How far would you go to rescue your family? In the Fight Club universe, it means ingratiating yourself into an artisan soap making operation and/or into an international mercenary military corporation. Or possibly even traveling into the heart of Mogadishu. Then there’s also the matter of having your face smashed in.   

While the tone of this series often aimed to capture a heightened level of intensity, this issue seems to be a bit more, let’s say, playful. Unfortunately, that defuses some of moments that are meant to be more intense, and the whole thing becomes hard to take seriously. Compounding the problem is that the son— the character that has now officially become just a MacGuffin to spurs our Narrator and Marla into action, as he’s been pushed more and more into the periphery of our plot. The characters (and reader) have to remark every once in a while “oh, yeah! Their son. That’s why all this is happening.”

In the real world, Fight Club has become so ingrained in our culture that jokes about the name or the “rules” or other aspects are quite second nature, so it’s only natural that the sequel itself takes up what has become tropes and play with them. Case in point— the set-up, a landscape panel that is identical to the Victorian house (or is it Edwardian? I can never tell) that Fight Club has made its headquarters, and the joke, that Marla undercuts the progress we think she is making by remarking simply “Quilt Club?”. Before that, however, there’s a completely gratuitous scene of the author making an appearance as leader of Write Klub (sic), which plays as something that was supposed to be funny in the vein of all this playfulness but instead comes across as a bunch of in-jokes that readers aren’t privy to.       

Also, I think I missed something else because Marla uses the scrap of paper she gets from The Writer to find the Quilt Club, but The Writer also says to not call unless the plot lags. So, does this mean the writer himself is thinking the plot is lagging now? Well, my job as a reviewer is done when the writer and characters are doing it for me.

The comedy of the book is tempered a bit by the violence and despair, that tone of “intensity” that I mentioned earlier. There’s an attempted rape and a truly brutal one-on-one between Sebastian and a figure from his past, both of which are physically and emotionally wrecking. The art mirrors the interplay between the tones, with very typical straight-edged and regular panels for most scenes, until the violence disrupts the page and panels are haphazard, overlapping, or falling all over.    

The last page says it all— the stamp of the Comics Code Authority, bloodstained and  rendered in a distressed, blurred look with colors running and bleeding all over. It’s violent and disturbing but also comical and a visual narrative. Unfortunately, this issue doesn’t quite strike the right balance of the two, which seems to push the story into a universe of its own rather than being something very world-next-door. That’s okay, of course, but as the story moves more and more from “reality,” then a lot of the themes are becoming more and more disconnected from us.    

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Has it really been nearly two years since I reviewed Empowered vol. 8 for this site? What a bittersweet wait it has been for the next volume in one of my favorite series.

Well, hard as it’s been, fans and newcomers alike will relish three new chapters over a gargantuan 232 pages. The story this time rests firmly on Empowered, herself, as we (finally) deal with the fallout of volumes 4 and 8. You see, in both of those issues, Emp wound up taking on big-time baddies in secret, and the consequences of the suprahuman community’s perception of these events has finally come to a head in the form of an emergency Executive Council hearing over her actions. Though we briefly check in with Emp’s immediate supporting cast and see some words of support from the allies she’s gained over the last four volumes, Emp is very much on her own this time.

It’s definitely nice to have our girl firmly in the spotlight, but you can’t deny that there are plenty of tantalizing plot threads left untouched. Indeed, though I don’t think we could fairly demand any more from Adam Warren, it’s becoming increasingly clear that this world is simply too big and too wonderful for its own good sometime. Inevitably there’s not enough space in one volume to tell this story while also giving us some follow up on Ninjette’s recovery or Thugboy’s past or Emp’s daddy issues. But lest you feel like you’re not getting what you were hoping for, there is a fantastic moment with Sistah Spooky and some hints that Emp’s other big win, in volume 6, hasn’t been forgotten.

This volume isn’t nearly as heavy as the last four and the plot is a lot more action based. Warren gives readers plenty of good old fashioned brawls and escapes, as Empowered fights off a veritable horde of angry supervillains. The brilliant, if peculiar, mind of the storyteller has clearly been churning as we’re introduced to fantastic villains like Hardpoint, Dreadnaughty Naughty, Mightier Pen, and the anguilliform syndicate known as H.E.E.L. A lot of the volume’s humor is of this witty, character-based vein, as the requirements of the plot don’t leave as much space for out and out situational gags as early volumes, but there’s definitely a lightness about the story. It’s pleasantly cartoonish in how zany and fast-paced it all moves.

Despite this, Warren retains and carefully employs his ability to utterly shatter your heart. I don’t know that anything hits the heights that the series has reached, but between an early glimpse of Sistah Spooky and a fantastically well paced climax, there’s more than enough to make you forget that these are just lines on a page. While the volume ends with a long awaited and incredibly satisfying culmination to the last few volumes’ successes, the final page reminds that, in this universe, victory comes at a cost and no one can pay it alone.

As beautifully as it all comes together, I can’t help but feel like Warren probably could have adjusted priorities to include a greater variety of material. There is validity in building up the scrambling roulette of villainy that comes after Emp, however there are definitely moments where it feels like not all of them are necessary. Much as I would miss them, I think that that we probably could have had this story without Dreadnaughty Naughty, the Brawn-E Boys, or even H.E.E.L.! Particularly when a very notable cameo pops in to pull our heroine’s much commented upon derrière out of the fire - the second and less necessary of its kind in this volume - and she immediately falls into a similar situation of distress you can become rather aware of the repetition in this story. It wouldn’t be so troubling if not for the realities of the series. With no less than a year between installments, the thought that more unique elements might have been cut in favor of hammering home the central conceit of this story is a little distressing. It’s not really this volume’s fault, not really even Warren’s fault, but the shift to a few, longer stories is a mixed blessing and it takes some getting used to.

