading only in recursive whirlpools of bland doggerel. And every now and again something does happen. So, it’s an improvement but it’s still very far from being good. It still rarely rises above word play on a par with puzzles in the magazines old people in hospital spontaneously secrete in-between visiting times. Also, I think his cast have a problem with the booze. Although as the middle class assure us, if it’s wine it isn't alcoholism.

Wonder Woman by Chiang, Sudzuka & Azzarello

At some point in any given issue the chattering cast will mingle about some tasteful locale sipping drinks and hoovering up nibbles. Thankfully the medium of comics spares the reader the no doubt inevitable soundtrack of Toploader Orion snuck on to smooth things along. The whole thing is like one of those hellish networking soirees for people who do a bit of wee when they think about Powerpoint presentations. Except everybody is cosplaying Sandman and the evening ends abruptly when a big blue catfish in a crown stabs Simon from Accounts in the face. And puns! This issue’s highlight was when War asked, “Where’s my drink? You said you’d get me a Belgian White Beer!” and Wonder Woman replies “I beg your pardon, I never promised you a Hoegaarden!” Face it, Tiger; this book’s so far gone you’re not even sure if that happened. So it’s a fact that the crisp clarity of Goran Sudzuka and Cliff Chiang's art which brings this up to OKAY!

CREEPY #12 Art by Richard Corben, Richard P. Clark, Peter Bagge, Matthew Allison, Julian Totino Tedesco and Steve Ditko Written by Richard Corben, Ron Marz, Dan Braun, Peter Bagge, Matthew Allison, John Arcudi and Archie Goodwin Lettered by Nate Piekos of Blambot and Peter Bagge Dark Horse Comics, $4.99

There's the usal raggy grab bag of one pagers and spot illos but storywise we have:

Uncle Mangus by Richard Corben

Corben’s on first and Corben’s on form with a frivolous shamble of a shaggy corpse story. Corbenites won’t be disappointed as the shadows drape at strange angles across distorted faces, the undergrowth looks like gathia sticks from Bombay Mix, the borders are jagged when nerves become ragged and the horrific punchline is drawn with slapstick mixed with the ink. Yes, Richard Corben continues to defy Time itself and belligerently refuses to budge from VERY GOOD!

Uncle Mangus by Corben

Fishing by Ron Marz & Richard P. Clark Not entirely rote retelling of one of the usual variations on kids go fishing fear fables. Sorry, but EH!

Local Talent by Matthew Allison Allison's tale nicely conveys the grotty zest of late '70s foreign filmed schlock but would have conveyed it better in less space. Also, I know this charmingly cack cinematic genre was limited by budget but it's not a limitation shared by comic art, so c'mon let's have some backgrounds, son. Good enough for an OKAY!

The Spirit of The Thing by Ditko & Goodwin The Spirit of The Thing by Steve Ditko & Archie Goodwin

It’s Steve Ditko! "He is Dee Aye Tee Kay OH! He is Dee Aye Tee Kay OH! He’s Dee- delightful! Aye – Innovative! Tee- Totally not open to compromise on any point of principle upon which he has formulated an Objectivist stance! Kay – Kind of kooky! OH!- oooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo! He is Dee Aye Tee Kay OH!" In this reprint Archie Goodwin does his usual solid scripting but it’s Ditko’s groovy grey wash German Expressionism that makes this one retain its VERY GOOD! kick lo these many decades after its original printing. It’s also a nice reminder that aficionados of Sturdy Steve should be salivating after the Creepy Presents…Steve Ditko volume that will be dropping imminently. Pre order from your LCS now, they'll appreciate it!

Pack Leader by Tedesco & Arcudi

Pack Leader by Julian Totino Tedesco & John Arcudi While Ditko and Corben get to VERY GOOD! on the merits of their art alone Arcudi and Tedesco’s tale reaches the same grade due to the success of their collaboration. This one really gels and even wrong-footed me at the last. That's nice. Arcudi and Tedesco knew what they were after and they went and got it. Nice work, fellas!

DARK HORSE PRESENTS #24 Dark Horse Comics, $7.99

BLACKOUT CHAPTER 1 Story and lettering by Frank Barbiere Art by Micah Kaneshiro Blackout created by Mike Richardson (?)

