Joshua Luna and Jonathan Luna are best known in the comics industry, collectively, as the Luna Brothers. They’ve had three hit series from Image Comics—Ultra, Girls, and The Sword—and I think everyone assumed that their next project would also be together. With Whispers, though, Joshua Luna is [...]]]> By Joshua Luna
32 pages, color
Published by Image Comics

Joshua Luna and Jonathan Luna are best known in the comics industry, collectively, as the Luna Brothers. They’ve had three hit series from Image Comics—Ultra, Girls, and The Sword—and I think everyone assumed that their next project would also be together. With Whispers, though, Joshua Luna is not only writing but drawing this new series. And if this is what happens when one of the brothers works on a solo project? Well, nothing against their successful partnership, but I’d like to see some more solo comics from time to time.

In Whispers, Luna isn’t taking an easy route with its protagonist. Sam suffers from a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder, terrified of touching a door handle because the germs on it might somehow kill him, and going through his rituals over and over again just to be certain. He’s also got an ex-girlfriend, Lil, with whom he’s trying to stay friends even as he coldly barges past her issues of her parents being in a horrible car accident (one dead, the other hospitalized) to blurt out the strange dreams he’s been having. This is not a character for whom most readers are going to find an instant affection for.

That said, it’s hard to keep from finding yourself intrigued. Maybe it’s because you start to learn that Sam’s "dreams" where he’s jumping from one friend to the next aren’t dreams at all, starting with a biting comeback to the bullying from Blake that quickly settles on if all of this is in Sam’s head or not. But for whatever reason, in spite of the slightly-prickly protagonist, Whispers pulls the reader in and holds onto their attention firmly.

Once Whispers starts looking inside the thoughts of the bystanders that Sam visits, we get the book’s strength and weakness at the same time. The idea of Sam being able to get some thoughts but not all while going through his astral projection (or whatever it is) holds a lot of possibility, and watching Sam try and steer them into the right direction is good. But for whatever reason, some of the lines in the internal monologues of those that Sam visits feel a little stilted, not quite the way that most people would actually think. It could be that these aren’t literal words running through their heads—only time will tell—but right now it’s the one rough patch on the script.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Joshua Luna draw before, and while his art style is similar in many ways to his brother Jonathan Luna, there are differences. Both of the Luna Brothers go for a clean, open art style. With Whispers #1, though, I found myself a little surprised to see some more fine details in the art. Joshua Luna definitely goes for more texture in the hair, or some lines around the nose and mouth. It’s a nice, instant visual difference that sets him apart from his brother, each carving out their own end of a style’s range.

I do like how Luna lays out pages; it feels very cinematic, with tight focuses on a character that can then pull back to give the greater scene unfolding. It works well, flowing from one panel to the next and always having Luna in full control of how the art will affect your emotional responses. Occasionally a character’s expression comes across a bit odd, almost dead in some ways, but when Luna hits the mark it brings that person’s emotional response to life. (Clearly none of Luna’s characters should ever become professional poker players.) It’s also nice to see Luna tackle a lot of scenes from the Washington DC area so well; something as simple as the right types of buildings in the city, or drawing one of the many traffic circles that fill its streets is a pleasure. DC has its own distinct look, and it’s something that few comic artists get correctly.

Whispers #1 is a good start to a new series from Luna; I’m definitely curious about where it’s going from here, and I have to give Luna full credit in that this is a book whose main character should by all rights alienate the reader. Instead I’m finding myself drawn in despite those deliberate character flaws. I’ll definitely be back for a second issue.

With the number of comics currently being published, it’s easy to have one (or lots) slip past you. That was the case with Witch Doctor, a mini-series from Brandon Seifert and Lukas Ketner, and published under Robert Kirkman’s imprint (Skybound) at Image Comics. [...]]]> Written by Brandon Seifert
Art by Lukas Ketner
32 pages, color
Published by Image Comics

With the number of comics currently being published, it’s easy to have one (or lots) slip past you. That was the case with Witch Doctor, a mini-series from Brandon Seifert and Lukas Ketner, and published under Robert Kirkman’s imprint (Skybound) at Image Comics. Fortunately, Seifert and Ketner aren’t above giving readers a second chance, and that’s what I feel like I was handed with the Witch Doctor: The Resuscitation one-shot published last month. In many ways, it’s a model approach that I’d love to see more creators follow.

