This review is a bit terse, because I am wildly distracted right now, but I was completely struck by the beauty and simplicity of Astounding Wolf-Man #19. Comics can and ultimately should take a lesson from it.

ARISE!!!!

This is the most fun and most pure example of pulp fiction reworked for the 21st century. Jason Howard’s art and FCO/Ivan Plascencia’s colors go above and beyond the call of comic book duty, laying down a summer blockbuster feel in the span of 22 pages. Senseless doodles all, of course, if not for the love poured into the book by writer Robert Kirkman.

Kirkman is, as you may be aware, is closing shop on Astounding Wolf-Man with issue 25. It makes sense, he’s got a lot on his plate these days, and while AWM was a good idea, it may not be a Great Idea like Walking Dead or Invincible.

AWM 19 shows us what the series could have been, in a very distilled form. It also shows us how far Kirkman has come as a writer. If you look back even as far as his run on Ultimate X-Men, you’ll find interesting ideas and conflicts being executed by unfortunately similar voices.

Not so here. Even in this (to quote the author) “action packed extravaganza”, extraordinary events elicit unique emotional responses both courageous and cowardly from every player. This is wrapped snugly in the veneer of spontaneous and very believable interaction. The resolution is logical, very clever, and completely in character for the billionaire engineer. The storytelling is not telegraphed or over explained. Kirkman lets Howard do his work.

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Nothing with the name Fantastic Force has ever come to anything good. Franklin Richards as the ludicrously over/under powered Psi-Lord, along with other never-weres and also-rans, pretty much murdered the idea of a logical, plot-driven progression for the Fantastic Four. The new Fantastic Force reinforces this point on more lateral lines and comes to the same conclusion: drek.

i am barely restraining the obvious pun here, folks

This four part series spins out from the hit-and-miss Mark Millar Fantastic Four run that wrapped a couple months ago, taking characters only seen in that particular arc of that particular run who haven’t been mentioned again. That arc takes the groan-inducing concept of Nu-World, a deliberately constructed cross-dimensional Earth, and eventually populates it with the denizens of a five hundred year forward future Earth that has twenty-two seconds to live, so to speak.

This mini-series deals with the fallout of that arc. Was it very good? Not in my opinion. Was that arc very popular? I frankly haven’t checked, though it must have been to warrant the creation of this mini; someone must have been curious to ’see what happened next’, but who? And if it was so popular, with so much potential, why was this mini so colon-burstingly awful?

In both concept and execution, Fantastic Force is a lobotomized simulacrum of the Millar arc; it tries too hard and does too little. The art, by Steve Kurth, is a Chinese fast-food mess of slightly incorrect perspectives, arid action sequences, and heavy handed details; the framing renders everything into the same flat, stuttering voice. Writer Joe Aheame does little to alleviate the situation with one note characters (oh look the android is lusty; he is a lusty android), too many ideas, and zero breathing moments.

In an era of strongly built characters with serious emotional responses, calm character notes before heavy plot storms, and thoroughly expressive art, this volume of Fantastic Force hearkens back to the early 90s, making us appreciate what we have now…except, of course, for this volume of Fantastic Force.

Note: the first part of this article was written about 5 hours after the now infamous ‘Avengers Avenged’ blog was posted. A followup reaction to the strong reactions posted over the next twelve hours is attached at the end.

I woke up to this link of a comic fan at Wizard World pranking Rob Liefeld. Thank you, Yellow Hat Guy. Rob Liefeld’s ridiculous lines are a part of comic book history, and this was a pretty good epic footnote to it.

you are a dick for expressing your views of this creation to the creator in a public setting

To the more eloquent defenders of Liefeld who commented on that link, I understand how you feel about something like this. “Here’s this guy who is pranking a creator at a convention while that creator is trying to work, this is an incredibly rude thing to do.” While it certainly was rude, it’s also a non-violent reaction to art work that inspired an emotional response.

Comics books are an artistic expression, and that expression has formed a community. The artists and writers who create them are exchanging their time, talent, and creative spark for a paycheck that, no matter how large, will never truly repay that creator for those moments of self-perceived genius they feel for getting the wording just right or the lines just so.

Readers are on exactly the opposite end of this. They cough up their paychecks to follow their favorite characters and stories every month, hoping to be inspired, tickled, and moved by the contents of these pages. Their entire goal is to have an emotionally charged opinion about about an issue.

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It’s 1990-ish. I’m 15ish. I’m sitting in my friend Colin’s room, reading some issue of Uncanny X-Men while I wait for Colin to get the crap beaten out of him by his younger brother. I’m flipping through this and I’m noting that the colors are getting better, the art is getting worse, and the plot involves a bunch of people yelling at each other from cover to cover.

MOM! HE STARTED IT!

None of this matters, of course, because, in 1990-ish, I’ve just discovered local alt-punk shows, my body is a roiling six foot cosmos of life altering chemical reactions,  and I’m going to live forever.

Chris Claremont clearly felt the same level of exhilaration when writing X-Men the first time, because he’s trying to recapture his long faded creative prime with X-Men Forever. I gave it three issues to see what it was going to do, which was the same thing as waiting three hours after feeding food to someone else’s baby: I wound up giggling at silly crap.