This one didn't grab me I’m afraid. With its slickly appealing tech sourced graphics and plot predicated on the promise of explanations further down the line it read like the tie-in to some video game I've never heard of. It’s only a few pages though so maybe it’ll pick up and improve from EH!

ALABASTER: BOXCAR TALES CHAPTER 6 Art and lettering by Steve Lieber Story by Caitlin R. Kiernan Coloured by Rachelle Rosenberg Alabaster created by Caitlin R Kiernan

My total indifference to this one is purely a case of it not being my cup of tea rather than any failure on the part of the creative team. I did read it but I couldn't tell you anything about it except it’s in space and usually it isn't. There are some talking animals and a lady, usually with a very broad accent, having magical adventures. Oh, she’s called Dancy Flammarion. Yeah, that’s me gone. I'm no Garth Ennis but fey’s not my thing, I fear. Disregarding my witless bias this is bound to be OKAY! Because Steve Lieber can sure draw nice and Caitlin R Kiernan writes proper books (she should not be confused with Caitlin Moran who doesn't). The most interesting thing was how disproportionately irritated I was by the bit where the team tell us what they were listening to when they created the strip. It was really distracting. I mean was Kiernan really listening to the Sunshine OST? Why? Was it just because it’s the soundtrack to a movie set in space? That’s a stunningly literal approach isn't it? What did she do when it was finished? Start again? Stop writing?

Like a real asshole I find it all a bit disingenuous when creators share stuff like this with us. No one ever says they were listening to Phil Collins or Cher do they? Ever. Yeah, right. Have you seen some of the people who make comics? Seriously. I mean that guy who always does that stupid thing in photos with his face so it looks like a wet thumb sliding down a window is a Foreigner fan and no mistake. Look into your heart, you know it is true. Anyway, this stuff's just the thin end of the wedge, next thing you know they're telling you about their substance abuse problems, how many kids they have or whether they get to put the fairy on top of the Christmas tree. Being an unfeeling automaton it’s just not something I need to know about creators. I mean, does it do any of you any good to know I wrote this while listening to SWANS’ Time is Money (Bastard)? Oh, alright it was Cher. "Do you belieeeeeeeeve!?!"

Bloodhound by Jolley, Kirk & Riggs BLOODHOUND: PLAIN SIGHT CHAPTER 2 Art by Leonard Kirk & Robin Riggs Written by Dan Jolley Coloured by Moose Baumann Lettered by Rob Leigh Bloodhound created by Dan Jolley & Drew Johnson

This is a revival of a defunct DC property which has now been given back to the creators to do with as they will. I believe DC also returned the less than successful Monolith property to its creators recently too. This is really rather sporting of DC and we should probably acknowledge that before reminding ourselves of their treatment of Alan Moore. It appears that the lesson here is that if you create anything successful for DC they will line up and bang you like a shit house door. Meanwhile the creators of Bloodhound have decided to put it in DHP. I liked this series when it first appeared and I still like it despite the pony tail our hero sports. He’s kind of like a government sanctioned Punisher with all his marbles and a beer belly who targets super villains. This is just a short three parter so the mystery tends to be cleared up by the characters approaching each suspect, the suspect immediately breaking down and pointing to the next suspect and then the villain breaking cover to provide a thrilling cliff hanger. Brevity isn’t doing it any favours is what I’m saying. But I still find the premise promising, the characters solid and the art pleasant enough for it to be OKAY!

BRAIN BOY CHAPTER 2 Art by Freddie Williams II Written by Fred Van Lente Coloured by Ego ("The Living Colourist"?) Lettered by Nate Piekos of Blambot Brain Boy created by Gil Kane & herb Castle

Although it’s not explicitly stated I guess this is an update of Herb Castle and Gil Kane’s 1962 creation for the faster paced and more luridly violent Now. Since Dark Horse published a pricey hardback of these (old and very probably nuts) tales you’d think they might want to draw attention to this. Weird. Anyway, the update is definitely fast and bloody and it’s not without its charms. Chief amongst these are Van Lente’s witty revisionism best exemplified by the call centre riff and the ‘magic cereal' which fools no one. Artwise Williams II has obviously thought long and hard and come to some definite conclusions about how to draw our hero’s nose. I can’t speak with any surety as to the conclusions he’s reached but there’s definitely something going on with Brain Boy’s hooter. Oh, it all bounces along in a lively if not altogether logical fashion, which makes it GOOD!

