Dark Avengers

One of the most daring – and, in the end, disastrous – moves that the pre-NOW Marvel universe made was the decision to knock most of its heroes out for a year. This wasn’t because they’d all appeared to die, or been captured by aliens who needed pointers on the finer aspects of table tennis. It was because the world hated them, in the wake of a supreme cock-up that saw many die and the world fall to its knees during the super-event clusterfluff that was Secret Invasion.

In the aftermath of the Skrull invasion, and the perceived failure of the Avengers (and Tony Stark in particular) to keep everyone safe, America at large rejected its star-spangled saviours in favour of the real hero of that conflict. Unfortunately for America, that hero was Norman Osborn. You may know him better as the Green Goblin – yes, that Green Goblin.

Osborn manipulated the Skrull situation to his advantage by appearing to find a weakness in their defences and exploiting it, killing the Skrull queen and saving Earth for another week. The President appointed him the head of security for the US, giving him the approval to run his own team of Avengers with little to no judicial oversight. Unfortunately for America (again), that Avengers team was composed of a bunch of supervillains masquerading as heroes. They were led by Osborn himself in the guise of Iron Patriot, a flag-painted armour “screw-you” to both Iron Man and the recently-deceased Captain America.

That’s where we find ourselves when Dark Avengers opens. See, aren’t I nice for saving you a trip to Wikipedia?

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I’ve oft-referenced Dark Avengers as the defining villain protagonist superhero book a few times on this site, so I figure it’s high time I actually explain why. I know a lot of people will disagree with me, and quite a few more actually view the book with disdain especially in comparison to contemporary efforts at making villains and extremely grey anti-heroes the center of the action. Fair enough, Dark Avengers ain’t for everybody. As a book penned by Brian Bendis, it’s almost a given that it’ll prove divisive. God knows I’ve thrown stones in that direction often enough.

The thing is, Dark Avengers may well be my favourite Brian Bendis book. At least, it becomes my favourite if you disregard most of the plot and the rest of the Marvel Universe at large. So what I’m saying is it’s a good book if you ignore three quarters of it.

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The spine of the story comes from my summary above; Norman Osborn leads an Avengers team that nicks inspiration from the Thunderbolts by being comprised of villains. Obviously bad things happen to them and lots of other people, and there’s the occasional hijacking of the story’s main arc whenever a bigger character’s story gets in the way (with Iron Man and his World’s Most Wanted being the biggest source of that).

It’s damn hard to write an anti-hero story with a character we can empathise with. Sympathetic protagonism is key to a well-written story; if you hate your hero, why bother watching? Granted, there’s the flipside of the coin where a villainous protagonist exists to fail prolifically and allow us to experience the kind of schadenfreude we reserve for falling trapeze artists and people forced to eat dog food.

dark avengers 2Depending on how you look at it, Dark Avengers had to balance between both those poles. It needed a story good enough to keep us invested in its main characters, but it also had to keep them as the mostly reprehensible, outright evil forces they’d been written as since time immemorial so as to avoid disingenuous characterisations. That’s one tough act to pull, and if you ignore the actual plot of the book then Dark Avengers pulls that off with precision.

What do I mean by excising the plot? Well, the actual “adventures” – for lack of a better word – that the Dark Avengers embark on are mostly either boring, ridiculous or both. The initial conflict involving Dr. Doom and Morgana le Fay is meaningless to those unfamiliar with either character or jarring to those of us expecting more of the US security-based narrative the premise offered at its opening. The subsequent battle with Molecule Man in the second story arc is more of the same. Things only really come together during the book’s third act, tying directly into Siege and its aftermath, so if nothing else it’s worth it to give that event title a bit more context.

Instead of the plot, we focus on the characters. Each of the Dark Avengers – including completely morally bankrupt assholes like Bullseye – gets a turn for fleshing out and characterisation. Yes, they’re still evil (or at best anti-heroic, as in the case of Ares and Moonstone), but they’re given extra facets. They’re made into people rather than mask-wearing mass murderers. They’ve got hopes and dreams, however lethal and despicable some might be. A couple are even a little repentant of their villainous modus operandi, though that’s the exception rather than the rule.

When Brian Bendis finds a great property that suits his talents, he can literally make magic. I hold up his Daredevil as the quintessential run of the character, expertly capturing tone, character and dialogue whilst never sacrificing innovation or improvement, and when it comes to the more grounded character moments of Dark Avengers it’s like watching a much better, more engaged and well-written version of Seinfeld or Mad Men. High praise, yes, and some may not agree, but it really is that damn good. The breakfast scenes between characters – something I wouldn’t expect anyone to write with characters like Venom and the Sentry at the table – are absolute gold, particularly because it’s a slice-of-life element so jarringly juxtaposed against both the evil protagonists and the larger-than-life setting that is the Marvel universe.

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The main reason this succeeds is the dialogue. Bendis has a voice for everyone, and everyone’s voice is consistent through Bendis. As with my Superior Foes review, I’m not sure if the way the characters are written here jives with how they were written decades ago, but who cares? As its own microcosm Dark Avengers has some truly excellent dialogue, character banter, one-liners and introspective thought bubbles for each of its characters in a way that makes them feel distinct and play off each other well. Character dynamics are front and centre when the plot’s ignored, something to the book’s credit, and writing these villains in a way that actually makes me sympathise with a few (on occasion) is something no other book has been able to pull off to a similar degree since. The brevitous run of 16 issues compared to other Avengers titles also aids both character arcs being tight and actions having distinct and quickly-recognisable consequences, rather than having a plot point appear to be fulfilled seven years down the track.

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Though as I said, the actual plot until the 2/3 mark is mostly forgettable. There are some cool visuals throughout courtesy of a rotating cadre of artists, predominantly Mike Deodato, but on the whole the “action” scenes aren’t the main Dark Avengers draw card. Hell, the latter tie-in to Siege isn’t even the major reason to read it, though as I mentioned it’s definitely worth checking out on its own merits. No, the strength of Dark Avengers lies in making villain protagonists sympathetic if not likeable, and through having them act as people – particularly in those aforementioned breakfast scenes – rather than antagonistic ciphers. Coming at a time when most cape-and-cowl fare was facing a bit of a slump through lack of good direction and a massive case of event fatigue, the book stood out as something different. Existing in an age where moral grey is the colour of choice for our colourful heroes, the book stands out as something lasting.

Brian Bendis divides fan groups like almost no other writer, being at once an excellent handler of maturer content and also a complete and utter hack when given the wrong tools to work with. Dark Avengers is firmly in the former category, and while others might disagree with me as to the success or failure of the text in terms of its content and character, I still point to it as the main villain protagonist yardstick.

That is, I’ll point to it until we get a Joker series written by Grant Morrison. Because no amount of anti-heroes in the world could possibly beat Grant Morrison writer a Joker series.

 
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PUBLISHER: MARVEL COMICS

 

 

The Superior Foes of Spider-Man: Getting the Band Back Together

Superhero books can be funny, dammit.

You know how much I’ve read in cape-and-cowl-land recently that’s just so dour, bleak and straight-faced when it’s not being entirely disappointing? Might be the odd quip here and there, maybe an ape of a line Joss Whedon once wrote with funnier context, but on the whole it just gets so serious, you guys.

To that end, I loved the absolute basmeezus out of The Superior Foes of Spider-Man. Because goddamn is it funny.

Ok, no more italics. You get the emphasis.

I’m not preambling much more than has already been done: Superior Foes was awesome. It’s a refreshing breath of brevity that you should all go out and read now. You should doubly read it if you’re into villain protagonist stories, coz this might be the best since my personally-lauded favourite, Dark Avengers.

Yes, it is that good.

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Superior Foes borrows heavily from an excellent episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation called “Lower Decks”. Both narratives focus on lower-level members of both casts, with Starfleet cadets far beneath the command-level protagonists in the latter, and washed-up wannabe villains who are very poor at their jobs in the former.

After realising they suck at fighting the new and improved Spider-Man, a team of nemeses led by Aussie criminal Boomerang (not to be confused with Aussie criminal and Flash villain Captain Boomerang, coz he’s a Captain, see) set off to make a name for themselves as the titular Superior Foes. Problem is, every Foe hates each other almost as much as they hate one’s favourite neighbourhood webslinger. This’d normally be the part where they eventually get over their individual animosities and gang up to splatter that spider. Instead, they’d rather just keep on hating each other.

Let me tell you, it is delicious to watch each supervillain try to screw the others over. Schadenfreude it may be, but I don’t care.

spider foes 1The team come across as less Superior Foes and more Whingy Kids Who Hate Each Other (though that’d be a much harder title to fit on a business card). The comedic value stems from shenanigans between the five main characters whilst trying to do actual villainous things, like robbing a convenience store or breaking into a hideout, with a distinct Road Runner/Wile E Coyote feel. Primary jerk-ass awarding goes to principle character Boomerang, who manages to pull nice fast ones on the reader by appearing to slowly reform himself through character development when in reality he’s still a jerk-ass. Old habits, right?

