“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!)

"No! It's ANGRY!" COMICS! Sometimes They Bow Before The King (Of R'n'R).

Good Day! Jolly Good Day! Over here we are shortly to be having a Jubilee shindig! You don't get one so I gave you this instead. It's all over the bally shop but some of it is about comics. You have been warned and so my hands are clean but look at the state of your fingernails!

ALL STAR WESTERN #9 Art by Moritat, Patrick Sherberger and Dan Green Written by Justin Gray & Jimmy Palmiotti Coloured by Gabriel Bautista and Mike Atiyeh Lettered by Rob Leigh DC Comics, $3.99 (2012) Jonah Hex created by John Albano and Tony DeZuniga Nighthawk created by Robert Kanigher and Charles Paris Cinnamon created by Roger McKenzie and Dick Ayers

I have my concerns about this book. These concerns have nothing to do with the art what with Moritat and Bautista delivering the usually fine performance; said performance being so fine that it hardly matters that the backgrounds are a smidge perfunctory. And despite the plots being a bit woolly what with all this editorially mandated crossover bullhockey (Ooo! The lady in the cape! Some owls!) at least here they contain the always entertaining idiocy of Caucasian Americans worrying about immigrants lowering the tone of the place and generally letting the side down. It's not even that on a page turn it's "three weeks later" and we're in Gotham instead of N'Orleans, because I understand they want to get on with this interminable owl shite. And yet, part of me, the beautiful, dreaming part no doubt, misses the days when Jonah wouldn't be able to go from one town to another without ending up nailed to a cactus. And I miss El Papagayo turning up to taunt him. I miss El Papagayo he'd be all like, "Senor, Hex! Why must you always make life so hard for yourself, my friend! Come out from behind that rock and embrace me and my gang of toothless well armed vermin! Do you no longer trust your good friend, El Papagayo, Senor Hex! You hurt my heart, my friend! Why, Paco here has brought some smelly badgers! tell him, Senor Hex, tell him we don't need no steenkin' badgers!" Actually, it probably isn't the absence of El Papagayo either.

No, it’s more that Jonah’s becoming a guest star in his own book; it’s just too crowded and in order to stand out from the crowd I fear Jonah’s going to become more of a caricature than a character. The book's focus has shifted from the lovable asshole with the melty face to being more of an attempt to reposition DC’s mouldy old oaters in more viable iterations. I’m all about that because I have a fatal fondness for DC’s western heroes. I have no idea why but there it is. Some people are like that about The Batman; my way is cheaper, I win. I’m also quite okay with the view that there are no bad characters just bad writing. But I’m not quite convinced that the way to go is to give these characters aspects more suited to superheroes. So I’m not convinced that the missing ingredient for Nighthawk and Cinammon’s success is their possession of a pair of lucky charms which stop them dying and make them strong, super strong in fact.

But I just hamstrung my own qualms by saying there aren't any bad characters, so I guess the problem is the writing. In which case I'll bounce back and say it’s just too workmanlike. If you’re selling something to an audience - put your back into it, get some enthusiasm going! Well, it’s workmanlike when it isn't hat stampingly poor; as when Bruce Wayne’s bat-ancestor mentions there is poison ivy someplace. Wait, poison ivy! Do you see?!? DO you see?!? Next issue we’ll hear some joker released some penguins from Gotham Zoo but he keeps denying it because he’s two faced! This is what Jonah Hex needs! Next issue it’s Bat Lash; let’s hope he hasn't got a steam powered skidoo or some such daft shit. At the moment ALL STAR WESTERN is GOOD! but it's on thin ice, muchachos!

