Reaction to the new Man of Steel movie online has been rather divided, from what I can see. Some viewers have applauded it, while others have criticized it for its excesses. Having viewed it in 2D in a rather sparsely attended Friday matinée, I can see validity in both points of view. On one point, I think all would be able to agree that Man of Steel is definitely a spectacle, a huge special-effects extravaganza. In many ways, it’s a tale of two movies, clearly striving to appeal to as wide an audience of blockbuster movies as humanly possible. Ultimately, I appreciated the movie for how it offers an unconventional and unexpected new take on the title character. I love to be surprised, and to come away from a Superman origin flick surprised is something I would have thought to be next to impossible. One flaw with the film is how, in its effort to achieve maturity and legitimacy, it’s failed to leave much room for any sense of fun or joy.

It’s clear from the opening scenes that director Zack Snyder wasn’t going to waste the opportunity of having an A-list actor such as Russell Crowe in what would normally be a supporting role. He transforms Jor-El into a bonafide action hero himself, and it makes for some entertaining moviemaking. Jor-El is the star of the first of two movies here: the sci-fi epic, on bar with the level of Star Wars and other classics in its ambitious world-building and designs. Of course, Snyder, Goyer and Nolan’s vision of Krypton owes a great deal to the creativity of John Byrne. Appropriately, Byrne’s 1986 Man of Steel mini-series and subsequent Superman comics were clearly a major influence on this movie — you can see it in Kelex the robot, Krypton’s reproductive protocols and in the designs for the planet’s high council. I didn’t see any credit for his work (as well as others whose contributions to the Superman mythos, such as Mark Waid, served as building blocks for this movie), and that’s a shame. If DC were on the ball, it would immediately get some of Byrne’s 1980s Superman work back into print with a strong marketing push, as it’s bound to appeal to fans of this movie more than, say Superman Unchained and All-Star Superman.

Henry Cavill’s performance as Superman and Clark Kent worked well, though it still pales in comparison with that of the late Christopher Reeve. He definitely has a greater sense of presence and maturity than Brandon Routh (who was too young for the role of an established and experienced Superman, in my opinion). I was never really all that mesmerized with Cahill either. He does a decent job, but since this was a brooding vision of Superman, it does take a bit of adjustment on the viewer’s part. Amy Adams as Lois Lane was much more impressive. I like that she’s written as being a thoughtful person, not someone who allows ambition or hunger for a story overwhelm her judgment.

Like Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, Man of Steel boasts a well-constructed story, especially from a thematic perspective. One theme that’s quite obvious is the importance of fatherhood (apt, given the movie was released Father’s Day weekend). There’s room for both Jor-El and Jonathan Kent to provide some true moral guidance to Clark/Kal, and that fatherhood element is bolstered by Russell Crowe’s and Kevin Costner’s strong performances. The latter actually outdoes Crowe, as he ends up making as powerful an impact on the story in a much quieter, less flashy way. I thought the more interesting but less prominent theme was that of purpose. Sure, it’s clear Clark Kent has to struggle with finding his place in a world in which he doesn’t belong, but what caught my attention was how his discovery of his purpose occurs as Zod loses his purpose. Zod’s villainy works well, even when he’s being an over-the-top, genocidal monster, because he’s being true to himself. He’s driven by a mission, by doing what he was literally designed to do. He’s as much a victim of Krypton’s lost values and emphasis on convenience over ambition as the doomed planet itself.

I’m puzzled by Zack Snyder and Nolan’s reinvention of Jimmy Olsen as Jenny, because the character serves little purpose throughout the movie. In fact, I’m not sure she’s ever identified as an Olsen in the dialogue (I didn’t note it, and I was listening for it). Mind you, her part in the film did pay off in the tense scene in which Perry White and Steve Lombard desperately and in vain try to rescue her from certain death, dooming themselves to the same fate in the process. AS obvious and predictable as the scene was, it was nevertheless effective at building tension and emotion, probably more from Laurence Fishburne’s powerful facial expressions. Speaking of Lombard, I’m a big fan of Michael Kelly’s acting, but he was really wasted in this movie. There wasn’t much meat on the bone for the supporting players, and hopefully, that will be addressed in the inevitable sequel.

Christopher Meloni didn’t have a lot he could do with Col. Hardy. He’s a one-dimensional character whose every word and action was predictable and clichéd. It’s not Meloni’s fault, and I did appreciate the casting, as he’s not the biggest or beefiest all-American soldier type. Richard Schiff is a wonderfully versatile actor who was well cast in the role of Prof. Emil Hamilton, but his character is really just a cog, there to provide exposition and, to a lesser degree, to keep the story going where it needs to go. Again, there’s not much there for him to work with, but he’s quite memorable whenever he gets some screen time.

The most controversial scene in the movie, obviously, is the climactic confrontation between Superman and Zod. Obviously, the path of destruction they leave in their wake is meant to dazzle the audience, but it doesn’t add to the story. They’re powerful, we get it; Snyder unnecessarily beats us over the head with it at that point (especially after the more entertaining and comparatively tempered fight scene in Smallville between Superman and two of the Phantom Zone baddies). But what will no doubt stick in some people’s craw (as has already been widely discussed online) is just how the hero ends the threat Zod poses to humanity. It was a shocking moment, something I didn’t expect at first, because it’s not consistent with most interpretations of the title character. But I think it works in the context of this plot and script, especially when Superman’s moral code wasn’t as played up as it has been with other interpretations. It is consistent with Nolan’s take on the genre, as we saw with the Batman’s actions in the most recent trilogy (notably at the climax of Batman Begins). I think it’s a valid take on the character, and it seems pretty clear it’s meant to stand out as an aberration. When considers the context of Pa Kent’s death, it makes a little more sense. Clark learned before his inaction would cost lives, and this time, he didn’t hold back, no matter what the consequence might be to him personally. Furthermore, Superman’s agonizing conundrum at the movie’s peak also evokes memories of John Byrne’s innovative Superman plots from the 1980s.

