Collider #1

"The Paradigm Shift," Part One
written by Simon Oliver
art by Robbi Rodriguez

The premise behind Oliver and Rodriguez's new sci-fi offering from Vertigo is exceptional:  the laws of physics are coming unraveled.  Physics, in fact, is now a new cause for emergency.  Protagonist Adam Hardy is part of the FBP—an FBI off-shoot tasked with repairing and researching these phenomena—and, apparently, the son of a researcher "some years ago" (with videotape and big-box desktop computers) caught in a mysterious quantum tornado.  It's a premise that demands a lot of explanation, but Oliver's exposition is considerably less cumbersome than necessary exposition is wont to be.  The immediate drama, a seemingly routine gravity failure at a local high school, turns into a minor emergency of its own, an indication that even in the new non-Newtonian world the rules are about to change again.  By the end of the issue, they most certainly have.

Collider's characters thus far lack definition.  They embody, for the most part, familiar stereotypes:  the cocky Fed, the socially awkward brain, the easy-going daredevil.  However, the sparks are there for plenty of development.  Admirably, none of the characters are without their faults, some more so than others, but it promises a series with enough sensibility to avoid easy heroes and villains.  It also teases conflicting factions in the physics drama, seemingly financially motivated, which ensure the inevitable conspiracy subplots.  However, in a world in which the rules are changing, it's no surprise someone would be there to attempt to monetize it.

For the most part, Collider #1's artwork is fine but unexceptional, largely because so many of its panels feature characters doing little else but talking.  When Rodriguez is allowed to flex his muscles, particularly in Collider's trippy failing-physics scenes, he excels.  His visual imagination for physically fictional scenarios is a wonder, a style superbly complemented by Nathan Fox's pop-art cover, one of the finest of the year.  It's a world in which even the movement of light is unpredictable.  Hopefully, the story will be the same.  If this is the new direction of Vertigo, I'm enthusiastically on board.

[September 2013]

Dream Thief #2

written by Jai Nitz
art by Greg Smallwood

The first issue of Nitz's thus-far stellar mini-series relied heavily on disorientation for its effect, protagonist John Lincoln waking to increasingly incriminating evidence of his sleepwalking actions.  With Dream Thief #2, the rules—if we can call them that—of the mask are becoming clearer.  When John falls asleep, the memory of a murder victim possesses his body to enact revenge upon his killers.  Though he has no control over his actions in this state, John is subsequently able to recall them, as well as all other memories of those who possess him, gathering a collection of talents, abuses, and interests.  Seemingly, the mask itself cannot be discarded or destroyed.

His second time behind the mask, Lincoln finds himself possessed by Jimmy Oliver, a gay ex-army man turned stuntman turned porn star, whose lover betrayed and killed him when he refused to participate in their drug-running business.  There's nothing particularly mainstream about Jimmy, but Nitz writes him with sensitivity and ease, and from his perspective there's nothing particularly exceptional about his life.  It's the kind of storytelling sleight of hand that makes Dream Thief such a stand-out.

Though structually Dream Thief is more an action/horror story than anything, it continues to surprise with its healthy sense of humor and whimsy, one Nitz is willing to acknowledge:  "Jimmy changed my ringtone to "Yakety Sax."  Note to self:  The dead still have a sense of humor."  (Dream Thief #2, p. 2)

Lincoln repeatedly struggles to differentiate his identities, slipping pronouns in flashbacks and imagining/remembering some of Jimmy's most intimate moments—conversations with his father, his first on-screen sex scene, his death—and, though he takes this slippage in stride, John cannot help but be changed by it.  After all, who are you when you are suddenly flooded with someone else's memories? 

