Hiya folks, time for a quick news update.

I’ve just finished reading the latest Superboy volume which is currently being turned into an evisceratory review-like thing, but in the meantime I’d like to address something.

Many of you (read: no-one at all) have asked me which New 52 entries I will and won’t be covering, since I’ve stated before there are plenty I won’t be touching even if it turns out they hold the Hitchhiker’s Guide question to the answer of 42. Thus, listed below are the books I will, might and will not be touching over the course of the next few months as DC’s reboot volumes round out their first year.

CURRENTLY READ/WAITING TO BE READ:
Superboy: Incubation
Green Arrow: The Midas Touch
Red Lanterns: Blood and Rage
Batwing: The Lost Kingdom

THINGS I WILL REVIEW:
Batman – The Dark Knight: Knight Terrors
Hawk and Dove: First Strikes
Swamp Thing: Raise Them Bones
Aquaman: The Trench
Teen Titans: It’s Our Right to Fight
Green Lantern – New Guardians: The Ring Bearer
Nightwing: Traps and Trapezes
Supergirl: The Last Daughter of Krypton
The Flash: Move Forward
Superman: What Price Tomorrow?
Red Hood and the Outlaws: REDemption

THINGS I MIGHT REVIEW:
Legion of Super-Heroes: Hostile World
Grifter: Most Wanted
Stormwatch: The Dark Side
Deathstroke: Legacy
Justice League International: The Signal Masters
Justice League Dark: In the Dark
Green Lantern Corps: Fearsome
Frankenstein Agent of S.H.A.D.E.: War of the Monsters
Wonder Woman: Blood
Birds of Prey: Trouble in Mind
Batgirl: The Darkest Reflection
Captain Atom: Evolution

THINGS I WILL NOT REVIEW:
Catwoman: The Game
OMAC: Omactivate!
Mister Terrific: Mind Games
Static Shock: Supercharged
I, Vampire: Tainted Love
Demon Knights: Seven Against the Dark
Men of War: Uneasy Company
Blue Beetle: Metamorphosis
Resurrection Man: Dead Again
Suicide Squad: Kicked in the Teeth
The Fury of Firestorm – The Nuclear Men: God Particle
Legion Lost: Run from Tomorrow
Voodoo: What Lies Beneath
All-Star Western: Guns and Gotham
The Savage Hawkman: Darkness Rising
Blackhawks: The Great Leap Forward
DC Universe Presents: Deadman and & Challengers of the Unknown

Anything not on this list is stuff I’ve already reviewed, and can be found on this site using the drop-down menus on the right-hand side of the page.

Truth be told, not many of you may read this or really care one way or the other, but I figure it’s just good to get down on paper what my actual plan is. Since money and time are both finite resources I need to budget both effectively whilst still getting a good look at most of the New 52 spectrum; the majority of things posted in the “not read” column just don’t stand out to me in any way (besides Suicide Squad for the massive fan backlash it’s incurred, at least over Harley Quinn’s hookerization). If people want to recommend specific titles to me I’ll be happy to read them, but as it stands this organisation of things is the most efficient use of my time.

Plus, y’know, comic books don’t grow on trees. I mean, the paper kinda does, but still.

I was looking forward to this.

Yes, seriously. I was looking forward to reading a Superman comic book. Like, hanging-around-the-mailbox-until-it-got-delivered-level looking forward.

This has never happened before.

As many of you might well be aware of by now, Superman is my most detested superhero in the history of comic books and, quite possibly, the least-interesting character in fiction to me ever. The boring, invincible last son of Krypton has done nothing but irritate me, both in stories related to him and larger pieces. My favourite moments in comics usually occur when he’s getting the snot beaten out of him (especially when Batman comes knockin’ with a kryptonite ring), and every story I’ve read of his (bar one) has made me want to buy as many Superman comics as is financially possible, put them in a pile and re-enact Guy Fawkes Day on my front lawn. Ok, that’s probably overdoing it a little, but still – I can’t stand the smug blue-clad bastard.

And yet, there’s no escaping it – the combination of a young, fallible Superman and the writing talents of one Grant Morrison (whose credentials are well enough known on this website) was one that was just far too tantalising to pass up.

And you know what? It was bloody awesome.

Before I forfeit my rights as a member of the Anti-Superman League (which, according to this book, is an actual thing) let me get to the plot; in a world where superheroes are only just starting to peek their heads out of the various woodworks they spring from, renegade Kryptonian youngster Kal-El is busy kicking ass and taking names in a Metropolis almost as crime-riddled as modern-day Gotham. He deals with many personal troubles, such as paying rent, keeping a job and fighting corrupt businessmen from across town while dealing with a younger, soda-drinking Lex Luthor (who looks unsettling like Mr Morrison himself in what I suspect is a bit of self-insert wish fulfillment…hopefully).

Suddenly, his city is captured by high-class computer virus Brainiac, who subsequently shrinks, bottles and stores it alongside other similarly-poached population centres that reside on his orbiting tentacle spaceship thingy. It’s up to Superman – city pariah – to stand up against his civvy oppressors and save the day.