Earlier in this review, I refer to Man of Steel being made up of two different movies. The first is a science-fiction epic, and the second is a disaster flick. Man of Steel, especially in the third act, has more in common with Deep Impact or The Day After Tomorrow than the Superman flicks of the 1970s and ’80s. It seemed clearly designed to appeal to the Michael Bay crowd while also trying to offer something of more substance and intelligence for a more discerning audience. I think it succeeds in that dual mission, but just barely. It forever teeters on the edge of being unpalatable. I enjoyed it for what it had to offer in terms of new and unconventional perspectives, but it’s easy to see why some would be disappointed. Superman isn’t just an icon — he’s an archetype, and deviating from ingrained, cultural expectations is going to generate some understandable backlash. 7/10

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Because apparently, I’ve created the impression I pan Marvel and DC super-hero comics so I can impress “hipsters”, I thought I’d share some thoughts about this new story arc in DC’s main Batman title. I was quite disappointed in Superman Unchained, not only due to the art, but surprisingly due to being let down by Snyder’s plot. Fortunately, it appears that was an aberration, because his new take on Bruce Wayne’s journey to becoming the Batman here is fantastic. As he did with the Court of Owls, Snyder is building a new mythology and history for Gotham City, and he’s doing so by incorporating and reinventing some familiar characters and concepts. In Batman: Earth One, writer Geoff Johns explored the maternal branches of Bruce Wayne’s family tree by transforming Martha Wayne into a member of the Arkham clan. Here, Snyder does something similar, making her maiden name Kane and giving some of those tree limbs a bit of rot. The opening scene, set six months ahead of the main action, just after Bruce took on the Batman persona, hints at an ambitious story arc, one that promises to be much more over-the-top and tumultuous than what we’ve seen before. I look forward to it. The backup story is solidly executed. It should appeal to the Fast and the Furious fans out there, but peppered in the high-octane, high-speed action is a clever and peppy script that barrels ahead as quickly as the car the protagonist is driving throughout the sequence.

Capullo’s exaggerated style continues to suit the property quite well, but I have to admit I was a little more impressed with his performance on this particular issue. The reason: there’s little Batman for him to illustrate and mainly just a lot of Bruce. He appropriately instills a more youthful look in this vision of Bruce Wayne from six years ago. I was also impressed with how bright Gotham seems to be here. Bruce seems to walk through the dayside of the city, whereas he’ll later embrace the night. I like the creepy intensity Capullo brings to Edward Nygma and the monstrous quality that quietly lurks in the Red Hood’s misaligned teeth. Rafael Albuquerque’s lithe figures and blurred lines bring the high-speed chase in the backup story to life incredibly well. His style is such a marked departure from Capullo’s, it brings an added sense of artistic diversity to the book, while the plot boasts a natural link to the main story. 8/10

Six-Gun Gorilla #1 (Boom! Studios)
by Simon Spurrier & Jeff Stokely

I would have thought the gun-toting simian on the cover and from which this title derives its name would serve as the greatest and most fun aspect of this comic book, but in this inaugural issue, he really doesn’t play that big a role. Instead, the “star” of the show is Simon Spurrier’s weird vision of the future based on an alternate history in which the Civil War never ended. Though initially the futuristic elements aren’t apparent, it only takes a few pages before the reader realizes this isn’t a typical Civil War story, and the main clues are provided in the modern tone of the dialogue, not the revelation of technology. With the war being fought on an other-dimensional landscape and used as reality-TV fodder for the masses, Spurrier manages to explore the truly ugly nature of armed conflict while combining it with a pointed commentary on the intellectually and physically sedentary nature of society today. All the while, he spices things up with a playfully morbid sense of fun. When the title character finally reveals himself, it’s as bombastic and splashy as it should be.

Jeff Stokely’s artwork is something quite unique but wholly effective and entertaining. His style looks a bit like a cross between the weird but simple approach of Jeff (Sweet Tooth) Lemire or Scott (Ancient Joe) Morse, and the kinetic, elongated lines of Rafael (American Vampire) Albuquerque’s work. The designs for the sci-fi elements — from the giant tortoises making their way across a barren landscape to the steampunk weaponry — are striking and inventive, but more importantly, especially given the nature of the title character, Stokely conveys an over-the-top sense of action and motion. Despite its colorful title and protagonist, this comic book is likely to be overlooked by many, and it’s definitely worth a look. 9/10

Thor: God of Thunder #9 (Marvel Entertainment)
by Jason Aaron & Esad Ribic

It’s no coincidence Marvel’s stronger comics are those untouched by crossover events or its expansive continuity, and Thor: God of Thunder is proof of that. This title holds up well even if one views it as being unrelated to Marvel’s larger universe in any way; it might even be stronger out of that context. Aaron’s exploration of Thor at three different points in his life, all existing simultaneously, makes for some interesting character work and interplay, though the concept is simple: everyone becomes a different person as he or she ages. I don’t usually care for the lofty, battle-driven nature of the thunder God, finding it hard to relate to him, but his various incarnations’ views of the others somehow makes it easier to connect with him/them. Gorr continues to stand out as an interesting villain, as he’s driven by grief and anger toward God (well, “gods” in this case), and that’s something with which everyone can identify. The best villains are those who see themselves as the heroes of their own stories, and Gorr definitely falls into that category.

Esad Ribic’s artwork, boasting a rich, painted, textured style, works incredibly well to reinforce the mythic and even timeless nature of the story and characters. He handles the science-fiction side of the story quite well while bringing a classic, even historic look to the strong Norse current running throughout this issue and the series in general. Ive Svorcina’s colors go a long way to reinforce the painted, detailed but moody look of Ribic’s line art, adding even more maturity and dark intensity to this plot about a war on and by divinity. The double-page splash early in the issue is not only lovely, but it captures the weird and dark shadow powers of Gorr incredibly well. I love how his inky dogs of war flow from his cloak, while the heroes are backlit by cosmic thunderclouds bursting with angry energy. 8/10

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The manager at my local comic shop today noted instead of a $5 Jim Lee comic book, I could pick up Gerard Way’s new comic or maybe something more offbeat such as Boom!’s new Six-Gun Gorilla. While I’m interested in those comics, I told him I saw it as spending five bucks on a new Scott Snyder comic, and I pointed to the strength of his work on Batman and, more recently, The Wake. He acknowledged Snyder’s name was a better reason for buying a comic book than Lee’s. But damn, I should have listened to him. I definitely could have done better with my fin than this exercise in excess and confusion.