The other major criticism worth mentioning about the story is simply that the big reveal is something of an obvious retcon. There are plenty of scenarios where this plot point could have, and likely would have, come into play in previous volumes and, while this is absolutely the appropriate place in the narrative to play that card, it does take a little bit of suspension of disbelief to accept that the audience is only just discovering it.

But these are ultimately minor trifles in the face of Warren’s mastery of the adorable, the terrifying, the hilarious, and the tragic. Highlights of the issue include Zappatista and Black Mechamamba’s personal politics, the number of new light and dark capes introduced, and the sheer creepiness of the volume’s villains. “Mightier Pen” is a pitch perfect representation of all the worst false kindness this world has to offer women. Emp hits the nail on the head when she places “disingenuous” up alongside his host of more obvious creeper tendencies. Is it a bit on the nose at times? Yes. Warren even pulls the curtain pretty much all the way back by having a Hero Net reporter explicitly talk about the central metaphor of Emp’s revealing costume, but in the environment we find ourselves in, having a heroine actively stand up to harassment, even if and perhaps exactly because she’s often put back down by the assholes of the world, is kind of wonderful.

I won’t say too much about the other major baddie of this volume, as there are so many new faces and a couple of big returns, but I will say that Warren’s art takes a gruesome design into the realm of real horror, eagerly assisted by the true sense of malice he works into his writing. Especially after seeing the truth about the EMP-verse’s superbaddies revealed, the palpable evil of Warren’s endgame is a literal gut punch. The whole scene could have been incredibly and unnecessarily gory, but Warren manages to overcome his writing material and create a scene that doesn’t go out of its way to prove itself, instead quietly and solidly supporting a great showdown.

Keeping on that track, I’m deep into this review and I’ve barely even mentioned the art. That won’t do.

From an artistic standpoint, it seems like this issue represents something of a back-to-basics approach. Previous volumes often experimented specifically with one or two new techniques, but the focus this go around seems to be on bringing all of Warren’s visual evolution back into the core aesthetic of the series. The fire effects of the last issue or the high contrast objects that the series has played with over the last few years are put to good use and there’s a general improvement and refocusing that’s particularly visible in the case of characters who we haven’t seen in a volume or two, like Manny or Deathmonger.

Largely this is the same quality work that we’ve come to expect from Empowered, but the characters feel a little stronger in their designs and Warren proves particularly capable of conveying the dynamics of a scene through single images. Perhaps this last development can be attributed to the sheer number of introductory panels this volume, but, whatever the reason, it helps the communicative power of Warren’s already expressive style.

As ever, those who bemoan the ‘manga-fication’ of American comics will probably find plenty to complain about, though if anyone could make converts of them Warren would be a decent bet. I also imagine that some more casual readers will be disappointed by the series’ lack of color, but one can only hope that they come around on that issue as Empowered is a fantastic argument not only for black and white comics, but for the importance of inkwork. Not to mention that the time and clarity Warren saves by eschewing color allows him to employ some rather insane levels of detail, especially in his depictions of tech.

A (Spoilery) Thought:

• While I would totally understand if we didn’t see more of Fleshmaster, especially after whining so much about the series’ abundance of untouched plot threads, Warren has totally set him up as a fantastic ‘evil mirror’ for Emp. Especially with this volume’s developments, he’s kind of becoming Emp’s Venom. Fleshmaster was already clearly a foil for Emp, not only her opposite as a successful and popular cape but her equal, a victim of the Superhomeys who was only spurred to evil when her treatment reawakened his memories of victimization. With what he does to Manny and the revelation that he can manifest a copy of Emp’s supersuit easily set him up to become a kind of anti-Emp if Warren should chose to bring him back. Combine that with a fantastic redesign that really moves him into the upper echelons alongside Deathmonger and Willy Pete and you’ve got the makings of another A-lister. I’m just not sure we should expect to see him again for a while, if ever.

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POWER UP #1
BOOM! Box
Written by Kate Leth, Illustrated by Matt Cummings

"The customer is not always right, especially when he tries to kill everybody"

A new series by the creators behind the cartoons and comics of Bravest Warriors and Adventure Time? Worth checking out, right?

It’s a charming comic whose whimsy is largely due to Cumming’s art— a perfect example of today’s very simple graphic aesthetic, one that features hyper-expressive cartooning. It’s those expressions that lend the comic its energy and verve. Really, the backgrounds, be they interiors or simple color washes, exist only to enhance the characters and their expressions. The other strength is in the timing of the panels. Things are perfectly paced to capture humor and pathos, often nicely sequential in set-up and follow-through. The moment of “power up” is dramatically paced, an effective use of page-turn into a colorful double-page spread.

The writing? Well, it’s more of an “eh.” It’s pretty standard stuff as our “everyperson” hero encounters the strange and is suddenly thrust into a new paradigm of the world. It’s all a bit normal for this kind of story, especially considering the surrealism that marks the creator’s previous works. The main characters are very well realized and interact with each other in both real and humorous moments, but without such signature art, I doubt that the story could distinguish itself in any special way.