Superman is treated here as a much more relatable, fallible hero throughout Men of Steel‘s pages; granted, he can still leap tall buildings, catch bullets and run so fast he literally burns his shoes off, but he also gets pinioned – rather painfully – by a runaway train, has electro-shock therapy that really hurts, and gets his ass handed to him on multiple occasions by Braniac and his mind-altered human accomplice. The Clark Kent bits are no less enveloping in their ability to draw you into caring about the character; I very much felt Peter Parker influences when Clark pays rent, goes out for burgers with Jimmy Olson and has a few near-misses with Lois Lane (the relationship with which is not given major focus, which is definitely a point in its favour since Lois Lane still has the two-dimensionality of a birthday card).

On top of that, the back-up stories collected at the end – focussing on additional characters like Steel and the Kents – fleshed out the world a lot more and gave the spotlight to a few background players, which I thought was a really nice touch. If the 8-page stories featuring other characters continue like this – hopefully without an issue that focuses on Krypto the Superdog – then it adds another dimension of narrative value to the tapestry presented by Superman’s adventures.

There is no tiptoeing around this – I friggin’ loved this book. Way, way more than I thought I would. I liked it so much that I trawled the Book Depository for cheap Superman texts before stopping myself and going “No, no, not that far. Pre-Morrison Superman hasn’t gotten any less shit than before”. I don’t want to pull a Ted Mosby on Superman and suddenly declare my undying affection for his character and his stories, but it’s hard to deny the fact that I really enjoyed Men of Steel – I’d even go so far as to say it’s one of the best New 52 releases I’ve experienced thus far, and could well end up in my top list of the year.

That said, it’s not completely flawless; the early parts of the narrative feel a little rushed, particularly Superman’s capture and quick escape from Luthor and his cohort of military scientists, and the side-story at the end with the Legion of Super-Heroes felt a little rushed and slightly out of place (unless it’s the sequel hook for the next arc, which I suspect it is). An element that will certainly alienate non-Morrison fans is further use of his trademark “tell the audience as close to bugger all without being completely incomprehensible” style, which does work well and is surprisingly meager in the main story.

But really, the flaws are very minor in comparison to the narrative’s grand, sweeping reintroduction of the Man of Steel as the beginnings of what will hopefully be his journey towards becoming a more likable, interesting hero with genuine struggles and an honestly engrossing personality that doesn’t take pointers from empty teaspoons. And really, if it’s a full-on Superman story that’s good enough to snare me – one of the staunchest anti-Supes dudes out there – then that should tell you it’s worth checking out.

The artwork gets divvied up between Rags Morales and Andy Kubert (the latter of Flashpoint fame). For the most part it’s bloody gorgeous; it’s nice seeing Superman look like someone other than Christopher Reeve for once, and his younger self actually looks more handsome than his chiseled, muscle-bound adult body; don’t read too much into that. It’s richly textured, especially when the trademark blue and red suits appears, and on the whole was quite pleasing to look at. I would say, however, that no matter who draws her, Lois Lane still looks damn ugly – she’s like if Ellen Page and Dave Grohl had an ugly son that then decided to stuff eggplants down his shirt.

The dialogue is 100% Classic Morrison from start to finish, which is a good and bad thing – like with all his other works it relies heavily on readers being able to put pieces together themselves, and as with the Superman Beyond segment in Final Crisis there’s a lot of over-the-top para-science talk that is at once grandiose and hard to understand. But hey, if you sign up for Grant Morrison’s writing, you get Grant Morrison’s writing – and it’s certainly one of the bigger draw cards for me, and the reason I ended up buying Men of Steel in the first place.

So now it seems I must eat my words, chow down on crow and admit that it is possible for Superman to really not suck all the time. This does not mean he’s leapt to a spot in my favourites list, nor does it mean I’ve changed my stance on his previous titles being nothing but a boring, invincible hero tackling boring, far-too-vulnerable-by-comparison villains.

It also does not mean I’ve changed my mind about the best scene in Hush being when Batman smacks the crap out of Superman with a kryptonite ring – and you know what? Despite Men of Steel‘s awesomeness, I’ll still cheer when Bats delivers that solid right hook.

STORY: 4/5
ARTWORK: 4/5
DIALOGUE: 4/5

OVERALL: 12/15

BEST QUOTE: “I didn’t even know cities had keys.” – Superman

So it seems I may have slacked off a bit on the New 52 reviews recently, mostly because the few that I’ve picked up in the last month (namely Green Arrow and Red Lanterns) have either been outright disappointing or not engrossing enough for me to sit and read solidly for an hour or two. That is, except for Batman and Robin.

Now I’m sure by now you’re all sick of seeing me review Batman, no doubt asking yourselves questions like, “Is it in fact possible for him to check out a series/character he ISN’T entirely in love with every second of the day?” or “Is this a review site, or some kind of freaky Batman-shrine for a friend-deprived twenty-something Aussie dude?”

Well, it is possible for me to step outside my Batman bounds – I can also review X-Men stuff as well.

In all seriousness, most of the Bat-titles have already been released. There’s really only Batgirl (no thank you), Nightwing (grabbing in October) and Batwing (currently sitting on my side-table and begging for a reading). Oh, and I suppose there’s Batman: The Dark Knight in October, but since David Finch – the artist – is also the one writing it…well, I’ve already covered why that’s a bad idea.