Satellites are falling to Earth, and Superman races against physics to keep thousands of tons of metal and circuitry from raining down on the heads of innocents below (and to save the lives of a couple of astronauts manning a new space station). While many believe a new anti-tech terrorist organization is responsible, Superman’s investigation points to a different source: Lex Luthor, but he’s en route to a new high-security prison in the bay by Metropolis. It turns out Superman wasn’t alone in his effort to prevent catastrophe, and little does he know there’s another superhuman hidden away from the world who’s played a secret but vital role in history over the past several decades.

I’d read and was informed by my comics retailer this issue included a fold-out posted that was glued into the comic rather than stapled, but after only a couple of pages, I quickly discovered it wasn’t a poster but instead a super-sized, detached page on which the story continued to unfold (literally) on both sides. As I eased the “page” off the cardboard insert to which it was adhered, I thought the creators must have reserved a particularly novel, inventive and pain-in-the-ass bit of comics storytelling for a powerful moment in the story. But no, instead, I found a jumbled scene, which at first looks like Superman doing harm rather than saving lives. There’s nothing iconic about the splash page or the visuals, and since the art is adorned by a lot of lettering, it doesn’t even really work as a poster.

Overall, Jim Lee’s linework throughout the issue was a disappointment. Every page is just so cluttered. The action — both with the crashing space station and the out-of-control helicopter — is hard to follow, in part because some of the art is rather sketchy and loose, as though it was rushed. Every panel seems overdone, and unfortunately, a less-is-more philosophy doesn’t seem to be something with which Lee was concerned when working on this project. Furthermore, the antagonist revealed on the final page of the main story boasts a design that reflects the character’s raw power and apparent malevolence, but it’s also not clear or easily reproduced (at least how the look stands now).

The issue boasts a two-page epilogue pencilled by Dustin Nguyen, whose darker, sketchy style suits the tone of the scene in question. Unfortunately, things don’t unfold all that clearly here either. Furthermore, it seems odd to bring in another penciller for such a brief scene, as did the decision to present it almost as a separate piece.

The opening scene, which “reveals” a secret bit of World War II history and suggests there’s been a superhuman around for a lot longer than the five- or six-year history of DC’s New 52, starts off on a strong note, as Snyder evokes a classic Superman phrase with a poignant and grounded perspective on a monumentous real-world event. But his choice to change the cause of an important moment in history with a super-hero genre element didn’t sit well with me. I’m not sure why, as it wouldn’t be the first time a writer offered an alternative explanation or included a genre element in a real-world tragedy. Maybe it’s because Snyder and Lee so effectively hold our attention with an innocent from “reality” that the impossibility of a superhuman element seems to encroach on his story, somehow tainting it. I’m not sure, but I do know I was a bit uncomfortable with it.

The one aspect of the plot I did find interesting was the journalism-focused scene involving Clark, Jimmy and Lois. I don’t think Snyder has the ins and outs of newspaper production quite right, but some of the lingo worked. Furthermore, I like the notion leaving the Planet behind to tell the sorts of stories he wants to tell, but it’s not clear how he’s doing it — his own blog, an online publication or a rival paper? Jimmy visits Clark somewhere as he works, but I can’t tell if it’s an office or Clark’s apartment. There’s no sense of place, no sense of professional context for the journalism discussion, and that’s unfortunate.

The Luthor scene is far too brief and seemed more like an afterthought, a quick explanation for the opening scene that doesn’t actually have all that much to do with the central plot. I’d hoped for more from this tense encounter between the iconic hero and his arch-nemesis, but the scene felt cramped and rushed. Snyder certainly seems to be hinting at another plotline here, referring to the M.A.W. prison, but the acronym seems more laughable than menacing.

Finally, the very title of this new series seems ill-conceived. First of all, if one searches the term “unchained” on Google, what arises is a barrage of links to articles about the fairly recent Django Unchained film, and the figurative chains binding the Man of Steel are clearly far more different than the literal ones linked to the character portrayed by Jamie Foxx. Nevertheless, DC clearly wanted to have a new first issue by two of its top talents to pump up its numbers, but given Grant Morrison’s recent exodus from Action Comics (as well as writer Andy Diggle’s quick exit from the book), it would have made more sense to have Snyder and Lee on that book rather than launch another ongoing title for a character that can’t really sustain this many books. This is clearly going to be DC’s biggest seller while the other two Superman titles are destined to languish, but once Lee and Snyder are done here, it’ll be Unchained that’ll end up getting the axe, no doubt. This new launch is all about short-term gains rather than a long-term plan to shore up one of the two established Superman titles. 3/10

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The 1990s wasn’t a good time in the world of comics — and to be specific, in super-hero comics. It was an era that emphasized style over substance. It was an era that celebrated dazzle over storytelling. It was an era of gimmick covers, countless crossovers and a bunch of new publishers and imprints, all chasing the speculator craze. A lot of money was made from short-term gains leading to long-term losses of readers and black marks on an entire genre. On the other hand, the 1990s also gave rise to Astro City (or as it was originally and appropriately known, Kurt Busiek’s Astro City). Busiek’s title was and remains a celebration of comics and the people who crafted icons for us. It’s also a deconstruction of super-hero archetypes, and it offers some strong social commentary. But ultimately, what makes Astro City work, what makes it such an engaging read and what’s allowed it to last for almost two decades (yes, you read that right) is the strong character work Busiek brings to each and every issue.

And it’s back. That’s awesome.

It’s been 17 years since Ben Pullam moved to Astro City. His two daughters are grown, accomplished women, and his heart soars when they travel back the city for visits. Ben is nearing the age of retirement, but he’s not ready to sit idle. When a set of giant, glowing, alien doors appears by the city’s bay, Pullam and his visiting daughters are drawn to the scene like throngs of other residents, as are a number of Astro City’s costumed champions, notably Samaritan and the powerful but impulsive new heroine known as American Chibi. When the doors open, Ben will soon be presented with an opportunity for adventure and a new direction.