Grade: B

FIGHT CLUB 2 #3
Dark Horse Comics
Written by Chuck Palahniuk, Art by Cameron Stewart, Colors by Dave Stewart, Lettering/Design by Nate Piekos of Blambot

"Joseph Campbell forgot 'Sits on the front porch for a couple of days' as part of the hero's journey"

So… the Narrator/Sebastian makes his way into Project Mayhem’s headquarters, except he’s already there because Tyler Durden takes command of his network of anarchistic agents? This issue marks the transition into a kind of second act (explicitly referencing Campbell’s heroic journey at one point) but the subjective nature of the POV created by the writer/artist is starting to confuse things to the point that it’s disruptive to the story. We all know Sebastian/Tyler are the same guy at this point, but it’s presented as if everyone else in the world does not. How can he stay on the porch outside the Mayhem Sanctum at one moment and the next panel command everyone’s attention inside? I’m all for creative narrative structures, but you can’t use the same one from Fight Club 1 if you are amping up every other element of the story into a Fight Club 2.

That’s not to say there aren’t some effective moments. There’s humor/satire with Sebastian catching his son reading the Bible; there’s some disturbing moments as Mayhem attempts to cull undesirable members of society; there’s some intrigue as we start to see the true extent of Mayhem’s reach. Philosophical and moody, issue #3 shows the strengths of previous issues, but the style of storytelling is starting to get in the way of it all.

Grade: B-   

PREZ #2
DC
Written by Mark Russell, Penciled by Ben Caldwell, Inked by Mark Morales, Colored by Jeremy Lawson, Lettered by Travis Lanham

"The electoral college has a strict 'no take-backs' policy, similar to my third grade four square games."

The nation elects its first teenage President, thanks to the pettiness of the electorates. Along the way, we get even more satire, more emotional beats, and even some philosophical musings, amid a whole lot more world-building.

There’s so much packed into every page of this comic. A lot of the humor comes from what’s visual and/or what’s in the background, swirling around the characters who are oblivious to the absurdity of their world. Some of it’s basic sci-fi stuff— the people have implants that produce heads-up displays instead of carrying around a smartphone, for example. Other times it’s pretty biting satire— the advertisements that follow the people through the hospital unless you opt-out for fifty dollars. Unfortunately, it gets a bit much, and there’s a line the book crosses into pure silliness that makes the world feel too unreal at times. When that happens, it threatens to take away from the satire because these situations just can’t be taken seriously.

There’s one really poignant moment as Prez visits her father in the hospital. The speech there is just so moving and effective… Can I pull it out and frame it? It’s a truly heartfelt moment for anyone who feels down or insignificant or just needs to take a moment to step back and wonder about the universe. I don’t care if the rest of the series tanks. That sequence was worth it all.

Grade: A      

WEIRDWORLD #2
Marvel
Written by Jason Aaron, Art by Mike Del Mundo, Colors by Mike Del Mundo & Marco D’Alfonso, Letters by VC’s Cory Petit

"Hey, it could be worse. They could have picked other 80s' toys like Pound Puppies or Go-Bots."

The craziness, or I should say weirdness, of issue #1 contines. Arkon the Barbarian continues his quest to return to Polemachus, now aided by Warbow, Warrior of the Crystallium, who has a quest to rescue Crystar the Crystal Warrior.

The art continues to be reminiscent of the 70s/80s high fantasy style, and most of the pages are brilliantly rendered, especially when Warbow’s crystal body is in contrast to the backgrounds. I’ll admit that other times the colors are a bit too muddied or overall blur together, lending a kind of “sameness” to a page and things lose their distinction at first glance.

With the introduction of Warbow, it’s clear the comic is also using as its source material the world of Crystar, which apparently was one of Marvel’s attempts in the 80s to create comics and toys in hopes to elicit a licensing deal, but it failed to connect to audiences. Sure enough (thanks, Wikipedia!), the other named character, Moltar, is a key player in the Saga of Crystar. An intriguing spin on some obscure characters.

Grade: B   

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After an explosive re-introduction of Tyler into their lives, the Narrator/Sebastian and Marla learn their kid has been kidnapped, and now it’s time to find him.

That’s some pretty thin plot development for a whole issue, which is somewhat disappointing after a strong opening last month that provided a lot of set up for setting and theme. This issue, then, doesn’t really add a lot of anything new. It rounds out that thinness with a few intense scenes, and the main characters do spend several pages talking to each other and not just themselves/support groups, which is nice. My favorite part would be the flashbacks to the funeral of the Narrator’s parents, and we see a mini-Tyler alongside him. Possible origin story, here? It feels to me, though, that there’s a momentum and force of direction demanded by the story, but the pacing is deliberately slower than that demand, a conscious choice by the authors that’s pleasantly frustrating.

There’s a considerable lack of visual techniques that were nearly overwhelming in the first issue, at least by comparison. Things are a bit more “basic,” here, as it were, but still as artistic, featuring a lot of juxtaposition and flashback and deliberate staging. Unfortunately, it’s a bit more confusing at times. What was the falling paper dropped by Marla, and is it the same as the prescription paper dropped by the Narrator? He doesn’t want hypnosis, but he does— or was this a different session? Why does Tyler visibly age when reflecting on the death of the Narrator’s parents? Who’s getting off whose porch, now? And which kid was reading the Bible and how was that “fraught?” Maybe the deliberate artistry, that conscious choice I noted, is getting a bit in the way of what I would think would be a better demand: clarity.

The art and the words are very intertwined, so when it works, it’s nicely seamless. The Narrator talking about packing becomes a display of clothing items, for example. Or the repeated panels of multiple marriages that show the pastor and the Narrator visibly aging as the only change; the way the Narrator points to himself (or would it be Tyler?) in the mirror. Sometimes, panels are just presented simply, without narration or dialogue, and are still quietly effective. It’s a level of synergy between words and pictures that’s really quite expertly done. It’s a reading experience that requires attention and reflection.