Whether you engage enough with the anti-heroic (at best) protagonists will rely, at least in part, on your familiarity with Marvel canon. Both the villains themselves and a vast supporting cast are plumbed from the D-List depths of Marvel’s merry misfits, though the book does a great job at both brevitous introductions and fitting both categories into context. Coming from someone who only knew one character (being Shocker) before reading this story, Superior Foes does a masterful job of providing reasons to care for these characters most of us haven’t met in a remarkably short space of time. That’s a feat in and of itself.

spider foes 4Also, sing hallelujah and pickpocket each other in thanks – the book barely relies on the Superior grumpyface it’s named after. I don’t think Spidey-Ock himself actually makes an appearance besides a brief flashback at the start and the odd infrequent mention from characters throughout. I was worried this’d kinda be like the current runs of Nightwing and Batgirl, where satellite characters with their own interesting narratives exist mainly to be roped into a story for the bigger heroes and villains that follow on from. Besides, I need more Superior Spidey like I need a kidney infection.

Tying into Nick Spencer’s excellent story is artwork by Steve Lieber. It’s exactly the kind of stripped-down (I’d almost go so far as to say ‘acoustic’, but that’s not a comicky word) affair the book needs, with pretty illustrations but not so pretty that they detract attention from the story. Kinda reminds me of David Aja of Hawkeye fame a little bit, which is never a bad comparison. This isn’t a narrative requiring a lot of visual depth or intricacy, and Lieber does the best work possible for said amount of deep-ness. At times the maskless facial expressions of characters can look a bit samey, and having illustrations not reliant on lots of detail might leave you a little bored at times, but on the whole it does the job well.

Scripting is excellent. As I said, the only character I was even partly familiar with before this book was Shocker, and I remember him being a whole lot more psychotic and crazy than the reserved, human character the book presents (or spider foes 2maybe I’m mixing him up with Electro again). I mention this because I’m not sure if the protagonists were like this before Spencer got his hands on them, but they’re definitely written here in a way that feels deeply entrenched in a clear writerly vision of feel and characterisation. It’s pretty obvious Spencer’s taken a lot of time to flesh them out properly and make their alternating personalities work effortlessly for character dynamics, and this is done without any of the protagonists feeling one-note or token (though Beetle could probably do with a bit more variance when Volume 2 rolls around – there’s only so much the social-media-addicted, devil-may-care attitude works consistently).

At the end of all that rambling, you’ve got a book that’s funny, warm (when needed) and a welcome relief from the endless cavalcade of cape-fare that’s deep, dark and depressing. The Superior Foes of Spider-Man was excellent almost without trying, and a damn sight better than the mothership book it orbits.

Now that I’ve rediscovered what it means to have fun again, let me go smell some daisies before the gritty storytelling returns.

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PUBLISHER: MARVEL COMICS

STORY: 5/5

ARTWORK: 3.5/5

DIALOGUE: 4.5/5

OVERALL: 13/15

BEST QUOTE: “Not many women out there can resist the old Myers charm. Not with my Damon-esque boyish looks, Jackman-esque physique and Fassbender-esque…fashion sense.” – Boomerang

Pretty Deadly, Volume 1

Ongoing readers of my weekly dalliances into the world of faux-critiquing will know I like stories where not everything is spelled out. Writers like Jonathan Hickman and Grant Morrison pen stories that leave gaps in connecting story threads or ideas, inviting readers to join the dots themselves. Look at elements in Batman Incorporated: the frenetic pacing of panels, lack of much expository dialogue and brief mentions of elements that are linked (like the Ourobouros and Leviathan) prompted readers to realise things themselves without too much hand-holding. It’s an appealing style that I like when reading stories with depth and a lot of moving parts.

It’s also a style that can completely hamstring a book when there’s not enough hand-holding occurring. Giving us bits and pieces without enough context to solve the puzzles or realise settings ourselves isn’t enough to keep a reader’s interest. This is something that, until the last issue of the book, I was fairly sure Pretty Deadly would completely succumb to.

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The gothic fantasy by way of a Sergio Leone film tells the story of Death’s daughter, Ginny, who is a bounty hunter-type figure hunting down Sissy, the pre-teen unassuming spawn of some devil blood ritual shenanigans. Assisting (or impeding) Ginny’s quest is Fox the Mason, a big blindfolded dude who’s secretly protecting the devil spawn child in question, Johnny, a womanising bounty hunter assisted by a talking raven called Molly, and Big Alice, an albino hunter who might also be something supernatural and who turns into a cloud of butterflies when killed. Because, don’t we all?

Now, everything I’ve just put in the description above sounds intriguing, right? It’s especially so when you keep in mind the writer is Kelly Sue DeConnick – penwoman of the superb Captain Marvel books – and the artist is Emma Rios – whose weird, off-kilter artwork didn’t work so much for In Pursuit of Flight but is perfectly suited for a gothic fantasy western where Death has a head made from an armadillo’s skull.

What prevents the book from an immediate gold-starring is a distinct lack of context. From the off, very little is explained about who our protagonists are, what they’re after, how they know each other and why the reader should care. pretty deadly 3Granted, the impetus for Ginny’s hunt is explained through an overly-expositional kind of Western slam poetry delivered by Fox and Sissy to a crowd of rapt listeners, but apart from that there’s so little explanation for anything going on that I couldn’t help but feel adrift in a flood of scenes and dialogue. There’s no connective tissue; is Fox friends with Ginny, or do they hate each other? Who’s the woman Death keeps imprisoned in his subterranean hell? Why can’t she escape? Why does Alice hate Ginny if they both work for Death? Is the story Fox and Sissy tell at the beginning literally an exposition on Ginny’s origin, or are elements exaggerated to make it a story rather than a recounting? What’s the debt Fox owes Sarah, the lady who harbours him and Sissy when Death’s agents start chasing them?

As I said, I can dig stories where not everything is handed to the reader on a platter, but a little something to ground us in the story’s goings-on would’ve been nice. There’s far too much emphasis on past events and lack of explanation for things to be hand-waved as unimportant – like that debt Fox owes, lingered on for too long to be convenient to the plot but not long enough to explain its importance – and most of it’s the kind of stuff that’s necessary for even the most elementary understanding of events. A bit more sinew might’ve made the skeleton move a bit less awkwardly, and though there is (some) explanation of things by story’s end I still feel that DeConnick could’ve given us just a little bit more. I considered putting the book down halfway through, which is never a good sign in itself, but when it’s written by an author I really enjoy and respect that makes it a double Red Alert.

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The other big problem Pretty Deadly deals with is a lack of distinct protagonist. No-one – literally – is given enough development or time in the sun to stand out as the principle character, or even one of an ensemble of them. The closest we’d probably get is Sissy, but considering she spends most of the story either cowering in fear or, y’know, being a kid, it makes it as hard to take her as a protagonist as it was to handle Anakin Skywalker in the Star Wars prequels. Ginny certainly gets a fair amount of attention both on-panel and in the story’s myth arc, but isn’t fleshed out or followed nearly enough to be the closest thing we have to a hero. Similarly, Fox takes centre stage quite a bit, but a plot development towards the book’s end casts doubt on his long-term involvement with the series. Wannabe desperado Johnny might be it, but after the opening chapters his presence kinda fades into the background a bit. I guess maybe we should call the arid desert landscape itself the protagonist, since it’s considerably more present and fleshed than the other inhabitants that occupy its flat and well-tramped surface.

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Both these issues lead me to conclude Pretty Deadly should be read the same way one reads an H.P. Lovecraft story: you’re here for the setting, the bad guy, and the tone. The protagonist of most stories in the Cthulhu Mythos is secondary to either Cthulhu himself (or whichever otherworldly abomination is present) or the dark, gothic horror atmosphere the story pumps into your brain like reverse-dopamine. You read a story to get the sh*t shocked from you, not to follow the ongoing struggle of a perfectly sane man who slowly slips into madness at the first sign of rats in the walls. That’s not a bad way to write a story, but it’s best to declare those intentions up front and not lead readers on expecting some depth to the characters when little is present.

Linked to this latter point is the dialogue. As I said, there’s little connective tissue between events on-page and what’s come before, so dialogue is informed by this lack of information. Characters speak to each other without exposition on past events, which is a double-edged sword; they don’t sound like unreal robots offering plot information the other character knows but the reader doesn’t, but they do sound like people conversing in a manner of shared understanding. The Western setting also means many characters speak in clipped sentences, lacking words, ending letters and proper sentence structure in places. I’m a big fan of Western dialogue, so while subjectively I lapped that up (as much as one can without full in-story context) objectively you may find it difficult to get into. Put it this way – if you made it through the “Sloosha’s Hollow” chapter of Cloud Atlas without shoving the book in a blender, you’ll dig this.

So I guess you’d call Pretty Deadly a predominantly atmospheric piece. As I said that’s not a bad thing in and of itself but the opening premise of the story, and constant switching between characters who aren’t as shallow as a teaspoon but lack the depth of a glass of water, lends itself to a narrative significantly different from the one in your hands.

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Fortunately, the one thing that works gangbusters for that different narrative is the artwork. You may recall in my review of DeConnick’s previous Captain Marvel books that I was not a fan of Emma Rios’s artwork; I opine hers and fellow artists Dexter Soy and Filipe Andrade’s work would’ve functioned better in a surreal, off-kilter story that better matches their particular style of art. And lo, have I been proven right! Rios is in top form on Pretty Deadly, her bleeding together of background colour and character details evoking the harsh pencils and expressive stylings of Alex Maleev and Greg Capullo. The costumes not only look awesome but also provide plenty of cosplay fuel. The darker, gothic elements – particularly Death and all his friends – have inspired designs, colouring and form. If nothing else, Pretty Deadly is a pretty pretty book.