When DC launched its new Phantom Stranger title a few months ago, the biggest draw for me was the art of Brent Anderson, but clunky writing drove me away in short order. When it comes to Astro City, I know there’s no risk of that. Anderson’s line art for the interiors here is, as always, impressive and immersive. His realistic style emphasizes the human aspect of the story and allows the reader to become a part of the populace. The most unusual visual aspect of the book visually is the design for American Chibi, and one might worry Anderson’s style would be incompatible with the exaggerated, manga look of the character. But as Anderson has demonstrated time and time again in the past, he’s able to incorporate more cartoony elements into the more realistic, grounded look of Astro City.

I love how Busiek finds room for some great humor, juxtaposing a cosmic, seemingly omnipotent entity with the mundane notion of fiddling with the controls of a handheld piece of technology. At first, I wondered if it might be a hint at the true nature of Telseth, but regardless, I then came to enjoy the moment, as a seemingly second-coming-like, awe-inspiring event of worldwide significance is momentarily detailed by technical difficulties. It, along with the more casual tone of the character’s dialogue, also serves to make Telseth seem less threatening and even likable. It could be a trick to lull the reader, and it makes me even more eager to learn what he’s all about.

As an aside completely unrelated to the quality of this particular comic book, that DC is publishing it under its Vertigo banner serves as a clear sign the imprint is completely different entity today than it was in its heyday. It’s not surprising, with the exodus of founding Vertigo Karen Berger, and the writing was on the wall with the ending of Hellblazer and the absorption of John Constantine (back) into the DC super-hero universe. It’s odd and perhaps fitting this latest Vertigo “launch” embraces a genre to which Vertigo had been established as a strong and viable alternative. The good news is this new entry to the Vertigo stable is still a creator-owned property, though many worry that will be an aberration rather than the norm we’ve come to expect from the mature-readers imprint.

For this relaunch, Busiek brings back his everyman protagonist from the second Astro City series published by Image Comics back in 1996. Ben Pullam served as our standin, allowing the reader to walk the streets of Astro City and to look up and see the impossible unfolding above them. Now, Busiek is taking Ben in a different direction. He’s no longer the everyman, the witness. Now he’s becoming part of the mythic world that’s been overhead for so many years. I like how Busiek is bringing the series full circle by using Ben as the central figure in this latest story, which also allows him to demonstrate things in Astro City are unfolding in real time instead of the frozen hourglass that allow Superman and Spider-Man to remain eternally young. 9/10

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I haven’t read any promotional material about or reaction to The Bounce, so I have no idea if it’s a reworked pitch for Marvel’s Speedball character, but it certainly reads like one. To be fair, though, that’s mainly due to the specific power set of the main character here, so I feel a bit bad about dismissing the origin of this story as something originally designed for another character. I mean, if the lead hero had invisibility powers, I wouldn’t have blown it off as a failed and retooled Invisible Woman proposal. Either way, the storytelling here stands up fine on its own; nothing feels lacking as a result of it being set outside an established shared super-hero continuity. But there is a problem: the hero isn’t terribly likable. The broad concept of a pothead super-hero might have worked as a purely comedic satire, but Casey plays it straight here. As a result, I found it hard to get behind Jasper. There are a couple of intriguing concepts, but by the end of the story, I wasn’t all that interested in what happens next. And when it comes to episodic fiction, getting the reader care about that is key.

David Messina’s artwork tells the story clearly — except when it doesn’t, but that’s OK, because there’s a psychedelic component that comes into play at the end of the issue. Overall, though, he boasts a fairly generic super-hero style. Beyond the apparent influences in his work (I see touches reminiscent of such artists as Terry Dodson and Bryan Hitch here), there’s nothing all that distinct to be found here. The designs for the superhuman characters are rather ho-hum as well. The Bounce is OK, but it’s also quite forgettable. 6/10

Justice League of America #4 (DC Comics)
by Geoff Johns, Brett Booth & Norm Rapmund/by Matt Kindt, Andres Guinaldo, Raul Fernandez & Walden Wong

I’m keenly interested in the more nefarious, more mysterious tone writer Geoff Johns is bringing to the Secret Society of Super-Villains concept here, but I’m finding the mechanics of the story and the interactions among the characters to be grating. This issue in particular has garnered a good deal of attention in the past few days for the apparent death of a major DC character and member of the team. That it’s given rise to any kind of furor or reaction at all is completely perplexing to me. Anyone who thinks DC would eliminate a character so well known beyond the confines of its comic-book continuity is kidding himself or herself. The death of a character in the super-hero genre has all the permanence of something written in the sand at the beach. The death of an iconic character that’s appeared in multiple TV shows and movies isn’t even plausible. Ultimately, it’s cheap theatrics, and it does little to hold my attention. Adding to my disinterest in this comic book is the fill-in art by Brett Booth. I’ve never really been taken with his elongated style, and while I think he does a decent job of emulating David Finch’s style here to achieve some consistency, it never strikes me as much more than simply standard work. I also couldn’t help but note that Finch, whose popularity was used to promote this new title in the first place, lasted all of three issues before taking a break. And Johns announced in Green Lantern #20 he’d be joined on JLA by artist Doug Mahnke. So I guess Finch is moving on, if he’s not done with this assignment already.