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I don’t know how I haven’t sought out the Age of Reptiles series sooner. Though I’m hardly the most learned guy out there I’m still enough of a junior paleontologist to know a saurischian from a synapsid. Of course, I’m hardly alone in my love of those terrible lizards, half the men and nearly as many women you’ll meet probably had a dinosaur phase, but, for most of us, it fades over time. Why I wonder. Is it just the short attention span of a child or the personal evolution that takes us beyond our worship of the big and the powerful? Perhaps for some, but I imagine that a big part of what makes dinosaurs a distinctly youthful preoccupation is the degree to which we don’t know what to do with them in narrative.

For years the dinosaurs were a parable, an example of lumbering cruelty cut down by a just universe when they couldn’t adapt to a newer world. When the ‘Dinosaur Renaissance” hit they were reframed as perfect designs, representative of all the majesty and mystery of nature. Before long they were humanized in films like The Land Before Time and Disney’s Dinosaur, but every dinosaur film tended to follow a similar script. This wasn’t just true in the final product either, both of the aforementioned films followed a similar trajectory behind the scenes. In each case the films were begun with the idea of differentiating themselves by featuring no dialogue, but caved to the fear of losing their audience. Every now and again I wonder what the journey to the Great Valley would have been like if it had been an alinguistic one, which brings us back to Age of Reptiles.

If you’ve ever wondered those thoughts or watched a nature documentary for fun, Age of Reptiles may be right up your alley. Told completely without text, Ricardo Delgado’s story does a fantastic job of blending the naturalistic with the narrative. It’s hard to distinguish art from writing in a project like this, but, as much as they can be separated, both do an incredible job of characterizing the fantastic beasts that walk these pages, and do so without forgetting that they are just that, animals.

Our protagonist is a scarred old Spinosaur, wandering what one presumes to be the shores of the ancient Nile. In a truly interesting, and likely scientifically valid, move, our Dinosaur With No Name is not portrayed as an unstoppable killing machine. Spinosaurus inherited a lot of baggage when it dethroned T. rex as the largest predatory dinosaur, but Delgado challenges not only Spinosaurus’ inaccurate theft of T. rex’s ecological niche but the our assumptions about the role of an apex predator.

Indeed, there is no grand battle this issue, no challenge from an older male, no stand off with some Triceratops analogue. Our Spinosaur doesn’t hunt so much as he occasionally feeds, more interested in a good night’s rest than the taste of blood. The theme extends to the herbivores of the piece, a herd of Paralititan. Hardly the peaceful Longnecks of our youth, the Paralititan run the riverbank like the mob, complete with a jowled and brutal patriarch. Delgado even has them bite a fleeing theropod before trampling it to death. This obviously isn’t intended, primarily, as an educational comic, but it a wonderful way of expanding our perception of the natural world and it makes for a distinct and memorable take on the Mesozoic.

In addition to twenty-four pages of gorgeous visual storytelling, this issue also includes a short essay on Delgado’s influences. The juxtaposition of entirely wordless comics and a prose piece is interesting in itself, but it’s truly valuable for offering some welcome guidance through the inherently vague world of the Mesozoic, not to mention offering some great viewing/reading suggestions. I strongly recommend reading the comic a couple of times to develop your own version before offering Delgado a chance to limit your understanding, but I must say that it’s nice to have these brief snatches of authorial intent.

I won’t say too much to reveal Delgado’s perspective, but I think it’s safe to say that there’s an fascinatingly Japanese sensibility to the storytelling of this issue. Without dialogue or captions to guide us, we’re encouraged to externalize our own thoughts onto the beauty and stillness of nature. It’s very much contrary to traditional American notions of story and silence, but, still being a capitalist endeavor, I think Ancient Egyptians manages to walk the line well enough that it brings a taste of this perspective without being inaccessible to those looking for something more familiar.

That said, this was a ballsy way to start off this miniseries. One imagines that there will be something of a loose plot that comes together now that we have a sense of the players in this environment, but there is very little plot to be found in this issue; it is entirely about setting the tone and introducing the world. There will be those who can totally get on board with the silent series in theory but can’t abide how impressionistic the story being told is. And that is the word I would use. It has been said that art, especially visual art, is defined not by any quality of the work itself but in its ability to create a connection with the viewer. That connection is essential for Ancient Egyptians and, from the interactions of its individual tableaux, something far greater than the sum of its parts emerges.

Of course, there’s no discussing this series without mentioning how phenomenal the artwork is. The dark lines of Delgado’s style carve minute details into the page, creating a world where the pattern of a dinosaur’s scales is almost more noticeable than their silhouette. Still, I say almost very consciously, for, while the classic shapes of spinosaurids/titanisaurids/etc. are relatively downplayed, the impressions of saurian life that Delgado imbues his creatures with is essential. There’s such a naturalism that you don’t often see in reconstructions of dinosaurs in this book. Predators aren’t constantly snarling or jealously guarding their young, instead the emotion often comes from the particular way that our wandering protagonist holds itself, the way that the weight of the water affects the action, the energy in how the composition flows.

Each panel could almost be an individual piece of artwork and tells its own story and, in fact, it’s only occasionally that Delgado choses to present panels close enough together in time to follow action smoothly from one to the next. You’d think this would diminish the cinematic power of the issue, but, surprisingly, it doesn’t, like at all.

It’s also stunning to see how much detail Delgado puts, not just into his dinosaurs, but the entire world he’s recreating. The fish, the plants, even the river itself are all represented with a brilliant, yet legible cacophony of lines and careful details.