In actuality, Born to Kill is actually markedly different to any of the other new Bat-books I’ve read recently. While the original Batman and Robin arc dealt with Dick Grayson wearing the cowl and putting up with Bruce Wayne’s snotbag son Damian as Robin, the current iteration features a kind of father-son-bonding thing with Bruce and his demonic spawn doing a family tag-team thing against up-and-coming villain NoBody. A League of Shadows alumni and former associate of Bruce back in his ninja days, NoBody comes to Gotham to stir shit up and, while he’s there, turn Robin back to the dark side.

That’s just the B-plot.

The real strength of the story – what writer Peter J. Tomasi defines as “the emotional spine” in the post-story notes – is the relationship between Bruce and Damian. This is a Batman story, and there is plenty of fisticuffs to go around, but the best moments that shine throughout involve the continued character development of Bruce and Damian as a strange kind of off-kilter family. From the narrative’s beginnings, with quips and paper boats on Crime Alley, to the legitimately surprising ending and subsequent aftermath, the main draw card the book uses is showing these two dysfunctional family members trying to come to terms with each other and attempting to reach a grudging level of respect between them. It’s a really fascinating parent-child journey that’s introspective, heartwarming, tragic and engrossing all at once.

That said, NoBody really drops the ball as a villain throughout; while he’s not the focus, he’s also not very effectual. Granted, he does almost succeed in turning Damian to the dark side (and, in fact, some might argue that he actually did) but all he really does is talk gruff, make a barrel explode and dunk people in acid. Ripping off the Joker does not make you an effectual villain, no matter what Daredevil‘s Jester might tell you.

Despite his ineffectual villain status, however, the father-son narrative is easily the best part of the book. It particularly feels like a mirror image of Morrison’s Batman and Son, with Damian actually aspiring to be someone his father can be proud of rather than going around acting tough and stabbing up Robin. I’d be really fascinated to see where this journey goes in later books because it feels really unique to me; yes, there are team-ups between peeps like Superman and Superboy or Green and Red Arrow, but this feels like a much more intimate, far less superpowered foray into superhero parenting. It’s the kind of introspective comic I’d wonder if Oprah would read.

The artwork brings along everything Patrick Gleason did on Green Lantern Corps for better or worse; while it’s definitely pleasing to look at its feels a little rough and broad, like using a house paintbrush rather than an artist’s brush on a Warhammer figurine. There’s also one really distracting element for me and that’s the teeth – seriously, nobody in this story has proper teeth. They either have a row of white in their mouths or a couple of small lines of definition that are maybe meant to be teeth but more look like segmented toothpaste. On the whole, though, pretty ok stuff.

The dialogue works well with the narrative flow, and everyone’s characterised the way they should be (besides aforementioned gruff pontificator NoBody). I actually feel like Batman’s written in a slightly softer way in this story, not just with the introspection regarding his parents’ death at the start, but through his overall treatment of Damian and his staunch defence of his child. His words really give the sense that he’s looking out for the son he had unwillingly thrust upon him years ago, and that he’s at least come to terms with the fact that he’s a biological parent as well as an adoptive one. Damian’s words, too, show him as mellowing a little towards his father and society in general – though that does take a hit when he helps out NoBody during the second act, but y’know, nobody’s perfect.

So on the whole, I can definitely recommend Born to Kill. It feels like a much more psychological story rather than the action and conspiracy narratives that have dominated the Bat-books recently, and as I said it feels to me like a really unique concept. If there’s one thing I love in comics it’s the ability to be relevant through reinvention, and Batman and Robin has certainly achieved that.

Yep, I love reinvention. Unless it’s Iron Man’s recent reinvention. That makes me want to cry.

STORY: 5/5
ARTWORK: 3/5
DIALOGUE: 5/5

OVERALL: 13/15

BEST QUOTE: “I’d prefer you boys go back to fishing in the pond than tear apart my impeccable stitching and open your wounds.” – Alfred Pennyworth

Welcome to VS REVIEWS! Here at SITCWC (when you say it out loud it sounds like “sit-quick”) I try to shake things up and make them slightly more interesting now and then, and thus I conceive this idea – taking two graphic novels that on paper are quite similar and seeing how they compare to each other. Call it a review competition, if you will – and if you won’t, and would rather something more engaging, I’d recommend either something hilariously awful or some depressing navel-gazing instead.

So, VS Review! This week are the first entries for both of the post-Schism X-Men series; Kieron Gillen’s Uncanny X-Men and Jason Aaron’s Wolverine and the X-Men. Different authors, different aims…similar outcomes? Let’s find out!

STORY:

Both volumes come on the heels of Schism‘s game-changing ending. Aaron’s work starts with Wolvie and co. taking the ruins of Westchester school and turning it into the “Jean Grey School for Higher Learning”, turning the series into equal parts high school drama and action-adventure narrative.

Gillen, meanwhile, focuses more on the action-adventure bit with the oddly-named “Extinction Team” pulling a bit of an Avengers-esque plot of tackling mighty intergalactic enemies that threaten planet Earth, starting with recurring X-baddy Mr Sinister and making the series a mashup of Bryan Singer and Michael Bay in terms of narrative content.

