… subtitled, “That isn’t Northlanders #30.” I’ve written a great deal about my love of Northlanders already, and in the interest of variety, I’m removing it from contention. Because honestly, if I told you it was the beginning of a new storyline called “Metal” and it involves an enormous disgruntled blacksmith engaging in a bloody vendetta against his village and the Christian church while high on mushrooms, wielding a big sword and rescuing a reluctant nun, you’d laugh and I’d laugh and then I’d crank up Amon Amarth’s “Versus the World” and we’d smash our mead horns over each other’s heads. And that’s what I’m doing on Saturday, so I’d better not do that today. Mead horns are expensive.

So what does that leave us? Green Arrow #2 is so-so and reads a lot like issue #1 but longer, so it’s out; X-Men Forever2 #4 (Note to Marvel: Do you see how stupid that looks in print?) is a holding pattern issue, and it proves me wrong about my Shi’ar guess from a few weeks ago, so it’s out; Abe Sapien #2 made very little impact on me — I think at long last I have determined if the book isn’t about Hellboy or Lobster Johnson, I can live happily without it, ergo, it’s out; Warlock #16 is the final issue, and it wrapped up an impending alien invasion — through the magic of a baby with Jason Blood’s hairstyle, and no, I’m not making that up — so quickly that Will Smith wouldn’t have even had time to say “Welcome to Erff,” so it’s out. I bought a buttload of comics, though, so we have much to discuss. Join me in the next paragraph.

Hey, you made it. Great. Well, let’s discuss Batman the Widening Gyre #6 of 6, and that numbering is important because the final panel of this issue made me scream out loud at a volume and pitch I hadn’t reached since I saw Hayden Christensen digitally inserted at the end of Return of the Jedi. Let me say that I really like Kevin Smith as a writer, that I like his atypical approach to Batman and that the idea of bringing back Silver St. Cloud specifically for a love interest is not one to which I am opposed. This series is essentially Batman as romance comic, and I’m so over grim and gritty Batman that I welcomed it. But — and take a deep breath because this is a honking big but — Batman would never bring anyone he hadn’t thoroughly vetted to the Batcave for the express purpose of revealing his secret identity, he’d never do the preceding with an innocent bystander whom he loved standing right next to him, he certainly wouldn’t do that with a guy named Baphomet who wears a wooden mask and speaks so freely of killing criminals, I really never wanted to ever consider the possibility that Batman is a multi-orgasm inducing lover or that he would discuss such with Alfred and, and this is crucial so I may get a bit shouty — DO NOT HAVE SEVERAL MONTHS ELAPSE BETWEEN ISSUE 5 AND 6 ONLY TO REVEAL ON THE LAST PAGE THAT YOU HAVE NO ENDING FOR THIS STORY AND IT WILL CONTINUE AT SOME POINT IN THE FUTURE WITH A “VOLUME 2″ BECAUSE I AM CLOSE PERSONAL FRIENDS WITH AN ANGRY, TRIPPING VIKING IN THE THROES OF A RIGHTEOUS BLOODLUST. Oh, that felt good. I peed myself a little, but it was worth it. Kevin, I love you and all you’ve done for fandom, but brother — this pained me.

Of greater interest to the cerebral comics fan (I have a pipe collection and a blazer and everything) is Thor #612, a Kieron Gillen/Doug Braithwaite production, in which Thor and Tyr go to Hell to rescue Hela and all the recently deceased Asgardians from the Disir, the proto-Valkyrie of Odin’s forbear, Bor, and if you think I’m considering starting a band and naming it “Protovalkyrie,” you’re not wrong.

It’s an actiony, hammer-smashinginy comic, and that’s cool, but I’ve already read a comic about Thor going to Hell to save a lot of people, and it was written and drawn by Walter Simonson — when something has been done previously and done better, that’s the very definition of stiff competition. That said, Gillen writes an intelligently malevolent Mephisto, and if I wasn’t intimately familiar with Simonson’s run (I slept with those comics like I was Bruce Wayne, y’all), I’d really be loving this book. Instead, I like it.

Thor the Mighty Avenger #2, however, felt a little different. Thor here is new to earth and knows he’s a god, but he’s not sure why he’s here or really what Earth is all about. It’s a fish out of water comic that’s designed to hook young and/or new readers and provide an instant tie-in to the eventual film, but there’s a certain charm to it. Chris Samnee’s skinny Thor takes some getting used to (Doug Brathwaite’s Thor is much more to my liking, by the way), but it’s an entertaining book happily free of mainstream Marvel Universe continuity. And Mr. Hyde is the villain, and I haven’t seen that guy in years — that’s good stuff.