Ugh. Enough with the puns, Christopher.

At the end of the day I can offer Pretty Deadly as a recommendation, and it certainly lives up to claimants who trumpet it being different and structurally daring. As much as I ended up enjoying it, I do append a massive asterisk to the front cover for any planning to dive in: be aware of the book you’re about to read. This is not a superhero comic, nor is it a straight Western. It is not The Sandman, nor is it The Walking Dead. It’s a different animal to almost anything I’ve ever read, for better and worse, and you owe it to yourself for the experience alone.

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PUBLISHER: IMAGE COMICS

STORY: 3/5

ARTWORK: 5/5

DIALOGUE: 3/5

OVERALL: 11/15

BEST QUOTE: “If you done been wronged, say her name, sing this song – Ginny rides for you on the wind, my child. Death rides on the wind.” – Sissy

X-Men: No More Humans

“We call it a day, then. Back off, and pretend this never happened.”

– Wolverine


 

The above quote, from the penultimate page of X-Men: No More Humans, says everything I could possibly say in a whole review, succinctly boiled down to one indelible sentence.

If there ever were a superhero franchise hit hard by too many event titles, it’s the X-Men. They got bitch-slapped by the clusterfluffs of Avengers vs. X-Men, SchismAge of Ultron and Battle of the Atom. (the latter of which, despite having not read myself, has been described to me as worse than broken needle acupuncture.) It’s just never been the same for them since. At some point during that cavalcade of status quo shifts, maybe something broke. A gear lever snapped from its box, or a cog fell out of the wrong place. Because ever since then, I feel it’s just misstepped more often than a caffeine addict on a tightrope.

Sure, we got the anti-hero-but-maybe-villain-centred Uncanny X-Men as a breath of fresh, salty, Bendis-penned air. We were also slapped with its sister series All-New X-Men which, despite the pleas of several readers who claim that “No, really, it got better later!”, I have no interest in returning to unless accompanied by a litre bottle of Captain Morgan and a hunting knife. And don’t get me started on the plain ol’ mediocrities of the new Uncanny X-Force and A + X. Point is, the X-Men have kind of gone the way that the latter-day Justice League books have traveled; once great, going nowhere, and probably only worth purchasing if your canary’s cage needs a poop-liner.

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So consider the onus No More Humans had before it even left the gate. Penned by Mike Carey – sterling writer of The Unwritten – and illustrated by Salvador Larroca – artist behind Matt Fraction’s landmark Invincible Iron Man run. Set within current canon, mostly disregarding the stupider elements of Brian Bendis’s current “X-Men from the past” crap, and with a story that features a role-reversal of the impactful “no more mutants” premise that ended House of M almost a decade ago. For bonus points, it’s a story told from start-to-finish in an OGN (Original Graphic Novel) format, meaning the flow isn’t interrupted every twenty pages for a story collected from half-a-dozen single issues.

The ingredients were all there for something truly excellent, that could make me give a toss about Marvel’s mutantkind again. Instead, to use a horrible pun, No More Humans tells me I should read “no more X-Men” for the foreseeable future.

Yeah, I just read that again. Wasn’t any less lame the second time.

The story presents a world suddenly devoid of humans, leaving only mutants behind. There’s a distinct influence from FlashForward, of all things, in the opening scenes where planes being flown by humans, cars being driven by humans and buildings being inhabited by humans all happen to crash, pile-up and become abandoned, respectively.

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I admit, the early pages had me intrigued; for the longest time the X-Men have dealt with oppression at the hands of those homo sapiens idiots, so why not see if they can claim the Earth as their own? We could be faced with a narrative challenging the core ideas behind natural selection, survival of the fittest, and see a changed world inherited by those whom we’ve marginalised for decades. Ideologies could fracture and give rise to nations born from the several hundred people left standing on our soil. Carey and Larroca had the chance to tell a story that fundamentally interrogates the concepts behind both the X-Men and real-world assumed superiority of humans as the dominant species.

Notice the operative word at the beginning of that last sentence is “had”. Instead, we have a teaspoon-shallow plot about the son of Wolverine and Mystique (maybe? Still fuzzy on that count) removing the humans so he can turn the world into a multiversal way-station for mutants from other universes. Also there’s a lot of fighting, because superhero comics, amirite?

No More Humans is not just a bad book, it’s a disappointing one. The premise is so rich with narrative potential that I was dubious no more humans 3the idea would hold water in the Spartan space of a 160 page hardcover. It’s the kind of idea I’d love to have seen fully unpacked over a few books, or maybe an ongoing in a separate universe like what the Ultimates Comics line does. As it is, not even half of the ideas I’ve just opined are even hinted at, let along explored in any great detail, and we’re more concerned with a bunch of techno-babble, a zombie scientist and the aforementioned Wolvie-Mystie son getting aggro. It’s kind of like opening up Giorgio Agamben’s State of Exception and finding a bunch of mad libs instead of the dense material you were hoping for.

Like Avengers: Endless Wartime before it, the story doesn’t make anything good out of the OGN format. As is, the narrative could’ve managed to be told in 2 single issues. It’s got less of a film-in-a-book feel than what Endless Wartime had, but in exchange it just meanders and doesn’t delve as deeply as it could’ve.

The shallow execution isn’t helped by dialogue that’s just plain when it’s not just plain bad; the best quote at the bottom was literally the only slightly-funny quip I read that didn’t make my palm slap my forehead. This doesn’t really feel like it’s Mike Carey’s writing at all, come to think of it. His work on The Unwritten is fantastic, and characters have distinct voices with his words put to page. Everyone here feels flimsy, ill-defined and overly-reliant on character work that other writers have done better. Wolverine growls, Cyclops sounds prudish, Beast is the resident tech guy and speaks in that lingo, etc. Nothing remarkable, and especially disappointing coming from a writer of Carey’s caliber.

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To add insult to injury, Salvador Larroca’s artwork is equally tepid. Let me just state unequivocably that his Iron Man work was bloody gorgeous; rich tones, great use of shadows, facial expressions masterfully executed, and colours leaping off the page when needed to. His work on No More Humans almost feels like something a computerised artwork production program might make, and is a far cry from the expressive work I’ve seen previously. Colours are just there. Character faces are bland, uninteresting and uninspired. Action scenes are overly cluttered. Everyone’s either frowning, grimacing or (in the main villain’s case) creepy smiling. It’s standard, unengaging and lacklustre.

But, dear readers, all these previously mentioned faults pale in comparison to the colossal one No More Humans makes at its conclusion. At this point I shall issue a SPOILER WARNING for anyone brave enough to have made it this far through my vitriolic deconstruction.

Remember that quote at the start of this review? That seems to have been the unconsciously-held mission statement that Carey and Larroca subscribed to when writing this book. Why I say so? Because, during the final overly-complicated dust-up between our X-Heroes and X-Villains, the ultimate deus ex machina is played.

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The Phoenix shows up. Yes, that Phoenix, the one that made Jean Grey go all kooky and homicidal. Oh wait, sorry, it’s a Phoenix from another universe. And it literally retcons everything that’s happened in the story so far, restores the humans to the Earth and returns each mutant from another universe to their home. There’s also a point explicitly made by the characters that, since the humans will be restored to the physical place they were when they were taken, those thousands who were in planes that have fallen from the sky or driving cars that have crashed will appear in mid-air or inside twenty-car pile-ups, respectively. What little impact this may have had is removed when the Phoenix basically says “Pffft, please. The laws of physics are my bitch,” right before restoring all to life with no ill effects.

Yeah, I’m with you Wolverine. Let’s just pretend this story never happened, because clearly the writer, the artist and the editorial team are intent on doing so.

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PUBLISHER: MARVEL COMICS

STORY: 1.5/5

ARTWORK: 2.5/5

DIALOGUE: 2/5

OVERALL: 6/15

BEST QUOTE: “Let me surf this non-digital interface and I’ll retrieve that information for you before you can recite the complete works of Shakespeare.” – Beast

Batman – Zero Year, Book 1: Secret City

If there’s one thing the current cinematic canon of both DC and Marvel’s movie ‘verses have in abundance, it’s origin stories. Seriously, I think I’ve seen the on-screen genesis of Spider-Man more times than I’ve read my favourite novel. Considering that novel’s spine looks like vertical bars of television static, that’s saying a lot.

Comics are also fond of origin stories, and not really for the reasons one would assume. Nine times out of ten, it’s to rope in the newbies with old stories updated to modern settings; you see Andrew Garfield put on the leotard, you want to read some Spider-Man. But comics canon is long, and confusing, and full of inconsistencies, and completely alienating to non-readers! What do you do? Put out an updated origin story, guaranteed to sell to new folk and piss off the oldies, and watch the money and vitriol flow in, respectively.