Another problem with this series is the backup stories penned by Matt Kindt. I completely understand why DC has made so many changes to the character of the Martian Manhunter in the world of the New 52. Its editors and creators have strived to make him darker, more intense and thereby more interesting — but they failed. One of the things that made the original incarnation of the character so interesting was his sensitivity. He was the analogy of Superman taken one step further — truly alien, truly alone. He was much more the outsider who had found a family with the Justice League. But in the New 52, he’s no longer relatable or even likable. He’s always plotting and boasts a sinister attitude. The alien character has lost his humanity, and as a result, I find him, well, boring. The art is capable but ultimately unremarkable as well. 3/10

Lobster Johnson: Satan Smells a Rat one-shot (Dark Horse Comics)
by Mike Mignola, John Arcudi & Kevin Nowlan

Lobster is a delicacy, on the dinner table and in the Mignola-verse. The adventures of the pulpy, mysterious hero, set in the years before the Second World War, are always entertaining, and this one-shot is no exception. This story picks up the title character’s pursuit of a low-level criminal who’s been doing the dirty work for a man of privilege as it’s already underway, but the script maintains an accessible tone throughout. Mike Mignola and John Arcudi offer a rousing, done-in-one crime story that owes as much to the EC crime comics of the 1950s as it does to the pulp adventure heroes that gave rise to the traditional super-hero genre we know today. It takes a little while to get the meat of the story, to the social travesty that drives Lobster Johnson to torment the evil souls he’s targeted in particular here, but it turns out to be a solid payoff. The subtitle of this one-shot is a little misleading; there’s no real reference to the phrase used. But it’s a colorful turn of phrase that evokes the period here rather than the plot.

If you’ve never picked up a Lobster Johnson comic before, this is the one to start with — not just because it’s a wholly accessible and entertaining read, but because of who’s been tapped to illustrate this latest adventure. Seeing Kevin Nowlan’s work grace a comic book these days is an all-too rare occurrence, and it’s even rarer for him to handle all of the art duties solo: cover art, interior linework and, apparently, coloring. His powerfully distinct style is on full display here, and the noir sensibilities of the property play right into Nowlan’s wheelhouse. To be honest, while I’ve always been a fan, I’ve found Nowlan’s art to be a bit stiff at times in the past, but here, he conveys motion and action incredibly well, with an old-school flair and charm. 8/10

The Wake #1 (DC Comics/Vertigo imprint)
by Scott Snyder & Sean Murphy

The Wake doesn’t exactly reinvent the wheel here. It hits some standard beats and offers familiar character archetypes, but it’s also an example of a competently crafted, effective and fun adventure/thriller story peppered with genre elements. Snyder’s selection of a woman as his chief protagonist and some plot elements remind me a great deal of the writing of comics scribe and novelist Greg Rucka. Furthermore, there are aspects of The Wake that parallel Brian Wood’s intense and ambitious story in The Massive (though I’m not suggesting the two have so much in common that they’re the same story). Snyder blends intrigue, intelligent writing and some sensitive, grounded moments between a mother and her son to arrive at a story that has something to offer just about every reader. I’m really looking forward to learning how the scenes set in the present day (or at least closer to our time) connect to the future, 200 years later, that serves as the setting for the opening scene.

That artist Sean Murphy isn’t a bigger star in the comics industry is a bit perplexing, but I suppose it’s because he’s been selective as of late when it comes to his projects. Joe the Barbarian, Punk Rock Jesus and now The Wake aren’t exactly the sorts of projects that get the throng of super-hero-genre fans foaming at the mouth, but they’ve demonstrated his strong abilities as a storyteller and a distinct, memorable and effective style. I was reminded a bit of the style of Fiona (Saga) Staples here… though I’m not suggesting her recent high-profile success in the industry was any kind of influence on Murphy here. I point it out only to spotlight the fact that those who enjoy Staples’s work will likely connect with Murphy’s art as well. His backgrounds are meticulous. He makes the settings — both real and impossible — incredibly convincing in appearance. But I have to admit what I appreciated more was his presentation of the heroine. Her thin figure nevertheless conveys some physical strength, and she’s never objectified in the artwork. While it could be argued the overall structure of the story is a bit formulaic (though executed incredibly well), the same can’t be said of the visuals. As entertaining as Snyder’s story is, Murphy’s art definitely stands out as the greatest asset The Wake has going for it. 8/10

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Brian Wood’s return to the world of Marvel’s mutants was a surprising but intriguing development, especially given the all-female lineup for this new title. And since I’m a fan of his writing and Olivier Coipel’s distinct style and figures, I looked forward to delving into this latest iteration of X-Men. I found something in these pages I didn’t expect at all: disappointment. Though the narration boasts a lofty, intelligent tone, the story is rather impenetrable, and Coipel’s artwork, though attractive, is confusing, failing to convey vital information. What defines this series more than anything else is the fact all of the characters are women, but characterization, how these women interact with each other and the weird world in which they find themselves… Wood barely touches upon these elements. This feels like a failed opportunity, but maybe the creators can capitalize on it in future issues (but I doubt I’ll stick around to see them).

Jubilation Lee, better known as the X-Man codenamed Jubilee, makes her from way Bulgaria, on the run from a mysterious stranger, and she’s got a baby in tow, no less. Just as she nears the X-Men’s base of operations in Westchester, disaster strikes, and she’s convinced the man who’s been tailing her is responsible. Fortunately, her sister mutants arrive to save the day. Meanwhile, the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning gets an unexpected — and unwelcome — visitor, who has a dire warning for the stern, angry heroines who are on hand to meet him.

There’s a lot to like about Coipel’s artwork here. I enjoy his lithe, slender figures. The women aren’t overly buxom, and the younger girls actually look like… well, younger girls. I like the confident, punk Storm and the grim look he brings to Psylocke. But here’s the truth of the matter when it comes to the art: I don’t know what’s going on. The opening scene — featuring Jubilee and the baby making their way through an airport and onto a plane, as an impossibly handsome guy follows them — is quite confusing. At first, I thought Mr. Machismo was Jubilee, somehow disguised with a holographic device or something. We never really see him following her; they’re never both in the same panel in the airport and airplane sequences. It’s only a few pages later when the script clears up the pursuit that I got what was meant to be conveyed in the artwork. We’re also told there’s a critical moment when one train is barrelling toward another, but it’s not clearly demonstrated in the visuals.