RAGEMOOR #3 Art by Richard Corben Written by Jan Strnad Lettered by Nate Piekos of Blambot® Dark Horse Comics, $3.50 (2012) Ragemoor created by Richard Corben and Jan Strnad

This one’s the third issue of four so you might, given modern trends, expect it to basically sit there picking its nose and inspecting the results until the next issue. After all, you’re this far in so why bother trying. But this is Corben & Strnad and they’ve been doing this a while which, I guess, means they are old or some weak and totally lame shit like that. In comics folk always underestimate the old guys don’t they? News just in: Steve Ditko’s still doing good comics. Youth will never understand that you only get old by surviving. This is largely because Youth is an abstract noun and is therefore unlikely to have cognitive functions.

Humourless pedantry aside, let’s face it; put Matt Fraction and Richard Corben adrift in a lifeboat and three weeks later the copters are going to be picking up one fat comic artist. Fraction’ll just turn his back to sneak a look at his reflection in the water and Corben’ll be on him like a liver spotted threshing machine. Wait, I was on about a comic, I think. So, yeah, this comic doesn't just piss complacently about, no, this comic sets back on its haunches, tenses its muscles until they thrum with the collective kinetic energy of the previous issues and prepares to, next issue, hurl itself straight at your throat. Despite the fact that the creators involved probably get twinges in their knuckles when the weather turns cold RAGEMOOR remains VERY GOOD!

SCALPED#58 Art by R.M. Guera Written by Jason Aaron Coloured by Giulia Brusco Lettered by Sal Cipriano Vertigo/DC Comics, £2.99 (2012) Scalped created by R.M. Guera and Jason Aaron

In two issues this series will end. In two issues the fix will be in. In two issues people will refer to this series as Jason Aaron's SCALPED. I have but a brief window of opportunity to attempt to correct the course of the critical conversation as it puts the pedal to the metal and hurtles straight into The Cult of The Writer. Only a soulless canker of a man would deny that Jason Aaron's writing has been solid and decent throughout. It's probably more impressive the less knowledge you have of the '7os cinema he has mined so well the series. But, alas, homage is everywhere now and I know I for one require more to ensure I see out sixty issues. SCALPED gave me more in spades, and it gave it to me in the form of the art of R.M. Guera.

R.M Guera is the star of the show here. It's the attention to detail, I think, that is Guera's true strength. That's quite a strength considering the fantastic way his faces veer into and out of controlled caricature, his body language ranges from subtle to hysterical and his environments from the grubbily realistic to those of opulent excess and all of this, all the while, strengthening rather than destroying the suspension of disbelief; drawing the reader in rather than pushing the reader away. Christ, it's the stuff of wonder. Christ, I write about comics like old people trampoline. Look, here's R.M. Guera drawing a scene in a supermarket. It's just a scene in a supermarket but, but, look:

And how about those colours, ey? Brusco's colours are a special kind of magic as well throughout the book. Check out the night scene I lifted above. Be soothed by the smooth blues and then startled by the pop of the lime green FX! Giulia Brusco gets a cheek chuch for coloring cojones and no mistake. What a wonderful, wonderful book SCALPED has been on a visual level. It's a bloody shame that the aspect that lifts SCALPED up to VERY GOOD! is, I'm guessing, the aspect that'll receive least play once it ends, and the artists who worked such wonders will reap the least of any future benefits; career and reputation-wise. But before that happens, before the fix kicks, in I'm going to point out that R.M. Guera is EXCELLENT!

Those of you who read this and were not insensate from drugs or currently being attacked by a maniac will have picked up on the subtle fact that I'm a little distracted. That's because this weekend is Jubilee weekend! We get an extra Bank Holiday on Tuesday to celebrate Good Queen Bess. I'm no Royalist but I do recognise that the tourist industry is pretty much the only industry we have anymore, so she's okay on that score, and also I'm anyone's for a free day off work. Fickle? You have no idea, pal. You have no idea. So I am eager to join my fellow countrymen in the heat of the streets, swigging binge and watching as the middle aged men with their Celtic tattoos blistering in the heat bellow at their shrink wrapped wives about how Sandra in accounts understands and how he never wanted this, never wanted any of this and the discarded children weep beneath the Union Jack bunting. England, my England!