In terms of the story, I found both followed a similar structure; the first three issues presented an introductory story, mostly for those who’ve never heard of those blokes Wolverine or Colossus before, and a fourth issue that acts as a standalone aftermath/possible bleed-in to the next story presented in Volume 2. I did like the bite-sized nature of both books’ stories (although the price was a little hefty for what I got) but I found myself much more enjoying the light-hearted, action-packed, character-driven story of Wolverine’s endeavours just that little bit more; it’s paced quite well, the juxtaposition of Wolverine as an action man/educator was a refreshing take on the character, and the the narrative did its best to involve newer readers without seeming like a kids’ “My First Avengers”-style comic.

Conversely, Uncanny X-Men suffers from rather staccato plotting, a bit of an incoherent cloning plotline and a fourth issue that, ultimately, doesn’t impact that much on either the previous story or the one to follow, given the hastily-wrapped-up nature of the ending. It’s a shame, because I was really going into Gillen’s effort hoping that, since my favourite X-characters are present, it’d at least be more fun and enjoyable than anything Chuck Austen ever wrote.

No such luck, I’m afraid.

ARTWORK:

I won’t sugar-coat this – Wolverine and the X-Men‘s artwork starts off really ugly. I know Chris Bachalo goes a little more abstract and stylized when it comes to his illustrations (look no further than The Sandman), but I found it a lot harder to engage with the story because the higgledy-piggledy artwork style just kept getting in the way. I was glad when they finally moved into Nick Bradshaw’s drawing in the final issue, which was much more of a Steve McNiven-styled artwork, but I still have to mark it all down a bit for being harder to visually digest than the stars of The Shire.

Uncanny X-Men takes a supreme win in this area, with the tag-team of Carlos Pacheco and Brandon Peterson deliver one coup de gras after another throughout all four issues, including some truly disturbing visions of standalone baddy Phalanx and his neo-Borg assimilation tactics in the concluding story. Parts of that made me feel physically ill, in a good way – like if you vomit after going on the biggest, most badass rollercoaster you’ve ever been on.

Don’t think about that analogy too hard – God knows I didn’t.

On top of that, the duo gains extra points for depicting sultry telepath Emma Frost in a really hot costume that strongly evokes Morrison’s X-Men run. And I mean, come on, who doesn’t like a good corset every now and then?

DIALOGUE:

This one’s a little harder to find a clear winner; both stories have good scripting, well-fleshed-out characters consistent with the personalities we’ve come to know and love. I did feel a lot of Joss Whedon influences in Wolverine and Matt Fraction in Uncanny, which was both good and bad; I do love those authors, and their style is comfortable for me, but the writers need to find their own voice a little.

In this instance, Wolverine and the X-Men goes that extra little mile by having some good comedic lines interspersed with action dialogue. I found myself liking the characters just that little bit more than the ones in Uncanny because the dry wit and snark of previous X-runs (like Whedon’s) was present.

Uncanny does its best to make you engage with the characters, including some decently-written one-liners (mostly delivered by Frost or Magneto), but it just gets a bit too clunky whenever Mr Exposition Sinister is around. It felt more like a James Bond story than an X-Men one in terms of dialogue, which ultimately was the figurative bullet to the foot when the villain exposits, at great length, their entire MO. I thought Dr Evil showed us that that’s never a good idea?

THE WINNER:

For my first VS Review, Wolverine and the X-Men takes the gold medal and $20,000 paycheck for having wit, great characters and an engaging story despite some grating artwork for the first few issues. Uncanny X-Men is still a good read, and a damn sight better than some other big titles I could name, but just doesn’t have the je ne sais quoi that Wolverine’s merry band of misfits possesses. If you liked the last few Transformers films and find yourself getting engrossed whenever boobs are on-screen, Uncanny might be more your cup of tea.

Or, y’know, you could read something better instead.

WOLVERINE AND THE X-MEN: VOLUME 1
STORY: 4/5
ARTWORK: 3/5
DIALOGUE: 4.5/5

OVERALL: 11.5/15

BEST QUOTE: “COFFEE! If I don’t get more coffee in my gullet post-haste, I will commence the tossing of bodies out the window!” – Beast

UNCANNY X-MEN: VOLUME 1
STORY: 2.5/5
ARTWORK: 5/5
DIALOGUE: 3.5/5

OVERALL: 11/15

BEST QUOTE: “Adapt to this.” – Hope Summers

There was an entry I did a while back on that other blog about the undermining of the impact of comic book crossovers and comic book deaths, particularly of notable (and bankable) heroes that are virtually guaranteed to make a return appearance when the money mountain loses a few inches. One of the examples I mentioned was Fear Itself, Marvel’s big crossover event for 2011, and I figured that since I haven’t really reviewed Marvel for a while (and since everyone’s very much wrapped up in the ongoing AvX circus) I’d take a look back at one of the most well-executed and, at the same time, ridiculously concluded crossovers I’ve read in a while.

The story follows Sin, erstwhile daughter of the Red Skull, obtaining a rather large hammer that looks suspiciously like a counterpart to Thor’s own Mjolnir. After then being possessed by someone called Skadi and retrieving an old Keith Richards-looking dude called The Serpent, seven more hammers are summoned to Earth – unknowingly picked up by super-characetrs like the Hulk and the Thing – and bring about the arrival of The Worthy, a bunch of Norse-inspired deities who are experts in wrecking shit up on a global level. It’s up to Steve Rogers and the Avengers to band together and kick some Nordic ass.