That being said, the plot contains unnecessary elements that distracted from the story. Jubilee’s ability to get a baby she basically absconded with on an international flight makes no sense, and why she’s in Bulgaria at all is never made clear. Furthermore, the X-Men’s appearance on a moving train seems to garner no reaction from other passengers. In fact, those passengers seem to disappear altogether once the costumed mutants board the train. And here’s the thing: there’s no apparent need for Bulgaria or for the train. It would have been simple for Wood to sidestep those obstacles to logic and write around them, to replace them. Also confusing was the placement of telepathy word balloons in the scene during which a one-time antagonist sets foot at the X-Men’s school for mutants. They make it seem like he’s the one broadcasting his thoughts, making for another jarring moment of confusion in the book.

It’s unfortunate Wood’s script knows the reader is well versed in all things X. It assumes the audience knows who John Sublime is; there’s an indication in the script he’s appeared before, but I’m completely in the dark about who he is. It assumes the audience is familiar with lesser-known members of the team, such as Psylocke, Jubilee and Rachel Summers. The interaction among the mutants — especially with everyone’s reunion with Jubilee — was a letdown, because the dynamics seem terribly superficial. One of the heroines uses the phrase “OMG” (I think it’s Kitty), and I just don’t buy it, especially in the dire atmosphere established at that point in the story. Kitty seems thrown back in the role of junior X-Man rather than the confident headmistress we’ve seen her grow to be in All-New X-Men.

The image of Jubilee carrying a baby piqued my interest. I thought it would be interesting to see a teenage (or newly adult) superhero having her hands full with a newborn, but the revelation it’s not her baby dashed my hope for a grounded, character-driven subplot. It would have been interesting to see the other women of the X-Men trying to help the younger mutant, all while realizing none of them really have any experience with motherhood. Ultimately, what might be the greatest sin here is an X-title starring an all-female cast of heroes somehow manages to revolve around the only two male characters in the book. The women spend the entire time reacting to the baby boy and the lantern-jawed beefcake baddie. 3/10

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I haven’t written in a few weeks, but this oversized (and expensive!) issue, concluding writer Geoff Johns’s highly successful run on the title character, sparked me to jot down some thoughts. I was a big fan of Johns’s additions to the GL mythos — specifically, the Corps of Many Colors. It was such a simple idea that breathed new life and legend into the super-hero/space-cop adventures of a classic Silver Age concept. I enjoyed the gradual introduction of the various corps, I enjoyed Blackest Night and I enjoyed the notion of returning arch-nemesis Sinestro to his status as a Green Lantern. All made for entertaining stories, but unfortunately, Johns isn’t going out on a high note. More recent storylines — the introduction of Simon Baz, “The Rise of the Third Army” and now “Wrath of the First Lantern” — haven’t boasted the same strength of simple sense of fun. After nine years, his Green Lantern stories certainly aren’t accessible, as is evident by this last salvo. Nevertheless, this last hurrah boasts some satisfying moments, mostly in the denouement of the First Lantern’s story, and I did appreciate the inclusion of contributions from so many past GL artists from Johns’s tenure on the property.

Volthoom, the First Lantern, is fully empowered by the entire spectrum of emotion and power in the universe, and he’s ready to bend reality to his whim. Despite the combined forces of some of the most powerful warriors in the cosmos, it seems nothing can stop him. Salvation lies in two unlikely sources: the villainous Sinestro, no longer a Green Lantern, taps a different kind of power to get vengeance for Volthoom’s destruction of his homeworld. And it’s hoped Green Lantern Hal Jordan can save the day. There’s just one problem: he’s dead. Ironically, a Black Lantern ring of the dead might hold the key to saving all life in the universe.

Every plot element revolving around Volthoom is one in which I had completely no interest. The character’s name, look and undefined omnipotence seemed rather ludicrous to me, and of course, the threat he poses offers no dramatic tension. The reader knows he won’t succeed. Of course, it didn’t help that as someone who’s been reading only this title and not the other members of the Lantern family of comics, I really had little idea what was going on. Chapters of the “First Lantern” crossover/story arc were missing, as far as I was concerned, so I always felt disconnected from the story and therefore not invested in it.

The story continues beyond the battle with Volthoom, though, and therein lies some stronger subject matter. Johns tries to make the case that his entire run on the GL titles has been about the relationship between Hal Jordan and Thaal Sinestro, and speaking as someone who’s read the bulk of that run, the idea’s more than a little forced. Nevertheless, I did enjoy Sinestro’s role in the story and I was pleasantly surprised to find he achieves his violent goals in the end (even if the effect is meaningless, given the arrival of the “Templar Guardians”). Furthermore, setting the framing sequence in the future and giving all of the heroes — Hal, Guy Gardner, John Stewart and Kyle Rayner — happy endings felt unexpectedly satisfying, even if I doubt they’re meant to be canon to limit future GL writers’ ideas.

Mahnke does the lion’s share of the pencilling work on this large issue, and he performs well through. He’s always brought a dark, weird edge to the universe of Green Lantern characters, and he maintains that tone here. The scope of the story is immense, and Mahnke manages to capture it in the artwork as well. The fine detail in the alien backdrops is as impressive as his ability to incorporate and balance so many characters throughout the issue. The decision to confine the others artists’ contributions to the book mainly to flashes of other times and places was a smart one, as it keeps the shifts in style from being jarring.

The fanfare with which DC is approaching Johns’s exodus from the title is a little over the top, to say the least. The interspersed pages of kudos from colleagues and other-media executives and creative types serve more as an acknowledgement of Johns’s contributions to the strengthening of the DC brand rather than his storytelling, I suppose, but they pose a real problem: they interrupt and distract from the story in this particular comic book. The congratulatory pages are well designed, as they draw the eye and hold it. It’s too bad they weren’t relegated to the back of the issue. Of course, it also felt like the reader was being asked to pay for this “bonus material” with the $8 price tag. Sure, there was plenty of story to be had here, more than the typical issue’s worth, but it felt more like a $4.99 comic than a $7.99 one. With Amazing Spider-Man #700, Detective Comics #19 (the de facto 900th issue) and now this comic book, Marvel and DC is pushing the limits of what their readers will pay for — and they’re pushing their luck as well. 5/10

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While still boasting an over-the-top approach, Jupiter’s Legacy mercifully seems a bit more toned down in its more extreme approach to the super-hero genre than Millar’s other more recent super-hero satire/deconstruction projects, such as Kick-Ass and Nemesis. There’s a lot more subtext to be found here, as Millar isn’t really telling a super-hero story. The intent is clearly of a cultural and socio-political commentary on the state of America in the 21st century. There’s an interesting balance of hope and cynicism to be found here that allows Jupiter’s Legacy to stand apart from other “Millarworld” fare. Mind you, while the themes and ideas are engaging and thought-provoking, what the storytelling boasts in the way of subtext, it lacks in terms of subtlety. But that’s OK… who’s expecting subtlety from a Millar script? Also coming as no surprise is the strength of Frank Quitely’s linework. Though I wish his character designs included a more diverse array of body types, he imbues the cast with powerful presences and intensity.