Oh please, despite all your protestations to the contrary you're all quite keen on the whole Royalty business, aren't you. my American friends. Oh, you claim otherwise, you do:

Image from The Steve Ditko Archives Vol.2 (Ed. Blake Bell, Fantagraphics Books). Art by Harry Belafonte Jnr. No, it's Steve Ditko for Goodness Sakes! Keep up, no lollygagging at the back!

But you're just fooling yourselves. You protest too much, methinks. Look, you've had at least two Kings: The King of Comics (one Jack Kirby by  name) and this raunchy dude:

The King and American Royalty were on my mind because when I am not reading comics I am looking at enthusiastically typed and photocopied documents held together with staples produced by fans of things. Probably while they waited for The Internet. Documents such as THE ELVIS COLLECTOR #1 (edited by Major I.R. Bailye). This fragment of forgotten fandom was brought home to me courtesy of my very own Priscilla, who knows only too well that when it comes to The King there's no fool such as I.

Reading the photocopied love letter to The King my eyes settled on this:

From The Leicester Mercury; date unknown, author pseudonymous.

Sadly "The Realist", despite his fantastic English language skills ("overdressed to a point of fantasy"!!), is incorrect as Elvis Aaron Presley touched down briefly on British soil. However, I still think his points remain valid despite this factual inaccuracy. Yet, it did make me realise that sometimes people can be blinded to the essential truth of an article if the author undermines himself with inaccuracies. A bit like an article on comics in The Wall Street Journal perhaps. The one where he's wrong about why comics aren't popular anymore (the world's just moved on and the price has risen in line with the Greed Index; that's really why) but is right about Avengers comics being less like something you'd use to attract new readers and more like something you'd scrape off your shoes before going indoors. Poo, I'm talking about poo there. Usually animal  but, given the state of Cameron's Big Society, there's a queasy possibility it could be human. Um.

In closing let me just say that, being all crepey of skin and feeble of mind, I am only too well aware that at any moment my stinking and aged frame could just drop dead, and sometimes I wonder how I would like to be remembered. It turns out that I would like to be remembered like Elvis. No, not as a mother fixated, voyeuristic pill popper with strange ideas about chimp management. (People tend to forget the Divine Voice these days, which is their loss.) Rather:

From The Leicester Mercury; date unknown, author pseudonymous.

Yes, "preferable to Hitler". I think the "Real Realist" is right in that that's all any man would want in the end. So, have a smashing weekend and if you think of me, think of me, at least as being "preferable to Hitler". Like Elvis. Like The King. God Save The King! God Save The Queen!

Farewell for now, my foreign chums, and remember: if you can't have a Jubilee then have some COMICS!!!

"Let Him Be A Child A Little Longer." COMICS! Sometimes They Are Diverse!

Hey, the postman finally turned up.

I guess the hostiles must have been restless out there in the Badlands or something. Anyway, he may not have rung twice but he did drop off a box of comics. Here's me going on about some of them after the break: A NOTE FOR OUR AUDIENCE: According to Brian "Link-Hider General" Hibbs you can now purchase some of these comics direct from The Savage Critics!

There is a link under both Comix Experience Links and Industry Links which says "Digital Comics From The SavCrit Store!". It's that one.

I have of course followed the rigorous journalistic code of the 21st Century and given all the comics available from that link a rating of EXCELLENT! No, not really, because as a salesman I am a bit lacking.

As ever, here's some comics and what I thought! Buy 'em! Don't buy 'em! Leave them at the scenes of violent crimes to throw off the Feds! I don't know, don't look at me for help. Because I'll just look down and whisper "No."