But holy Kirby Crackle, take a look at Fantastic Four #581. Reed Richards’ dad, Nathaniel, has adult versions of Valeria and Franklin Richards with him in the distant future? Nathaniel also jumps back to Reed and Ben’s college days to get them to team up with pre-doctorate-from-evil-medical-school Victor von Doom for a time-jumping mission? Young Victor is as arrogant and demanding as ever, and Ben gets to wear some Doom-designed armor? Oh, Johnathan Hickman; this book is an absolute delight. It’s fun, it’s fast-paced, the characters behave in a recognizable and consistent fashion, there’s a growing sweep to this story that’s impossible to resist, Neil Edwards’ pencils are pretty great, and there’s a little note in the credits that reads “Stan Lee & Jack Kirby, Class of ‘61″ — if you’re not enthusiastic about such things, I worry for your soul. However, if I might gripe just a bit, take a look at my watch.

That’s my Benjamin J. Grimm watch, and when that big hand hits the “3″ it’s clobberin’ time. Mr. Hickman needs to show me some clobberin’ before then, or it’ll all end in tears — mine, I’m sure. Until then, Fantastic Four is the best thing I read this week that’s not Northlanders #30.

“Why don’t you marry Northlanders if you love it so much?”

Oh, Crazy Eyes Viking, you know Northlanders would never have me now that I admitted I slept with Thor. Northlanders and I are just gonna move in together and see where that leads us.

-Paul

When it was announced that Marvel would be relaunching “New Avengers” after the end of Siege I was a bit confused. Wasn’t the whole point of naming the team New Avengers because a group of former Avengers were reassembling after they were devastated in the “Avengers – Disassembled” story-line? Hints the adjective “new” before the team name. As the series continued, writer Brian Michael Bendis did some great things to personalize the New Avengers from The Avengers, mainly making them the champions of the Super-Hero anti-registration act in the Marvel Civil War-era. Yet, when the registration act mumbo-jumbo was finally concluded five years later with the fall of Norman Osborn, why still keep the New Avengers moniker? Aren’t they pretty well-established by this point? I get that naming them the “Matured Avengers” isn’t any more catchy, but come on, calling them the “New” New Avengers, or the Newer Avengers or Newest Avengers is just plain confusing. What was Bendis going to do to make the second series knew and original? I promised myself I would reserve judgement until I actually read a few issues, and despite not doing anything really groundbreaking, I do think the current incarnation of the New Avengers is an entertaining read.

Let’s get the complaints out of the way. Okay. First and foremost, Wolverine is on way too many teams. This has been a growing complaint for the last five years, but now he is officially on the Avengers and New Avengers roosters (Plus, X-Men, X-Force and a myriad of solo adventures). When does he find the time to do all his team management? We’re going to have to caste that complaint aside though because Marvel is not changing Wolvie’s overexposure anytime soon. However, they are also doing the exact same thing with Spider-Man and Hawkeye. This is when it starts feeling redundant. Do these characters really all need to be on so many teams? What originally made Spidey’s inclusion on the New Avengers in the first series so interesting was that he was never written as a team player before. It was new and exciting to see Spider-Man have to adjust to a team setting, and with his identity revealed in Civil War he had to rely on the team for protection from his growing enemies. However, now that all these plot points have been wrapped up, Spider-Man should really have gone back to being a solo player. With Hawkeye you just have to ask how much are we really demanding Clint Barton? He probably would get more attention if only one book focused strongly on him, instead of making him a secondary character on two teams. The biggest question I have involving cast members though is why spread Luke Cage so thin. He finally gets to be official team leader of the New Avengers, but he is also simultaneously appointed the role of the new leader of the New “New” Thunderbolts (yesh, this is getting confusing). I really like Luke Cage but can’t he just be the leader of one team?

Still, my greatest reservation was why have the New Avengers at all? Why not just one blanket Avengers book? They could call it the Marvel Universe Avengers since nearly every Marvel character has been in the team at one point or another now. Obviously, the answer has to do with sales. Marvel is not going to drop their number one Avengers title, so let’s analyze what Bendis has done to make “New Avengers” worth it.

