[THE NEW 52] Batwoman: Hydrology

I’ll tell you something straight away – those who’ve been waiting for Batwoman’s ongoing series probably have a patience to rival those who waited out Duke Nukem Forever. It’s been over two years since Batwoman’s last adventure and while author extraordinaire Greg Rucka has quietly stepped out for other projects his artist collaborator J.H. Williams has stepped up to the plate to not only pencil the next Kate Kane tale but also co-write with doomed Star Wars alumni W. Haden Blackman.

Now, out of the plethora of New 52 titles that I’m actually bothering to cover this was one of the ones I was looking forward to the most. Elegy left a very good taste in my mouth, and I was eager to dive straight into the following story, but I’m forced to remind myself about my as-yet-unwritten policy regarding comic books that are authored (or co-authored) by someone who is primarily an artist (see also Tony Daniel and David Finch). It’s become apparent that anyone at the big two companies who’s majored in art for several years then decides to take a crack at writing their own script often leaves me with a story that’s either lackluster or absolute dross in a drip-feeder. The fact that Williams was being assisted by the writer of failed multimedia franchise The Force Unleashed only made me more wary as I stepped into the 2012 Batwoman offering.

In the end, though, I was pleasantly surprised. Just.

The story picks up a short while after Elegy‘s pulse-pounding climax after SPOILER ALERT resident occult mad person Alice falls to the bottom of Gotham River after announcing her identity as Batwoman’s presumed-dead sister. As we enter the slightly-rebooted-but-not-really universe of Kate Kane and her hard-partying, porcelain-skinned world of lesbian love and religiously-devoted evildoers we find that Kate is still at odds with her father, has teamed up with errant cousin Bette Kane – AKA Flamebird – and is being tracked by a sinister government agency that’s run by a guy whose head is nothing but a cigar-smoking skull and whose agents operate out of an establishment unironically called “The Lipstick Building”.

It might sound like I’ve just announced the death knell of a story that appears to have jumped the shark a little – especially since it’s still very much in its infancy – but it actually turns out alright. I feel that the Hydrology title is a little misleading, since the supposed main villain – an evil enchantress named La Llarona, whose MO involves drowning her victims – isn’t really the central antagonist focus, but rather the government agency is. One of the things I dislike about the book is that the much-touted evil horrible wretched villain is barely involved, only appears in a few scenes and is eventually vanquished in a rather haphazardly fast manner. It’s almost as if Williams and Blackman decided they couldn’t just have a personal exploration story with no villain involved, so they threw her – and a strange hook-handed fat zombie bastard thing who slices Flamebird into mincemeat – in at the last minute to appease DC’s marketing board to make sure the unspoken rule of “at least one fight scene per issue” still applied.

Part of what made Elegy so enjoyable was its exploration of Kate Kane’s character, and especially the relationship with her father. In Hydrology we do get some of both those things, including some really great character development between Kate and her latest cop crush and a masterfully-executed single-scene wonder towards the end the underscores the entire Kate/father relationship, but on the whole I feel like both these elements were neglected a little. It’s also a little incongruous to have Flamebird randomly appear, having been brought along as a protege by Kate somewhere in the interim, and I felt this too was an element they added last-minute because it isn’t given particular focus. Bette’s near-death experience at the end was interesting, but she largely felt superfluous. The title is Batwoman, not Batwoman and her Meat-Shield Friend.

The art is everything Williams has produced in his career and more; abstract, beautifully detailed and colourfully layered throughout. There’s a great art shift between the parts where Kate is Kate and when Kate is Batwoman, giving the latter sections an almost otherworldly artistic quality that fits well with the supernatural theme that prevails throughout Batwoman’s books. The art does lose a mark or two for some confusing passages here and there where speech bubbles are in odd places, leading you to read the wrong one next and mucking up the flow a little, but on the whole it still succeeds quite well. And come on – who doesn’t like seeing a white-faced woman in red beating the crap out of occult gangsters?

The dialogue is average – nothing too good or bad. There are some good one-liners between Kate and everyone who isn’t Flamebird, but on the whole it’s just fairly unremarkable. I feel that losing Greg Rucka as a writer has affected the quality of the narrative both story and dialogue-wise, and it really shows here. Plus anytime government agenct Cameron Chase opens her mouth I feel like giving her a forceful haircut and drenching her in cow’s blood. Don’t ask me why.

On the whole, I did enjoy Hydrology but nowhere near as much as Elegy. It feels kinda like what Quantum of Solace felt like to Casino Royale; it’s not entirely bad, but it ain’t at the level of its predecessor. I am glad that it was enjoyable – rather than the pile of fetid carcass that most artist-written work I’ve read is – but it could’ve been much better. Too many in-focus elements were superfluous, too many out-of-focus elements should’ve been given more scene time, and the cigar-smoking skull guy feels like a very two-dimensional, cardboard cutout villain at this point. I guess in some ways I’m being a bit unfair because Elegy was written much like a self-contained story while Hydrology is obviously the start of a bigger arc, but I still liked the former way more.

One final note is that Hydrology suffers the same problem Sinestro had in that it’s not a proper Volume 1; it’s the continuation of a story that began before The New 52 started, and assumes prior knowledge of Elegy. While I do understand that all these new series need to start with a Volume 1 it does get kinda frustrating when people read these stories, who’ve not touched the character before, and cry foul when it makes no sense and is completely inaccessible to newer readers. I’d respect the book a bit more if they made Elegy a Volume 0 or something, but I guess now I’m just nitpicking.

Read it, enjoy it, and move on. Or, y’know, burn it instead. Whatever works.

STORY: 3/5
ARTWORK: 4/5
DIALOGUE: 2.5/5

OVERALL: 9.5/15

BEST QUOTE: “Agreeing to take orders from Batman? I don’t even want to think about all the daddy issues that might imply…” – Batwoman

[DASH’S TOP FIVE] 4 – The Death of Captain America

A long time ago, in a universe far removed from the laws of reality and fair artistic indulgence, a young man with an impressionable mind was quick to tell all his comic book neophyte friends how awful several of the major mainstream superheroes really were. Whilst some of these unfounded accusations turned out to be quite true – although they mostly related to Superman – there was one that he made which, years later, he immensely regretted: being that Captain America was a shallow, two-dimensional and overly-jingoistic war hero who badly deserved the eventual death he received in 2007 on the steps of an American courthouse.

Many years on from this stupid, stupid statement I’ve come to realise that Cap is one of my favourite superheroes of all time. All I’ve really explored of him solo is the Brubaker run, and while the entire story has been good so far I do think it reached its zenith with The Death of Captain America and its subsequent omnibus follow-up Captain America Lives! as two very good studies of what happens when a nation loses its greatest hero, and how the superhero community really reacts to the death of one of their big players.

You’d probably be hard-pressed to find someone in the English-speaking world who hasn’t heard about Cap’s death, reader or no; the event was widely publicized in American and abroad as a shocking, pivotal moment in the history of comic books, and this is not far from the truth. Cap is one of the few big players at Marvel who hasn’t died once a year or even at all since his original inception, so his unceremonious execution on the way to answer for his so-called crimes during the Civil War would definitely have been a massive shock to readers at the time. But, as always, the death of any major superhero – especially one as marketable as El Capitano – is only ever temporary, so while we keep in mind that Steve Rogers will inevitable be resurrected/cloned/retconned back into existence let’s see what happens in a world where he’s not around to help.

The main focus is actually on three characters; Bucky Barnes, Cap’s erstwhile Soviet-brainwashed sidekick; Sam Wilson, AKA The Falcon, Cap’s former partner in law-dispensing; and Sharon Carter, Cap’s lover and SPOILER WARNING also the cause – somewhat – of his death. That last one’s kinda complicated.

As it presumed from the outset, Bucky will eventually take on the Captain’s mantle and wield the shield, but a large chunk of the intrigue for the story is not only the dissection of the labyrinthine plot behind Steve’s assassination but also in the personal journey Bucky undertakes to get there. This isn’t a Battle for the Cowl situation where the obvious successor immediately takes the reins; this is a slow, yet still engrossing, odyssey where a man must come to terms with his own faults and the only way to save himself from them.