I’m going to give the story a bit of analysis before getting to the meat of the issue; at its heart it’s a fast-paced, action-driven storyline with some good character moments and a nice sense of personality amongst the unrelatable superhero elements; it focuses not just on heroes and villains beating the snot out of each other, but also on the people – the real, innocent civilians – whose lives are adversely affected by such battles. There’s a great recurring plot thread of a dude keeping his family safe in Broxton (former site of Asgard) that book ends the story quite nicely, and the first issue in particular deals with public outcry over all the superheroic shenanigans going on. If nothing else, the story does get points for not just being a massive beat-em-up a la Secret Invasion or AvX.

The art is pretty good – Stuart Immonen does get a little stylized at times, but on the whole it’s pretty functional. It’s a bit better than Leinil Yu’s Secret Invasion cartoon-work, but he’s no Jim Lee. I will admit the illustrations of the Uru-infused superheroes towards the end was very badass, and pulled off quite well, so he gets points there too.

The dialogue is moderately decent, but there are a number of times (especially in the beginning) where the “fear” theme gets a bit heavy-handed. I think you could turn Fear Itself into a drinking game with the number of times they drop that particular F word. Aside from that, though, Fraction does a great balance of having action dialogue and drama dialogue that works cooperatively together. A particular highlight for me was Cap’s dialogue in the latter half, which not only paint him as the paragon superhero he is but also give the impression he’s a desperate, broken-but-unbeaten man who will not stop fighting until he stops breathing. There’s a brief scene near the end of issue 6 where he gets loaded down with a shedload of guns and basically taunts The Serpent to bring it the f*%k on. That bit in particular gave me good chills.

So all in all, Fear Itself is pretty decent and does have some good material to it. Where it falls down, however, is in the implementation of the aforementioned issues of character death and undervalue of the crossover event. The tagline on the back of the book reads “IRON BREAKS. SOLDIERS FALL. GODS DIE.”

First of all, any Marvel aficionado will tell you that the last part of that line – combined with the bottom of the front cover – means Thor is obviously gonna kark it by the end. That’s the first mistake. The second is the fact that his death is intended to be the heroic, emotional climax of the story that leaves you teary yet optimistic that his sacrifice to kill The Serpent means greater peacetime – problem there is he’s not really dead, and after a few months he’s literally back up and fighting again. There’s apparently some mental time-screwiness with a bloke called Tanarus masquerading as Thor, but it gets undone and the original Thoreal (because he’s worth it) is back in action.

This would be bad enough on its own, but it’s bolstered by the death of another major A-Lister – Bucky Barnes, also known as Captain America’s replacement..

This is the only death in the entire story that I really gave a lump of donkey snot about; as I’ve previously stated I love what Ed Brubaker did to Bucky, and the arc he gave him, the depth he bestowed upon him, and the way he really evolved as a character after Steve Rogers’ death. The fact that Matt Fraction – brilliant writer though he is – decided to take all that development and shove a hammer shaft in its chest cavity made me quite morose reading the rest of it afterwards. Like, really morose. As if Dick Grayson had just died whilst wearing the mantle of the Bat. If they’d used that as the emotional punch at the end, that would’ve been far greater and carried a much larger impact. The visuals at the end of issue 4 when he’s lying on the ground, like he’s been gored by a Nordic centaur…really sad stuff.

Until you find out in literally the very next story arc that he faked his death and was given some Infinity Formula to prevent dying for realsies. So much for that death too.

I’m not complaining that Bucky is still alive – quite the opposite, I’m really glad he’s not permanently (or semi-permanently) out for the count. I’m complaining that the deep, emotional gut punches of his and Thor’s deaths are what’s meant to sell this as an event, as something memorable. They’re what the reader is expected to mention when someone asks them about Fear Itself”s salient elements.

For example, if someone asks what happens in House of M, one might say “That’s the one where all the mutants lost their powers”. Someone mentioning Crisis on Infinite Earths would say “That’s the one where Barry Allen died”. For this, it seems people who read Fear Itself are expected to say “That’s the one where Thor and Captain America died, but they both came back to life right after”.

As a climactic finale, it all falls flat. I much preferred the stuff about rebuilding in the wake of the Nordic tragedy, of trying to find a way to get the world back on its feet. The final scene with the aforementioned civilian dude and his family was way more effective to me than the funeral for Thor or Steve lamenting over Bucky’s death. The characters’ grief over the deaths is cheapened when the victims return right afterwards, and all it does is leave a bad taste in my mouth – which is then made worse by the fact that this really isn’t a bad book.

I would heartily recommend Fear Itself to readers – I mean hell, you could certainly do a lot worse – but don’t go in expecting a status-quo-changing ending. This isn’t Siege or Avengers Disassembled, this is just a good bit of fun with some well-written conflict and well-drawn battle sequences. If you can ignore the attempted use of character death as a way to strike at the heart of you as a reader and give the narrative emotional weight, then it’s definitely not a bad read.

If you can’t ignore it, though, there’s always Earth One.

STORY: 3.5/5
ARTWORK: 3.5/5
DIALOGUE: 4/5

OVERALL: 11/15

BEST QUOTE: “This is the end of the world, fella – and I’m raising a militia to make a stand right here. You can stand with me and die fighting. You can go be with your families. It’s your choice: you won’t be judged. But if you leave, leave your weapons. I’ll need ’em. [aims at The Serpent] Alright you son of a bitch. Let’s see what makes you afraid.”