Following the stock market crash of 1929 that threatened to bring America to her knees, Sheldon Sampson and a group of loyal friends set out to find a mysterious island that couldn’t possibly exist but promised to hold the cure of all of society’s ills. They succeeded, and in the process, became gods walking the earth. Today, their super-heroic legacy is to be passed on to their children, but Sampson’s children and other young superhumans feel smothered by their parents’ reputations and achievements as they wallow in a culture of celebrity and privilege.

Quitely’s art in the opening scene — especially the glimpses of the seemingly magical island — put me in mind of John Cassaday’s stellar work on Warren Ellis’s Planetary. There’s an unmistakably mythic look to the figures and backdrops, and Quitely’s presentation of the island is perhaps most noteworthy for what it doesn’t show than what it does. The island looks like only part of the picture. I felt as though I was looking at a single vertebra from the spine of some behemoth of a creature.

The Planetary riff is also quite strong in the writing for that opening scene as well. The group of explorers, determined to forge ahead toward the unknown, reminded me of it, but the characters and premise also evoke other pop-culture references as Ellis did (albeit in a more indirect way here). The voyage toward an impossible island touches upon King Kong, and Sheldon’s imposing, dashing nature, clad in his exploration togs, brings with it a Doc Savage resonance. Now, Sheldon’s friends’ failure to show any measure of doubt stretches credibility beyond its limit; that no one (other than a skeptical boat captain) expresses any rational sentiment in the face of the completely irrational motive for their adventure is more than a little hard to swallow, but it’s a hurdle worth surpassing to get to the meat of the story.

It’s interesting to compare the designs Quitely’s come up with for the various super-heroes, both the classic Golden Age parents and the 21st century kids. The former boast simple, modest designs, iconic in their appearance, with bright colors. The younger superhumans boast more utilitarian, less striking looks, and the women are scantily clad. Their outfits are designed for titillation rather than inspiration. The one exception among the senior heroes is Walter, the dissatisfied, dissident voice among the original group of adventurers. His 21st century outfit is dark, basic and militaristic in appearance, reflecting the views he’s expressing about eliminating freedoms to ensure security.

I must also acknowledge the strength of the work of colorist Peter Doherty, who enhances Quitely’s line art wonderfully. It’s particularly apparent in the opening scene. The rough, dirty texture he adds to the walls in an overseas watering hole in the 1930s makes for an interesting contrast with the seemingly perfect skin tone of the American adventurers. And I love the haze he adds to the sea voyage, which adds to the tension and mystery of the characters’ quest.

Walter and Sheldon’s conversation in the latter part of the issue is a distorted reflection of the more hopeful and agreeable talk they have in the opening scene. They once shared a vision for a prosperous America, but over the years, they’ve clearly diverged, with the Utopian embracing a life of service to America and hope to achieve his goal while Walter eyes the use of power they’ve been given to force that ideal into reality. It’s a classic liberal/conservative conflict that clearly favors the former perspective and offers a pointed (and again, far from subtle) commentary on the state of America today. But on second thought, given recent events in the gun debate, one could view it in another light — that Walter represents an overbearing state trying to ensure safety through legislation while Sheldon sees the collateral damage of his approach a price worth paying for certain freedoms and principles. Sheldon’s and Walter’s powers also reflect their polarized relationship — one is an unstoppable physical powerhouse and the other a master of the mind.

In many ways, Jupiter’s Legacy carries on similar themes and notions that were expounded in Mark Waid and Alex Ross’s Kingdom Come, in which the heroes of the Golden and Silver ages see their mission and ideals twisted and distorted by the modern generation of so-called “heroes.” Kingdom Come seemed more like a statement about the genre itself and how grim, violent elements led to creators and readers losing sight of what made super-heroes special. Jupiter’s Legacy seems to cast its critical eye more widely. Millar takes aim at a modern culture of celebrity and entitlement. Brandon and Chloe Sampson strike me as standins. They’re Lindsay Lohan and Charlie Sheen and Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber and all those Kardashians; what they offer isn’t so much talent but fodder for a celebrity-driven, 24-hour news cycle. Sheldon’s crew represents the Greatest Generation, whereas their children seem to be the Greediest Generation. 8/10

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This one-shot collects three short stories that ran in Dark Horse Presents #s 14-16, and apparently, I’ve been missing out since I stopped following that title. I stopped reading it regularly because like most anthologies, it tended to be a mixed bag. But apparently, the best features in DHP aren’t just good, they’re great, if these comedic strips are any indication. This over-the-top satire of the buddy-cop genre is peppered with sci-fi elements, making for an experience as surreal as it is silly. And yes, I mean that in a good way. The only truly disappointing thing about this weird and wonderful comic book is a hyphenated term on the cover: “one-shot.” I desperately hope this isn’t the last we see of these oddball, genre cop characters. The dialogue and juxtaposition of so many ludicrous, over-the-top story elements and designs are unrelentingly hilarious. This reprint comic is bound to fly under the radar for many readers, but it’s well worth the effort to seek out a copy. I owe my local comics retailer a big thank you for putting one in my hands.

One’s a sophisticated robot created in the 1970s designed for law enforcement that approaches his job with a by-the-book attitude (as one would expect from a programmed artificial intelligence). The other is an impulsive space cop whose addiction issues led to his demotion to the New York Police Department. They’re partners, and they fight crime. Well, not so much crime as living, breathing natural disasters that happen to be as tall as skyscrapers. They’re not exactly the kinds of cases Riggs and Murtaugh can deal with. They’re Uranus and T.A.Z.E.R., and they’re driving the city’s insurance rates through the roof.