In the spirit of characters joining multiple teams, Bendis added the Fantastic Four’s brute enforcer Thing to the New Avengers rooster. Why? I don’t know. I guess because “It’s Clobberin’ Time!” That’s a good enough reason to have The Thing join any team. The other wild card is adding Victoria Hand, Norman Osborn’s H.A.M.M.E.R. secretary to the line-up. How this character will survive the post-Dark Reign Marvel U. will be interesting as she was certainly a dichotomous element to the previous story. What I’ve really dug about the book though is the supernatural element. Three of the major players of this first story-arc are Brother Voodoo (now Doctor Voodoo, sorcerer supreme) Stephen Strange (former sorcerer supreme) and Daimon Hellstrom (Son of Satan), and they’ve involved the New Avengers in protecting the Eye of Agamotto. Focusing on abstract supernatural threat has helped the book maintain a sense of constant momentum, unlike other Marvel “Heroic Age” comics that feel like they are starting over at a status quo step one.

Even though I not sure why they call it the New Avengers now, I’ve still liked what Bendis has done with the ongoing adventures of Marvels biggest rotating team. I just think they should have named the book something like “The Accessible Avengers.”

-Jon

Heavy Metal. What an incredibly awesome animated movie. I think the first time I saw this movie, I may have been 6 or 7. Totally not a movie for child at that age, but don’t blame my parents though. When you’re that age, your parents just can’t stay up as long as you can on the weekends, so late night HBO was my ticket towards seeing this movie, plus a little help from my older brother… But for those of you that are unfamiliar with Heavy Metal, let me give you a brief explanation of what Heavy Metal actually is.

Originally, there was a Sci-Fi magazine in France that went by the name of “Métal Hurlant” which translates to something like “Howling Metal”. Leonard Mogel, purchased the license to produce the magazine in the states and changed the name to “Heavy Metal” instead. it debuted in the States in 1977 and featured translations of the French stories, as well as eventually featuring works by American artists and writers as well. The mag also went through a few editors before it finally established what kind of magazine it was going to be over here. Currently, the mag is owned by Kevin Eastman (of TMNT fame) and is still published to this day. Remember this, because I’m gonna come back to it.

Now, the actual Heavy Metal film is very much like how the magazines are (anthology), with the exception that all the stories are tied together by a common item in the film, The Loc-Nar. The Loc-Nar is an orb of seemingly unimaginable power that drives civilizations to either great prosperity or complete destruction. Loc-Nar spends the majority of the movie telling a little girl stories about how he has caused great mischief in the Universe. We are then treated to what I feel is an all-star cast of voice acting as we bare witness to some of the more popular Heavy Metal stories come to life on the screen. From what I can gather, the most popular of the longer tales was that of “Den”, the story a kid who is whisked away to another world where he becomes a manly-man and his inner-voice is that of the great John Candy. As a child, I recall this part of the movie of having the most nudity in it. As an adult, I see it as a cool Conan/Kull kind of story set on another planet. A similar story follows a strong willed female warrior and her flying beast as they proceed to open up an infinite number of cans of whoop-ass all over these mutants that were created by the Loc-Nar. This particular story ties into the overall ending of the story, so I’ll remain mum on that subject.

There are a nice handful of other stories that are stored within this 3 year production of a movie. All of which are beautifully animated, with a few hiccups here and there… I challenge anyone to view this movie and tell me that there wasn’t something in it that they didn’t like. However, this movie isn’t without it’s problems. One of which, had to do with licensing issues over the monster soundtrack that was attached to the film. This caused the movie to not be release on home video until 15 years after it’s theatrical debut. Well… Officially released, anyway. There were plenty of bootlegs out there to be found. Another big problem was that it spawned an awful sequel; Heavy Metal 2000. This turd of a movie was based off a story that was written by current editor of the magazine, Kevin Eastman, and starred the likeness and voice of his wife (at the time…), B-Movie/Porn Actress Julie Strain. Just garbage. And it takes a lot for me to call a movie garbage, remember, I’m the guy who ranks Howard the Duck in his top 5 movies of all time. But Heavy Metal 2000 is one of those movies were it just goes to show that maybe we shouldn’t risk a franchise so that your spouse has something to do. And that doesn’t just go for Eastman, but also to Kevin Smith, Tim Burton, Ben Stiller, Paul WS Anderson, James Cameron… The list goes on. Even if you put out an awesome movie, please, be gentle with us, your wife isn’t always the best actress for the part, and yes, it counts against you if she becomes your wife after the movie is finished.