This practice enters play with things like Marvel’s overly mediocre Season One sometimes-an-origin-but-also-a-story series, and I can only assume DC’s upcoming Secret Origins monthly series will follow a similar path. You guys do know there’s such a thing as Wikipedia, right? Those overly compendious articles on famous superheroes, detailing their complete journey from rags to roof-hopping, aren’t there for giggles.

As I said, nine out of ten rebooted origins are the older stories in newer digs. But then you hit the tenth book, and it not only provides an interesting alternative to the origin story you grew up with, it also feels like an actual story told for the sake of artistic integrity that just happens to rake in the big bucks as a byproduct. If the first book of Zero Year is any indication, Scott Snyder’s retooling of Batman’s beginnings is most definitely the tenth book.

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Actually, thinking closely about it, calling Zero Year an origin story is slightly unfair. The plot’s less concerned with how Bruce gets into the actual suit than it is with what he does with it; the story shares similarities with the first film in Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy, featuring a lot of Bruce Wayne before the cape comes out, but the journey is focused on the impact Bruce’s return from the dead has on those around him rather than Bruce himself.

If anything the “origin” part of the narrative is fairly condensed compared to other works like Year One; on the subject of that work, Snyder seems to be actively distancing himself from a straight-up reinterpretation of Frank Miller’s classic opus, which can only work to his credit. You could almost slot Zero Year between Batman’s birth and subsequent first meeting with Jim Gordon and leave Year One reasonably intact, which will ensure diehard Miller fans don’t launch a crusade to torch Snyder’s home.

Once Bruce gets it in his head that the lawless, corrupt, terrorism-ridden city of Gotham needs a dude in a bat costume to sort things zero year 3out, we reach the grander plot. Y’see, if this tale belongs to anyone as a straight-out, traditional origin story, it’s actually the Riddler; Edward Nygma’s debut is a grand plan to throw the city off-balance (using a dude in a red hood who may or may not one day become the Joker). When that plan kicks into gear…well, not wishing to spoil, but the cliffhanger ending will probably leave you grasping at air until the conclusion arrives in October this year. At the very least you’ll probably shout “GODDAMMIT WHY DID YOU END IT THERE???

As yet another Scott Snyder/Greg Capullo tome, Zero Year continues the fine quality those books have exemplified for the past two-and-a-bit years. The story is tight, engaging and doesn’t lose focus. The artwork by Capullo and new addition Danny Miki is fantastic, articulate, layered and gorgeous. Dialogue is smart, though a little flat for new characters like Phillip Kane. The nods both to existing Bat-origin tales and others part of the mythos are cute, even if things like the splash-page that opens the book’s final chapter – meant to evoke the original cover of Detective Comics #27 – get a little too fanboylove-ish at times.

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I do have one asterisk to append to my review of this otherwise great title: it shouldn’t have been in the main run. Batman’s present day story ends following Death of the Family and the subsequent death of Damian Wayne, leaving our hero broken and battered. It’s interesting to see how he’ll build himself back up from the twin guns of these tribulations…and then we get what is effectively a year’s worth of issues devoted to a flashback. This does somewhat disrupt the narrative flow of Snyder and Capullo’s run, even if it is an interesting concept. I mean, if all I’ve got to go on with present-day Batman is the stuff in Detective Comics and Batman: The Dark Knight…well, that doesn’t bode real well for those of us who like seeing a character, y’know, deal with grief, rather than brush it off with another villain uppercut.

I reckon Zero Year might’ve done better if released as its own series, a limited-run event that anyone can pick up. As it stands, not only using current Batman issues but touting Secret City as Volume 4 of a run makes it unlikely that those not already onboard withzero year 4 Snyder and Capullo probably won’t jump on here. If it were a straight origin story as detailed above, meant to snare newcomers to our fair and fertile lands of frolicking superheroes, then this’d be a shot in the kneecaps. As an origin-story-but-not-really, well, I guess it works a bit better. If nothing else I guess I’m annoyed that I haven’t seen Greg Capullo’s take on Stephanie Brown yet.

On the flip-side, I suppose, this does act as something of a breather arc after the harrowing, dark tales of Death of the Family and that business with the Owls. Take Zero Year as an entertaining intermission in Snyder’s landmark run. You’ve just sat through The Empire Strikes Back, so have fun with this lighter interlude before Return of the Jedstarts up.

zero year coverPUBLISHER: DC COMICS

STORY: 4/5

ARTWORK: 4.5/5

DIALOGUE: 4/5

OVERALL: 12.5/15

BEST QUOTE: “We come here, to Gotham, because it’s transformative, this place. We come here with our dreams and the city, it looks at us with its unblinking stone eye – an eye that sees all our faults, everything we’re afraid is true about ourselves – and it says ‘Try. I dare you.’ And then Gotham stares you down, doesn’t it? More than any other city in the world, it fights you, challenges you to give up, to leave, to fall down and die. But you don’t. No. Because deep down you know – you know – that if you stand up to the challenge, if you walk through the fire, you will emerge changed. Burned down to that self you knew was there all along, the one you came here to be. The hero.” – Bruce Wayne

[VS REVIEW] – Green Lantern: Dark Days vs. Justice League: Trinity War vs. Saga, Volume 3

I’m sure when the Proto-Germanic coined the word “hundrath”, they knew it’d one day become a term used to describe the number of entries a comic review site would eventually reach. Forward thinkers, they were.

One hundred posts in anything besides a genital region is an achievement, and I’d like to take a quick sec and just thank each and every person who’s ever stumbled across this site and taken a second to look on my works, ye mighty, and despair at the rambling digressions within.

THANK YOU.

You guys are pretty awesome. And pretty. Added bonus.

So, what then to mark this slightly auspicious occasion? I could tell you how great the latest Saga turned out to be, or how completely lousy Robert Venditti’s debut on Green Lantern ended up being in complete contrast. Maybe I could even throw in some incongruous nods to Trinity War, the latest poor event offering from DC in the leadup to their year-long(ish) Forever Evil thing. Actually, wait, that sounds like a good idea. Let’s go with that.

VS REVIEW TIME!!!

I’m not even gonna try finding a connecting theme between these three; it’s less a true vs. review in the spirit of my three past attempts, but more a roundup of stuff I’ve read recently that doesn’t bear going into a full-length review. I’ve shown my hand pretty early for each book’s quality, but let’s dive in anyway. It’s our hundredth postversary, after all! Anything goes! Why not wear a lampshade as a dress and quote William Blake poetry while you read? Whatever! Go for it!

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STORY

Saga. Yup. It’s great. But you knew that already.

Our protagonists are still on the run, Prince Robot IV is still chasing them, and The Will is busy trying to get laid. Oversimplification, but trust me when I say writer Brian K. Vaughan finds a way to make that brief summary a hell of a lot more interesting in practice.

saga gl justice 2The reason Volume 3 won’t get a full review is because everything really great I could say about it has been said before. That’s not at all for one tenth of a picosecond suggesting that Volume 3 is bad, or not worth reading – it most certainly, absolutely and assuredly is not any of those things. Still a top-notch effort, still carrying a fantastic cast of characters with entertaining dynamics, adding pieces to a much larger story with each issue. It’s just the same praise as before, with different scenes and a few more characters. I won’t waste your time telling you what you already know, but Volume 3 is outstanding. Read it. Right now.

Green Lantern: Dark Days is the opposite end of the spectrum. It’s trash. Writer Robert Venditti had tremendously cavernous and fresh-smelling shoes to fill in the wake of Geoff Johns’s acclaimed run, and now those shoes smell like dead ferrets and failure. In a nutshell, the Green Lantern Corps is now led by its own maverick renegade Hal Jordan in the first of many status quo changes Venditti imposes in the first couple of issues. Only a few of these aid the story in any way, and the rest feel like subtle comments of “Huh, that Geoff Johns guy did a pretty great job when he was on this title and there is no way I’m gonna top that. Time to go in the opposite direction, all the way baby!”

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I have no problem with a creator leaving a thumbprint on a property – just look at the various iterations of Daredevil over the last decade for an example of how that can necessarily be a good thing – but Venditti adds things that I’m almost certain no-one asked for. A lacklustre villain from a parallel universe who’s also a giant? The revelation that the emotional spectrum is actually a reservoir that gets slowly depleted each time a Lantern ring gets used? Hal no longer being cocky, arrogant or lovable in any way, shape or form and breaking up with Carol Ferris?

picard facepalm

Somewhere inbetween both these books is Trinity War. A crossover between Justice League, Justice League Dark and Justice League of America (there’s enough League on display to displace the entirety of American football). At least, that’s what it’s touted as.

In broad terms, Superman kills another superhero; don’t worry, it’s a guy named Dr. Light, so it’s nobody you’ll care about if you’re not a long-term comics reader (or even if you are). As the Leagues of Legend scramble to uncover how that couldn’t possibly ever be something Superman would do without either coercion or some kind of mind control, a strange box shaped like a skull starts making superheroes do crazy things. It’s being hunted by Pandora, last seen giving the Flash a pep talk after he broke time and having incongruous and enigmatic dialogue with the Phantom Stranger. Apparently it holds the end of the world, or something.

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Trinity War‘s an event that’s more akin to a prologue than an event proper, and thus can’t really fall under the guidelines I set out a few weeks ago for how events can be awesome. A prologue to what? Another event called Forever Evil.