Nexus by Rude & Baron

TREKKER: THE TRAIN TO AVALON BAY CHAPTER 1 Story and art by Ron Randall Coloured by Jeremy Colwell Lettered by Ken Bruzenak Trekker created by Ron Randall

It's super-nice that an old lag like Randall has his own creator owned property. It's less agreeable to report I found the whole future bounty hunting lady with sad past thing a tad too generic for my fussy palate. I am certain there is an audience for this but I adamant I am not amongst their number. I wish Randall well in all his travels but this, for me, was EH!

KING'S ROAD: THE LONG WAY HOME CHAPTER 2 Art by Phil Winslade Written by Peter Hogan Lettering by Steve Dutro

Oooh! It's a high concept! What if the kids from a book very similar to (but. lawyers take note, not the same as) The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe grew up and had kids who didn't know about their adventures and then The Evil Returned and the kids had to take up arms on behalf of their paunchy and totes dull 'dults?!? This. That's what. No doubt Hogan will be exploring the Christian symbols underlying his borrowings with the same rigour and aplomb as his source. Or at least get a movie deal. Just joking! This is a promising (if not a little cheeky) premise and it's made all the more attractive thanks to Winslade's endearingly gangly characters. Although these do inhabit a blurry world of boisterous blooms of colour, the intensity of which suggest Mr. Winslade should pop down the opticians pretty sharpish or at least dial his PC settings down a bit. Maybe I'm getting soft in my dotage but this was OKAY!

CRIME DOES NOT PAY: CITY OF ROSES CHAPTER 5 Art by Patric Reynolds Written by Phil Stanford Colours by Bill Farmer Lettering by Nate Piekos of Blambot Crime Does Not Pay: City of RosesCity Of Roses created by Patric Reynolds & Phil Stanford

This is EH! due to the perfunctory writing and the weirdly flaky looking art. It isn't terrible but it isn't terribly exciting either. Everybody thinks crime comics are easy and nearly everyone is wrong. Everyone except David Lapham. Christ, I miss STRAY BULLETS. Why can't Dark Horse Presents find room for new David Lapham genius? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???? WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

NEXUS: INTO THE PAST CHAPTER 2 Art by Steve Rude Written by Mike Baron Lettered by Steve Rude Coloured by Glenn Whitmore Nexus created by Steve Rude & Mike Baron

Eventually every open ended continuing narrative strip gets to Jack the Ripper, it's likely that they get to Sherlock Holmes too, but only Nexus would throw in H.G. Wells without overbalancing, without even wobbling in fact. It's Nexus so it's VERY GOOD! In fact I'll tell you this: I'd never read Nexus until it appeared in DHP but once it did I ordered Vol.1 of the Omnibooks pretty darn lickety split. I would imagine there is no higher praise a comic creator can receive than a sale. We'll be coming back to Nexus at some point. Aw, yeah!

HUNTER QUAID: ARMAGEDDON OUT OF HERE Art by Melissa Curtin Written by Donny Cates & Eliot Rahal Coloured by Lauren Affe Lettered by Lauren Affe Hunter Quaid created by Donny Cates & eliot Rahal

I couldn’t get a grip on this one. It’s like something an artist would do to showcase their style but it has a writer, no, two writers? And they are the creators but it's the art that is the stand out feature? I don’t know. I don't get that. It looks nice but, hey, that’s all you need sometimes. It was OKAY! but only because of the artist.

Villain House by Wheeler

VILLAIN HOUSE CHAPTER 4 By Shannon "Papa" Wheeler

It’s a kind of testament to the durability and depth of the concepts at the heart of Jack Kirby and Stan Lee’s Fantastic Four that half a century later it still provides fertile soil for trees of mirth like this. As mirth trees go this is a sturdy beech indeed. This is some funny stuff right here from the surly insistence of 'Not The Thing' that everything bad is Communist to the laser targeted title of “Invisible Wife” and beyond. The laughs aren't empty either, there’s a sympathetic villain whose world is ruined by a bunch of powered berks getting all up in his business to hilariously disastrous, but not unmoving, effect. I’d hazard a guess this strip is somewhat more refreshing and engaging than yet another modernisation of an old Kirby & Lee classic. ( “Yo, Yo, Yo! Ben Grimm is Totes Sad, Bro! (Ch-Ch-Ch-check out Mi Tumb-LAH!!!)”) Wheelers’ treat of a tummy tickler may not beat the ultimate yukkifier of Don Simpson’ s Yarn Man and “Golly! That crazy gizmo really works!” but it comes closer than most in a very small space. And that’s VERY GOOD!