For a story that sounds like something out of The OC, there’s actually surprisingly little angst going on. Bucky does deal with some internal turmoil but in a very mature, adult kind of way, and on the whole his personal struggles are actually involving and interesting and relatable. He puts me in mind very much of a son following in his father’s footsteps, and even when he does wear the Stars and Stripes it takes a while before he’s comfortable in those shoes and at the same time accepted by the public in a way that doesn’t involve airborne tomatoes.

The villains in this tale are fairly cartoonishly evil, but since they are a robotic Nazi scientist, a Nazi psychologist and a Nazi commander respectively it’s kinda understandable. That’s not to say the villains are entirely two-dimensional – really, only esteemed Dr Arnim Zola fits that bill – but they do kinda lean one-sided towards having no real understandable struggles or reasons for conquest besides “FOR THE EVULZ LOL”. That is, until the end sequence when one of the power trio does something that is both incomprehensible towards their character and at the same time a great boon towards the good guys. I won’t spoil who or what, but as villainous twists go it was unexpected and yet subtly foreshadowed upon closer reflection. That said, there are certainly more interesting villains in the Marvel universe to be had, and I can’t help but wonder what might’ve happened if someone a little more rounded had been involved. Like the Skrull Queen. Or the Serpent. Y’know, someone with depth.

The artwork is handled by a small team working with scribe Ed Brubaker, and I find a quite subversive quality inherent to the colouring that really enthused me. From the very start, as Steve walks the steps of the courthouse towards his ill-fated trial, the usually-bright tones of red, white and blue are a bit duller and watered down than one would expect for a Cap story, especially coming off the heels of Steve McNiven’s visually-engrossing work in Civil War. The down-toning, however, is one of the most evocative bits of art I’ve ever seen in a comic; the dark, foreboding nature of the piece is represented throughout as if the colour only has half its potency, with everything looking darker and more shadowed than normal and there being no really distinct, eye-punching colours. This is something that Brubaker’s earlier Cap installments – particularly Winter Solder – started to touch on, but is brought to the forefront in this narrative. It fits the tone of the piece beautifully, and only really regains a little of its flavour during the final sequence on the Helicarrier at the end.

To fit with the darker mood, the dialogue follows suit; as stated above, there is very little angst present in a story where, considering who the central narrative focus is on, you would expect it to be plentiful. Bucky acts as a normal, matured adult when dealing with Steve’s death – apart from a brief altercation in a bar with several naysayers that ends in a few broken noses – and only really gets uppity during his brief vendetta against Tony Stark. Once he puts on the iconic colours in a more stylish, 21st-century-sexy way, he starts letting off a few witty ripostes here and there that I found quite endearing and not the least bit cheesy.

Additionally, something that gets explored really well in this and subsequent tales is his relationship with Black Widow. This has been one of two comic book relationships that I want to see last through until the end of time – the other being Hal Jordan and Carol Ferris – because their dynamic is both heartwarming and incredibly well-written. They’re two former enemies of the state, both pulled out of time, and both in a way sticking to each other in a believable and really lovely way. I can’t speak enough about how much I love James and Natalia together; it’s one of the main draw cards for me for both this and Captain America Lives! because it symbolises the ability to have a realistic relationship within the pages of a comic book dominated by space aliens, superpowered midgets and personifications of ancient Norse mythological figures.

If it starts going the way of Colossus and Kitty Pryde, I may have to strangle whichever author is responsible.

While I do highly recommend checking out The Death of Captain America for its high-octane action and quietly dramatic scenes with equal intensity between the two, I would first advise reading Winter Solder as a quick prelude before the main event. If you get the chance to read the two interquels as well – being Red Menace and Civil War: Captain America respectively – then go ahead, but you’re not missing a huge amount. All I can finish with is saying that a dream like Captain America, and everything he stands for, truly cannot die with one man. Ed Brubaker reminds us of this deftly and effortlessly, crafting a story that is both timeless and relative to almost every rung of contemporary Western society and the indomitable will of the human spirit.

TOP 5 ENTRY NO. 4 – THE DEATH OF CAPTAIN AMERICA

BEST QUOTE: “Steve would find a way. I know that. And he wouldn’t stop to question it. He’d just do it somehow. Whatever it took. He’d do the impossible.” – Bucky Barnes

[DASH’S TOP FIVE] 5 – The Invincible Iron Man

Seeing as I don’t have any slightly-decent New 52 releases out until June 7 with Red Lanterns and Batman: Faces of Death, I figured it was time for something a little different. It’s either this, or talking about the blatant sexism in the new Catwoman trade – frankly, I’d rather take out my own molars with a pair of Swiss Army tweezers.

Plenty of people have asked me what I consider to be my favourite stories in the world of comicbookia, and I’ve found it hard to really nail down anything coherent in that regard. I could go on about how much I loved the game-changing nature of The Death of Captain America or the time-travel shenanigans in The Flash: Rebirth, and talk for hours about a plethora of titles I consider to be awesome. But seeing as people only have a very limited amount of patience when they’re talking to me – which is halved when I start talking about comic books – I figured it’s probably a decent enough idea to write down five tomes I consider to be of immense value to my comic book tastes. That way, instead of me boring you for twenty minutes talking about the action sequences in Civil War, you can read bits and pieces of each one whenever you happen to be near a computer. Or, y’know, not read them at all and have sex with women instead.

So for the next little while (read: until Red Lanterns comes out) I’ll be taking a fond trip down memory lane with my personal Top 5 comic books up to this point. I should point out that several titles are exempt from this list – namely, Watchmen, The Sandman and The Walking Dead. This isn’t because I don’t like them – far from it, they’re all exceptionally good works – it’s just that I want to do more comprehensive reviews for them (as I already have done for the latter) outside of the fan-love I’m going to spurt out for these particular five. Particularly with Watchmen, which I’ve got something a bit different planned for, I’d prefer to analyse them on their own merits rather than how much I adore them because I’m an easily-impressionable fanboy who likes any shiny object that comes across his desk that doesn’t have a giant red S on it.

Finally, before we get into Number 5, I should also note that these five books will be exempt from grading at the end; because I find myself particularly enamored with them, I find it’d be difficult for me to be objective in critiquing large parts of them. Consider this more a series of reading recommendations rather than straight-out reviews. If you’re already bored by this, feel free to navigate the browser here instead. Much better reads there.

So unless you’ve been stuck underneath a Tijuana-sized boulder for the last four years you’d know Iron Man is one of the primary constituents of invincible super-team The Avengers as well as being one of Marvel’s flagship characters. Before 2009 I’d only seen the movie, and hadn’t delved much into the lore and stories behind the Crimson Avenger, so I was pretty much a neophyte when I randomly picked up a copy of Warren Ellis’s Iron Man: Extremis at Comic-Con 2009. I enjoyed the story – and anyone wanting to watch Iron Man 3 should probably read it beforehand – and so continued on to the first Iron Man installment my friends recommended other than Ellis – that being Matt Fraction’s groundbreaking run on The Invincible Iron Man.

The story picks up after the Marvel Civil War, with Stark being in control of SHIELD and most of the lawful good heroes giving him a wide berth for his actions. The first story arc deals with Stark’s fear of obsolescence in the face of newly-emerging foe Obadiah Stane’s next generation terrorism that then spirals into the realisation of that obsolescence when Secret Invasion makes Stark’s tech useless and renders his company moot. I won’t go too much farther than that, but suffice it to say that this is the point – when Stark is at his lowest – that story really hits the road.