Anyway, Eastman was talking about there possibly being an additional Heavy Metal movie in the works, this time, it’d be more like the original movie and be an anthology. Although, it seems that it’s been having a rough time getting to actual results, but names have been tossed around for possible directors for sets, ranging from David Fincher to Zack Snyder to Gore Verbinski to Guillermo Del Toro to James Cameron. How much of that is legit, I don’t know. Sounds good to me though. So here’s to that. And that, my friends, is the end of this post. See ya next time.

-Fleet

The strangest part of this phenomenon is that those items in the background can burst forth again and fascinate me all over again. Comic books obviously feed this tendency; I can read a book for months, and then something changes — writer leaves, new artist can only draw one face, Wolverine makes one too many unwarranted guest appearances — and I’m done with it. Until a few months later, when something else changes and it’s back on my list.

Usagi Yojimbo is the most extreme example of my mental foible. I bought Usagi Yojimbo in the 80s like it was my job to support this book. I talked it up constantly, made my friends read it, argued that it was better than Lone Wolf and Cub (an argument I would no longer be foolish enough to make, because they’re equally great and entirely different books) and went so far as to homebrew some rules for a Stan Sakai variant universe of warrior animals for Dungeons and Dragons. My connection with Usagi would have greatly affected my personal life, if I had had one at the time.

And then I didn’t buy it anymore. I have no idea when I stopped buying it, or why. I suspect it was due to Usagi’s slightly irregular publishing schedule, but I’m not positive.

After all these years and all the opportunities to catch up with my rabbit hero, it was the impulse purchase of a used Usagi Yojimbo graphic novel a few weeks ago that rekindled my fascination (that impulse was spurred on in no small part by the Webster Film Series’ amazing Akira Kurosawa festival). Actually, it was like gasoline thrown on a fire as far as my brain was concerned; I went back and bought all the used copies, and then bought five new ones, and I would have got more but I sometimes like to eat a meal.

Everything I loved about Stan Sakai’s feudal Japan remains, but it somehow seems more fantastic, more meaningful after all these years apart. Part of that meaningfulness no doubt comes from me being an older and ever-so-infinitesimally-more-mature person. Despite Sakai’s all-ages approach to his storytelling, many of his tales have emotional components that are adult in resonance; elements I glossed over 20 years ago to get to more sword fighting I now find to be the best part of the stories. Usagi’s complicated relationship with Nakamura Koji, the ronin who seeks to duel and defeat Usagi’s teacher and friend Katsuichi; Gen’s conflicted emotions about shouldering his father’s responsibilities; the perfectly-crafted arc of Usagi and his son Jotaro’s journey and eventual parting — these are beautiful pieces of a whole that is grander and more powerful than the younger me ever recognized. It’s enlightening and surprising to recognize that my favorite parts of my favorite black & white book are the grey areas. And, you know, the sword fights are still boss.

So, I urge you all to seek out a book you haven’t read for years, or to revisit one you once loved but long ago filed away in the back of the bottom long box. What you find may surprise you, especially if you’ve deceived yourself into believing you’ve never grown up, as I have. If that sounds like too much work, well, I’m trying not to be the guy who browbeats people to buy their favorite comics, but you could maybe take a look at Usagi Yojimbo, if you’re so inclined.

Usagi Volume 24 ships this week, if that’s any enticement.

-Paul

So, following up on the final story in featured in Superman #700, Superman finds himself assaulted by a widow who’s husband died of an inoperable brain tumor. She felt that if Superman were around, he would’ve been able to save her husband, but he was nowhere to be found. Seeing as he was on New Krypton trying to save humanity from Zod, she was told that Superman was too busy doing more important things. While it’s not the fault of Superman that the man died, he saw just how hard this woman was taking the death of her husband. He left and asked his buddies about whether or not they agreed on what was and is important in the role of being a hero. Superman ultimately came to the conclusion that, for now, he’d see what good deeds he could do from the ground. Dealing with the things that typically seem unimportant to a hero of his stature. On this walk he helps a man figure out why he’s having car troubles, a bit later on, he does some work at a diner to earn himself a sandwich. You see, Superman is too cool for money. While eating, this leads to one of two of my favorite scenarios of this issue.