Christ, I think I sprained something back there. And now I know why people don't review anthologies. I still don't understand why they don't buy em. They're stilll - COMICS!!!

"Decency." COMICS! Sometimes They Do Not Bring Me Out In Hives!

Look, we all know that last time John read some comics released this century it all got a bit hairy. John would like to point out that this was not out of malice, low blood sugar, jealousy, his piles flaring up or sunspot activity. No, difficult as it may be to believe, John maintains it was the result of those comics not actually being all that good. Think of it as being a bit like John was showing you that sometimes he and Comics would argue but it didn't mean they didn't love each other any less and it certainly wasn't your fault. John can see why Doctor Doom talks like this – it’s fun. Anyway, this…

Due to the lack of a scanner all pictures are stolen from other people. That's what I'm reduced to. I hope you are all proud.

(Note: Doctor Doom was created by Jack Kirby and Stan Lee. Or Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, whichever floats your boat. The important thing is to get both names in there. It’s free and respectful, Marvel.)

CREEPY#11 Art by Gilbert Hernandez, Amy Reeder, Peter Bagge, Chrissie Zullo, Johnny Craig and Joelle Jones Written by Gilbert Hernandez, J. Torres, Dan Braun, Peter Bagge, Alisa Whitney, Archie Goodwin and Jamie S. Rich Lettered by Gilbert Hernandez, Amy Reeder, Peter Bagge and Nate Piekos of Blambot® Dark Horse Comics, $4.99 (2013)

CREEPY is a horror anthology comic so it’s a given that it'll be a mixed bag but this issue kicks itself in the head from the off by kicking off with The Gilbert Hernandez Show and so everything after that is done no favours whatsoever. Oh editors, you never put Elvis on first. Hernandez’ tale is haunted by the phantom sounds of a thousand readers’ eyes revolving as his statistically gifted heroine grits her teeth through her lower back pain and bounces through a story as trashy and daft as all get out. By the final full page reveal said fun parched eyes will be revolving so fast that dogs from miles around will be howling at the resulting sound. The only way this nonsensical and nasty strip could have been improved would have been to slather it with hot pinks and crystalline greens a la Stuart Gordon's From Beyond. Ayup, fear fans, that’s the toxic territory we’re in here and while there does not actually exist a monograph called Basket Crepes: The Nearly Edible Imagery of Frank Henenlotter if you wish one did you’ll enjoy this magnificently shameless embracing of schlocky horror by a man so gifted he just doesn't have to care anymore.

"...like a gingerbread man!"

After that, Amy Reeder illustrates a story about a pining husband and his inadvertent contribution to the locally sourced fishing industry. This one is mainly notable for Amy Reeder’s art being far better than it was on her BATWOMAN stint. Then there’s one about how a lady’s monthly cramps might be hunger cramps because women are unknowable monsters who prey on men. I've made it sound really misogynistic there because I wanted to see who reached for their buckled hat and flaming torch. And now I know, don’t I? Now we all know. Alas my New Puritans it’s far more mundane than all that; the tale isn't terrible but is too derivative and tamely delivered to work as a terror tale. Filling in the cheap content reprint slot there’s Johnny Craig joint from an old CREEPY. It may be from the '70s CREEPY, but could just as well have come from a '50s EC Comic which is fine and dandy by me but might not be by you. I feel quite tremulous merely mentioning EC Comics on The Internet as currently any conversation involving them seems to devolve rapidly into a fucking chimps tea party where the winner is whoever gets the most shit in Eddie Campbell’s hair. The final story reads like someone excorcising the baggage of a bad relationship through the medium of words and pictures; with the pictures not quite sleazy enough to do the job justice. Throughout the book there’s a drizzle of Peter Bagge strips which, if you are a Peter Bagge fan, I guess you’ll like. Like I said, it’s a horror anthology so if you like horror anthologies what with their customary blemishes and surgical scars and all then this one was GOOD!