Part of the engrossing aspect of Fraction’s narrative not only lies in the subtle amounts of foreshadowing and payoffs peppered throughout the story but also with the characterisation of Stark that deconstructs both his “genius billionaire playboy philanthropist” ways and his identity as one of the world’s leading superheroes. Having Iron Man himself on-panel is merely an added bonus, because the main draw for me in the later stories was the appearances and struggles of Stark as his own character. You really get a feeling of Tony being a vulnerable, relatable character despite the fact that he owns a crimson suit of power armour and this comes to a head during the second arc World’s Most Wanted, which (aside from Batman RIP) is the most grueling superhero identity story I’ve ever read and features Tony at probably his lowest point since before he quit drinking back in Demon in a Bottle.

Of course it’s practically a given that he’ll rise again – I mean this is Marvel, not a Robert Kirkman story – but the journey towards that rise is slow, methodical and captivating. This is a problem that Stark’s money and superhero status can’t fix straight away, and the rebuilding effort from the ground up that follows his lowest point just shows not only what can really be achieved by focussing on the man behind the mask but also portrays the fascinating strength of will of the human spirit. That might sound a bit schmaltzy, but if you read it you’ll see what I mean. The title itself even adds to the deal – throughout the narrative, Iron Man is far from Invincible, and ironic nature of its inclusion in the title just adds another layer – however slight – of narrative complexity.

The art is handled throughout by Salvador Larroca, and while I was dubious about his efforts early on – when Stark looked more like an Italian porn star – I was soon relieved to see the art definitely evolves to a zenith of flesh tones and believable proportions on both the lads and the ladies. Pepper Potts is drawn realistically, rather than a woman with balloons in her chest, and during Tony’s low point he definitely loses a lot of his pretty-boy good looks. The art does get a bit yellow with facial tones every now and then, but on the whole looks pretty damn good. The artwork relating to Iron Man’s armour is sublime, and is the best interpretation of it that I’ve seen since Steve McNiven’s go during Civil War.

The dialogue retains a lot of the wit presented in the 2008 film, and is written in a way that presents excellent interplay between the major characters involved. It takes a bit of inspiration from the Nolan school of writing in doing more showing rather than telling, which is used to great effect during the climax of the fourth story in a heartbreaking scene juxtaposed against a kind of funny one. As always whenever Maria Hill is involved there’s a good amount of snarky banter, and Fraction really paints a good wordy portrait of Stark as a character and what most of his compatriots really think of him.

The story is currently mostly collected in two massive hardcovers (collecting arcs 1-6) and which will probably be concluded shortly with the end of Fraction’s run fast approaching. It’s a storyline I find straddles the line between pulp superhero adventure and introspective character exploration, and has a great balance between the two that ensures plenty of action scenes and quiet dialogue moments respectively.

Plus, the dialogue gets twice as good if you imagine Robert Downey Jr reading it out loud.

TOP FIVE ENTRY NO. 5 – THE INVINCIBLE IRON MAN

BEST QUOTE: “Who wants to ride in a stupid helicopter, anyway? I am Iron Man.” – Tony Stark

[THE NEW 52] Green Lantern: Sinestro

WARNING: Major spoilers for previous Green Lantern stories abound, particularly War of the Green Lanterns. If you don’t want to have the identity of Laura Palmer’s killer or the last of the Cylons revealed then look away now.

Seriously. Right now.

You sure?

Alright. Don’t blame me when I spoil the fact that Hal Jordan is really David Bowie with L’oreal.

Of all the entries into the New 52 I’ve read, this is the one I was looking forward to second-most (behind Batman). Geoff Johns’ Green Lantern run has been one of my favourite books for the last few years, bolstered by the absolutely amazing 2009 crossover Blackest Night – ranking in my top 5 comics of all time. Since 2005 he’s been crafting this wonderfully epic and at the same time personal journey for Hal and his crew, and so far it’s managed to balance the far-reaching nature of a space opera involving multicoloured aliens without sacrificing the smaller, more human elements that make it a relatable undertaking.

So I was quite eager to get cracking on the first new volume following the Flashpoint reboot, but after finishing Sinestro I realised a lot of my excitement had either been abated by the story’s transitory nature or just plain eradicated by delving into a book that is definitely one of the blander GL stories I’ve read in the last few years.

One thing that separates this book from the rest of the New 52 is that there really isn’t a reboot present; not that one was needed, since the current arc is still relatively fresh by comic book standards, but it does deny the story a bit of the newcomer accessibility that’s been present in the other texts I’ve explored. Despite numbering it Volume 1, Sinestro feels more like a continuation of the old story rather than something traditionally new.

This isn’t to say there’s some innovation present; following on from the explosive finale of War of the Green Lanterns, Hal’s been kicked out and Sinestro’s been kicked in as the new Lantern protector of Sector 2814. The story picks up not long after Hal’s been booted back to Earth as he tries adjusting to a life without the ring, but doesn’t last a day when Sinestro shows up claiming he can bequeath Hal’s ring back to him if he helps Sinestro destroy the Corps he founded during his angst phase back in 2007. While initially reluctant Hal eventually relents, going off on an intergalactic quest to engage in an epic battle with one of the most formidable enemies in the entire history of the –

Wait, what? That doesn’t really happen? Oh.

Damn.

This is one of the big problem areas I have with this book; the battle, in my mind, is a huge anticlimax. Having read and thoroughly loved The Sinestro Corps War and having seen the horrors they can inflict upon other GLs as one of their staunchest opponents, I was left scratching my head at just how easily they end up being defeated. Granted, they end up imprisoning our dynamic night-light duo in a power-absorption cell halfway through, and there is a really creative use of Sinestro’s ring that’s utilised to initiate their escape, but at the end of the battle the deus ex machina to win them the day makes the victory feel far too quick. A story like this really did need to be spread out a bit more, especially since it’s established beforehand that what the Sinestro Corps is doing to Korugar is so deadly and deep-rooted that it’d take a while before they can really get them the hell out of there.

Instead, all it ends with is Sinestro taking his Lantern into the yellow battery and putting all the SC members planetside into a forced coma. That’s it. If Sinestro hadn’t explained the proper way to knock them all out – instead of telling Hal “You must’ve done it wrong” when Hal’s attempt to shut them down ended with him being disintegrated temporarily – and had instead flown straight into the battery as soon as they hit Korugar then the story would’ve been far shorter than it already was. The stakes seemed pretty raised, and with the creative ring use mentioned beforehand there was potential for a really intriguing, unique kind of hard-fight ending that would’ve left me feeling satisfied. In the end I just feel like the story nicked the ending of Stargate: The Ark of Truth and re-wrote it to include a Lantern battery instead of an Ancient artifact.

This is not to say the story is entirely bad; I have definitely read worse GL stories (see Mystery of the Star Sapphire and the abhorrent artwork to go with it) and the characters of Hal and Sinestro are still really well-written. I actually kind of like the unlikely pairing of the two, since it gives Hal something of a leash from being all mindlessly gung-ho all the time and it adds another layer of personality to Sinestro’s former moustache-twirling self. Given what I’ve heard and read about the Indigo Tribe story that follows this one, I get the feeling this is all going to come to a head that sounds quite satisfying and is worth all the build-up that stories like Sinestro provide.

Because that’s what Sinestro feels like – a build-up story. There’s a lot of references to the Guardians’ ominously-named “third army” to replace the GLs, there’s some great character development between Hal and Carol and as stated above the relationship between Sinestro and his former protege is really interesting. The final issue dealing with Sinestro going after Lyssa Drak adds a lot of foreshadowing that seems likely to pay off shortly – and if everything presented in that one-page future sight proves true, it’ll make for one hell of a story.

The artwork is exactly what I’ve come to expect from Doug Mahnke – visually gripping, with a dash of uncanny valley added for good taste. He still has a habit of making Carol Ferris look like Barbra Streisand’s ugly twin, but the colours are pretty and Hal’s six-pack is quite appealing. He did however make construct-Carol, that Hal creates when he thinks he’s about to die, look prettier than her real-life counterpart; so the ring can obviously look past physical imperfections, then? Gotta get me one of those – oh wait, I own one. I’ll have to try that trick out later.