One interesting thing about this comic is its relationship with horizontal space. Partly by the nature of the theropod body structure, partly by the nature of the comics page, and partly by Ricardo Delgado’s own sense of composition and style this book is positively full of wide and sensuous panels. The use of width is not rare these days, this is, after all, very much a ‘widescreen’ comic, but it’s the degree to which the x-axis dominates the storytelling that stands out. There are barely any panels that are taller than they are wide and the motion of the book is very frequently either horizontal or about the raising or lowering of a horizontal shape. It makes the towering Paralititan all the more natural foes.

A Thought:

• My knowledge is not complete enough to say exactly how accurate Delgado’s representation of Cretaceous Gondwana is, however, I can see that most of the major discoveries in the region are represented in their appropriate niche. S. aegyptiacus got a rather drastic reimagining last year thanks to a new paper by Nizar Ibrahim and Paul Sereno that isn’t represented in the book. The new reconstruction has been generally accepted but not without some reasonable skepticism from the scientific community. I wonder if Delgado was already drawing the series when the paper was published or if he merely decided against using the new reconstruction in the book for some reason. As a newcomer to Age of Reptiles, I can’t say what level of scientific accuracy Delgado was aiming for, but it’s an interesting intersection between science and fantasy either way.

The post Age of Reptiles: Ancient Egyptians #1 appeared first on Weekly Comic Book Review.

When I saw that Dark Horse Comics was publishing a sequel to Fight Club, my first thought was “Cool, but … really?” And then I saw that it was written by Chuck Palahniuk, the author of the eponymous novel, and became very intrigued. How would the novel’s sensibilities translate into a visual medium of a comicbook?

Palahniuk is joined by Cameron Stewart, and both create a wonderfully rendered and superbly realized world. The characters are distinct but never overly caricaturized, and the arrangement of panels are perfectly synched for tone and thematic resonance. Everything feels purposeful and pregnant with meaning— from key close ups to dream-like inset panels. The most exciting part of the art? What’s *not* depicted. There are several times that narration boxes are obscured by objects (the pills are literally blocking out pieces of the Narrator’s thoughts) or when panels are placed over things like faces during a Fight Club brawl (we aren’t supposed to talk about it, after all) or wilting flower petals hiding the words “I love you.” This plays visually into several things at once— the deterioration of the narrator’s life, his jumbled mind, the dehumanization of existence as “things” supersede “people.”    

These themes were already evident in Flight Club 1, so it’s equally telling and disappointing that there has been no resolution to the Narrator’s original dilemma. This sequel then answers another obvious question to sequels everywhere— how does the story *work?* Didn’t the original have a beginning, middle, and end already? Why continue? But, if you remember, the book itself held a clue. The original story ended in a cliffhanger, as followers of Project Mayhem assured the narrator that his counterpart would return. And indeed, as various panels (and an attempt at guerrilla marketing by the author/publishers) would attest:  “Tyler Lives.”

The comicbook sequel takes place several years after the events of Fight Club, and there is a seamless transition here into the new life of the Narrator (now “Sebastian”) and his wife and kid. All the horrors of suburbia are here, the drudgery of life that plagued Sebastian before is simply repackaged. The narration box tells us “he calls himself happy” but the depictions are anything but. His wife Marla is just as damaged, and is subtly sabotaging his life, which is just one more thing enabling Tyler to re-emerge. It’s a destructive return, too, as Sebastian escapes a burning house and, it seems, the loss of his son.

It’s a mixed blessing that it’s such a seamless sequel. One one hand, it’s great to see these themes reiterated, and the plight of the characters are much more poignant as we have already been along for part of their journey. That said, I’d imagine there will be some disconnect between those familiar with the characters and situations and those coming in a bit cold. I would rather not have any clunky exposition, but the conceit of the personality disorder and some non-linear sequences thrown in there coupled with the backstory that’s assumed by the writer might be a recipe for some confusion.

Also, some fans excitement about the original story, especially in the film version, was the whole “twist” ending, and here it’s already a given. Will the sequel attempt a similar device? I hope not, as it would come across as a bit cheap/gimmicky. Instead, we have essentially a horror story, with the antagonist and protagonist as one and the same. It’s the unrelenting evil of selfishness and ego, and the helplessness and tragedy that our world doesn’t give us solutions for it, and in fact may be causing and enabling it.

In another light, with Tyler being completely the antagonist here, there’s little opportunity to sympathize with him. Perhaps it was the charm of Brad Pitt, but Tyler was a favorite character for many, and quite charismatic to other characters and the audience alike. This charisma seems completely absent, or perhaps intentionally withheld, that results in somehow cheapening his character, and comes close to dangerously dragging Marla’s down with it.

The art is not without its downfalls, too. The comicbook has several narrative and visual tricks, but overall perhaps it’s a bit too much. The red car passing Sebastian outside the flower shop must have been Marla’s, but it’s difficult to catch that without a close read. The phone call Tyler is devoid of context, and Sebastian’s fight with the neighbor is presented in a manner disconnected, nonlinear way. Why does the whiskey bottle shatter?

The post Fight Club 2 #1 appeared first on Weekly Comic Book Review.

It’s been a good couple of weeks for Empowered Fans. Volume 9 has just been announced for a mid-august release and now, to tide us over, Dark Horse has collected all six Empowered one-shots into one lovely volume that should fit in nicely with its sisters on the shelf.

It’s definitely interesting to see the six stories wrapped up in a single package. Not only do the shared elements, like the frequent presence of Teknofetish, make for a nice, vague sense of unity, but it’s pretty cool to watch the concept of Emp’s one-off adventures evolve.