GLORY#31 Art by Ross Campbell & Ulises Farinas Written by Joe Keatinge Coloured by Owen Gieni Lettered by Douglas E. Sherwood Glory created by Rob Liefeld Image, $3.99 (2013)

Ah, Glory. What a fine comic this is. Sales aren't so hot so I hear. That’s most likely because Glory is a female character who hasn't been designed with the aim of appealing to the lowest portions of the lowest portions of fandom. She’s a bit butch, this lass and no mistake. Glory doesn't so much look like she’s built like a brick shit house as she looks built out of brick shit houses. A sturdy pile of at least five on top of which sits a creepy wee Barbie head but with Action Man’s scarring. Flesh may be on display but the flesh on display has the bluish-marbled sheen of freezer burned meat. Fancy your chances, chaps, and Glory will snap it off and feed it to you. Which is refreshing. What’s also refreshing is the jumble of outrageously gory issue(s) long fight scenes and convincing character interactions the series has managed to deliver thus far . The splatterhouse fight scenes are by Ross Campbell, who gives the offally antics a Darrow/Quitely/Burnham/Burrows burnish of detail; a level of detail which explicitly testifies to the relish with which the task is attacked. With GLORY Keatinge and Campbell (et al.)  have built a sweet story of friendship, a brutal story of family and a comic that’s basically just all round engaging entertainment. Although I greatly enjoyed Keatinge's effective deployment of undercutting (pancakes, anyone?) his savage and serious buildup I think I most enjoyed the issue which flash forwarded to a point in the narrative where everything looks to have gone tits up. Now we've jumped back and the suspense is doubled; nice one. I enjoyed this stratagem when I first encountered it in the WARRIOR SUMMER SPECIAL in 1982(ish) where Alan Moore did it in Marvelman. I don’t know if Alan Moore did it first and nor do I care because what’s important is that Keatinge deploys it at least as well as The Magnificent One; meaning GLORY is GOOD!

1982 - That was certainly a special Summer!

Of course a lot of you won’t be familiar with Marvelman due to the reasons outlined so smashingly in Padraig O'Mealoid’s fascinating, informative and wholly necessary investigation into the history of Marvelman. An investigation which promises to reveal who actually owns Marvelman. This, of course, is a bit of a cheeky maguffin as the ownership of Marvelman is beyond doubt. Why, as any fule kno, Marvelman is owned wholly and totally by Marvel©™, man! Oh sure, sceptics call this into doubt and wave at the fact that Marvel©™ has released nothing Marvelman related except for a bunch of insanely overpriced reprints of the Mick Anglo strips and a bad Joe Quesada poster. Now while these Anglo reprints are certainly of nostalgic interest (which is of more interest than the Joe Quesada poster) they are not the Alan Moore or Neil Gaiman material; i.e. the only material anyone cares about. Hataz fixate on this as though it proves something and yet these Hataz fail to take into account Marvel©™’s publicly stated position that they are taking their time so that when the MM stuff appears it will be done right. I mean, let’s face it perfectionism is a major, if not the defining trait, of Marvel©™. After all they do a perfectly good job of (and seem perfectly happy doing so) of denying Jack Kirby any credit or compensation for his co-creator role in the creation of the IPs without which no one at Marvel©™ would have a job. Oh, you thought I was going to do that thing where someone looks at Marvelman and has the shit shocked right out of them like brown toothpaste from a tightly squeezed tube by the bloody remarkable fact that in the last 30 odd years Marvelman has dated somewhat. But I didn't. Probably will do at some point though!

BATTLEFIELDS#4 Art by Russ Braun Written by Garth Ennis Coloured by Tony Avina Lettered by Simon Bowland Dynamite, $3.99 (2013)