And Now Our Feature Presentation- SOME COMICS WHAT I DID READ:

ANIMAL MAN #8 Art by Steve Pugh, Travel Foreman & Jeff Huet Written by Jeff Lemire Coloured by Lovern Kindzierski Lettered by Jared K. Fletcher DC Comics, $2.99 (2012) Animal Man created by Dave Wood and Carmine Infantino

Since he literally throws his daughter to the wolves I’m afraid I have to say Buddy Baker is the worst father in the DCU and he’s a pretty craptastic superhero to boot. You’re going to have to think of something better than beating an army of undead animals to death one by one, Buddy Baker! This guy is such a dumbnuts I’m getting tired of reading about him. The best thing about ANIMAL MAN is that it reminds me how wonderful Steve Pugh’s art is.

I love the solidity he gives everything and the way his art allows the realistic and the insane to exist frictionlessly together. If he’s too radical for the DC masses, and it doesn't take much to be that, maybe Dynamite could get him on some books? Oh, I’m getting ahead of myself; I haven’t got to THE SHADOW yet. Anyway, ANIMAL MAN was OKAY! But really his wife would have left him about 6 issues ago and in about 3 issues I expect Social Services to be having a firm word in his shell-like. Buddy Baker is a danger to himself and everyone around him, and not in a good way.

FATALE #4 Art by Sean Phillips Written by Ed Brubaker Coloured by Dave Stewart Image Comics, $3.50 (2012) Fatale created by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips

Um, I don’t want to be the party pooper but I’m not really feeling this one. Where others would see complexity I see only confusion and the horror and crime aspects don’t mix well at all; blanding each other out if anything. I’m not convinced at all that Brubaker & Phillips are as deft with horror as they are with crime. There’s one sequence in particular which is meant to suggest the soiled undersheet of reality flickering on the edges of the protagonist’s vision, but it takes up a whole page. Which is a bit like the secret supernatural underpinnings of the world putting on a straw boater and doing back flips in front of you while belting out showtunes. Subtly unsettling it’s not. Mind you this series seems to not be a lot of things. Coherent and inventive being amongst the things it isn't. So far the whole thing seems a stolid muddle which barely fends off the blunt teeth of cliché. The police scenes are about the width of a gnat’s dick from busting out the old “This is straight from The Fifth Floor, you've got 24 hours to clear this case or you’re back handing out parking tickets! Capiche, you maverick bastard!”  And then there are the narrative captions and, boy howdy, are they bad. But then I think there’s a difference between understated and lifeless. These things are like “I saw a cat. It was big.” bad. It’s like Dan Brown bad. But then Dan Brown’s very successful isn't he?

After all, in a shocking real-life terror twist, it turns out that FATALE is the most successful thing Brubaker & Phillips have produced. Previously this was true of INCOGNITO which I thought was pretty bad. So, it looks like success beckons the Brubaker & Phillips team, but what appears to bring them success isn't what brings me reading pleasure. Mind you, they are professional enough to produce a comic that despite my tinny whinging still comes off as OKAY! While I found the front matter lacking, Stephen Blackmoore provides a compelling backmatter piece concerning a real life gumshoe called Harry Raymond. That bit was VERY GOOD!

You can buy FATALE from HERE.

RAGEMOOR #2 Art by Richard Corben Written by Jan Strnad Lettered by Nate Piekos of Blambot® Dark Horse Comics, $3.50 (2012) Ragemoor created by Richard Corben and Jan Strnad

Corben’s art looks a bit odd in this issue, as though he’s got some settings wrong on his software or something. It looks a lot less crisp than last issue. It’s still great because it’s still Richard Corben but…still. Fortunately Strnad’s scripting is really strong so that helps soothe any misgivings. I didn't really know where the series could go after the first issue’s seemingly complete unto itself set-up.

I certainly didn't expect it to make the previously understated humour blossom so broadly; so broadly that at times it verges on farce. I certainly wouldn't have expected it to work so well either. There’s horror here but humour too and in an impressive feat of facility each complements the other leading to a comic that is a really satisfying read indeed. I don’t want to give too much away but hopefully the fact I thought it was VERY GOOD! will be enough to tempt the unwary!