First, he learns of some drug dealers that have holed up in a bunch of houses at the edge of town. Supes walks over to some dealers and is told that there is nothing he can do to them that’ll hold up in court. Superman agrees. So he uses his X-Ray vision to find all the hidden stashes in the various houses, then sets them on fire with his heat vision. He then informs the dealers that “someone” set their drugs on fire. lol. Then he walks away, eventually finding a woman who is on the verge of ending her life by jumping off a building. This segment, I wont spoil for you. But I felt that the outcome raised a lot of questions about Superman’s moral code, and not just for the suicide event, but the entirety of the issue. Questions and arguments that I had as a child with other children were answered and settled for me. And I think that an actual serious debate can be raised within the pages of DC about what is and isn’t proper conduct for the various heroes of the DCU.

In the end, I feel that Straczynski has started his run on Superman with flying colors, and I feel that this issue has given us a great preview of what may happen later on in the storyline, which more than likely force Superman to do a few things that will break his image for what he stands for. I’m not sure I’m gonna like it, but its good to see characters grow as well. Life isn’t always flowers and sausages, so I can’t wait to see what Superman deals with next.

-Fleet

Chris Claremont’s X-Men — and make no mistake, no matter who the artist was, I always thought of it as “Chris Claremont’s X-Men” — was the first comic book to which I became hopefully addicted. It wasn’t the first comic I bought, it wasn’t the first one I loved, but it was the first book that made me feverish at the thought of missing an issue. The first issue I bought was #137 — yes, the iconic final chapter in the Dark Phoenix saga. It was like no comic book I’d ever read. Claremont’s scenarios were imaginative parables, his dialogue was crisp and believable (despite a few peculiar dialect tics, such as Irish brogue, Wolverine’s “bub’s” and Sabretooth calling every woman “frail”), and his characters exhibited a realism and depth of relationships that read more like a novel than a comic. I maintained an unbroken string of Chris Claremont’s X-Men up until the first “arc” of the spin-off X-Men he did with Jim Lee — something like 12 years of comics without missing an issue. By that point, everything I had once loved about Claremont’s work felt hackneyed and over-exposed. No one was more disappointed with my dropping the book than me — Chris Claremont, more than any other author, was the voice of my early adolescence. He single-handedly made me a comic book junkie, and his influence is obvious in my more painfully overwrought sentences, or in Claremontese, “Claremont’s voice, whiskey-rich and familiar, rang silvery in the silent inner recess of his mind, ever present and comforting when the solitude threatened to overwhelm him.”

This could be condensed to, “I have strong feelings about Chris Claremont and his current do-over comic, X-Men Forever, recently dubbed X-Men Forever2.” But hey — Chris Claremont.

The set-up for this book, the 37th monthly X-title, is sort of a high-concept take on What If?, namely, “What if Claremont had been allowed to continue writing X-Men after 1991, and carry out his plans for Fabian Cortez, mutant burn-out and other things long since forgotten?”

For the record, I think it’s a bad idea. X-continuity is already fraught with more plot holes, worm holes, time slips, slip-ups and re-jiggering than any book this side of Legion of Superheroes. Asking readers to recall incidents from 19 years ago is a bit much — and I’m not quite clear if we’re to assume that all Marvel Universe continuity is set back in the same time for this book only. Are we gonna see the West Coast Avengers at some point? I don’t know. I buy it anyway, because hey — Chris Claremont. I feel like I owe him something.

And you know what? It’s starting to feel like a Claremont Classic at times, emphasis on “starting to” and “at times.” The first 15 or 16 issues were hampered by some dodgy art and a plot that was opaque at best, mainly due to the 19 year gap. Issue 18 and beyond have moved forward rather than asking the reader to look backward, allowing the reader (or me, at least) to stop worrying about continuity stuff and just focus on what’s happening on the page, and the results are much more positive. Wolverine’s dead (I honestly don’t know how — I missed three non-consecutive early issues, and he died in one of them), Sabretooth’s a reluctant and eyeless X-man, Nick Fury’s working with the team because S.H.I.E.L.D. has been corrupted by something and he feels like the X-Men are the last of the untainted good guys, Jean Grey and Scott aren’t an item anymore because Jean loves Beast — she only needs to hook up with Bobby Drake and Warren Worthington III and she’ll have a complete set of original X-Men on her bedpost — crappy Cajun character Gambit is around to provide Claremont a dialect with which to annoy me, Nightcrawler has switched powers with Rogue and is no longer furry (but she is, because blue fur is part of Nighty’s mutant power?), and in a development nobody saw coming, Kitty Pryde has one of Wolverine’s claws in her right hand and her left hand is Sabretooth’s (not sure how, another missing issue).