Polarity #4

written by Max Bemis
art by Jorge Coelho

The superhero mythology of his bi-polar metaphoric fever dream continues to spin away from Bemis, but his handle on the heart of his semi-autobiographical mini-series is strongest here.  His delivery, a more or less straightforward manifesto of hipster loathing and acceptance, is somewhat unoriginal and unsubtle, but after three issues of erratic (if entertainingly whimsical) angst and superhero antics, it was necessary for Bemis to clear the air, to clarify as much as possible his own relationship with his cultural movement.  And, in conformity with the overall impression of previous issues, it's pleasantly generous if frustrated.  As before, Polarity #4's finest moments are the small, personal ones.  Tim's confession of love to Lily, in particular, is both genuinely sweet and funny.

The superhero conspiracy is, however, if you'll forgive the turn of phrase, somewhat half-baked.  The transition of Dr. Mays from trusted confidant to deranged, power-hungry mad scientist is a considerable stretch, even if his weary frustration is comical as both.  The shadowy forces behind his employment remain entirely in the shadows, and the reasons for wanting to develop an army of mental-patients-turned-superpowered-soldiers remains unexplained.  The placement of sleeper agents, including the homeless man with multiple personalities, is clever but sloppily deployed.  The conclusion of this criminal conspiracy conversely far too tidy.

[July 2013]

The Wake #2

Part Two (of 10)
written by Scott Snyder
art by Sean Murphy

What an opening!  The deep evolutionary history of Snyder's The Wake provides even in its briefest moments of Part One some of the series' best intrigue.  Part Two ups even that ante.  What looks to be the prize of a successful hunting expedition, a large mammoth littered with spears, is revealed instead to be the bait for even larger aquatic prey, a gigantic megalodon, which dramatically drags down a massive hunting party of web-fingered humanoids as they continue to attack with killer precision.

The Wake has taken little effort to disguise its monster:  a mermaid.  Yet, its mermaid is quite mysterious.  Most importantly, it has been attempting communication with its sophisticated song for its full captivity, and Dr. Archer plans on listening.  It also, seemingly, can get into human heads, cause hallucinations or dreams.  It is simultaneously elegant and terrifying.

The team assembled by DHS, though introduced in Part One, are better realized here, particularly Meeks:  Leonard Meeker, a deep-ocean engineer and marine poacher.  Dr. Archer, to her surprise, is assigned by Agent Cruz to lead the team in their investigations, much to the consternation of her former boss and NOAA yes-man Wainwright.  Her expertise in whale song not withstanding, her former encounter with the creatures, suspected by Cruz and recalled with increasing frequency by Archer herself, seems to weigh heavily on both Archer and the direction of the story.

Once again, Sean Murphy and colorist Matt Hollingsworth deliver exceptionally fine artwork, capitalizing on The Wake's most explosive and epic moments—the megalodon launching out of the water comes to mind—and recreating the darkness and industrial shadows of the deep-sea drilling station.  They, with Snyder, have concocted a brew of human epic—indebted to Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey—and lyric horror—to Scott's Alien—with a mystery all its own.

[August 2013]

Bedlam #8

"I'm a Victim Here"
written by Nick Spencer
art by Ryan Browne

Though his methods are considerably more similar to 21st-century political terrorism, it turns out Spencer's new villain is as madly and philosophically motivated as his last...and perhaps more importantly, as Madder Red.  Speaking literally from the mouth of his victim/unwitting accomplice, he announces himself a savior, a man willing to induce the murderous birth pangs of a new freedom.  And Press continues to see through the ruse of the crimes.  Where Acevedo and her fellow police investigators follow only the most tangible clues, Press understands the rhetoric of violence.

Spencer too speaks this language.  While the opening act of his new villain—a series of public bombings in a cafe, city bus, university, and an office building—is eerily familiar, his second act—a dramatic epidemic of simultaneous suicides—is unearthly and fully in keeping with the tone Spencer has cultivated in Bedlam.

However, "I'm a Victim Here"'s finest and most surprising moment is its exceptionally quiet unveiling of the First, the rich only son of prominent business family and current city councilman advocating for an 'extraordinary crimes' task force, Matt Severin.  Part of what Bedlam has negotiated so well is its contrapuntal perspective on superheroics, and as such casting the First as a Bruce Wayne/Tony Stark/Oliver Queen golden child turned public service advocate fits the mold very well.  As Press's foil, Severin is more complete.