The dialogue is one of the better aspects of the book, as Geoff Johns’ trademark snark-riddled smug-speak is still prevalent in all the major characters presented within. Hal is still a jerk, Sinestro is an even bigger jerk who seems to channel Peter Cushing, and Carol lactates penis-envy for Hal with every syllable. This is, however, turned on its head when smartass Hal returns after the Korugar battle and speaks to Carol about wanting to really make their relationship work; the dialogue is believable without being out of character, and it does show signs of Hal finally starting to grow up and become more responsible. If Johns can keep the balance of grown-up Hal with jerk-ass Hal and make a well-rounded character in that respect it’ll make for a very multi-faceted characterisation further down the line – I guess that’s something of a reboot, isn’t it? Kinda. A bit.

Is this book bad? No. It’s pulp, popcorn fun with a slightly rushed story that does a good job reiterating how awesome it is to wear a power ring. However, since I’m judging this book alongside the other New 52 entries, I have to say that Green Lantern: Sinestro does the worst job of orientating new readers to its canon that I’ve seen so far in the reboot. It’s an enjoyable read, but I think prior readers of GL canon will appreciate it more than newbies; from what I hear, Green Lantern Corps and Green Lantern: New Guardians do a better job for neophyte ringslingers. If you’re keen on checking out Hal’s story – and, quite frankly, there’s not a whole lot that’s better than the salient elements of Johns’ run – then go back a bit towards Green Lantern: Rebirth or The Sinestro Corps War.

Whatever you do, don’t see the movie first.

STORY: 2/5
ARTWORK: 4/5
DIALOGUE: 4/5

OVERALL: 10/15

BEST QUOTE: “Your training really did end after I left, didn’t it?” – Sinestro

[THE NEW 52] Batman: The Court of Owls

THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. THERE WILL BE SQUEEING. THERE MAY BE A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL.

My regular correspondents know that when it comes to Scott Snyder I may well be a little biased in my opinion of his writing. His glorious arc on Detective Comics for The Black Mirror was something original and deeply psychological, even for a Batman story, and since then I’ve been waiting with baited breath for the next chapter in his Batman writing foray. You can imagine my glee at discovering the first installment of his new arc would be out during the second week of the New 52’s release schedule while die-hard Superman fans have to wait until August and November to get their fixes.

Suck it.

The Court of Owls starts with a rip-roaring battle in Arkham Asylum with several slight reinterpretations of classic Batman villains (including a serial rapist-esque Riddler with the most badass haircut I’ve seen in a comic since Ramona Flowers). While it’s clear that bit’s mostly for fanservice, it doesn’t feel overwrought or unnecessary, especially with the “Gotham is” soliloquy going on in Bruce’s mind over the top of it. The explosive start also did a great showcase of Greg Capullo’s artwork, and while I’ve not seen his stuff before I’m in awe in what he can do now. But we’ll get to that later.

In a slightly-reset Gotham City, following the events of Flashpoint, Bruce Wayne is putting copious funds into designing a city safe for modern-day residents while fielding slightly unwelcome business advances from Lincoln March, a current Gotham mayoral candidate who may as well wear a sign on his head saying “I will turn out to be a bad guy”. Into the situation comes multiple references to an urban legend known as the Court of Owls, supposedly a group of Gotham inhabitants lying in wait for the day they can claim the city from all its cohorts – including the Batman.

In a surprisingly out-of-character moment Batman derides the myth of the Court as nothing but an old wives tale, and only really starts to believe when he’s kidnapped, nearly loses an eye and is shoved into a surreal and very, very creepy labyrinth for the rollicking amusement of the Court’s beneficiaries. From the looks of things they’ve taken some pointers from Marble Hornets and the Black Glove for the labyrinth and created a mashup of psychological horror and dark isolationism to move towards a cold, gritty terror that is similar to and unlike any other deathtrap Batman has experienced before.

Snyder’s writing sets up not only some great quips here and there but also builds up towards a deep, expansive, involving arc. By the end of the story I had a sense of awe at how kickass the story was that combined with a sense of annoyance at how long I’d have to wait for the next installment. It touches on previous aspects of the Bat mythos and is still accessible to newcomers without being overwhelming, and there is a definite undertone of true psychological exploration – how much does Gotham City really belong to Batman? Is he really the only method of control in a lawless environment like it?

The narrative doesn’t dive into this psychological aspect as much as Hush or Batman RIP, but it gives hints towards a greater exploration of it in later installments. I feel like Snyder is taking a few good tips from Grant Morrison’s run in regards to setting up without telling too much or too little; part of the appeal of this arc is going to be that deep psychological study, combined with ass-kicking combat and an enemy that, for the first time in a long time, genuinely scared me in the comic’s pages. Not since Morrison’s twisted incarnation of the Joker have I been so disconcerted by a Batman villain. Seriously, those owl masks are really fucking creepy.

Speaking of masks; the artwork is exceptional. Greg Capullo’s stylings add grit in the fight scenes and illumination in the character-building moments, and there is some very well-done use of perspective levels and shading done in the latter half of the book where, within the labyrinth, Batman gets a visitor behind him. I won’t say who or why, but the pages leading up to and after this encounter had me gripping the book hard and gritting my teeth in anxiety even harder. It’s rare to find an artist who uses levels so effectively like that, utilising blurring and distance the way one would in a horror film without being over the top. Top marks, Mr Capullo.

While the book as a whole is exceptional, I feel the dialogue is probably the most lacking element. It’s not bad, but it doesn’t have the verve Dick Grayson’s Batman had in The Black Mirror and there wasn’t nearly enough Commissioner Gordon around for some good old man wisdom. There were several good one-liners and a truly excellent heated exchange between Bruce and Dick that ended in the mother of all backhands, but it didn’t stand out to me as much as the story or art did. Plus some of the shouty-bits in the latter part of the labyrinth came a little out of nowhere – except for that bit near the underwater cave. Brrr.

I would highly recommend that neophyte and veteran fans of the Bat check this out. It’s a brilliant orientation point to both the Bat story and the New 52 as a whole, and it definitely sets up what will hopefully be a marvelous crossover in Night of the Owls. Is it better than The Black Mirror? Apples and oranges; The Black Mirror was a self-contained series of short stories that felt very complete, and The Court of Owls is the start of a big overarching story that touches on many more elements. I would recommend both to readers, but for different reasons.

Plus, reading either one means you’re not reading Superman instead.

STORY: 4/5
ARTWORK: 4.5/5
DIALOGUE: 3/5

OVERALL: 11.5/15

BEST QUOTE: “You’re a pawn. You’re not special! No matter what they’ve told you! No matter what you tell yourself! And now, what you really are is finished.” – Batman

[THE NEW 52] Animal Man: The Hunt

I have something of an annual tradition whenever Free Comic Book Day rolls around; I try, amongst the copious purchases of cheap series’ I love, to grab a book from a title I’ve never read before. Last year it was Daredevil, and after I picked up Shadowland I was hooked, going back and checking out Bendis and Brubaker’s runs before it which led to Diggle and Waid’s more recently.

This year it was going to be Moon Knight, but something else grabbed my eye instead – Jeff Lemire’s Animal Man, touted as a fantastic and darkly psychological exploration into DC’s new continuity and featuring a front cover with a man covered in what looked like aggressive blood vessels in the shape of lungs. I’ve heard nothing but praise for it, and figured it might be worth a look.

The story follows Buddy Baker, former Canadian superhero and current film star in Tights, the superhero biopic about his post-crimefighting days. Having established a comfortable family life for himself with a wife and two kids, Buddy seems like his days as an animal-powered superhuman are over.

That is, until his daughter makes a whole bunch of dead animals reanimate on their lawn, a trio of human-eating monsters invade Canada, and Buddy learns his tiny female offspring may well be more powerful than he is. It sounds pretty dry from that description, but I don’t want to give too much away; this book relies a lot of sudden plot twists and visual elements coming out of nowhere, and if I go into too much more detail it’ll ruin a lot of the book for you.