(mild spoilers, but seriously, who cares)
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Bullseye gets a Hawkeye mini, and Ms. Marvel’s title has been taken over by Moonstone. Ares is conquering various books and has his own three issue Dark Avengers tie-in on the way. Hell, even Wolverine Jr is series-jacking one of his old man’s titles.

the sinister spider-crotch

In all these offshoots, the titular hero saves the mission, if not the day, and makes the other Dark Avengers who show up in that scene look like chumps.

But what about poor ol’ Mac Gargan, aka Venom? He doesn’t have any beef with the jerks he works with; all he wants to do is punch who he’s told to punch and maybe do a little good in the world. Sure, maybe get the girl. Maybe show some people that you can’t keep a good Gargan down.

Maybe eat your face.

I’ve been too busy getting bingo on my celebrity death pools to watch the recent solicits, so Sinister Spider-Man #1 was a welcome surprise. Chris Bachalo’s cover really does drag your face in and nibble on it quit a bit. Once inside, it’s mean and fun mean and whispers creepy promises of fast, modern, pulpy goodness.

The first issue delivers the goods while still setting us up for the rest of the four-issue run. This oh-so-Sinister Spider-Man has all the set pieces of his Amazing counterpart – JJJ, Osborn, Six goons who are fairly Sinister in their own right, and lots and lots of girls.

Well, ok, skanks and whores. This is Mac Gargan, after all.
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This seems to be a recurring theme with me lately. Runaways #10 is another mid-series break with a couple of small, character building one-shot stories, and I’ve once again been charmed all to hell by the offering.

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I refuse to make the obvious joke on the grounds that I will be arrested. Anyway, read this comic.

As a kid in the dark ages of the 1980s, I would bike to my local used book store (recently gentrified into a 21st century shoe shop) to pick up anthology books of the old EC books like “MAD” and “Tales From the Crypt“. “Tales” and similar magazines told one-note stories, sure, but the notes were strong and clear and pure, like a bugle breaking the dawn. “MAD”, of course, had some of the best artwork and mentally electrifying comedy plots (plotz?) in the business. (NOTE: If you remember the original horror and suspense comics from EC, you’re probably drooling away watching Marcus Welby reruns at the nursing home right now and not reading this review.) When I ran the store out of those great old half-dollar copies, I eventually stumbled across “Plop“, which blended elements of both; Sergio Aragones and weird murder.

Vertigo’s House of Mystery brings a lot of these traditions back for their thirteenth issue. While it jumps out of their active plot, it fits in with the *theme*, and that’s actually better than good.

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Those artistic types who are also fortunate enough to possess some degree of intellect seem fond of employing mysticism when describing elements of quantum physics. This makes a certain level of sense:

I would not be this angry if I had this jetpack.

When describing the unknown, people get reverent

• As Neil deGrasse Tyson posited in 2006, whenever the inquisitive mind reaches the end of what it is believes itself capable of understanding, it seems to reach for God. Quantum physics is often beyond the reach of those who study it professionally, so artists finding commonality between quantum physics and Native American mysticism isn’t a stretch.

Some mystic systems weren’t a bad idea

• Certain brands of mysticism are simple diagrams that are meant to be rough, poetic maps of the processes of life; a sort of mixed psychology/philosophy/theology with the occasional rotten mushroom or bowl of hallucinogenic pee thrown in.

Mysticism has been the driving force behind several creative movements over the past fifty years

• Thanks a lot, hippies.

Jeff Smith is following a path fairly consistent with this in his new series RASL. Issue 4 is out and will instantly confound and frustrate you if you haven’t read the first three, so do it immediately. There’s even a collected 3-volume book to get you started.
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You meet someone. Something about their eyes, their presence, the way they move, it shocks you. Gravity is in full force. You seem to take a back seat to a performance, saying the most clever things and dancing effortlessly.

The two of you repeat this process again, only this time the spark is stronger, more real. Every time you open your eyes, your throat dries up just because they are there, doing or saying or simply looking. Even the silent moments are heavy with the sound of your hearts beating.

This is Damon Lindelof sticking it to you. Also a pretty awful pun.

And then they leave for three years. Some reason, I guess. Uh, school. Sure, let’s call it school.

Now and again during that three year period you think back on that time. You even look them up online one chilly August. The memories come rushing back, but memories are pale next to the moment.

You hear they’re back in town, so you call. They’ll be where you first met. Charged with excitement tinged with tremors of trepidation, you go back to that special spot, and there they are.

Washed out, lacking direction, all too willing to rehash old times at the expense of anything new, and sticking you with the bill.

If this feels familiar, it’s probably because you just read Ultimate Hulk vs Wolverine 3. (more…)

Fables #81 is the end of ‘The Dark Ages’, which isn’t so much an arc as it is a large prologue of things to come. As such, the main plot has to do with that. The most memorable part of the issue, however, is the last appearance of one of the heroes of the previous arc, Boy Blue. His departure is touching and sad, and his interactions with Rose Red are poignant in their honesty. Bill Willingham’s writing is subdued, even reverent, and the art team of Buckingham, Pepoy, and Loughridge do their level best.

After reading through this issue, take some time with the final page and listen to the crack of the bat. Fables only use wooden bats.