Dark Reign: Lethal Legion #3 (of 3) — Writer: Frank Tieri; Art: Mateus Santolouco
You’d think I’d have known not to read this book — but, like a victim of trauma or some horrible past abuse, I keep pushing each issue out of my memory, approaching each new one innocently, free of any past preconceptions. I don’t look at the credits, and start scanning it, wondering at the grossly misguided narrative choices (here, the climactic battle the other issues were leading up to is told in disjointed flashbacks, providing no continuity or suspense, just sketchy confusion provided by endless rows of badly-rendered, ugly talking heads), the way established characters sound nothing like themselves, the total lack of logic of the plot, and the utter soullessness and grubbiness of the whole enterprise — all offered at $3.99 for only the standard 22 pages, as though Marvel thinks we should be paying more for it — and then, finally, when I turn to the credits and look at the writer’s name, there’s a flash of insight, as if I were a character in a Lovecraft story finally confronted with the name of some terrible dark elder god, and it all makes horrible sense.
Superman #692 — Writer: James Robinson; Penciller: Fernando Dagnino; Inker: Raul Fernandez
Son of Hulk #15 — Writer: Paul Jenkins; Pencils: Andres Guinaldo; Inks: Vicente Cifuentes
Die Hard: Year One #1 — Writer: Howard Chaykin; Art: Stephen Thompson
These books are linked because they all pull a bait-and-switch game on the reader: the advertised ingredients are nowhere in the actual books. They aren’t the glittering black hole of suckiness of Lethal Legion #3, but then they aren’t any good, either. Take Superman #692, a book that a casual reader would, naively, expect to have, oh, Superman in it. No such luck; in fact, at this point it doesn’t even have Mon-El; it’s got the Guardian wandering around a Metropolis with no sewer system, part of a convoluted plot with no excitement or resolution in sight. No appearance by DC’s flagship character in his flagship title: gosh, do you suppose this is why readership in this comic has dropped by 20% in the last six months? Not be outdone in editorial wackiness, Marvel provides Son of Hulk, a book without the title character or his father; instead, it’s a bunch of aliens with names like “Old Sam” and “Axeman Bone” involved in some incomprehensible outer-space plot. Galactus appears, but if you think that ups the excitement level… well, you probably bought this comic. Finally, Die Hard: Year One. Now, what do you think of when you hear “Die Hard”? Bruce Willis involved in some pyrotechnic derring-do, right? Crashing planes? Burning/exploding skyscrapers? So, naturally, this book is a grubby Chaykin-style street-level cop drama with none of that stuff, and a main character who looks nothing like Bruce Willis, barely appears, and fails to register any excitement or reason for the reader to return. If comics are all about a sense of wonder, about providing colorful cheap thrills and pulp pyrotechnics that you just can’t get anywhere else… well, all three of these books suggest that through their title characters and covers, but none of them actually do it on the inside; reader disappointment is their common bond.
Dark Reign: The Hood #5 (of 5) — Writer: Jeff Parker; Penciler: Kyle Hotz; Inker: Scott Hanna
Moving from books that are bad to ones that merely aren’t quite good enough to buy, we have this mini-series. It’s worth looking at because of Hotz’s shadowy, Kelly Jonesish art, but tripped up by its title character’s convoluted backstory: the Hood is the second-most-overused Marvel character right now, behind only the tiresome Norman Osborn, and recent events in Avengers have already rendered the ones in this series out of date. Parker’s script isn’t bad, but, through no fault of his own, it’s now old news, and comics fans are notorious for wanting stuff on the cutting edge of continuity, stuff that’s happening right now; this reads like it’s past its expiration date.
Mickey Mouse and Friends #296 — Writer: Stefano Ambrosio; Art: Lorenzo Pastrovicchio, Roberto Santillo and Marco Giglione
Boom’s first of the old-school Disney titles, and it’s got a Tolkienesque wizards-and-magic setting, with Mickey, Donald and Goofy playing roles in it like the stock players in some old movie-studio B-film. As the credits suggest, it’s a reprint from one of the European comics, and it’s actually OK — colorful, with big panels and a sense of adventure — and at 25 pages for $2.99 it’s not a bad deal. Will it find an audience? Kids may like it, although they might be confused by why the characters aren’t acting “normal”; adults might be put off by the utter lack of editorial content, since one of the highlights of the Gladstone books was always their fannish, well-researched commentary, and there’s nothing like that here.
New Mutants #5 — Writer: Zeb Wells; Art: Zachary Baldus
Worth a look because of the art: Baldus has a few DC credits, short work on American Splendor and House of Mystery, and he’s got a painterly, indie-flavored way with faces and figures that’s appealing — and a little reminiscent of Bill Sienkewicz’s run on the first volume of this title; the fact that Warlock shows up (the self-friend/techno one, not the Kirby/cosmic one) underlines the comparison even more. However, he apparently has trouble drawing things besides people, because most of his panels have zero backgrounds: they’re just figures against blank screens. That, and the way that Wells’s story is a little too retro-’80s Claremont-y for me, made this book barely miss the cut.
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow #1 (of 1) — Creator: Rod Espinosa.
This is a faithful-to-Washington-Irving version of the “Headless Horseman” thing, told in a mangafied style, and the problem is that it’s too faithful — the Colonial characters and setting are well-researched, but at base this has always been a boring story; it’s a quick read with one payoff scene, and that’s reproduced on the cover. Add to that the way that the style makes everyone look a little goofy, and it’s hard to see how a generation raised on Freddy Krueger and Jason will have any attraction to this inoffensive little period piece.
Phil Mateer