This review will end up being pretty short, but not because the story sucks – far from it. I’ve never partaken of Lemire’s writing or Travel Foreman’s artistry, but they both pack a massive punch for non-JLA DC superheroes with this installment. I get the sense that Buddy would work better on his own, rather than part of a super-team, and the adventures he’d have with his family members add an extra element of familial inclusion with a dark twist that appears towards the end. It sets up an interesting dynamic for future installments.

Foreman’s art is grisly, gut-wrenching and somewhat bare-bones, but in a really good way. It doesn’t have the complex texturing of Jim Lee or Ivan Reis but it’s still highly effective at creating visual WHAM, especially during the sections where Buddy is metamorphosed inside the Red and appears as several different, grotesquely malformed versions of himself. For me, the best piece of artwork was near the end of the second act where one of the aforementioned monster trio eats a person, and holds half the body up like the detritus of a meal or the crusts of a sandwich. It really has to be seen to be believed, although I’d recommend those with weak constitutions have a bucket handy.

The dialogue is also well written, and thankfully avoids the slightly stupid stereotypical-ness I usually see with Canadian-based dialogue that features lots of “eh?” and references to how backwards they are compared to America. Thankfully, like the Scott Pilgrim series, Animal Man avoids this. I think so far the best snarker in-story is Buddy’s son, who looks set to have many wonderful teenage one-liners that don’t make you think Allan Heinberg is writing this thing.

Overall, I was impressed by Animal Man. I’m definitely keen to explore the later volumes once they’re released, and I feel great that my tradition of a new series every Free Comic Book Day has once again given me a story worth following. But you wanna know the best part?

Towards the end of the story [SPOILER ALERT] a character informs Buddy that they should visit Swamp Thing. Swamp Thing currently being written by Scott Snyder.

I smell a wonderful crossoverrrrr!

STORY: 4/5
ART: 4/5
DIALOGUE: 4/5

OVERALL: 12/15

BEST QUOTE: “The movie stuff has been fun, but that interview kind of made me feel, I don’t know…like a has-been or something. Like I’m embarrassed at being Animal Man. Ah, hell, maybe I’m thinking too much. Maybe I just need to punch someone.” – Buddy Baker

[THE NEW 52] Justice League: Origin

And so, it begins. The revamp/reboot/reset/reimagining/retardation of DC’s The New 52 starts here, with the first of its big releases – the brand new JUSTICE LEAGUE.

For those of you unfamiliar with my comic book reading history – or anyone who hasn’t read this review – I’m wary of team books, especially when it comes to the Justice League. My previous experiences with them haven’t been awesome, and more recent stories such as the Blackest Night JSA tie-in have just made me throw up my hands in protest and refuse to give them a glance anymore unless they’re simultaneously recommended to me by nearly a hundred screaming fans – which was not the case with Origin.

I picked this up of my own free will for three reasons:

1. I’m reviewing as many of the New 52 as I can financially get my hands on, and this is kind of the flagship title for it.

2. It’s written by Geoff Johns (of Green Lantern/Flashpoint fame)

3. It’s illustrated by the collaborative duo of Jim Lee and Scott Williams (both of whom are responsible for the orgasm-inducing artwork of Hush, my favourite ever Batman story)

So it sounded good on paper – even if it means having to deal with my least favourite bluetard superhero of all time – but I was still wary given my past Justice League experiences. Thankfully, though, what I got was far, far removed from any of that bull defecation.

The story is told five years before current continuity, at the dawn of the superhero age. From the get-go the action doesn’t let up, starting out with a fugitive Batman being chased by people who look unsettling like the CELL operatives from Crysis 2, only to run into a very cocky and slightly asshole-ish Green Lantern, the two having never met before now. From here the plot follows the ~~assembling~~ gathering of the Justice League heroes, through various contrived circumstances, into the team we know them as today. Plus Cyborg, but I’ll get to him in a moment.

The story seems to be trying to straddle a line between the fresh continuity it’s starting and the old canon it’s maintaining, at least in part. The big baddie is Darkseid, pre-Crisis, and his legion of harpy-esque mechanical crocodile flying things that give al-Qaeda a run for their money in terms of suicide bombers. From the outset every hero’s personality is apparent while not being two-dimensional; Superman is virtuous, if still annoying; Green Lantern is an uncultured asshole, like a mashup of Han Solo and Mal Reynolds; The Flash is a cop who’s best friends with Hal Jerkdon, with a good heart; Wonder Woman is ~~Thor with boobs~~ a mythological fish out of water; Batman is the goddamn Batman; Aquaman has an unsettling relationship with sea life and something of an ego problem. Seeing as Johns is writing the latter ongoing series, it’d be interesting to see whether this ego problem is continued five years on.

I’ve got to say, I enjoyed Origin a lot more than I thought I would. The action is intense and colourful without being overwhelming, the interpersonal moments are still amongst all the clamour and are given full attention when needed, and the threat that poses the world definitely seems like a League-level problem that would warrant the ~~assembling~~ gathering of these disparate heroes into one place. Plus Hal and Barry Allen have this whole goofy Starsky and Hutch relationship going on, which is not only true to original canon but also acts as a really nice bit of character relationship that I really hope still carries over into new canon.

You may have noticed a few references in my review here and there to another superhero team brought together by fate to defend the world, and there’s a reason for that; Justice League: Origin feels a lot like the recent Whedon-penned Avengers movie in terms of content, dialogue and character interaction. Not that that’s a bad thing; the dialogue is quite witty and fitting for each character (though not quite hitting the “Shakespeare in the Park”-level of wordiness that Whedon hit), the epic battle in Metropolis is titanic and super and awesome, and the characters not liking each other but slowly coming to terms with one another (if not going all the way towards being friends) does feel a lot like that film. Granted, there’s not as much focus on character as Whedon gave his heroes, but since it’s only a six-issue story with a lot of characters to include in a short space of pages, it can be forgiven for that.

While the story does, subconsciously or not, draw influence from either Whedon’s Avengers or the popcorn nature of the Marvel films in general, it isn’t particularly cerebral – again, not that that’s a bad thing. It’s not an incredibly deep story, but it has enough character-building moments and awesome teamwork bits to keep it from being a two-dimensional punchfest or having no heart at all. It’s like the difference between Inception and the new Star Trek – they’re both damn good, but the former is deep and intellectual while the latter is fun and bouncy and engaging whilst not being stupid.

Coupled with the Whedon-esque story and dialogue is absolutely magnificent artwork by DC’s dynamic duo of Jim Lee and Scott Williams. Ever since Hush I’ve loved Lee’s drawings, even when he did unfortunately ally himself with Frank Miller’s ill-fated All-Star Batman and Robin title, and the wonderful fleshed-out colours delivered by Williams are what seal the deal for me. The art in Origin was sublime from start to finish, with every character being given good proportions (including former balloon salesperson Wonder Woman, who’s actually got slightly better curves to my mind) and the action sequences not being illustrated as a smooshing of bright colours against an incongruous pallet of black background. Special mention also goes to Darkseid, who looks freaking’ terrifying thanks to the awesome colours, shading and texturing. There’s one particular page towards the middle which is a juxtaposition between Cyborg’s birth and the reveal of Darkseid as the baddie, and the glare that Darkseid gives the reader towards the bottom of the page will ensure many sleepless nights for me in the next few weeks.

So if I’m speaking so highly of the book, it must mean it’ll garner my first ever perfect score for a title, right? Well, it might’ve done if it weren’t for a young man named Victor Stone.

For as long as I can remember I’ve always associated Cyborg with the angst brigade known as the Teen Titans, which has always made me hesitant to try exploring him as a character. I did enjoy the Titans tie-in for Blackest Night – quite a bit, in fact – and I thought his unlikely position as the sole real superhero in the world of Flashpoint was something nice and a bit different from the norm. So when I cracked open Origin I was looking forward to seeing him join the League, kicking Darkseid ass and dropping one-liners –

Oh, wait, that didn’t happen. He just got blown up, got cyborgy stuff put on him, randomly staggered out to the team halfway through the story, then just kinda tagged along with them until the end.