Yeah, that’s Claremontesque.

It all built up to a final confrontation between the virulently anti-mutant Trask family (creators of the Sentinels) and the X-Men in space, and Beast died to save the world. It was pretty awesome; it was no death of Phoenix (original flavor), but there were high notes and moments of mortal weakness, a couple of nice twists, it was entertaining and it felt good. Claremont has always been able to make all the tragedy and chest-beating that goes on in X-Men feel like it means something, that these characters matter. The first year of the book gradually built back up to a level worthy of the legend. It also had its fair share of low lights, most of them revolving around Sabretooth. I’ve never been on-board with the idea that he’d join the X-Men, nor have I ever bought into the idea that he’s a worthy foe for the team. This is a character who used to get thumped one-on-one by Iron Fist before the end of an issue — Wolverine should be able to wipe the floor with him. And, you know, Gambit’s doing his Gambit thing, saying “mon chere” and throwing explosive bid whist cards, and that’s never really done it for me.

If you’re in the market for another X-book, now would be a good time to hop aboard. The second year has just begun, complete with re-setting the issue counter back at 1 — marketing wins again — and the team has just fought the Avengers to a standstill and then disappeared complete with Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. I don’t know where this is leading, but my Claremontsense tells me we’re due for a visit with the Shi’ar, because hey — Chris Claremont. I’d gripe more about his reliance on his four pillars of plotting (tortured romance, mutant hatred as stand-in for racism, Shi’ar adventures, character powers being amplified/nullified/modified), but I’m actually pretty happy to have him back.

Yes, even though this happened.

-Paul

11 p.m. on Wednesday night, and I’ve just finished reading all this week’s comics. That’s always a terrible feeling, because it’s now the longest possible wait until more new comics. I’ve found the best remedy for this fallow period is a supplemental visit to the comic book store on Friday — nothing like a graphic novel to stave off the shakes for a few more days. If insurance would cover my comics habit, I’d spend the money I saved on … well, more comics probably.

But that’s somewhere in the future, and this is now. And in the very recent past, I read these comics: Superman/Batman #74, Battlefields #8, Power Girl #14, Batman Odyssey #1 and The Troll King graphic novel. What are my thoughts? I’m glad you asked.

Supes/Bats has been taken over by writer Paul Levitz (formerly publisher of a little concern called “DC Comics”) and artist Jerry Ordway, and to my mind, that’s a good thing. I dropped this book about 50 issues ago, but Levitz’s return to writing made me curious enough to pick it up again. The past few issues have been very entertaining, primarily because Levitz has a solid grasp on both characters and how they should behave — like people, not like costumes. Batman is not as arrogant or confrontational with Superman as some writers tend to go, and Supes has a confidence that’s actually inspiring rather than being smug. Levitz also writes one of the more entertaining takes on Lex Luthor, focusing less on his “I hate Superman” mantra in favor of a “I’m going to make the world a safer, more Lex Luthor kinda place, primarily by getting rid of my main obstacle, Superman.” It’s a subtle difference, but to me it’s important; Lex thinks he’s doing the world a favor. In this case, the favor involves subverting the evolution of an alien world by shipping them advanced technology and fomenting a religion based on the destruction of Superman as part of a far-reaching and slow-burning scheme to (someday) beat Superman; it’s kind of a Silver Age aesthetic, especially with Ordway’s art favoring lean, athletic heroes rather than bulky tank-men. Comics don’t always have to be hyperthyroid psychos growling threats at each other to be a good time.

I’m already on the record as greatly enjoying Battlefields, and this second part of the second go-round with female Russian fighter pilot Anna Kharkov is good, but not as gripping as the previous arc, “Tankies” (out this week in softcover, so give it a look). I like Russ Braun’s art, I like the characters, and I like a big Nazis vs. Russkies aerial dogfight (that last clause is lifted directly from my resume), but it’s just not captured my fancy the same way that the prior two arcs did. That said, I have a feeling next issue is going to be gut-churning, because the final issue of every arc of this series has been harrowing. We’re in the calm before the storm right now.