THE SHADOW #1 Art by Aaron Campbell Written by Garth Ennis Coloured by Carlos Lopez Lettered by Rob Steen Dynamite, $3.99 (2012) The Shadow created by Walter B. Gibson

I know you've all been on tenterhooks so let me assure you that I did indeed receive a copy of this comic with the Howard Victor Chaykin cover. I thank you all for thinking of me during this period of uncertainty. It was always a bit of a gamble though wasn't it? What with Dynamite’s penchant for plural covers. Mostly they get some decent names doing some good stuff. Howard Victor Chaykin, for instance, obviously did this one well before it struck Gin O’Clock at Chaykin Towers. He’s even used a different face shape; nice job Howard Victor Chaykin!  The art on the inside of Dynamite’s books tends to be a bit more problematic. Problematic in the Early Anglo Saxon sense of “bloody awful”. Aaron Campbell manages to buck this trend by being decent for most of the book, except when The Shadow erupts into murderous action at which point Aaron Campbell impresses the Heck out of me. Really, jolly good work on those parts! I’m still not a massive fan of the old drawing over the top of photographs business so the rest of the book was just okay art wise.

Ennis is behaving himself too, there's none of that aggressively puerile "funny" stuff or lashing out at easy targets with a nuclear bomb strapped to a machete. He seems to actually be having a good time too. He certainly gives The Shadow a clear personality, one that's all the more entertaining for being composed primarily of arrogant bastardry. But he's not without empathy either, which is a nice trick to pull off. The whole shebang is set in one of Ennis' well researched eras of upheaval, or at least imminent upheaval. Because, and it's to his credit this, Garth Ennis is one of the few writers in comics who shows evidence of reading books other than How To Bland Out And Find Big Bucks In TV And Movies. Books that demonstrate an interest on his part in the world around him rather than a monomaniacal need to write THE MENTALIST.  If you like Ennis' war books you'll like this. If you like The Shadow you'll like this. Blimey, if you just like decent comics you'll like this. Because it's actually VERY GOOD!

SUPREME #63 Art by Erik Larsen & Cory Hamscher Written by Alan Moore Coloured by Steve Oliff Lettered by Chris Eliopoulos Image Comics, $2.99 (2012) Supreme created by Rob Liefeld

SUPREME is an Alan Moore genre comic. I miss Alan Moore’s genre comics. Alan Moore’s genre comics were packed with invention and humour. Alan Moore’s genre comics had more ideas on the page than most of today’s self proclaimed genii have in a lifetime. Alan Moore’s genre comics played with the form in a way that was charming and cheeky. Alan Moore’s genre comics had characters with character, but their character was never static and if it changed it would do so coherently. Alan Moore’s genre comics had craft. Alan Moore’s genre comics had joy. Alan Moore’s genre comics were VERY GOOD! Yeah, genre comics are much better off without Alan Moore. Yeah, F***k you, Alan Moore! Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Alan Moore! We don't need you, Alan Moore! We never needed you! We've got AVENGERS Vs X-MEN and BEFORE WATCHMEN now!

Oh God, what have we done. COME BACK, ALAN MOORE!

...please...

You can buy SUPREME from HERE.

And that's your lot!  Yes, even I have other stuff to do!

Hope you had a good weekend, everyone!

Blah blah blah COMICS!!!

"It Has A HEART And A MIND!" Comics! Sometimes They Are Dissolute.

Come Sir, or Madam, set yourself beside this hearth and join me in a snifter as we peruse a periodical of low-repute and learn of a very naughty home, a most naughty home indeed!