Sigh.

Point goes to Saga.

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ARTWORK

This one’s actually a little harder to judge; all three books have sterling illustrations. Saga continues adding to what must by now surely be an immensely impressive portfolio for artist Fiona Staples, carrying the expressive, colourful awesomefest of volumes previous.

Green Lantern‘s saving grace is its pencils and colours, with artist Billy Tan giving a look distinctive enough to be carried on its own saga gl justice 5whilst still drawing inspiration from former Green Lantern mainstays like Ivan Reis and Ethan Van Sciver. Faces are a bit of a problem, with most character’s visages looking a little generic, and the main villain, Relic, doesn’t look particularly notable for his appearance (though that may have something to do with his lack of notability in the story’s context, too). On the whole, pretty decent work.

Trinity War is a mess. It’s par for the course not only on events but on books cultivating chapters from several ongoing series – since Trinity War is made up of issues from six different titles – for there to be some disparity in art styles. It is not, however, acceptable for that disparity to be so glaring that I’m hurled away from the visuals like I’m riding a catapult.

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Let’s give it to Saga, with a note that DC might want to shoot for some more visually-engaging villains and consistency of artwork, respectively, when each book comes back for round two.

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DIALOGUE

saga gl justice 1Saga still has the crisp writing, excellent character dynamics and use of…actually, forget it, you’ve heard this before.

Green Lantern feels clunky, standard and by-the-numbers. There’s very little heart to…nah, you’ve heard that too.

And Trinity War…do I even need to bother?

 

Ok, so this crazy-ass random pancakes review seems to have gone off the rails more than it already was when it started. Why? Because I’m burnt out. I’m finding it harder and harder to give a crap about superhero comics, and even harder to be in DC’s corner when their books come out each week. Even Marvel, easily the better of the Big Two with the levity afforded their writers and editorial staff in comparison, is getting stale. Y’know I read Dark Days and Trinity War quite a while before I sat down to pretend to write something intelligent about both of them? Couldn’t be assed beforehand.

And why’s that?

We don’t want to take risks. We want to read the safe and familiar, and only ever so rarely take a chance on something that might step outside the bounds of the norm occasionally. We want more Transformers Baypocalypses. We want sequels to DreamWorks films we didn’t like the first time ’round. If a TV show’s not on HBO or called Breaking Bad, it has to be safe and homogenous and easily digestible.

And if we want superhero comics, we sure as hell don’t want strange and off-beat narratives that challenge the nature of decades-long canon. We aren’t after throwing old-hand heroes into settings diametrically opposed to their normal modus operandiWe’re surely not trying to diversify old concepts with new ideas. Of course, we can’t have anything written for them pesky girly-types, either. We aren’t trying to challenge ourselves with a broader range of reading.

We want something safe. Something stupid. Something boring. Something uninspired. Something sexist.

We’re mired, much like our superheroes who will never age, will never stay dead, and, for the foreseeable future, will never stop making money.

I sound like the world’s loudest and most obnoxious broken record when I say this, but indie comics should be top of your reading pile. Saga. Revival. Chew. Sex Criminals. Fatale. Inspired, creative, envelope-pushing books, written from a spark of innovation rather than a need for greenback. Something with heart, not numbers.

I’ve had markedly more enjoyment and engagement reading Sex Criminals a couple weeks ago than I did reading almost any superhero book that’s come out in the last two months. I got through Saga curled up on my lounge with a hot chocolate, cover-to-cover, compared to the month or so I spent reading bits and pieces of Trinity War when time allowed or I felt like something mindless and unchallenging. The number of cape-and-cowl scribes actually working to innovate the genre pales compared to the army who don’t.

So, superhero comics, consider yourselves on notice: clean up your act, get back on track, or lose yourself a reader. I want to pick up the next volume of Green Lantern and enjoy a story going in a new direction from the beloved Johns arc that preceded it. I want to dive into Justice League or Forever Evil and freaking enjoy doing so. I want to recommend this stuff to my friends again, not tell them to read the early stuff and just “forget about everything after that reboot happened”.

I want my Batman back, dammit.

Whew. Wow, that was whiny. Apologies to the two or three of you who’ve been brave enough to stick through this authorial soapbox filibuster.

Oh! Right. I need to pick a winner.

Erm…

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WINNER

And the winner of this three-way duel is…Batwoman: This Blood Is Thick. I was caught between either telling you Saga is still as brilliant as before, or giving an ironic “it wins but it’s actually terrible” award to one of the other two, so I went with a third (or fourth, in this case) option.

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So yay! Congratulations Batwoman! I can’t wait to see what happens to your engaging, creative title ne–oh. Ohhhhh.

Well, at least we still have Hawkeye.

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Thanks to everyone who’s read my work; first-timers and long-runners, casuals and die-hards, those who were there at the start and those who are here ’til the end. These reviews wouldn’t have made it to 100 posts without you lot reading, liking and condemning (where applicable).

Chris Kills Comics <3’s you all. Here’s to the next 100!

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PUBLISHER: IMAGE COMICS

STORY: 5/5

ARTWORK: 4.5/5

DIALOGUE: 5/5

OVERALL: 14.5/15

BEST QUOTE: “Would one of you overgrown condom failures kindly remove the dead f***ing dragon from my runway?” – Countess Robot X

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PUBLISHER: DC COMICS

STORY: 2.5/5

ARTWORK: 2/5

DIALOGUE: 2.5/5

OVERALL: 7/15

BEST QUOTE: “The boy and I are swapping voices for a bit. I sound like Squeaky, here, he gets to try on me charming baritone. Oh, and I hold onto his special word.” – John Constantine

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PUBLISHER: DC COMICS

STORY: 1/5

ARTWORK: 3.5/5

DIALOGUE: 2/5

OVERALL: 6.5/15

BEST QUOTE: “All will be well.” – Saint Walker (yes, the dialogue is so bad I had to use a catch-phrase first coined years ago. Thank God it was actually in this book, or this section’d be blank)

Captain America: Loose Nuke

I’m going to assume most of the civilised world has taken two-and-a-half-hours out of their week at some point to see Captain America: The Winter Soldier. If you haven’t, might be time to turn off the soap operas and go for a walk.

The film does much what the original book (and its subsequent run) did to revitalise Cap in the modern world, presenting an old-world relic with time-appropriate values who gets introduced to the grimier setting of the present. Rather than abject patriotism and a recognisable threat, Cap now contends with murky politics and enemies both within and outside the country he wears as his sigil. I loved the film, based on a book that literally both got me interested in the character and helped form parts of my Honours thesis for my Bachelor’s degree, and it went a long way to reinforce my love of everyone’s favourite Star-Spangled Man.

But if Winter Soldier was many steps in the right direction, Loose Nuke takes most of them back, takes a few more, then leaps off the diving board into a pool of frozen disappointment.

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Fresh from having returned after the harrowing events of Dimension Z, Cap once again finds himself the figurative “man out of time”; twelve years have passed for him in DmZ whilst only a few minutes elapsed for those in the real world. The grittier soldier Cap forged himself into within Dimension Z out of necessity is far removed from the (relatively) more peaceful setting of present-day New York. How can he go back to the life he had here, after already spending years getting over his time as a Capsicle following World War II, when everything seems so radically different after over a decade spent fighting?

Apparently the answer is to go Guy Fawkes by starting a bonfire made of your old possessions and try to start anew. If only all problems could be solved with such finality; I would imagine the night air would blaze with the smell of burning credit cards.

Believe it or not, the above summary only covers the first chapter of Loose Nuke; a story built around that concept could be an introspective interrogation of both Cap and his place in the world, potentially from a slightly new angle. I’d’ve been much happier with that than what I was slapped in the face with instead.

loose nuke 3Y’see, there’s a new enemy (or, rather, an old one, but I’ll get to that in a bit) running around Russia with the American flag tattooed on his face. He’s called Nuke, he has a best friend on his arm called Minigun who he never leaves the house without, and he’s fighting “for our boys”; that is, taking down them pesky Red commies because ‘MURICA, Y’ALL.

Ok, maybe I’m being a bit harsh. Loose Nuke isn’t a bad book the way Thunderbolts was a bad book, but it’s definitely several steps below the decent work writer Rick Remender did with the Dimension Z saga. Cap doesn’t even meet Nuke for nearly half of the book, and when he does their fight is ridiculously anticlimactic. The overblown robot vs. giant Cap fight in Captain America: Reborn wasn’t as BS as Cap vs. Nuke was. So there’s that.

My problem overall with the book is that it’s both treading old ground and going in a new direction, and both simultaneous actions are at odds with each other. As noted above Cap’s trying to adjust to life in a displaced world, which has practically been the character’s hallmark since he joined the Avengers in 1963, but he’s also surging forward with his own ideals and trumpeting his idealism as a standard we should look up to (the latter used egregiously during a final conversation with Nuke). He’s lamenting the loss of a loved one (Peggy Carter in ’63, Sharon Carter now) and also possibly moving forward with another (Sharon, now Jet Black Zola). All we need now is for him to meet his end on the steps of a courthouse after a civil war with Thor and we’ve got an almost perfect symmetry.