I found Cyborg to be the most disappointing element of the story; he was given some backstory about being a football prodigy with a distant scientist father who makes Gendo Ikari look loving by comparison, and there was a truly sad moment about a third of the way in when his dad basically says he’ll never go to one of Vic’s games ever. But after all that, he just felt very vestigial; he wasn’t formerly introduced to any of the other heroes, apart from a perfunctory Green Lantern line relating to him not really being a part of their group by coming along anyway, and his only real purpose was to discover the nature behind the odd explodey boxes and finally shut off Darkseid’s approach into Earth. Once he got his machinery he felt very flat, and uninteresting.

While I’m not about to give perfect marks to Johns, Lee and Williams for creating a marvelous popcorn entry into the DC’s new continuity, I’m willing to give them a bit of a pass in regards to Cyborg because it was something of an origin story for him as well, and because I’m hoping that when we return to the present day he’ll be a bit more fleshed out and back to his Titans-self. I know Johns can write better than this for characters other than Hal or Barry, so I’m hoping he’ll give Cyborg the same star treatment he’s apparently giving Aquaman – based on the reviews I’ve heard for the latter, it seems Johns has shifted his primary writing attention away from the Emerald Knight in favour of that freaky fish-guy. But we can look at that when Aquaman: The Trench gets released in August.

Overall, Justice League: Origin is a great jumping-off point for new and old fans, and contains plenty of good moments for the characters you all know and love. Except for Superman – he’s still a tosser, even if his beautifully-illustrated costume does make me want to marry Lee and Williams.

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

OVERALL: 13/15

BEST QUOTE: “[to Aquaman] Superman might not say a lot, but he can fly and juggle trucks. The Flash is the fastest man alive. Wonder Woman can slice through an army. And Me? I can do anything with this ring. So, really, what can you do that we can’t? [Aquaman uses his power to summon sharks that devour Darkseid’s minions] …Never mind.” – Hal Jordan

Avengers: The Children’s Crusade

I now know exactly how Yahtzee Croshaw feels when he has a string of decent games for a while then finds a shitty one to tear apart like a starving lion ripping open a gazelle.

For weeks the comics I’ve read and reviewed have been, by and large, either really good or not bad enough to seriously mark down (Secret Seven notwithstanding). So finally I’m delighted to say I’ve now read the most feckless, rank, putrescent piece of vile Marvel frozen pus ever published since Chuck Austen’s run on X-Men.

Well, alright, it’s not that bad, but it’s not that good either, so I’ll meet it halfway. Maybe. A bit.

So, Children’s Crusade; for those of you unfamiliar with Marvel canon, there was an event in 2004 called Avengers Disassembled that resulted in the disbanding of the titular superhero team after resident mutant reality warper Scarlet Witch (who was kinda ugly, or at the very least not as hot as Ms Marvel) went batty and killed a bunch of people before being brought down by her own teammates. Following this was House of M, which featured the Witch creating a parallel world controlled by Magneto’s family (Magneto being her father) that was swiftly undone when the X-Men and the Avengers figured it out and attempted to stop her. With her (supposed) dying breath she uttered the phrase “No more mutants“, and with her reality warping abilities she depowered almost a million mutants and reduced the species to just over 200 people. It was considered a near-genocidal event that forever scarred the surviving X-Men and gave the team’s emo-panties leader Scott Summers – aka Cyclops – a permanent chip on his shoulder.

So it can be understood why he’d be opposed to the idea of rescue when everyone learns she’s not dead, but I seriously feel that when Scarlet Witch caused M-Day she also might’ve depowered Scott of his adulthood too, because for the entirety of the story he sounds and acts like a whiny teenager who’s cutting because his parents don’t understand him and just wants to go to the Goth Rock concert next week but they won’t give him pocket money because he forgot to do the lawns.

Sorry, got a little tangential. Point is, he’s a massive whingey prick here. So, same as always I guess.

The story starts off featuring the remaining members of the Young Avengers (a title I’ve not read before now, and for reasons I’ll outline later probably never will) discovering that Wanda the Witch (made way hotter by artist Jim Cheung) may still be alive, and that two of the team’s members – namely Wiccan and Speed – may be the resurrected souls of her dead children who didn’t really die but were absorbed by Mephisto but may have died from that…or something. That bit I’m still fuzzy on, but what isn’t fuzzy is that this story has an overload of one element in this odyssey through time and space to locate Scarlet Witch (who is now hot).

Angst.

Lots, and lots, and lots, of angst.

The fact that Allan Heinberg is proudly touted in the blurb as a former writer of The OC should’ve been the first warning sign, and the influences definitely show. I get that we’re dealing with teenage superheroes and that they won’t exactly have Oscar Wilde-level dialogue, but I’ve still seen plenty of teen-driven work with a script that doesn’t make every single character sound like they feel like cutting themselves with Wolverine’s claws between every angst-riddled fight. Wiccan in particular is quite guilty of jumping on the angst train, and it gets really annoying very quickly how often he’ll do something stupid, his boyfriend Hulkling will chew him out, and Wiccan will brood for a good ten or twenty pages while Dr Doom tries to marry Scarlet Witch or Captain America has another pissing contest with Cyclops. If this was ever made into a movie I’m positive Wiccan would be played either by Michael Cera or one of the gormless fuckskulls off The Vampire Diaries.

Apart from the story being Angst Central, the narrative also feels a bit schizophrenic at times. The initial goal of locating (hot) Wanda turns into Dr Doom becoming God, then Kang-to-be Iron Lad taking out his penis envy frustration on his former teammates and killing mainstays Vision and Stature. After about the halfway point there’s a sense that the story grabbed onto too many plots threads and tried to smoosh them all together haphazardly, and the fact that it was stretched over nearly two years of bimonthly issue releases makes me glad I didn’t read this thing whilst it was staggered out. In an interview with Newsarama, Heinberg stated that the script evolved quite a lot over the two year gestation period, and by Christ does it show – though not in a positive sense.

As well as that, some of the already-established characters are all over the place, with Captain America being the worst offender. At the start of the story, when faced with the possibility of Scarlet Witch still kicking, Cap immediately condemns her to death if they locate her and gets his crew into a fight with the Young Angstvengers just because Wiccan and Speed want to find their mum. Not only should Captain America not act like this, he should be actively trying to assist them – fair enough, she killed people and depowered mutants, but everyone knew she was unstable beforehand and yet no-one tried to help her. It’d be like sentencing a Tourette’s sufferer to death because they called you a faggot – they can’t help it.

Scarlet Witch (when she was not hot) had mental problems following the death/not-death of her sons, and the fact that Cap – being the most virtuous of any Marvel superhero out there – is the first person to order her death just flies in the face of everything he is about, not least of all because as far as I’m aware from two years of reading his title he’s all about finding the non-violent solution. He doesn’t suggest rehabilitation or even the bloody Negative Zone to try and make her better, it’s all just blood and violence from the get-go. This is then made worse by his complete reversal at the end of the story when he invites her back onto the team after Cyclops threatens – and nearly succeeds – to kill her. Erm, good to know you’re back to your proper characterisation Cap, but I’m pretty sure the sons you just told that you were going to kill their mother are probably going to clue her into that fact. If we get M-Day 2.0, I’m blaming you Allan Heinberg.

The ending felt a bit anticlimactic with the last little bitch-scuffle with Iron Lad, and the out-of-nowhere deaths of Vision and Stature I suppose were meant as big WHAM moments but just came off as a little cheap, especially since the latter had just been reunited with her formerly-deceased father. The final reconciliation between Wiccan and Hulkling was alright, and the end speech given by Cap about how the young team will always be considered Avengers sounded a little glurgy and cliche, but I suppose when it’s a teen book you’ve gotta give them something a bit less angsty to end on.