RAGEMOOR #1 (of 4) Art by Richard Corben Story by Jan Strnad Letters by Nate Piekos of Bambot ® RAGEMOOR created by Richard Corben and Jan Strnad (Dark Horse Comics, 2011,$3.50,B&W)

Centuries before The Nazarene Castle Ragemoor fed upon pagan blood and grew. Without the hand of man Castle Ragemoor found shape and substance. Now Castle Ragemoor sleeps a dark sleep. Now interlopers have invaded its walls with profit in mind. They have brought with them man’s base nature and awakened the dark appetites of Castle Ragemoor itself. Appetites that only the interlopers themselves can sate. Castle Ragemoor stirs and hungers and whatever walks within Castle Ragemoor walks alone (and probably has very large secondary sexual characteristics).

One needs only the most cursory of acquaintances with the work of Mr. Richard Corben to realise that he is partial to The Gothic, to The Horror. Throughout his career it is a genre he returns to again and again. He has produced numerous adaptations of the works of such lurid luminaries as Mr.Poe, Mr. Lovecraft and Mr. Hope Hodgson and RAGEMOOR shows he is not above creating such works from whole cloth, aided and abetted in this latest endeavour by his common collaborator Mr. Jan Strnad.

Mr. Strnad sets the scene simply and elegantly for it is a simple scene to set for it is a simple story; one of greed and gory. It must have been tempting to lard great globs of prose most purple over the art. It would have probably failed to harm the work but Mr. Strnad resists this inclination, instead leaving the characters to reveal themselves through dialogue, actions and Mr. Corben’s singular art. For Mr. Corben's art is indeed most singular. Its most singular aspect being in the nature of its excess. Fat people are not just fat they are bloated, the repressed are not just repressed they are practically frozen, the bosoms are not just large they are monumental and, aye,  gravity weighs heavily upon them. Mr. Corben's art is exaggerated to the very brink of parody, indeed the very edge of tastefulness. Given the genre this is fitting, this is meet.

Given the primacy of Mr. Corben's visuals when considering the low-born medium of this comical periodical it would seem most just to refer to the debased shadowplays of the Hammer and American International Pictures studios of days now dead. Films that beneath staid surfaces fair roiled with debauchery, degradation and decay. Films that displayed a society whose grandeur had passed its peak and was now spotted with rot. A society where Man could hide his decadence behind piety but never from forces older than Man's God. Such vengeful forces as are embodied, quite literally, by Castle Ragemoor itself.

Castle Ragemoor is a massive edifice cosseted by shadows without and decorated by darkness within. Mr. Corben chooses to err on the side of suggestion and minimalism in much the same way that Roger Corman’s Poe films did. Although Mr. Corman’s inventions were spurred by budgetary constraints Mr. Corben’s budget is unlimited and yet he still chooses to nail each interior scene onto the page with great slabs of black. One can only surmise that these deep, dark walls of nullity are intentional. Characters are fixed within settings of stark darkness which fade to grey at times revealing surroundings warped and flaking with age. Where there is light, and there is light upon occasion, it flares its brightest at times of violence.

Only from the illumination provided by the violence of flame, of storm, of a new day being born does the darkness of Castle Ragemoor recede. But it only ebbs to reveal a scene of implicit or explicit horror  and while,yes,  near pages' end the sun’s light gains ascendancy it is only a brief respite as darkness moves in from the edges of the final panel, remorselessly reclaiming Castle Ragemoor. For Castle Ragemoor is a dark place because Castle Ragemoor is A Dark Place. This darkness is fitting, this darkness is meet.

Indeed to the uncharitable reader RAGEMOOR could be dismissed as mere homage, mere pastiche, but could only be dismissed entirely as such by one who feels both terms are themselves lacking in value from the off. And yet, and yet, is it not oft-times a case not of what has been done but how well that thing has been done? Given that your author has a weakness for both pastiche and homage he finds RAGEMOOR has been done very well indeed and is thus compelled, though it be an affront to nature and The Lord, to accord it a most boisterous VERY GOOD!

Have a most blessed weekend all and in the name of the one true God I implore you to read some COMICS!!!