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Loose Nuke‘s repetition syndrome also manifests in the titular antagonist; Nuke is a layover from the old Weapon Plus project that gave powers to Cap, Wolverine and a bunch of other killing machines. As such, he’s the pawn of a bigger bad guy that’s defrosted him with his old world values so they can point towards enemy and unleash hell. If you didn’t immediately recognise Nuke’s an old leftover from early American jingoism thanks to that bloody tattoo on his noggin, you probably don’t have a sore face of your own from the facepalming that caused me to undergo when reading it.

Old Weapon Plus and Captain America knock-offs returning in present day as murderous fish out of water has been done before. Ed Brubaker’s run did that a lot to great effect, ending with a final issue devoted to that ideal as something both romantic and loose nuke 1disastrous. Here, it seems Remender misses the nuanced way these old world relics can be brought back in a tragic manner, their diehard love of America juxtaposed with the complexities of the present day and how both are incongruous. Instead, Remender seems more concerned with heavy-handed, blatant dialogue conversely about how America is frikkin’ awesome (from Nuke) and how America is a wretched hive of scum and villainy (from Nuke’s Asian boss – which also seems quite on the nose). The politics of Loose Nuke are on full display, for better or worse.

On that subject, dialogue’s either awful or just there. I had a hard time finding a Best Quote for below, since most of what’s said is either too plain to stand out or far too terrible to warrant remembering. There’s no subtlety to any of this; Cap’s dialogue after going back to his apartment and Guy Fawkes’ing his memorabilia is overly maudlin and contemplative. Nuke’s the Team America theme song with steroids and tight trousers. His Asian master Iron Nail thinks the Yankees are capitalist dogs that deserve the needle (or a bomb, y’know, whatever works). Jet Black is adjusting to life on Earth after stepping from her murderous father’s shadow, but also she’s grumpy at everyone. Characterisations are consistent for the returning players, but the nuance is gone. It’s disappointing, especially since his run on Uncanny X-Force has shown me Remender is quite capable of saying a lot by saying a little, letting either lack of extensive dialogue or combination of the written with the visual tell the story more than overlong jingoist exposition ever could.

The only area Loose Nuke isn’t a disappointment loose nuke 2is the artwork. Removing John Romita Jr. in favour of Carlos Pacheco and Nick Klein was a good move, returning to something a little brighter and a lot less messy. The pencils look thicker, facial expressions aren’t all one and the same, and there’s great use of shadowing here and there to aid the visual storytelling without drawing explicit attention to them. Nuke does look absolutely ridiculous, as is intended, and Jet Black should probably put some jeans and a jumper on, but for the most part the two artists and their colourists do a great job. The covers to each issue might even be the most memorable part of the book, since a lot of the plot kinda fades into the white noise.

And that is the bigger problem with Loose Nuke at the end of the day: we’ve seen it all before, so it fades in memory a bit. It’s done a little different and the specifics have changed, but as rehashes of old superhero stories go it’s pretty blatant and, more critically, uninteresting. Recycling is par for the course with cape-and-cowl fare, but it feels like we’ve gone a little too far here. Maybe it’s time to throw Cap into the future and see how his 2014 values hold up against the overlords of the Chinese Robot Empire.

loose nuke cover

PUBLISHER: MARVEL COMICS

STORY: 2/5

ARTWORK: 4/5

DIALOGUE: 2/5

OVERALL: 8/15

BEST QUOTE: “That’s the gift of this place, Steve. The unyielding spirit of a free people. Optimism is the American state of being. No matter the calamity, we remain surefooted, confident of tomorrow’s return…it’s why we came here, Steve. Never allow this challenge, this grief, to defeat you, Steve. Get past this and no matter what life throws at you, you’ll overcome it.” – Sarah Rogers

Sex Criminals: One Weird Trick

WARNING: THIS REVIEW CONTAINS MINOR NSFW IMAGERY (which, y’know, is to be expected coz of the title)

A writer’s workshop I attended last week featured the guy running it tell us “every story is a story rewritten”. He was (allegedly) quoting someone famous (Hemingway, maybe?), but Google-fu hasn’t been able to divine the culprit in any permutation of the above quotation or replacing the word “story” with “book”, “fable” or “random cave drawing”.

The crux of this wisdom was the notion that each new story these days takes elements from what has come before and reworks it in a way that can be fresh but is not, per se, entirely original. Star Wars might be a trope codifier for sci-fi fantasy, but the film itself was a rework of the classic 1930s sci-fi serials that would also later be homaged in movies like Flash Gordon. Even something genuinely push-the-envelope as Inception owes much of its DNA to films outside Christopher Nolan’s body of work, though I don’t think any of them could’ve pulled off a stylish mind-boggler in much the same way Nolan did. Also they wouldn’t have had Tom Hardy around.

My point is, stories these days can feel a bit recycled no matter how good they are. Ponder on this, then, as I tell you that Sex Criminals feels like the most truly original indie comic to come out of Image or any other non-Big-Two company in years.

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In a nutshell, there’s a girl named Suzie. After her father dies and her mother hits the bottle she begins puberty, discovering with her first accidental orgasm that she can somehow freeze time whenever she has the sexy time. Over the years she uses this strange talent, unaware that another bloke called Jonathan, whom she meets at a party, has a similar condition. After the two realise the special things their special places can do, they hit upon the world-beating idea to rob banks together. Because wouldn’t we all?

Now, before those of you who’ve read it go off to draw links between the book and the sex comedies, heist films, Scott Pilgrim-inspired meta-narratives and sexual education posters you’ll no doubt claim inspired the former, let me clarify. It’s rare that I read a book as raptly and attentively as I did Sex Criminals – the last one that truly grabbed me to that extent was Saga – mostly because it’s a breath of fresh air. Some of the usual teen sex tropes are present, though thankfully not as painful to watch as many of the American Pie sequels, and the use of a myth arc to carry along both the strange things Suzie and Jon’s privates can do and those trying to stop them gives the book a surprising and unexpected spine.

In all honesty, the concept initially seemed a bit of a one-trick pony to me. The only way I could see it diversifying the repertoire was sex criminals 4if particular kinds of orgasms (manual, assisted, from intercourse, etc) did different things to time and space, or maybe if an orgasm stretches for so long that the pair of protagonists are skeletons by the time the clocks start running again. But in actuality, Sex Criminals has a really intelligent story that just happens to contain a concept you’d expect as part of a Eurotrip fanfiction. The opening is overly serious (though the narration, quite meta throughout, assures you the sex and jokes are coming soon, promise) and there are bits of a darker undertone popping up here and there to punctuate the long stretches of really excellent comedy. This is a story rather than a string of jokes, so those hoping for a bunch of excuses to experience scenes of characters having sex should probably go watch Hotel Erotica instead.

And because Sex Criminals is a story, the characters are strongly written and their relationship is both believable and really sweet. They’re not together simply because their immodest orgasms break the timey-wimey ball, but because they seem to connect as people, too. Sure, the impetus for their whirlwind 48-hour (or something like that) first date is an insane amount of sex and time-stopping, but as the book goes on we see they could easily have matched up had they not been sexual clockstoppers. It’s a credit to writer Matt Fraction that our protagonists are written as characters rather than a pair of cyphers with sex jokes.

A big theme throughout the book is sexual security; that is, becoming secure in your own self once you hit the dreaded teens and things start happening to your body. Fraction tackles these issues of insecurity head-on with a few fourth-wall-breaking speech bubbles, presumably aimed at younger readers, telling them it’s ok to be changing and becoming an adult. What makes these bits fun rather than preachy is the light way it addresses those issues with truth but stops just short of becoming a sex ed piece. It’s gratifying to see a comic writer face issues of sex that a lot of others seem to shy away from. Maybe we should get some Republicans to check it out.

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If I have a problem with the story – and given its overall tapestry of nuanced writing and marvellous characterisation, this is fairly minor – it’s the framing device used in medias res during a big bank robbery. Having it at the start works well to establish tension, but the plotting and timeline of later chapters become muddy when it appears at the start of each chapter and disrupts the flow of events from the chapter beforehand. Also, the villains (such as they are) seem reasonably ineffectual and relatively unexplained. I figure we’ll learn more about them later on, and hopefully they’ve got backstories as interesting as their kegel-enthusiast commanding officer.

Art is awesome. Chip Zdarsky does a great job of giving full-lipped illustrations without making it too cartoony, but at the same time carrying a slightly off-beat quirk to character proportions and background work that in some ways adds to the humour level. It very much puts me in mind of Rob Guillory’s work on Chew but with less exaggeration, especially with the funny posters and background details cheekily snuck into panels strategically. Despite the title, there’s not a lot of actual sex and even less full nudity, so Zdarsky straddles (sorry) the line between artistic and pornographic really well. Of particular note is the overlap effect used when time freezes which kinda looks like you’re viewing the world through sparkly fog, as if a rocket launcher detonated Edward Cullen and you’re seeing through his equivalent of pink mist.