The dialogue is also a bit clunky and basic, and the quips that most of the younger characters – especially Wiccan and Speed – came across as flat and very The OC in nature. There aren’t any particularly memorable lines apart from a funny exchange between Emma Frost and the Young Avengers and a few one-liners that resident hottie Hawkeye (that is the female one – Hawkette, Hawk-Girl…whatever you call her. The one with boobs) delivers on a regular basis from behind those gorgeous purple-tinted sunglasses.

The one area that I can absolutely give full marks to is the artwork; I’m not familiar with Jim Cheung’s art before this, but I’ll be hunting it out afterwards. Not only does Cheung succeed in making Scarlet Witch actually look hot – rather than a hooker with a giant shaggy dog on her dead – by giving her curves and a sweet outfit with good colour levels, he also manages to give a rich and detailed tapestry of colour to every scene that few other artists I’ve seen have been able to capture. He very much puts me in mind of artists like Olivier Coipel and Andy Kubert in terms of the detailing and rich vibrancy of the palette of the story. I suppose if I have to suffer through Wiccan leading his Angst brigade it’s made more bearable with gorgeous artwork.

Seriously, check out that art. That’s how it looks throughout the entire book. Magic stuff. (fyi, Scarlet Witch is center right – HOT)

The main reason I picked this story up was it was named as required reading before the summer blockbuster of Avengers Vs X-Men, and I can see why; there’s definite foreshadowing towards the eventual conflict between Cap and Cyclops, and Scarlet Witch is meant to play a large part in what goes down. But as a book on its own, Avengers: The Children’s Crusade doesn’t do all that much for me. It’s not Cry for Justice level in terms of its weak points, but it’s definitely not the strongest Avengers book I’ve read.

But it’s worth it in the end, because did I mention that Scarlet Witch is HOT now?

STORY: 2/5
ARTWORK: 5/5
DIALOGUE: 2.5/5

OVERALL: 9.5/15

BEST QUOTE: “Doctor Doom is the least of your problems, because now you’ve upset Emma Frost. And yes, the fact that I’m angry enough to be talking about myself in the third person should terrify you.” – Emma Frost

Batman Incorporated: Volume 1

As a rule, I don’t buy single issues of comics. Ignoring briefly that I’m a uni student on a shoestring budget, I prefer to read short installments of an arc as one big story; it might’ve taken nearly a year, but I’m glad I waited for Green Lantern: Brightest Day, because the end of every issue made me internally scream “I WANT THE NEXT ONE OMFG THAT WAS SUCH A GOOD CLIFFHANGER!” Thankfully, they were all on hand.

So far the only exception to this rule has been Batman Incorporated. Coming after the stunningly awesome events of Batman and Robin Must Die!, I bought every single issue of Inc each month it came out. The first issue was something of an impulse buy, but afterwards I kept hurrying back to the comic store when each new story was released. It was that good.

Finally, they’re all collected in one volume nearly a year and a half later, the delay owed in no small part to the bewildering decision to put it on hiatus until December – a full four months after Flashpoint. It’s probably a better idea for newbies to read the preceding Morrison volumes before diving straight into this once, especially since there’s not much of a precede before things kick off with a kung-fu battle in Tokyo as Batman attempts to recruit Mr Unknown, the Japanese Batman equivalent. From there the plot spins off into several countries across the world as Bruce Wayne gathers international Batmen for a battle with the enigmatic organisation Leviathan.

Admittedly, when the idea was first announced at Comic-Con 2010 I was hesitant to accept it; it sounded like a ridiculous concept, despite my love for Morrison’s work, and I couldn’t really see how it could work. Surely it would devalue the uniqueness and personal concept of Batman to have one in every single country? Granted, we already had a second Batman in Dick Grayson, but they really were apples and oranges compared to each other.

Reading the story, the devaluing doesn’t enter into it at all.

If you ask anyone who knows me they’ll tell you I’ve been raving about this series for a good while, and the week leading up to the hardcover’s release was punctuated by constant “Ooooh, it’s out this Thursday!”s from me, to the point that I half expect someone to beat me to death with it at my D’n’D game next week. I seriously can’t praise it enough, and it’s only better now that it’s compiled into one volume.

Every single Batman is unique in every single country Bruce visits; spicy Argentinian El Gaucho with his red bandanna and handlebar moustache, badass African Batwing with his effective use of electric blue outfits, former Batgirl Cassandra Cain taking up the Hong Kong mantle of Blackbat…there’s so much variety that the Batman monniker is more of an ideal, a standard, rather than an actual descriptor. The blurb on the cover even mentions raising “the standard of the Bat” – a more apt summation you’d be hard pressed to find.

As much as I’d love to go on forever about how wonderful Morrison’s fresh approach to Batman is in this volume, I have to be objective, even if just for a little bit. I mean, if I just talked about how much I love the comics I’d read it’d get kinda boring, right?

The one thing I was hoping they’d have in the hardcover was some kind of prologue or text page to give a quick summary of what’s led up to this point. This is part of what made The Black Mirror accessible, and I’m a bit sad they didn’t include something like that in here for newer readers, especially since it’s being advertised by comic shops in my neck of the woods as a standalone series. On the other hand, Morrison seems to have written the story primarily for those who’ve been following his arc from the beginning, so it’s kind of understandable. If this is your first foray into Morrison’s Batman (and if that’s the case, I strongly recommend Batman and Son instead) then get ready to trawl Wikipedia for a few minutes before you read.

The pacing also deserves a bit of a mention; Morrison employed shorter, three-issue stories during his run on Batman and Robin that all contributed to the overall arc but were individually accessible in their own ways. He tries a similar thing here, but it doesn’t work quite as well – the opening story in Japan was good, but ended a bit too quickly with only two issues. Conversely, the three-part story following it with El Gaucho and Batwoman discovering unlikeable truths relating to Bruce Wayne’s first love Kathy Kane was good, but went a bit all over the place. For a story that seemed to be trying to fit into three issues as a self-contained arc as well as contributing overall it went a bit schizophrenic (and not just because of the artwork, which I’ll get to later) and there wasn’t a great sense of progression. It was still good, but didn’t really work as the three-issue structure Morrison stated he’d be using.

While the narrative is a little slow to start, once it hits Issue 6 it really gets going. In fact everything before then feels like something of a prologue before we get into Incorporated proper. There’s a continuity cavalcade featuring pretty much every member of the Bat family – including recent MIA Cassandra Cain – and mentions and appearances of characters stretching all the way back to the start of Morrison’s run. The best quote at the end – taken from the finale of Issue 6 – is one of the most fist-pumping lines I’ve ever read in a Batman book. Read it in context; it is awesome.

I won’t go too deeply into the ending because it truly is titanic. It’s a lead-in to the second season of Incorporated (starting May 2012) and ends on such a humungous cliffhanger that I can’t even obliquely reference what it is to those who’ve not read it. If you’ve been with Morrison since 2006, and have followed with his recurring Oroboro pattern in this book, then it’ll definitely bring things very full circle.

The artwork is exceptional, if at times a bit schizophrenic. Part of this is to do with the army of artists involved, with the majority of the load being handled by Yannick Paquette and Chris Burnham. I’d not encountered either of their arts before, and found them to be a good contrast in many ways; while they both focus on colour, Paquette has a slightly more muted feel that touches on others like Alex Maleev and Steve Epting, whilst Burnham’s full-on fleshed-out colour was strongly reminiscent of Frank Quitely – who’s also a frequent collaborator with Morrison. The only part where the art really falls down for me is in Issue 8, within Internet 3.0; Scott Beatty’s graphic stylings – quite obviously 99% CG rather than actual drawn artwork – seem wildly out of place, even for an issue that takes place in Tron-land. There’s nothing else like it anywhere else in the book, and it look far too surreal even for a Morrison story. The human faces in the real world seem to live in the Uncanny Valley, and it would’ve been completely off-putting if the story wasn’t pretty ok.