Evan Shaner shares the sort of seemingly simple approach to comic art that’s been in vogue as of late, comparable to the styles of such artists as Paul Azaceta, David Aja, Gabriel Hardman and others. Typically, we see this sort of work on less zany fare, but it works incredibly well nevertheless. His monster designs are as inspired as the demented imagination that directed him to craft them. What really sells the comedy throughout the comic, though, are the characters’ facial expressions. Despite the weird and goofy tone of the concepts here, there’s an oddly realistic approach to much of the material. The protagonists’ anatomy and the cityscapes that serve as the backdrop for the giant-monster action are quite convincing.

This comic book reads like it was written by the bastard love child of K.M. DeGiffeis (not a real dude, but two real dudes — see the 1980s era of Justice League) and Matt Fraction (the one who wrote those Rex Mantooth and Casanova comics, not all that Marvel super-hero epic stuff). Nate Cosby’s humor here is both brainy and bawdy, clever and crude all at once. He tears apart action movies, science fiction and super-heroes all at once. Cosby had me hooked with his comedic writing with the second sentence on the first page: “He got drunk a bunch by putting beer in his mouth.” The odd composition of the sentence struck me as hilarious. “Putting beer in his mouth” seems both like the author was drunk when he wrote it and it conveys the extreme nature of the drunkenness to be featured in the story. It’s not that he drank a lot — he was just PUTTING BEER IN HIS MOUTH. It goes beyond drinking, beyond drunk. I absolutely love it.

The smartest thing Cosby does with the property is limit the length of the stories. Yeah, he would have been limited in part by the format of Dark Horse Presents, but this is the sort of material that works well in short form in that anthology format. The extreme nature of the characters, plots and comedy seems to work well in small doses. Buddy Cops works as a drive-by hooting. 9/10

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I don’t have any particular affection for the Red Circle super-hero characters. I have few examples of past iterations of these characters and comics in my collection, though there’s no denying the long life and staying power of the properties. Writer Ian Flynn (and an editorial committee, judging from the credit given to a “Red Circle braintrust” here) has opted to take a legacy approach to the Crusaders, distinguishing more familiar incarnations of the heroes as a Golden/Silver Age generation and introducing a new group of young heroes who find themselves forced to carry on their parents’/mentors’ mission. Flynn is hardly breaking new ground here, but fans of such heroic legacy stories (once the domain of DC’s Justice Society stories, before its New 52 relaunch) might enjoy what they find here. The overly conventional and familiar tone of the plot and characters, though, combined with a conflict between the visual tone of the storytelling and slightly harsh elements in the plot, left me with kind of a middling feeling, not only once I was finished reading the book but as I made my way from page to page, chapter to chapter.

The members of the Mighty Crusaders gather for a long-overdue reunion, bringing their kids and protégés (who are unaware of their elders’ heroic identities and powers) along for a day of good food and company. Not surprisingly, an old enemy, long thought to be dead, chooses this moment to attack, wiping out the colorful champions. Saved by the quick thinking of the Shield, the kids learn their folks were the original Mighty Crusaders, and the Shield and his allies take steps to ensure the youths can pick up the heroic mantles to become the New Crusaders.

Despite the participation of two pencillers in this collection of the first six issues of the series, there’s a fairly uniform style throughout the volume, and that might be thanks to the efforts of the single inker, longtime comics pro Gary Martin. The overall style here clearly exhibits a strong manga influence, though at times I was reminded a great deal of the former house style for animation adaptations of DC properties, as established by Bruce Timm. There’s a bright, light tone that dominates the book, and for a title that features new, energetic incarnations of old super-hero concepts, it’s a solid approach for the art.

The problem is that the plot doesn’t follow that example (or the art doesn’t follow the plot’s, I suppose). Flynn seems to adapt a slightly grim-n-gritty approach to the storytelling, killing off an entire generation of super-heroes to make way for the new one. He even resorts to the “shocking death” gimmick later in the book, taking out one of the teen heroes. Save for that “surprise,” the lighter tone of the designs and visuals almost blind the reader to the fact that murder and massacre are peppered through this story. It’s almost routine, and it just doesn’t seem like a good fit for these characters and the look that’s established.

Speaking of those looks, I did enjoy the designs for the various new heroes. I’m not who’s responsible for them — the art extras in the back of this book are limited to a gallery of covers and variants for the original issues — but some are striking. Fly-Girl’s is particularly eye-catching (without sexualizing her), and the decision to complete discard the original look for the Comet when developing the new one was a wise choice as well.

I feel compelled to point out a particular pet peeve about this book that’s unrelated to the quality of the storytelling: the price — or to be more specific, the Canadian price. Despite the fact this was published and printed at a time when the Canadian dollar is actually stronger than its American counterpart, the Canadian price for this volume is listed as being $3 more than the American price. While I don’t imagine Canucks make up a particularly large portion of the publisher’s target demographic, the disconnect between the pricing and reality seems like a rather lazy, old-school approach to the book marketplace.

In terms of the writing, what Flynn does best here is establish a sense of history and continuity here. One needn’t be familiar with these characters to appreciate the plot and action, but he also conveys a larger context that will appeal to super-hero genre fans who are used to a shared-universe backdrop.

I have to admit one of my favorite parts of this book are those that brush up against the fourth wall and wink at long-time comics readers and industry history buffs. Flynn has incorporated a number of references to the diverse (or, from another perspective, scattered) publishing history of the Crusaders characters. He’s included references to several of the different imprints and publishers that have handled these properties over their decades-long history; Red Circle, MLJ, Blue Ribbon, Impact — all of these obscure and not-so-subtle references made me smile. Still, while they tickled the part of my brain that loves comics in general, they really had little to do with the story and characters. Ultimately, the reader is left with a rather ordinary super-hero yarn that doesn’t quite know what it wants to be. 6/10

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