Don’t let his work on Sinestro fool you; Geoff Johns is the master of Green Lantern.

His groundbreaking arc, starting with 2005’s Green Lantern: Rebirth, has been a breath of fresh air for the character and has solidified his place in my heart as my second-favourite superhero of all time (behind the obvious first-place). His pre-New 52 finale War of the Green Lanterns was a brutal, engrossing action-adventure story with a bitter (but not unsatisfying) ending. His inclusion of eight new colour-coded Corps has forever altered the dynamic of future Lantern stories.

In short, Geoff Johns has made a big Green Lantern-shaped splash.

One of the waves of that splash was Blackest Night, DC’s crossover event for 2009 that featured almost every corner of the universe fighting Lantern-powered zombies. Seriously. That alone was enough to sell it to me.

The story was written as an entire-company crossover for DC, but centrally it’s a Lantern story. Resident funeral director William Hand has acquired the power to raise the dead as ringslingin’, heart-eating Black Lanterns in the wake of Bruce Wayne’s death. Using this power he brings back long-dead heroes and villains of DC’s decades-long continuity who then begin chewing their victim’s ventricles and the scenery.

I’m not going to go too far into the story for the sake of those who’ve not seen it, but this is a masterpiece. It’s an example of a company crossover done well, with character deaths having just the right impact and the plot twists not coming across as gimmicky contrivances. If you decide to expand your reading into the additional material then there are longer-lasting impacts of said deaths and twists that extend further into series you wouldn’t think related to a bunch of grey-skinned alien zombies with more teeth than a Sarlacc wedding.

The story sounds a bit pedestrian the way I’m describing it, but it’s a raw, emotional journey with a lot of good popcorn action moments, some great character development (mainly for the Lantern characters) and a lot of really heartfelt, poignant moments that resonate throughout the story and give it emotional heart. It’s got elements of horror, tragedy and romance all rolled into a big ball of awesome. I’m only skimping on content because there are some epic twists – especially when you get to the latter half of the narrative – that, if you haven’t had them spoiled yet, come off as really excellent WHAM moments.

Like that bit where Hal and Atrocitus make out. I know. Total WHAM.

The artwork is handled by longtime Johns collaborator Ivan Reis and it is, in a word, gorgeous. There’s a great balance between the fleshed-out tones of realistic human portrayal and the bright, larger than life colours of the varied Lantern Corps, the existing DC superheroes and the clash between them and the Black Lantern army. The Black Lanterns themselves are depicted as grotesque parodies of the characters they once were – including a quite memorable appearance by former Elongated Man Ralph Dibny who now looks like something not out of place in a Lovecraft novel.

The dialogue is one of the best, shining examples of what Johns can pull of with realistic dialogue sticking to fantastic characters – it strongly evokes what Brian Bendis did for Dark Avengers in that conversational, normal dialogue takes an organic place in a world of magic and superpowers. As always Hal Jordan is on hand for the odd one-liner or quip that never fails to make one giggle, and when you’ve got characters like Larfleeze on hand with his trademark cry of “MINE!” it gives a dark, gritty story a lot of mirth and good-natured fun as well. It’s a marriage of writing between the serious and the snarky that is pulled off most excellently.

You could really do a lot worse than checking out Blackest Night – whilst my recommendation of it is brief, it is nonetheless one of the best examples of the superhero comic book subgenre I’ve ever experienced. It’ll probably carry a lot more weight if you’ve read the books beforehand (see here for the list of relevant titles) but it’s still a good, fun ride even if you haven’t.

So that brings us to Number 1. The best. My favourite. What I consider to be the most awesome comic book in the history of ever. Anyone wanna guess what it is? Anyone?

Yeah, I figured you all knew already. I’ve telegraphed and proclaimed it for many years now, so it ain’t surprising you’d all know what it was before I reviewed it.

It’s totally Cry for Justice.

TOP ENTRY NO. 2 – BLACKEST NIGHT

BEST QUOTE: “No more worries, Hal. All will be well.” – Barry Allen

I think I need a break from constantly posting reviews that are prefixed by something in brackets. The New 52 has reached something of a nadir for releases in my mind right now – with the possible exception of the new Batman and Robin, which I’ve acquired but have yet to read – until the early August hits of Action Comics and Deathstroke. So while I procrastinate from writing real material for my thesis – or reviews for June’s Red Lanterns and Green Arrow releases – let’s look at something a little different: more Goddamn Batman.

I tried. I really did. I sat for hours, amongst piles of thesis notes and whilst procrastinating on the Xbox, trying to decide which of these two seminal, classic runs on X-Men I liked most. Do I take the gritty, leather-jacket sexfest of Morrison’s dark and subversive New X-Men, or the slightly-poppy-with-bleak-undertones psychological-bonanza that is Whedon’s Astonishing X-Men?

In the end, they’re apples and oranges. Some of you may pick one or the other as a personal favourite, but I can’t. They stand equal to each other for different reasons, and have ingrained themselves as nostalgic favourites of mine that I re-read fairly often. The fact that I gave away my paperbacks of the latter and shelled out an extra hundred for the complete omnibus edition – a practice I’ll repeat when the New X-Men counterpart is re-released later this year – should speak a bit towards how awesome this stuff is. Like, seriously, this is X-Men as it should always be. This whole Schism and Avengers vs. X-Men BS really needs to fuck off and bring these two stellar authors back for another go.