The first story, “The Wench With A Million Sighs”, is definitely the short that tries to cover the most ground. Though I think later installments benefitted from a slightly narrower focus, it does the best job of shrinking and replicating the effect of a full volume. Everything from Thugboy’s valiant attempts to convince Emp of her beauty to the Caged Demonwolf’s loquaciousness to Emp’s heartbreaking relationship with her father is represented. It’s likely not quite enough to fully understand the entirety of Empowered Unchained, but it is a nice entry point for new fans and readers requiring a refresher.

The battle with Irresistimovable is fun and clever, ending in a logical fashion and keeping the suspense high enough not to drag in the middle, while the ideas around Emp’s sighs are cute. I especially like Ninjette’s likening them to kanji.

“The Wench With a Million Sighs” is also the only story in this collection that’s purely illustrated by Adam Warren himself. It’s probably best that way. While part of the fun of this collection is seeing other artists take their shot at the characters, this not only eases us in but lets Warren handle the story with the broadest sense of what Empowered is. His drawings of Emp and Thugboy walk the line between sexy and adorable, as always, and the battle seems extremely suited to the bombastic, high-motion style Warren employs.

“Ten Questions for the Maidman” is even stronger. Split between an interview with the titular badass, Empowered and friends’ commentary on the “Sanitary Sentinel”, and a short tale of Emp’s successes and failures with a new crime-fighting strategy, this one-shot is much tighter and equally charming. Warren clearly adores coming up with kennings for his panty-clad avenger and, while it’s a bit much at times, effective use of repetition and the “lower third” allows Warren to keep the story moving and the jokes flowing. Each of the stories get a nice ending and Maidman’s seriousness and honesty make him a great costar for the story.

Emily Warren “(No Relation!)” is the series’ first guest artist and brings a bit more of a western influence to the look of her pages, appropriate for the Dark Knight-inspired Maidman but her faces are a little geometric at times. Still, Ms. Warren does a fine job of keeping her pages varied despite the limitations of the interview format and introduces some wonderful abstractions, often using Maidman’s doily iconography to great effect. It’s also worth noting that Warren is primarily a colorist and, in that element, the story looks great.

Adam Warren still handles Emp’s section, though based on the little we see I’d be happy to see Emily Warren’s take on our favorite body conscious heroine. Particularly with another artist picking up some of the slack, Mr. Warren really goes all out on the detail, with some especially intense backgrounds and tech in this short. It’s pretty incredible how legible it all is when so many artists’ compositions get bogged down by background detail, and all this without the benefit of color!

The third one-shot, “Hell Bent or Heaven Sent” is probably one of the weaker ones. There’s a nice sense of time pressure and it’s always fun to see Emp geek out, but the villains, as it were, aren’t exactly complex. The ideas in this one are cute though and its another nice little mystery to solve with Emp.

Ryan Kinnaird is our guest artist this time and he’s well suited to the material. The designs for the mechangels are pretty great, and they balance nicely between the attractive and the uncannily perfect. The other characters don’t fare quite as well, everything looks a little too slick, too smoothed out, and Emp and Mechanismo look just a little off to me. The texture work that is so effective on a nanotech infestation is a little odd on our heroes. Still, Kinnaird’s Captain Rivet certainly strikes an imposing figure and Emp’s victory is oddly bittersweet thanks to the sudden shift in the mechangels’ demeanor.

“Animal Style” is our half-way point and it’s a nice change of pace. A different take on the basic Empowered structure, a bonanza of clever ideas, and a look at Elissa in her college days make this one of the book’s stronger chapters. For most writers a superhero autoshow would probably be enough - who couldn’t get some laughs out of thieves trying to swipe the Redbird or the Shocker’s buggy - but Warren goes the extra step and includes rare automobiles from all manner of alternate universes. The “Armegeddon-Alley” universe in particular gets some special attention and seems like the sort of thing that could easily become the basis for a longer story, even if only for the fun of exploring a ‘dark and gritty’ Emp-verse.

It’s also really fun to see Emp pulling out some superhero theory again and it makes for a tense but unashamedly awesome extended battle sequence. The members of Animal Style are pretty fun and make for decent antagonists, even if they’re mostly there to demonstrate some of Emp’s advanced buttkicking maneuvers. I also have to say that while it’s not hard to figure out what’s going on with Animal Style’s recurring “close window” schtick, it doesn’t feel all that present until we get to see it for ourselves towards the end of the story and, as a result, falls a little flat.

The present day art, provided by John Staton, is strong and dynamic, helping to lead the reader through Emp’s planning and improvisation. Warren has said that he designs the plot of each one-shot based on the artist he’s working with and that’s perhaps clearest in this story with the high-tech villains and aisles of cars playing easily into Staton’s strengths. His depiction of Emp, herself, isn’t bad, possessing a pleasingly cartoonish elasticity, but occasionally leaves her looking a little distorted with strange head shapes or awkward fits for her mask.

I would also be remiss if I didn’t mention how much character Warren wrings out of “angry hoodie college Emp.” Though Warren’s pages essentially consist of this younger version of our hero standing in a white void, he makes them feel essential by communicating a lot about Emp in her younger, and by extension current, incarnations.

“Nine Beers with Ninjette” may be the best of the one-shot stories contained within this book. Where the last few have tended to remind us of how awesome Empowered can get, this tale aims straight for the heartstrings. An evolution of the ‘Maidman’ structure, this achronological tale of Ninjette’s past and personality is by far the most affecting and ‘important’ of the one-shots. There’s still comedy, but it’s all marked by a distinct bittersweatness.