Garth Ennis once popped up in one of the Dynamite back pages to bemoan the fact that no one read this here comic and that writing the series was pretty much a thankless and financially fruitless task. Since the contents of Dynamite back pages don't exactly inspire credence I thought Garth Ennis was just being a drama queen because he seems that sort doesn't he? A bit flaky; no good in a firefight; dress as a lady as soon as the lifeboats are struck; you know the sort. Seriously though, who believes anything comic creators say anymore? No, no, no, their wives just say they do; it’s part if the matrimonial pact. Anyway, I had a look at the sales figures and this comic is the #300 best-selling comic. That means people find that there are 299 comics better than this one. At first I thought this meant that readers would much rather read a bad super hero comic than a good war comic. Then I realised these were sales to Retailers. So really Retailers were happier ordering bad super hero comics rather than good war comics. Then I realised the “super hero” and “war” were red herrings and basically retailers were okay ordering bad comics rather than good comics. And at those deep discounts and attractive retailer incentives who can blame them! I guess everyone’s okay with comics being a giant Ponzi scheme? Do they generally work out well those things? Ha ha ha, only joking. I know nothing about retailing and I'm sure it's all fine! Say, while I was enjoying myself reading comics (or, if it was a Tuesday, enjoying myself staring into space silently weeping) my long suffering partner pointed out that there had been a programme on TV about the Hindenburg. Apparently the Hindenburg worked really well. Until suddenly it didn't.

Everything was going so well!

So, this comic no one is reading? Turns out it’s pretty great. BATTLEFIELDS is basically a banner under which Ennis and his various (and variable but very good at the least) artists deliver three part story arcs. Sometimes these arcs are stand alone and sometimes they involve recurring characters. There’s usually a good reason if the characters don’t recur. Death, I’m talking about death there; happens a lot in war, so I hear. Obviously raised on British war comics of the '70s Ennis synthesises the chippily anti-authoritarian swagger and honest violence of these with modern sophisticated storytelling to create (along with his artists) some of the best comics (apparently) barely anyone is reading. They also usually have covers by the divine Garry Leach (and maybe one fine and shining day he could do some interiors?), Leach is of course the man who first drew Alan Moore’s reinvention of Marvelman and is one of the few people who give cross hatching a good name. I’m getting off the subject now, but let’s be clear here – Marvel own Marvelman, Padraig O’Mealoid! MARVEL! Also (SPOILER!) Marvelman may have dated a bit in the last three or so decades. OMG! KIMOTA! Anyhoo, this issue of BATTLEFIELDS kicks off a new three parter involving Anna Kharkova; she being a female Russian pilot previously featured in an arc you need not have read to enjoy this comic. All you need to enjoy this comic is to read it.

"AIIEEEEEE!!!!"

Because, yes, despite the fact that comics is a primarily visual medium this comic, one which consists for the most part of two people in a room talking, is pretty great. It’s pretty great because the words coming out of the characters’ mouths are not bland pap; you know, the kind of page filling sub-TV blather dependant on some weird mutual non-aggression pact between the reader and the writer. These words here have content, these words here have substance and within these words a world unfolds. Admittedly it’s a world consisting primarily of a Quonset hut populated by two people but, still, it’s a world. Unfortunately for all involved it’s a world within a world and all that divides the two is wood, tin and glass which is little use against the irrevocable intrusion of the larger, madder and infinitely more savage world which is the world at war. It’s fine work in the words department is what I’m saying. The staging’s good too with both Ennis and Braun working with very little to convey the passing of time in an unobtrusive but effective fashion. It’s mostly Ennis’ show given the confined cast and setting which means Braun isn't given much to work with. Then again Braun is given the human face to work with and that is everything a decent artist needs; he proves to be a more than decent artist by the way. So, this issue was engaging, effective and intelligent and I’m going to go all the way up to VERY GOOD! Should you have the temerity to doubt my words then you’ll have to read it won’t you now? Check. And mate.

Oh, and because there is no podcast this week here's some thoughts on the latest Big Ticket Thinks in Recentville:

1) There is no question to which the right answer is arming Brian Hibbs. We "don't want any more trouble like you had last year in the Fillmore District", Brian Hibbs! 2) I won't be buying anything by people who actively seek to deny other people equal rights. You do what you want. That's how that Freedom stuff works. 3) Jerry Ordway is a good artist and yet he's still basically turning up at the WalMart parking lot at 6 in the morning hoping someone will pick him to go in the back of the truck. Nope, nothing wrong with this industry. 4) Howard Victor Chaykin is starting a new series about General George Custer in the next issue of DARK HORSE PRESENTS - aw, yeah! You'll miss him when he's gone you know!

Now go and fight like the mad dogs you are! But only fight about what's worthwhile - COMICS!!!