So technically if you’re reading these for the first time, start with Morrison. Not only does it do a good job at independently establishing the X-verse and introducing new readers to the salient characters before bringing in the new ones, it also has Emma Frost wearing the most cosplay fetishy outfit I’ve seen since 2003’s stripper look for Huntress. Dang, dat shit is tight, yo.

The Morrison arc – spanning fifty-ish issues – starts up with neophyte villain Cassandra Nova coming onto the scene and casually nuking Genosha, the mutant equivalent of Madagascar with sixteen billion inhabitants! (if you forget the number, don’t worry – they mention it about as frequently as Peter Parker rabbits on about power and responsibility) Stricken by the loss of so many future child soldiers, Professor X starts an investigation as to the who, what and why related to Genosha’s downfall. His primary roster consists of:

– Henry “Beast” McCoy; who’s responsible for being part of one of only five comic books in my entire reading history that has made me openly weep (for those interested, it’s Issue 117. You’ll know when)

– Scott “Cyclops” Summers; in one of his early, non-angst-riddled appearances (barring the bits where he ruminates over his recent possession by Apocalypse) where he kicks supreme amounts of ass

– Jean Grey-Summers/Summers-Grey/Phoenix/Dark Phoenix/Super Firebird Jesus; partial Team Mum and having to deal with Scott’s possession problems while also fending off the advances of…

– Emma “Carat-calves” Frost; one of the only survivors of the Genosha massacre and wearing the aforementioned cosplay outfit that looks like what might happen if one had an addiction to white duct tape.

– Wolverine; resident mutant poster boy and fourth member of the love square involving Scott, Jean and Emma. And, y’know, he’s got claws and shit.

The story follows this ragtag bunch of misfits and their associates as they deal with an uprising at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, a body-swapping alien-demon thing, a Zen mutant with a black hole in his head and a bunch of scientists with genetically-engineered mutant abominations that make the zombies from The Walking Dead look like supermodels.

Now, if you’ve never read any of Morrison’s run, keep two things in mind:

1. STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM SPOILERS. Most contemporary comics readers will know the colossal twist (and the plentiful amount of smaller ones) either through reading it or through word of mouth, but if you can help it, avoid all spoilers, wikis and any form of communication relating to them. I had the twist spoiled by an asshole member of the /co/ board on 4chan, but if you can make it to about the halfway point of Volume 3 without having it spoiled then you’re doing it right.

2. Be prepared for some weird. As I’ve described here, and here, and here, and also here, Morrison stories tend to make for very weird, counter-cultural reading. That said, his X-Men run is one of the most cohesive works I’ve read; it certainly doesn’t match Batman RIP or Final Crisis in terms of incomprehensibility at times, and yet it’s still a damn good read.

The story touches on various, pre-established areas of the X-series’ mythos while making parts its own, and it rarely loses focus or becomes tiresome for a story that spans the better part of three years of storytelling that came with its fair share of executive meddling. The unfortunate thing about reviewing it is that I can’t really tell much more than I already have, as the story relies heavily on its arc-based structure and any plot points brought up from further on may end up as spoilers for earlier bits. Plus, I found a lot of the story’s appeal to be the unexpected nature of a lot of the narrative’s twists and the inclusion of otherwise unexpected characters. I’ll end this bit by saying it is most definitely worth a look, and even though a large chunk of Morrison’s innovations to the title got retconned in later tales it still stands up on its own as a seminal X-Men classic.

While Morrison ended up changing the dynamic of pretty much the entirety of the X-family, geek god Joss Whedon chose by comparison to focus on changing the dynamic of a core group of several mutants we all know and love (as well as a couple we don’t) by providing a story that was exciting, shocking, saddening and very, very funny. So, in other words, classic Whedon.

The two runs are actually meant to be read in succession, being partly connected by overarching plot threads, and the fact that Whedon’s run takes place slightly outside the main flow of time in the X-Men books makes it a bit more accessible for those who don’t like heavy crossovers and losing the sense of narrative flow because they don’t have the additional six or seven ancillary titles (something that the current X-Men writers could well take on board). The story concerns the surviving members of the New X-Men team, alongside Kitty “Shadowcat” Pryde – a girl who you do not want going near your change rooms if you value your privacy – and Pietr “Colossus” Rasputin – a titan of steel recently returned from the dead who would be a spoiler if it wasn’t for his appearance on the title’s cover.

The plot is a bit leaner than Morrison’s epic, but is nonetheless incredibly engaging; the four big arcs Whedon deals with are all interconnected and also have their own standalone qualities, and all of the characters present feel necessary. The narrative begins with a so-called miracle cure to the mutant gene and spirals away from there (I’ll not go into too much detail to avoid more spoilers) and apart from one or two bits here and there it’s got a steady, consistent pace and some excellently trademark Whedon dialogue. It does feel quite a bit like Buffy meets the X-Men, but it doesn’t get tedious.