Though the way Ninjette tries alcohol is a little convoluted, it’s an enormous treat to find out how Ninjette’s costume came to be, hear her version of how she and Emp became friends, and even get some great backstory on F**king Oyuki-chan. Overall “Nine Beers with Ninjette” is defined by the honesty that I think makes Empowered so special. How often do we get to see female friendships as both fluffy fun and lifesaving oases or heroes really acknowledging their flaws or women flat out admitting that they actually get horny from time to time. Especially in this collection, the distinct tone of this tale gives it some extra oomph.

Of course it helps that Takeshi Miyazawa is our artist. Miyazawa’s art is obviously suitable for this story of a New Jersey ninja and the starkness of its black and white helps keep the focus on the storytelling. There’s both a joy and a youth to Miyazawa’s style that is pretty perfect for this particular story. Miyazawa does some especially great work with Ninjette’s hair and costume, using them to help convey very precise feelings of motion.

I also can’t neglect how great ‘Jette’s supporting cast look. While Oyuki’s stark white color scheme summons up something more in the vein of Rei Ayanami than the dark-skinned kunoichi we met in Empowered vol. 5, Oyuki-chan looks really cool and very distinct, giving her a special vibe throughout the story. Likewise, the choice to never fully reveal Ninjette’s father gives him a special eeriness when combined with Miyazawa’s pencils. Almost oni-like in his physique, ‘jette’s “otō-sama” radiates power, misogyny, and control. It’s an impressive bit of visual shorthand.

I’ve actually already reviewed the final story in this collection, Internal Medicine, so, in the name of keeping this massive review from growing even further, I’ll direct you to that article.

As a collection, the stories have a nice flow and will certainly look better on the shelf than a spattering of small one-offs. It would have been nice if there had been some mention of when the various stories were released. It’s not hard to place them really, but  having the added context from the get go might have been helpful when some stories are still heavily referencing the events of Emp vol. 4 and others were published after vol. 8.

There is also a small selection of extras included in the back of the book. It’s pretty cool but getting one page of sketches per story doesn’t feel like all that much of a bonus. It’s mostly included to ensure that trade readers get the full experience that early adopters got and, in that respect, I suppose it’s quite nice of Warren and Dark Horse.

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Probably the most widely known bit of Lovecraft is his doggerel from the Necronomicon, "That is not dead which can eternal lie, and in strange aeons even death may die."  That couplet has graced tee shirts, coffee mugs, illustrations, and probably cross-stitches throughout the English-speaking world.  It could apply very easily to the work of Lovecraft, himself, which has shown remarkable durability over the decades since his untimely death nearly a century ago.  Especially over the last twenty years the dark bard of Providence has experienced a Renaissance, spurred by scholars such as S. T. Joshi and loving disciples as diverse as Stephen King, T.E.D. Klein, and John Carpenter.

Richard Corben's Rat God #1 features, so far, neither a rat nor, as far as we can see, a god.  It is, however, solidly in the tradition of Lovecraft.  In fact, it is more than solidly in the tradition of the master, it is a direct pastiche of the him.  Most of the modern imitators of Lovecraft adopt his sensibilities but do not include his attitudes in their literature.  Not to split hairs, Lovecraft was racist even by the standards of the 1920s, much less by the mores of our age.  Therefore, it's understandable that the inheritors of his mythos want to leave the less acceptable aspects of their literary heritage to the side.  For stories set in the modern era, this works quite well.  However, for tales that try to truly partake of the Lovecraftian tradition, including the 1920s setting, ignoring racial attitudes and social conflicts rings false.  Although Lovecraft may have been extreme even by the understanding of his age, he was nevertheless a man of that era, a strange aeon indeed by our standards, and trying to avoid facts in the service of modern sensibilities creates distortion at best.

Corben is braver than that.  His main hero is straightforwardly racialist, if not outright racist, in a casual manner that fits with the truth of the period.  Corben also embraces themes of racial destiny and memory that moderns find uncomfortable but that were completely true to Lovecraft's own art.

Unfortunately, the story moves too slowly for the power of this bravery to truly manifest.  Lovecraft, more than perhaps any other author, is a perfect example of the maxim that the horror genre is more about atmosphere and incident than plot.  However, in giving us an issue that is essentially all incident and prelude, Corben fails to impart any kind of momentum to his story, raising the question of why readers should return to meet the rats and the gods.

Corben's art does not invite any more than his prose.  The style here is simple to the point of primitivism.  At it's best, this might be suggestive of folk art, or some varieties of art comics.  In this case, however, it merely seems unreal, as if the reliefs on the friezes of a Maya temple had begun to move and speak.  Such an effect might eventually have great power.  But in the absence of a story with true motive force, the art fails to impress or enthrall.

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It is hard to believe that Hellboy is twenty-one years old.  Yet, it has been that long since the lovable stone-fisted working guy of a supernatural investigator first appeared in San Diego Comic-Con Comics #2 with a script by John Byrne and art by Mike Mignola.  Those credits look very odd now after Mignola has spent so many years as the sole writer, and often the sole artist, on the series.  Due primarily to Mignola's long stewardship, Hellboy has built a largely integrated, consistent canon that compares favorably in breadth and depth to those of much older characters from DC and Marvel.