The dialogue is exactly what I’ve come to expect from a Grant Morrison work – true to the characters, doesn’t tell you everything, and gives you hints towards putting together the full picture. There’s little extraneous exposition, and quite a few WHAM moments rely on the visual rather than Robin piping up and going “Father! I just found a countdown timer for a nuclear bomb in the President’s bathroom!” (not that that happens). At times it can be a bit hard to follow, especially when new baddie Doctor Dedalus is involved with his past-Nazi reminiscence, but it puts me in mind very much of the Nolan Batman dialogue. The reader doesn’t have everything explained to them, and needs to work some stuff out themselves.

As I said, this was so good I got it in single issues. That should highlight how good I think it is, since a comic has to be really fucking excellent for me to purchase it monthly. I’ve already updated my standing order with the local haunt for season 2, which is mostly likely going to be the finale to Morrison’s entire run. If his time on New X-Men is anything to go on, we can expect one hell of an explosive ending.

STORY: 5/5
ARTWORK: 3.5/5 (would’ve been a 4.5 if not for Beatty’s jarring artwork)
DIALOGUE: 4.5/5

OVERALL: 13/15

BEST QUOTE: [after starting to pummel a bunch of American terrorists] “You should’ve stayed in Pennsylvania, Joe Average. We don’t have a Batman in Pennsylvania. Not yet. Welcome to Gotham.” – Batman

The Walking Dead, Part 1

NOTE: For the purposes of this review I’m covering volumes 1-5 of the hardcover collection (volumes 1-10 of the trades) since that’s what I’ve read. Presumably I’ll do a Part 2 once I’ve read the rest that’s out there so far.

Obviously, spoilers for both the book and the TV show abound.

You must’ve heard of it. I’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in the English-speaking world who hasn’t. It’s drama. It’s intrigue. It’s action. It’s motherloving zombies.

It’s The Walking Dead.

It first got my attention with the television series back in 2010. I was instantly hooked; zombies are a big enough draw for me on their own, but there was also really strong characterisation and focus on interpersonal relationships as well – so much so but without getting too soap opera-y. The six-episode span felt a bit short but a lot was packed into it, including some of the best zombie city-battle scenes I’ve ever witnessed on film. Season 2, whilst taking a bit longer to get going, was also great with the zombie eating and asshole characters, and the finale left me squealing with joy for what would happen in Season 3 – because I’d read the comics up to that point.

I only got a hold of the first hardcover volume of the comic series about a month or so ago, as the second season was wrapping up, and it’s a testament to the comic’s ability to suck me in like milo in a drinking straw that I’ve since read five volumes’ worth of story in a short space of time amongst work, university and saving the world from the brainwashed victims of the Kardashian Klan.

The premise is fairly simple from the beginning; Rick Grimes, local sheriff, is shot and near-fatally wounded during an attack on some bad guys. He wakes up in hospital roughly a month later to find the world he knew has been infested with the undead, everyone he knew is either dead or has just disappeared, and society is in a total shambles. Thus Rick begins an odyssey across the country to find some semblance of normalcy and the possible whereabouts on his family.

That’s the first issue.

From there the plot takes more turns than a jittery driving student with Parkinson’s. There’s a farm, a prison, copious limb removal (and not just of the undead), and a really freakin’ high body count. Seriously. This story has the highest main character attrition rate I’ve seen since the remake of Battlestar Galactica. Unless your favourite character is Rick, don’t get too attached to the characters – chances are they’ll be dead in a few issues.

While I already knew most of the first volume from having watched the TV series, the latter volumes are nicely varied, if a little slow in some places. There are a number of moments – usually at the end of a volume – that leave you on the edge of your seat, and the suspense captured is one that’s a rarity among comic books these days. The ‘anyone can die’ maxim really leaves you with a sense of vulnerability; nobody in the group is safe, and everyone’s a target. It keeps the atmosphere tense and exciting, and ensures that the foregone conclusion of “Oh, they’ve been with the series since issue 1, they won’t die until the very end” is impossible.

On the flip-side of that coin, however, it does make it hard – especially in the fourth volume – to really engage with a character you know will die shortly. The high mortality rate sometimes feels like some characters are only killed off for the sake of dying, rather than for dramatic appeal, and there’s a strong sense with many of the newly-introduced characters that they’re only there as cannon fodder later on. The hardest-hitting deaths are the well-characterised ones, including 3 very memorable – and tear-jerking – examples in Volume 4. The less well-done ones – including two deaths in Volume 2 that came out of nowhere – feel sometimes like they’re only there for shits and giggles, which can detract from the atmosphere a bit.

As well as that, there are a few non sequitur subplots added that contribute little to the story over all and in most cases come right out of left field to pad out time in the narrative. The most annoying part of this is that most of them aren’t given an appropriate conclusion, left hanging either because the characters involved died or the writer just got bored of it.

On top of the above, the prison arc – which dominates 3 hardcovers’ worth of narrative – does drag a little in the middle, and makes me a little apprehensive about how it’ll be represented in the TV series since it seems to remain mostly in the same place the whole time. There is an arc where Rick and a couple of others go exploring – incidentally meeting the most horrific comic book villain I’ve ever read – but for the most part it’s prison orange uniforms and jail cells at night. Hopefully they’ll find some way to add variety when this comes about in the TV series, or else I’ll be seeing orange jumpsuits in my dreams every night for a few months.

The character interactions are what lie at the twisted, depressingly black heart of the story. One of the masterstrokes that Robert Kirkman nails is his ability to flesh out almost every character the protagonists come across, whether for good or evil; bit part players that only have one or two scenes are, for the most part, expanded on and given unique and engaging personalities (some more than others). For example, I dare you not to feel a bit sad when Alice the hot prison nurse dies. Seriously, she made shorts. They were cute. Oh, and she was a stressed-out flawed character with believable struggles and a strong moral core, but it’s the shorts she’ll mostly be remembered for.

The artwork is black and white, and while this didn’t act as a draw card for me early on it’s definitely grown on me. The first half of Volume 1 feels a bit cartoonish in terms of the art design, but as the series progress Charlie Adlard and Cliff Rathburn allow the art to evolve and become grittier and grungier. By the end of Volume 5 it very much puts me in my of people like Alex Maleev and Michael Lark, but the fact that this is achieved with only black and white colouring makes it, in my mind, a bit uniquer. It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but you’ve gotta love the way they can make grey shading look like an exploding jugular vein now and then.

The dialogue is like Neo from The Matrix‘s compassion for humanity; one of its biggest strengths and greatest weaknesses at the same time. The first volume seems to skip over meaningful dialogue and focus mainly on the action – which is alright, since it’s establishing the premise – but later volumes alternate between deep, evocative narrative between characters and forced, glurgy dialogue that was probably nicked from an unfilmed Days Of Our Lives script. I’d say after 5 volumes it’s about a 50/50 split as to how much of both is in the series so far – for instance, most of the conversations between Rick and Tyreese come off as natural and intuitive, and you really get a sense of them being good friends despite all the shit that goes down between them. On the other hand, most of the dialogue between Rick and Abraham (the latter of whom is currently my favourite character) comes off as two high-schoolers bickering over something inane. For most of Volume 5 their dialogue consists mostly of “Dick”, “Ass” (as in “you are a”), or, regularly in Abraham’s case, “FUCK”. They do reach a bit of an equilibrium by the end, but I still feel like I’m watching The O.C. rather than a zombie apocalypse when they fight.

On the whole, though, it’s certainly a unique take on a zombie holocaust and it should go down in history as one of the most memorable graphic novels ever. Make sure to watch Seasons 1 and 2 of the show first, mind, as there are plenty of really good plot twists that would be spoiled by the comic otherwise.

Oh, and stay away from Wikipedia.

STORY: 5/5
ARTWORK: 4/5
DIALOGUE: 3/5

OVERALL: 12/15

BEST QUOTE: “[upon being told Christmas is tomorrow] Don’t tell anyone! Do you hear me? I don’t want anyone to know! I don’t want to have to explain to my son that on top of all this other shit…Santa can’t find him. Let’s just skip Christmas this year, ok?” – Rick Grimes