Dialogue, mercifully, feels like it’s being spoken by real people. My biggest fear whenever reading teen- or young adult-aimed content is seeing words on page that make me want the protagonists to die on principle, and thankfully Fraction averts that marvellously. Assex criminals 1 mentioned before, the villains aren’t particularly noteworthy, but both Suzie and Jon sound and act like real people. On a meta level, I’ve gotta give Fraction credit for a karaoke sequence meant to use the lyrics to Queen’s “Fat-Bottomed Girls”, but which was prohibited thanks to rights clearance issues. To compensate, Fraction uses in-panel post-it notes on the sequence that explain the lack of lyrics to turn what could’ve been a deleted scene into one of the best meta-jokes in the book. Major kudos, and somehow having the karaoke dance routine going on behind the post-its adds a wonderfully surreal humour value. In this one exception to the rule, the lawyers actually made a comic funnier.

Most might be turned off by the title, some by the story and others by the links to the much-loathed sex comedy genre. Honestly, I cannot recommend Sex Criminals enough. It’s witty, with great heart, excellent metatextual humour and a story I’m quite interested to see progress. It might borrow some things from what’s come before, but it still feels refreshingly original – avoiding the tropes of its forebears while still paying a bit of lip service just makes it better. And if you honestly can’t see the inherent coolness of being able to go all Hiro Nakamura when you rub one out, it’s probably time once again to reassess your standards.

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PUBLISHER: IMAGE COMICS

STORY: 5/5

ARTWORK: 4.5/5

DIALOGUE: 4.5/5

OVERALL: 14/15

BEST QUOTE: “So, we get a little jumped. And while I’m there on the ground…I see something, right? Porn. Porn in the woods. Which used to be a thing. You’d find porn left to rot out there. So the woods was, like, really slow internet basically. See, I didn’t – my dad – I had no porn, I had no stash, but this…this was mine. All I had to do was not get my ass beat.” – Jonathan

Infinity, Part 3 of 3 (Core Miniseries)

I mentioned during my recap of the best and worst books of 2013 that I believed Infinity would beat the tar out of the other event titles of that year, not least of all the contentious mess that was Age of Ultron. If nothing else, it can firmly take its place as the best event crossover of 2013; if you’re gonna count inter-family titles like Batman’s Night of the Owls or Green Lantern’s Rise of the Third Army, things might get messy.

After reading, I reckon Infinity did indeed kick every shade of ass it could as an event. Is it the best comic story I’ve read? No. Is it the best Marvel I’ve read? No. Is it the best event Marvel’s produced since the pre-2000’s? Quite possibly.

I’ve reviewed the book in two other chunks now, so consider this desert to the main courses as an exploration of why Infinity works as an event, what Marvel (and DC, for that matter) should take away from it, and where each big event since Avengers Disassembled fell down in comparison. Maybe, with this constructive criticism onboard, event comics can become something to look forward to with more regularity than with reflux.

At the end of the day, an event title should usually have six ingredients to really hit the mark as something other than a big, loud infinity 3blemish on the ass cheeks of the superhero comics genre. Keep in mind this doesn’t apply to every event ever made, and it’s perfectly fine to have a crossover that’s not as cerebral or intelligent as something like Infinity. You wanna have a big mash-up of heroes kicking the crap out of each other just because? Go ahead. Just make sure it’s advertised that way, and be prepared for me to slap a great big 1-star rating upon it on Goodreads.

Also keep in mind these steps are for the big blockbuster events like Fear Itself, Civil War and House of M rather than littler ones. If it’s touted as a gamechanger, features every character Marvel ever held the rights to and is written by at least one A-list staff writer, chances are it falls into this category.

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1 – A TANGIBLE THREAT

The most necessary thing an event needs is an enemy. Whether the Skrulls are threatening to replace the population with slightly greener doppelgangers, or the director of SHIELD turns out to have really been a crocodile all along, an event needs a clear andinfinity 5 discernible threat for the heroes to focus on. Hell, it can be themselves if it fits the story (which, sadly, it did not for Avengers vs. X-Men). Whatever the case, the enemy needs to be present, understandable and a viable threat. They also, for the bigger events, need to be a big enough enemy to justify some Avenger assemblingInfinity got great use out of Thanos and the Builders, and whatever its failings Fear Itself did have those Asgardian bastard gods hitting people with superpowered hammers.

The nature of superheroes – i.e., the characters being a direct response to something nasty, such as crime or being the victim of pater familias – necessitates there’s a villain threatening them, the world, their goldfish, etc. Event titles, featuring every vaguely-marketable superhero a company owns, need a particularly potent enemy to get this particular band together. Which leads me to…

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2 – VISIBLE STAKES

There has to be a believable goal for both sides. Obviously the heroes want to stop the villains, but for the villain this could be infinity 7something more interesting than “destroy Earth and all the puny humans”. Granted, Infinity fell victim a little to this with both the Builders and Thanos, but there were reasons behind both; Thanos was actually looking for his son and wanted to give the Inhumans what for when they tried to hide the boy on Earth, and the Builders needed to trim our home from their garden of multiversal plants. “Destroy Earth” is acceptable as long as there’s a reason; doing it just because, as with the Worthy in Fear Itself or the Skrulls in Secret Invasion just feels tired and uninteresting.

Conversely, look at some stuff that didn’t involve that old chestnut; Siege (and its preceding year of misery, Dark Reign) had a villain more intent on securing the world because of his misguided idea that he was the only man to properly control it. House of M‘s villain, for lack of a better word, was just crazy and didn’t mean to do all the crazy things she did in her craziness. To stretch my credibility as a seasoned and well-balanced individual somewhat, even Avengers vs. X-Men relied on an enemy more intent on kicking ass than kicking Earth. Oh God, I just said something vaguely slightly a little bit positive about AvX; someone take me behind the shed and have me shot.

Stakes get us invested in the story, and the more varied or interesting they are the better we connect with the heroes’ plight. Make it more personal, something deeper the way House of M did, and it’s the cherry on the croissant.

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3 – CONSISTENT CHARACTERISATION

Comic companies employ an army of writers, superhero comics more so than others. Ok, not an army, but at least several SEAL teams’ worth.

Point is, there’s a bunch of varied talent and style in any given arm of a comic’s narrative offerings. For all their assembling and infinity 2Avenging, most of Marvel’s characters have distinctly different personalities in the hands of several distinctly different writers, each making great dishes with different flavours. For instance, Captain America’s gone through a few incarnations in the last little while; Ed Brubaker makes him a sad relic of an age gone by, Rick Remender turns him into a mashup of Buck Rogers and Dominic Santiago, and Cullen Bunn…well, the less said of Cullen Bunn, the better.

In order for a big crossover to work, characters need to have some kind of consistency. If there’s a particular flavour of story running in each character or team’s ongoing series, you’re best off striving to match (or at least attempt to) with that tone. One of the drawbacks of, say, Age of Ultron was the apparent abandonment of anything that had happened to Spider-Man – Superior or otherwise – but seemed to be somewhat within present canon. Avengers vs. X-Men also seemed not to care terribly much about Tony Stark’s recent-at-the-time character efforts in The Invincible Iron Man, ditching his newer, more positive outlook on the world and solving terrorism in favour of building superweapons to kill intergalactic forces of nature (because plot).

Infinity kept things consistent. Captain Marvel reads and speaks as if her words came from the pen of Kelly Sue DeConnick herself. Captain America seems world-weary after his recent harrowing adventure in Dimension Z. Spider-Man…well, we’re still not sure about him. But he’s got his black duds on, so there’s still some Superior in there a bit, right?

Congruency between big events and smaller ongoings is crucial, especially for longer-term readers who are invested in the character as well as the giant multiplayer mashup they feature in. Last thing we need is another Civil War fiasco.

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4 – NO RELIANCE ON “COMIC BOOK DEATH”

I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve railed against this trope being used either as an infinity 6emotional hinge in the story or the closing chapters to the narrative, with the most egregious (and oft-referenced) being Thor’s death concluding Fear Itself. Lesser examples would also include Bucky Barnes’ death earlier in that same book, or Professor X in Avengers vs. X-Men. Relying on the death, threatened or actual, of an established, branded, marketable and famous character in order to raise tension is a wasted effort.

Look at Infinity; Jonathan Hickman had introduced a number of his own characters throughout his preceding Avengers run, and got great mileage from many C- and D-list superheroes who could have easily been killed in Infinity and would’ve raised the emotional stakes if they had. The reality is that death of heroes we know will be back whenever their next movie rolls around to snag new readers falls utterly flat, and relying on it (especially as a conclusion) is falling utterly flat onto a minefield of nail-throwing proximity charges. So, in other words, really of the not good variety.

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5 – A SATISFYING ENDING

Now, when I say “satisfying”, that does not necessarily mean the ending has to wrap everything up in a neat little bow and answer every question begging. Some of the best events – particularly Siege and, to a lesser extent, House of M – wrap up the main plot but leave enough threads for further storytelling in either single character ongoings or in a infinity 1future event down the line. What stops an ending from being “satisfying” is a significant enough lack of closure. Obviously one can never have a conclusive end to anything superhero-flavoured, since one needs to be able to read more of a cash-cow character the following month, but as long as the event’s main thrust is dealt with and at least some of the B-plots addressed, if not ended, you’ve got a winner on your hands.

