Fairest #33

This isn’t the best way to start a review for the final chapter of anything, but finally. Finally. In all honesty, if it weren’t for the showcase aspect of Fairest offering the hope of a different, better arc every few months, I probably would have given up the series altogether long ago. Except for a couple earlier storylines (Rapunzel’s being a standout), Fairest has been at the best of times forgettable. At the worst of times—the “Clamor for Glamour” arc comes shudderingly to mind—it’s a series you want to forget.

In many ways, I see this as a corollary to the decline of Fables itself, which I’m also bearing through at the moment. This couldn’t be clearer from the fact that despite Willingham penning this issue himself, it’s only barely more interesting than its predecessors. Goldilocks isn’t necessarily a bad choice for a final protagonist, in spite of (or maybe because of) her abrasiveness: screaming to a bird she scares off, “No! No pardons from me! Now fly off and die!” It’s just that Willingham doesn’t seem to have a point in telling her final story, and it really goes nowhere by the time the issue is through.

That of course has everything to do with the fact that this is all a just a prologue to the upcoming original graphic novel, Fairest: In All the Land. Really? I had no plans to read, much less purchase, the graphic novel in the first place, but with a craven marketing move such as this, I definitely won’t. So there, Willingham.

The sad part is Willingham might otherwise have been able to pull off an absorbing character study on Goldilocks. The issue plays almost like a one-act, one-person play, with Goldie happily ranting on whatever socio-cultural topic that occurs to her as she proceeds on her journey. She may be an unrepentent b-word, but her impotent stridence is quite entertaining: “Don’t try to hand me a load of liberation, feminist, we-should-be-more-than-sex-objects dogma. I invented all that. I’m not only down with the struggle, I’m the sharp tip of a fucking spear.”

What’s also interesting about Goldie is her blatant lust for power and control. She’s not satisfied with just finding a new life; she’s got to own it. Despite a fairly straightforward prophecy (“[Your plans] all turn to shit. My advice is to stop now. Turn away from your current path.”) and plenty of supporting evidence, especially her failed attempt to rally a population of little furry creatures into a socialist regime,* she sticks to obtaining power by any means possible. It’s perversely fascinating to see the lengths she’d go to achieve her ends, even if it means committing an act of pedophilic bestiality.

Willingham manages to touch on Goldie’s motivations, but without quite getting at the root of what drives her. She’s a bit like—and I can’t believe I’m making this comparison—Mr. Sunflower in the sense that she narcissistically projects her own failings as the unfairness of others. In her mind, Snow’s vengeful ax-blow to the head is payback for trying to usurp my illegitimate power base with your rightful and fully justified struggle against tyranny!” Except it’s not all that clear she’s struggling against tyranny so much as her own insecurity, resenting the power acquired by her fairer rivals.

That insecurity really comes through in the way Hetrick draws Goldie as prettyish, just not quite as bombastically attractive as the likes of Rapunzel, Cindy, Snow, Briar, or Rose. Hetrick is equally responsible for making Goldie as, well—not exactly sympathetic, but as investing as she is. All that fury and whininess is ever present in her face, which is all the more delightful when it turns into frustration as to why she can’t ever catch a break. Dalhouse’s colors, as always, give a lush, dazzling finish to the issue, making it look far more impressive than the story really is.

Some Musings:

* Proving that it just takes one committed slacker to ruin the socialist model. Unless—brainstorm—you exile the slackers. Hm…