The only complaint I have, which doesn’t necessarily relate to the books themselves, is that the game-changing alterations they make to the X-verse have either been largely ignored or (most egregiously in Morrison’s case) retconned/re-altered back to status quo. Both stories’ endings were quite satisfying, and it makes me sad to know that in present-day X-adventures neither of them have seemed to have lasting impact the way Chris Claremont or Matt Fraction have. Sure, there are tiny slivers of Morrison and Whedon in contemporary X-DNA but on the whole their stellar, excellent runs have been largely neglected by Marvel’s X-bigwigs.

If I put X onto anything else in this review I may have to kill the alphabet.

Don’t let me dishearten you, though – the books are still very much worth reading, and if one decides to do what most people did with the latter two Matrix movies and treat the original as its own self-contained story then you’ve got a beginning, a middle and an end, and either separate or together the two arcs work crazy well not just as comic books but as English literature in general. I don’t know if the two authors ever met, but they were certainly on a similar wavelength if these stories are to believed.

It brings to mind an odd thought – what if Grant Morrison and Joss Whedon wrote the next X-Men movie together? Something tells me the universe would explode in awesome if –

I’ve finally done it. I’ve hit bedrock. I’ve reached the bottom of the barrel.

I’ve found my first awful offering from DC’s reboot.

As I inferred from my previous review I have a thing about artists who decide to become writers and often leave you with a tale that could best be recreated by blowing your nose on an Elizabethan tablecloth. While J.H. Williams did an acceptable job on Batwoman, this time I’ll be looking at a repeat offender of the art-writing crime: Tony Goddamn Daniel.

As an artist, he’s superb; his work on Batman RIP and Battle for the Cowl was rich, detailed and memorable. When he turned his hand to writing in tales like Cowl, Life After Death and Eye of the Beholder, however, it went sour; they were bland, ordinary or absolutely atrocious pieces of written fiction and all the pretty artwork did little to distract from the appalling story, teeth-clenchingly terrible dialogue and subtle realisation that maybe he was trying to write a kids’ Batman story but got confused when he included too many character deaths and blood spatters and figured he’d sell it as an adult tale.

Faces of Death starts with the Joker breaking out of Arkham by having some dude cut his face off. It’s probably the only really interesting moment in the entire book, since this situation isn’t revisited in the rest of the story’s ridiculous plotting. Following this is a complicated, aimless series of somewhat-connected events that deal with the Penguin being his normal extortiony self, some bint named Charlotte that Bruce is apparently enamored with (where the hell is Catwoman? Oh, wait, I’ll get to that in a second) and some tangentially-involved villains called the Dollmaker (who spends most of the narrative ripping off Professor Pyg) and Snakeskin (who seems like a mashup of Killer Croc and Odo from Star Trek Deep Space Nine).

To quote the Nostalgia Critic, “this is an absolute ass of shit”.

Seriously, this is really bad. Really, really bad. I get absolutely no sense of a story here, and what little plot threads there are contribute only to a muddled, confusing narrative that jumps schizophrenically from plotline to plotline without settling on anything coherent. It’s not even really presented as the start of an arc the way The Court of Owls was, it’s just a pointless, flailing story that doesn’t really have much of a story to it.

It gets even more confusing during a brief interlude with Catwoman killing a bunch of guys (!) and encountering the son of Hugo Strange which is completely unrelated to anything going on in the main story and offers no narrative purpose whatsoever. It’s almost as if someone copy-pasted a portion of another story then smacked it in the middle of this hopeless excuse for a graphic novel. As far as big-lipped-alligator-moments go, it’s about as high as the piano-on-the-head scene in Zombieland but nowhere near as funny.

The only reason the story is getting a point is for the partly interesting thing about Joker cutting his face off. If they’d returned to that at all during the story I may have rated it higher, but apart from that it’s confusing, poorly paced and utterly pointless. It adds nothing to any existing Batman story, and if it’s meant as the platform for a future tale, then God help DC.

The artwork gets the highest mark, but only because it’s Tony Daniel’s classic look of fully-fleshed out environment and great line articulation on all the characters. While it does get a bit hypersexual when showing “journalist” Charlotte and the creepy nurse thing that works for the Dollmaker it’s still competently drawn and coloured, though I find I enjoy it less than I do Daniel’s previous works. It might have something to do with the story being as interesting as a Discovery Channel special on paint drying, or it might be because I’m comparing it to the exceptional artwork of RIP, or because it felt way too dark pallette-wise compared to previous attempts. There’s almost no salient colour in the entire thing, and I feel that the story – however stupid it was – was meant instead for a sepia or greyscale colour scheme instead. Maybe I’d’ve been nicer to it then – probably not, though.

The dialogue is – in a word – ridiculous. Despite my ranting about how gut-wrenchingly awful the story is, I think the dialogue is probably my least-favourite thing in the entire story. For those of you not familiar with it, there’s a Batman story by a dude called Frank Miller and another dude called Jim Lee called All-Star Batman and Robin. It was an alternate-reality title portraying Batman as a narcissistic, childish psychopath (aka The Goddamn Batman) who spoke in macho, self-congratulatory dialogue about how awesome he is and how shit everyone else is by comparison.

I think Tony Daniel must’ve copy-pasted this stuff too, because the dialogue in Faces of Death is extremely reminiscent of All-Star. Batman spends most of the story’s internal monologue saying things like “They can’t escape me. I’m Batman.” When he’s not stroking his ego Frank Miller-style he’s over-explaining everything in the story; a villain gets cornered by him, and instead of saying something like:

OVERALL: 5/15