Batman Odyssey (no relation to Spinal Tap’s jazz odyssey as far as I can determine) is penciled and written by Neal Adams, and it looks fantastic. Adams maintains his mastery of the dynamic page, imbuing almost every figure with a palpable sense of motion and action. The plot and dialogue are both pretty good for someone known primarily for their art. Batman regales a young Dick Grayson about his first time out in the costume — he’s packing a pair of .45s, which may be a reference to Julius Schwartz’s first Batman issue, lo those many years ago — and Adams is clearly of the opinion that Batman doesn’t always have the be a hyperthyroid psycho growling threats at people.

There’s a subplot about something to do with Man-Bat and a dark secret he’s harboring, and while this has a whiff of the “Year One”-type story everybody wants to do when they get a Batbook, Adams keeps it interesting characterization-wise. Bruce is thoughtful and patient with Dick, trying to impart a lesson about why he’s never carried a gun since that first mission, and while it gets a little preachy about the dangerous lure of guns, Adams writes a Batman who is funny and regrets not taking the time to enjoy Dick’s company more. I’d read more of the 23 monthly Bat-titles if there were more writers who believed Batman didn’t have to sound and behave like a tortured maniac, so of course I will continue to read Batman Odyssey, and maybe play a little free jazz bass guitar during the breakdown.

I’m conflicted about Power Girl. This is only the second issue for the current team of Judd Winick and Sami Basri, and I very much loved the work of the previous team, so I’m probably bound to be disappointed by whoever followed in Jimmy Palmiotti and Amanda Connor’s wake. We’re moving into a story involving OMACs (not the cool Jack Kirby one, but the lame android with tail fins ones from Crisis: Blue Robots, or whatever that “event’ was called), a purple war robot programmed to destroy cities and the return of Max Lord. I’m pretty sure I already didn’t read a Max Lord/OMAC story, so why make me skip it again?

The B-plot is about Kara Starr losing her company to embezzlement, and let’s be honest — who wants to see another comic where the hero is stripped of everything, with only their superhero identity left to them? One of the more interesting elements of Palmiotti’s run was the concept of superhero establishing and running a major corporation; watching a character who had previously spent an inordinate amount of time wondering “Who am I?” go out and create a real life from the ground up turned out to be a lot of fun and it made Kara Starr interesting. Jettisoning that so early in the run is dumb. This lacks the sparkle and spirit of the Palmiotti/Connor year, and is likely going to be about the seventh book Judd Winick has forced me to drop. However, I met him once in San Jose, and he came across as a very nice, regular guy, so he gets to finish this arc, and if it’s still this dreary, I cut him. I cut him so hard.

Kolbeinn Karlsson’s The Troll King is the exact opposite of dreary. It’s beguiling in both illustration and story, with a sort of Mat Brinkman/Brian Chippendale/Fort Thunder feel to it. There are very few words in this, but don’t let that fool you into believing it to be simple. Karlsson’s tale of a pair of homosexual quasi- sasquatch beings who propitiate a slightly-ominous icon in hopes of having a child is rife with dream-like imagery, jarring intrusions from the real world in the form of consumerism and senseless violence, a sleepy dwarf and a homunculus-like carrot being who takes a bath and ends up generating a new wave of life. I ripped through this in a daze, and I had to fight the urge to read it again in order to write this — it’s most likely going to infest my dreams, and I can’t wait. The Troll King represents the unique strength of comic books; you can create any world you can imagine in a comic, but most people are satisfied to recreate the same things over and over. Kolbeinn Karlsson is not most people, and this brief excursion into his imagination should be treasured. Be advised that there’s a generous amount of full-frontal nudity in this, and it’s all male. That’s gonna put some people off, but those people are going to miss an amazing adventure.

Is The Troll King the best thing I read this week?

Oh, most definitely.

-Paul

That’s right, the WBC has found the reading of comics to be akin to old testament idolatry and are bringing their message to Comic-con this year. Their contempt for comic-books isn’t anything new to your average comic reader since we’ve been putting up with some of these misconceptions about the medium for the longest time anyway. If only I had a dime for every time I’ve heard someone dismiss comics as strictly, “kids stuff” or watch as the uninitiated wrinkle their nose in disgust at even the idea of comic books, or the number of times that I’ve had to explain that a graphic novel isn’t called a graphic novel because it’s full of violence and smut (although there certainly is that fringe element) but because the word graphic relates to visual arts as in graphic arts. The idea that something like comics garnering the attention of people who would protest at a funeral of all places already gets my dander up, but when you start throwing stones at a community I’m very much involved with, well I find it very difficult to turn the other cheek, so to speak. As stated on their website (which has a word in it that I just can’t bring myself to repeat) the WBC’s stance on comic books:

“Are you kidding?! If these people would spend even some of the energy that they spend on these comic books, reading the Bible, well no high hopes here. They have turned comic book characters into idols, and worship them they do! Isaiah 2:8 Their land also is full of idols; they worship the work of their own hands, that which their own fingers have made: 9 And the mean man boweth down, and the great man humbleth himself: therefore forgive them not. It is time to put away the silly vanities and turn to God like you mean it. The destruction of this nation is imminent – so start calling on Batman and Superman now, see if they can pull you from the mess that you have created with all your silly idolatry.”

That is to say that there are people out there that actually worship the characters in comics. I mean, sure, Superman is a metaphor for Moses, but this quote is an overstatement about a culture these folks clearly know nothing about. I can’t wait to see the inevitable photos from this years Comic-Con of cos-playing convention goers along with the sign-wielding WBC folks. Of course, they may not show up due to bad weather like they did here in St. Louis when Lady Gaga came to town. (Aww, too cold outside for your little get-togther?)

Normally I’d say that reacting to this special brand of bigotry and ignorance only empowers and emboldens this kind of bad behavior and satisfies their need for attention, but this situation just strikes me as funny. I mean Comic-Con? Really? COMIC-CON? That’s just grasping for straws for things to feign outrage towards.

Save me Superman! Save Me!

-Jim

As it turns out, Young Nastyman is the arch-rival of 1950s superhero Dickie Dauntless, better-known-as Young Marvelman. Young Nastyman is originally a “lazy and unsporting” loser from the planet Victo who is jealous of the world’s athletes. His real name is Pontag, which is disturbingly close to being named Puntag. Okay…nasty enough. He gets his superpowers from a potion (later revealed to be nictobarbonic phrenoherpescular sodium-sicrate for those interested in the science of nasty), which he receives from the hermit Nastyman. Decent origin for 1954, I guess. After rampaging his home planet (essentially putting wise-men in armlocks and knocking over corinthian columns), Young Nastyman decided to take on someone equal to his power: Earth’s Young Marvelman. Once on earth, the power-crazed Pontag continues his riot by randomly tying people to lap-posts and breaking into candy stores. Seriously! Add in an overabundance of the phrase “And How” and you’ve got one nasty villain on your hands. A few panels later Young Marvelman deduces his power is from a potion and confiscates the bottle, returning Nastyman to his lowly Pontag form and easily defeating him. Still, for about a page he was his equal. It was nasty, and how!

Roughly 50 years later, Young Nastyman is Wonderboy’s enemy (Jack Black or JB) and has “power comparable to Wonderboy.”

Meaning:

The power of Flight! That’s levitation Holmes.

The power to kill a yak, from 200 yards… with mind-bullets. That’s telekinesis.

And of course, the power to move people.

Watch for yourself in the epic, barbarian music video for Wonderboy

I think that’s really all you need to know.

Nasty!

-Jon

Following up on Parker- the Hunter is The Man With The Getaway Face, another of Westlakes novels from 1963. Getaway is a classic heist-gone-wrong story that is a staple in crime fiction, but when done by Westlake, it becomes a hard-boiled masterpiece. Unlike the Hunter, Getaway is being released as a single issue comic from IDW and will be a prelude to the Parker story called the Outfit. Hunter was originally released as a stand alone graphic novel in what is roughly the size of a regular hardcover novel. It looks very good on your bookshelf, and will be one of the finest pieces of art in your house, should you choose to read it. For those of you not familiar with Darwyn Cooke, first of all, shame on you. Cooke is probably best known for his epic re-telling of the Silver Age DCU; the New Frontier, as well as Batman stories like Ego, and Catwoman: Selina’s big score, not to mention his work as an animator on Batman- the Animated Series. He also revived Will Eisner’s the Spirit in a way that only Eisner himself could do better. As for Donald Westlake, I suggest you track down some of his novels, especially the re-issued material from the Hard Case Crime imprint which re-releases new and old mystery novels in affordable paperbacks that look just like old-school pulp novels.

I’m super excited for the rest of Cooke’s Parker collection as it combines one of my favorite comic artists with one of the greatest hard-boiled crime writers of the genre. This is a melding of two of my favorite things, gritty noir fiction and comic books. I really couldn’t ask for anything more.

-Jim