But what themes have driven this success?  Simple continuity of authorship can't explain why the character, his setting, and his supporting cast have called forth such love and loyalty.  The answer lies in the fact that Hellboy isn't primarily about Hell, nor is it at the fundamental thematic level about a boy from Hell.  Defying many casual beliefs about the nature of comics, Hellboy is essentially an epic about change.  It is the tale of a being ripped from one universe and placed in another.  It is about how that being, that boy, grows up in ways natural to neither his home dimension nor his adopted one.  It is about new friends, new adventures, and new ways of dealing with old problems.  Hellboy is strong and smart and possessed of many supernatural abilities, but above all he moves.  He moves through time at his own bizarre pace, aging physically with great speed and then plateauing out at apparent immortality, while his mind retains its teenage outlook for many years.  He moves through situations and relationships and challenges with determination and heroism.  The world around him changes and, unlike many heroes, he changes with it, while remaining constant in his moral essence.

Hellboy and the B.P.R.D 1952 #1 shows movement in two realms.  Three previous arcs, B.P.R.D.: 1946, B.P.R.D.: 1947, and B.P.R.D.: 1948, dealt with Hellboy as a child and his relationship with Professor Trevor Bruttenholm and the investigators of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense.  Now Hellboy, first brought into our world on December 23, 1944, is growing up.  He is ready to undertake his first field mission, a decision that Professor Bruttenholm makes with great care but announces to his team of field operatives with disarming off-handedness.  The team consists of the amiable Archie Murard and the sour Jacob Stegner, both introduced in previous series, as well as two new adventurers, FBI agent Susan Xiang and Princeton University security adviser Robert Amsel.  The group sets out immediately for Brazil to investigate mysterious happenings at an abandoned Portuguese fortress.

The simple plot serves only to introduce the main cast and set up the coming action.  But beyond the plot lies the other axis of movement we see in this issue, a movement of creators.  Mike Mignola shares the story duties with John Arcudi, while handing off the art to Alex Maleev.  Maleev most famously worked with Brian Michael Bendis on a well-received Daredevil run from 2001 to 2007.  From that and other work he brings his trademark thick lines, sharp angles, bent curves, and deep shadows, all suggesting a world more raw and more dangerous, but also more emotionally vital, than ordinary life.  Maleev does not achieve the same broken, obscured look of a grainy photograph that often characterized his Daredevil work, but colorist Dave Stewart, whose work was on display last month from DC with Detective Comics #36, uses a muted palate of blues and grays and browns that give the images a faded, slightly distant quality.  Letterer Clem Robins rounds off the mood with spiked fonts and crowded word spaces that suggest edginess and tension.

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Power dwells in the places and times between. Shamanic traditions of magic and religion rest on this psychological foundation. The name of this series resonates with that psychic fact, as sunrise and sunset have long been in known as the best times to kill, die, make love, and cast spells.

In Sundowners #4, writer Tim Seeley explores much more than the boundary between day and night. He is interested in the line separating good and evil, which is not the same as that between right and wrong.  His avatars of that difference are Andrea Bisch , who believes she gains super powers for the defense of Good if she first commits a wrong such as taking the Lord's name in vain or shoplifting, and Brandon Westphal, who thinks he energizes his super powers for Evil by doing the right thing for street people and jail inmates.  The two of them hold they are the embodiments of a bet, a Grand Experiment, between God and Satan. Whether this is true or a case of folie a deux proves one of the most interesting questions so far in this very mysterious series.  Or perhaps, as would-be vigilante Concerned Citizen notes when caught in the web of their struggle, the best response to the Grand Experiment in walking the line between salvation and perdition is "Shit, man.  Welcome to Chicago."

While that particular drama spools out, others walk their own lines.  Karl Volf, imprisoned in a church by a seeming cult called The Jubilant, finds himself facing the Illuminatrix, perhaps an extradimensional being opposed to other invaders from outside normal reality.  Tia Alcala, near comatose from an apparent suicide attempt, likewise has visions of this struggle taking place beneath the folds of ordinary perception  Are Karl and Tia prescient or simply, or not-so-simply, mad?

And then there is the case of David Shrejic, the psychiatrist who heads the Sundowners Therapy Group.  Shrejic proves vain, ambitious, cowardly, and manipulative.  He believes the Sundowner Syndrome he has discovered, defined as a belief one is a superhero and not to be confused with the real-world condition of that name whereby some demented people become agitated at night, will bring him respectability after a past of incompetence, neglect, and scandal.  He is also caring about his patients, and seems to genuinely want to help them.  He is the only one of the group who does not believe himself a hero, and the boundary he walks is the most twisted of all.

One limit that Seeley might do better to regard more closely is that between one issue and another, and between a monthly periodical and a trade collection.  Seeley's great strengths of character and relationship are on fine display here, but so is his weakness for baroque, slow-moving plots that read much better in trades than in single issues.

Sean Dove's color palate favors sickly greens and browns, pallid tans and oranges, and lurid reds, all suggesting a world infected with subtle disease and disorder.  But Jim Terry's pencils provide the most subtle messages.  Terry favors regular panels in stable grids, often with six or more panels per page.  This arrangement, reminiscent of Steve Ditko or Dave Gibbons, lends a sense of objectivity, a feeling that we are watching the story unfold through a set of well-constructed windows, even when the panel borders are created by the outstretched limbs and flowing robes of the Illuminatrix.  This deepens the philosophical quandary of whether what we see, and what the characters see, is real, or else whether we are watching a documentary examination of insanity playing out in everyday Chicago.  Terry's figures seem static and posed, not as if they are consciously trying to project an image, but as if they are trying to move carefully through a fragile reality, ever aware that if they proceed clumsily someone might get terribly hurt. When emotion, movement, and violence do manifest, it is with a raw intensity that bespeaks forces barely bridled.  We know that these people find themselves in a world they cannot trust.  And we know that the worst of it is they cannot trust themselves.

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