Avengers vs. X-Men did not have a satisfying ending. Sure, the Phoenix was vanquished and the Fabulous Five mutants who got possessed by it returned (more or less) to their original selves, but the conclusion came way the hell out of nowhere and ignored several of the more interesting plot threads the book brought up. Some leeway can be given in some cases – such as Cyclops killing Professor X, an act that very much haunts him through the subsequent Uncanny X-Men run – but plots like Namor’s destruction of Wakanda, Hope’s real place in the Marvel mythos following her use against the Phoenix, and the animosity built up between the event’s titular teams are just left dangling for later.

An event needs to feel like a story in and of itself. It’s perfectly fine for it to be part of an ongoing series of events, such as the run Brian Bendis started with Avengers Disassembled, but they should also standalone as a complete story (I can tell you right now this is something DC’s recent Trinity War fails spectacularly at achieving, but I’ll get to that in a later review). Infinity has an ending, the twin A-plots of the Builders and Thanos are respectively concluded as far as the book is concerned, and threads are left for either Jonathan Hickman or another writer to continue in a different direction within the status quo the event leaves us with. Satisfaction doesn’t have to mean total conclusion, although that can certainly help. Just make sure no-one falls victim to the old Tethercat Principle.

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6 – HONEST ADVERTISING

This one’s less a requirement and more a preference, but market your event properly. Going to the big guns of saying “THIS EVENT WILL FOREVER CHANGE THE FACE OF EVERYTHING YOU KNOW OMG WTF” is just going to turn seasoned readers like me off avengers infinity posterany investment we might have in the title. Fear Itself both succeeds and fails at this aspect; HEROES FALL, GODS DIE was certainly a tagline it lived up to, but on the other hand HEROES FALL, GODS DIE was a tagline it lived up to with way the wrong kind of gusto.

I mentioned the image to the left in the second part of my Infinity review, and I was pleased to see the actual book fit the tone of the movie-esque marketing material. It felt like a big film with a lot of moving parts, featuring twin driving plots, a slew of famous faces and giant stake-raising battles. It lives up to the way it was marketed. Avengers vs. X-Men, for better or worse, was touted as a beat-em-up style story between its two main teams, and certainly adhered to that with, again, the wrong kind of gusto.

Whatever you do, don’t sell your event to me as the biggest change to ever occur in the history of anything ever. Coz then we’ll know you’re just full of it.

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This is, of course, in no way a definitive guide on how a comic book superhero event should be handled by writers and those associated. It’s merely a guideline, tapping into elements of events I liked as contrasted to elements I didn’t. No event is perfect, including Infinity, but damn it all if it didn’t work as an event better than any I’ve read released in the last decade. It also feels like a story borne out of actual inspiration and the desire to, y’know, tell a story, rather than just seeing how many inches can be added to the official Marvel Money Pile (patent pending).

At the end of the (very long) day, I heartily recommend Infinity. It’s a good story, a good superhero yarn, a good space opera and a good event title. And I know most of my regular audience are probably saying “Jeez, couldn’t you just have said that at the start and not drawn this trilogy of mediocre reviews out over several weeks?”

Well, I could’ve, but haven’t I enlightened you just a little tiny bit?

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PUBLISHER: MARVEL COMICS

STORY: 4.5/5

ARTWORK: 4/5

DIALOGUE: 4/5

OVERALL: 12.5/15

BEST QUOTE: “Well…first there was nothing, then there was everything. Then the Good Lord saw fit to bring me into the world to kick the asses of those who need it most. So get ready, ’cause this day or the next, it’s coming.” – Captain Marvel

Infinity, Part 2 of 3 (Avengers)

This is what we came to see.

avengers infinity posterEarly in Infinity‘s promotional run, the movie poster image above did the rounds for the book. Promises and inferences were made about the story’s game-changing nature, the linking of threads from all of Jonathan Hickman’s previous Avengers work, and a climactic showdown with the alien enemies known as the Builders whilst longtime baddie Thanos makes a power play for Earth in the background. We were offered something big, from a writer I know is capable of giving us something big, then bigger on top of that.

You know what? Infinity – and its vanilla Avengers component – delivers. It is the 30-minutes-or-less pizza guy who not only gives you the greatest slice of meatlovers you’ve had in your life, but also hands you a spare garlic bread and some of those chocolate-filled mudcake pudding things for good measure. And now I’ve made myself hungry.

In a nutshell, the main thrust of Infinity deals with Captain America doing some Avenger assembling and heading off into deep space to spearhead the Builders before they come to Earth and blow us all avengers infinity 2up with the bureaucratic airs one might expect of a Vogon Constructor Fleet. An armada of starships large enough to rival anything Star Trek: Deep Space Nine could put on screen amasses and takes the fight to the Builders.

That’s it. That’s the story. But dammit if it isn’t entertaining.

Ok, maybe I’m not being entirely fair; this is a Jonathan Hickman book, so of course it’s not as simplistic as the above summation might indicate. There’s metaphysical contemplation of life and death, mostly from resident pontificator-cum-Avenger Ex Nihilo. There are enough continuity-driven appearances by Marvel’s space-faring species that you’d almost think Hickman’s read every intergalactic comic penned in the past half-century. There’s witty and depressing banter amongst characters where appropriate that feels like actual spoken dialogue.

And there are space battles. Dear God, there are space battles.

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It’s actually kinda hard, reading in the collected edition, to distinguish between which chapters were Avengers issues and which were Infinity-branded, as there aren’t any indicators to either effect (New Avengers is easier to delineate due to its Earth-bound story). For the purposes of this review just assume I’m talking about all the Infinity stuff that doesn’t relate to Thanos (see here for the rest of that). If the Mad Titan himself felt incongruous to the story, the remaining two thirds fit so well together it reinforces my notion that maybe two events would’ve done better justice to Hickman’s story than just one.

Taking the space opera portions of Infinity on their own, you need to come into it with a reader’s mind galvanised either by paying attention or switching off. What I mean is that you can read about Cap Rogers in the 21st Century and his Blake’s 7 team of adventurers with either an eye for the finer details, the grander tapestry being woven by Hickman and all the neat little references to previous cosmic Marvel tales, or you can read it with an almost Michael Bay sense of avengers infinity 1“WHOOOO I GET TO WATCH SH*T EXPLODE!!” Far be it from me to recommend the latter in almost any other case, and I certainly mean no disrespect to Hickman when I compare him to the disastrous architect behind Transformers‘s downfall, but this really is a tale you can take in two different tellings. Myself, I always strive to be as pretentious as possible when attributing a finer eye to mediums usually designated as “low-brow”, so I read Infinity as an intricate parade of moving parts that just happen to take place during a space battle and came out significantly pleased with the overall result. It also made me really want to watch Star Wars again.

As an event title, the space chapters of Infinity fulfil my criteria masterfully. There’s a clear threat necessitating the Avengers call their entire ensemble to the task, the prolific cast each get a chance to avengers infinity 3shine in their own little moments, and to jump ahead in my usual review structure a few portions, the dialogue is great. The sense of joy at victory and weary resignation following defeat are all palpable in the characters’ words and actions, which really contributes (especially towards the end) to the overall Pyrrhic Victory sense the book strives to achieve. I won’t say whether or not that particular ending is in store for you, though if you honestly believe Infinity ends with Earth destroyed you’ve clearly never read a superhero event. I will, though, say Infinity‘s conclusion left me satisfied, which is still more than Fear Itself can claim to have done (and unlike that shambolic excuse for an event, the conclusion didn’t rely on a major character death or two to get readers invested, which can only be a point in its favour while I keep throwing bits of burning newspaper at those who thought the death of Thor was a great way to cap that stupid affair off).

Art’s good, if a little schizophrenic. Like Avengers vs. X-Men before it, the rotating team of artists aren’t always congruous to each other’s styles, and at times the stark difference in portrayal of characters can be a little jarring going from chapter to chapter. The bulk of it is the full-lipped stuff I’d expect of a major reader-drawing event title (thank God Filipe Andrade wasn’t onboard for this), and for the most part is serviceable, flashy and big. I’d love to get technical about it, but seriously, the space battles look freakin’ sweet. You’d owe it to yourself to check out Infinity on that basis alone, which is a visual recommendation I rarely give without irony.

If I’ve got a gripe with the story, though, it’s that as an event it’s almost entirely inaccessible to newbies unless you go in with the Michael Bay mindset. Disregarding the foreshadowing provided by Hickman’s books leading up to this, the amount of referencing to other Marvel stories (going as far back as the 60s) is insane. Now, I’ve read a ton of Marvel across several eras’ worth of history, and even with my (not really) vast and (totally not) encyclopedic knowledge of the canon I was having trouble following some of the early stuff involving races with apparent grudges and history with each other getting into an intergalactic pissing contest. I also wasn’t quite sure how Captain America had managed to ingratiate himself as well as he did with this apparent space council of continuity, therefore having to rely on the old ‘it’s a thing, don’t question it’ mentality when presented by unexplained elements in superhero comics. Maybe he brainwashed the council to allow humans onboard off-page, or one of the council members saw his costume and really liked the colour scheme.

All things considered, Infinity works really well as an event title, as a story in its own right and as a continuation of Hickman’s Avengers opus. Whether you’re a fan of complex storytelling, deep character pathos and gorgeous artwork, or if you just want to see pretty spaceships blow up, you can’t ask for much more than that.

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Scores and best quote given in INFINITY: CORE MINISERIES review