By: Kelly Sue DeConnick (story), Emma Rios (art), Jordie Bellaire (colors)
The Story: Give two women some swords and it turns into a bloodbath.
The Review: Every writer has the prerogative to let a story develop at her chosen pace. That means some information will be purposely kept from us until the time is right, which in turn means a waiting period between payoffs. Until then, if a writer expects us to invest in something we don’t quite understand, she’s got to use the rest of the story to convince us that there’s something worth waiting for. Stories like these can ill afford any low points.
This is why DeConnick’s bunny-and-butterfly framing device has me kind of concerned. While it may serve as a visual treat for Rios, it doesn’t really do anything but distract your attention from the narrative at hand. Every time they pop up, you can’t help having a slightly jarring What the…? moment, and not in a pleasantly surprising sort of way, but sort of mildly irritating sort of way. DeConnick surely has a plan in mind for the two creatures, but frankly, it’s hard to imagine any kind of use that will sell a whole series’ with them as narrators.
Despite their prominence, Bunny and Butterfly are minor mysteries in an overall mysterious title. There’s a lot here that DeConnick’s not revealing, and not just because she’s holding back until the right moment; there’s also a lot of vagaries at work. As Johnny engages in an impromptu sexual romp, despite the injury to his rump, his lover accuses, “You got your wish, Johnny…got your revenge… You let her loose. And now the whole world’s gonna burn.”
“This world ain’t been kind to me. I say let it burn.”
What do we get out of that, exactly? Almost nothing. We don’t know what his wish is, the nature, cause, and object of his revenge, and the “her” he let loose upon the world. But the exchange does give us some pieces to puzzle together. There’s clearly a supernatural element at work in this world, and Johnny’s own bafflement as to why he let Alice have the “binder,” and his lover’s remark that he’s “forever making mischief,” indicates that his role is in the capacity of a trickster, limited in his powers, but highly effective at creating chaos nonetheless.
That chaos unfortunately gets visited upon Sarah, the woman whose family Foxy and Sissy left behind in their haste to escape Alice’s clutches. Although Sarah is made out to have some grit and importance of her own, she gets overshadowed the moment our heroine of the hour appears, summoned exactly as directed by Sarah’s desperate son. The battle between Ginny and Alice is furious, with Alice motivated by a command from higher up: “Your daddy sent me. Says it’s time for you to come home.”
Even though the “daddy” in question is Death himself, he is still a father of a headstrong girl, and Ginny’s response fits very neatly within that age-old relationship: “…Tell him I’m not coming home.” The question this leaves us is what made Ginny leave and what makes her stay away. It’s a basic inquiry, but a crucial one; to make Pretty Deadly a series worth coming back to every month, Ginny’s mission has to make us trust that we’ll be seeing a lot more than just her slaying anyone who’s every wronged anyone else.
Aside from the haunting beauty of her general style, Rio’s approach to the female form is especially noteworthy in this issue. She conveys, better than nearly any other artist I’ve seen thus far, the full range of women’s figures without undermining the distinctive attraction of each. You have the plump voluptuousness of Johnny’s lover, Sarah’s high cheekbones and stockiness, Alice’s near-perfect hourglass shape, and the lanky body of Ginny herself. As far as storytelling goes, Rio’s swooping linework occasionally threatens to get lost in itself, but otherwise the action flows uninterrupted. The only consistent defect I can see is lapses of blood where there should be a profusely dripping injury.
Conclusion: It’s certainly got its fair share of intrigue, but in terms of substance, you’re more attracted to the suggested possibilities than what’s actually there.
Grade: B
– Minhquan Nguyen
Some Musings: – Yet another Image series that comes automatically in a protective plastic sleeve. I suppose it beats having to request it from behind the counter and feeling like a sleazeball.
Grade
Conclusion