While new series artist Ryan Browne continues to underperform next to his predecessor Riley Rossmo, "I'm a Victim Here" shows considerable improvement over "Our Little Conversations".  Partly, no doubt, the longer turnover period allowed him more time to polish his style, but partly because it shows more of his own flavor than Rossmo's, Browne's artwork shines in this issue, particularly the opening flashback sequence between Madder Red and the First.  He still hasn't mastered the chaotic line movements of Rossmo and sometimes his faces get washed out or distorted by heavy shadows, but he seems to be finding his footing in the series.

East of West #4

Four:  Last Days of Dead Men
written by Jonathan Hickman
art by Nick Dragotta
colors by Frank Martin

Romance, yes.  Love, often enough.  But sexual heat is difficult for comics to do well.  Xiaolian and Death's single-panel kiss, though, is surprisingly carnal, particularly given the clean, sleek style Dragotta has cultivated for the series.  If their passion were too abstracted before, too soullessly epic, Dragotta changes that in a moment.

East of West #4 may be the story of the liberation of Xiaolian and the conquest of New Shanghai—to be sure, it is a spectacular battle—but "Last Days of Dead Men" is more a portrait of Xiaolian herself than the rescue of a damsel.  She is fierce and unforgiving to her blood-thirsty sister and her tyrannical father, those responsible for her near death and capture as well as for their own part in the apocalypse, but despite her love for Death, she would save her people and mourn the execution of her betrayers even at her own hands.  The main figures in Hickman's apocalyptic tale are compelling to a man but not particularly human in any relatable way, in part no doubt because several of them aren't actually human.  But Xiaolian is the first to break this pattern, though she remains dangerous and mysterious.

Meanwhile, Hickman and Dragotta deliver one of the finest battle sequences I've yet seen in comics.  Armed only with his robotic horse's firepower, and accompanied only by his fellows Wolf and Crow, Death assaults New Shanghai with a single-minded resolve.  Why Premier Mao and his daughter Hu believed they might withstand an attack by Death himself is still unclear, but as Xiaolian points out to him, his humiliation is deserved for much that reason.  As hinted in previous issues, Wolf and Crow both live up to their names, transforming into armies of the respective animals, tearing the heavily armored but human troops apart.  Both Dragotta's stellar artwork and the panel organization and layout create a forcefully kinetic story, one with cinematic flourishes, pauses and crescendo worthy of Hickman's epic tone and style.

[July 2013]

The Dream Merchant #2

written by Nathan Edmondson
art by Konstantin Novosadov

The telling may be elegant and the ideas clever, but The Dream Merchant #2 is little more than exposition.  Having stolen a little distance from the alien Regulators pursuing Winslow, the Merchant of Dreams takes most of the issue to explain Winslow's dreams and begin his training.  On the other hand, the introduction of an FBI agent looking into events at the psychiatric hospital and the possible kidnapping of Winslow and Anne brings an unexpected and unexpectedly refreshing investigative angle to Edmondson's surreal dream tale. 

Some of The Dream Merchant's best storytelling is visual.  The disappearance of the Regulators with the coming dawn—a single-page, three-panel sequence on p. 10—is evocatively eerie.  The blossoming friendship between Winslow and fellow fugitive Anne is easily visible in their body language even as their social awkwardness makes it difficult for them to click in conversation.  Sleeping quietly on his shoulder in the truck speaks more for Anne than any of her gentle pleading for Winslow to embrace his unique situation.

Though its dream mythology is engaging and beautiful, its colonization metaphor is not.  A foreign race, who in Earth's earlier times traded peaceably with humans, now seeks to return only to take forcibly their resources and annihilate the species.  It's neither difficult to believe nor without numerous historical precedents in human history, but in the context of a dream saga, it comes across far heavier-handed than it should.