Witch Doctor: The Resuscitation was, to me, a perfect introduction to Witch Doctor in general. In a matter of pages, Seifert introduced the three main characters, the setting of the book, and what I can only assume is the general approach for the title. All of this is delivered in a smooth, unobtrusive way; I never felt like I was being besieged by an information dump, but instead just had a new patient learning the ropes as we did. It helped that Seifert keeps most of this in the background; the main focus is on the strange case of a person who wakes up in a bathtub full of ice and an incision where his kidney lies underneath. Except in this case, he still has two kidneys, it’s just that one is a little… different.

One of the things I liked so much about Witch Doctor: The Resuscitation was that it starts with an old urban myth—the waking up in a bathtub full of ice with what appears to be a kidney stolen—and then not only turns it on its head, but keeps upping the ante. Seifert continually adds in new plot elements and escalations, and it’s the progression of each new piece leading to the next that makes it especially fun. By the time we get to the conclusion of the story, you can see exactly how we arrived there, but at the same time it’s nowhere near the original opening scene. I also appreciated the introduction of a potential recurring love interest/villain; Catrina Macabrey, to this new reader, comes across almost instantly as a strong foil for main character Dr. Vincent Morrow, and like assistant Eric Gast, I’m expecting to see her again before too long.

Both Seifert and artist Ketner helped ease me into the main characters, for that matter. I felt like I knew them quickly, in part because of the way that our new patient is introduced to them, but also in how Ketner draws them. Dr. Morrow has a wonderful blase manner about him, that almost-sneer on his face as he first walks in to give a second opinion about the swapped-out kidney. When we first meet Ophelia the smoke child, though, there’s an expression of surprise and disgust on his face, and that helped nail the character for me. He’s got great knowledge in his head, but he can still be taken aback by the events around him. Look in comparison to the slightly odd postures and expressions of Penny Dreadful, or the wonderful normalcy of Eric. Even Catarina’s self-assured nature comes across in no small part due to the art. Ketner balances the personal, the grotesque, and the otherworldly in a way that makes me feel like I have a strong grasp on the world of Witch Doctor.

Witch Doctor: The Resuscitation works quite well as an introduction to the series, even after the first storyline’s wrapped up. Fortunately for me, there’s already a collection published of what came before; Witch Doctor: The Resuscitation is in many ways a teaser for that collection as well as 2012′s upcoming mini-series Witch Doctor: Mal Practice. I’m amused by Witch Doctor: The Resuscitation that I’ll be catching up sooner rather than later. It’s nice to get a second chance that not only offers an easy introduction, but also timed perfectly between past and future material. Creators, take note.

Purchase Links: Amazon.com | Powell’s Books

Nathan Edmondson is rapidly becoming "that guy who writes special agent comics" in my head. His mini-series Who is Jake Ellis? was one of my favorite surprises of 2011, and his Grifter series is entertaining me over at DC Comics. Both comics have [...]]]> Written by Nathan Edmondson
Art by Mitch Gerads
32 pages, color
Published by Image Comics

Nathan Edmondson is rapidly becoming "that guy who writes special agent comics" in my head. His mini-series Who is Jake Ellis? was one of my favorite surprises of 2011, and his Grifter series is entertaining me over at DC Comics. Both comics have fantastical elements at their core, though, which makes The Activity stand out that much more from the rest. Here, Edmondson and artist Mitch Gerads are telling straight-forward covert operations stories, and in an industry dominated by superheroes and other larger-than-life elements, The Activity stands out by virtue of not having any extra trappings.

Edmondson utilizes a tried-and-true technique of introducing us to the premise behind The Activity by following a new team-member as she’s added to Team Omaha. We get to see not only the end of one operation, but the start of a new one as well. Edmondson seems to be focusing more here on how the team gets their work done and interacts with one another, and less with the mission itself in this first issue. They’re certainly efficient, repainting a car and destroying burning the contents of file cabinets from a distance courtesy a sniper laser. What is this accomplishing, aside from destroying some files? We’re not sure, actually; hopefully this is just the first stage of the mission and subsequent issues will shed a little more light on the subject.

But, as mentioned earlier, at least for now the focus seems to be more on them existing as a unit rather than what the unit is doing. You definitely get the impression that the other team members know each other well and respect one another. It is fun to watch two characters pretending to have a romantic tryst in order to covertly dispose of a bag of supplies; perhaps unnecessarily complicated, but the grace and ease in which they do so sticks with you. And as they give new member Leslie her code name, you get a strong impression that this is less a team of people that work together and more a family.

The stand-out part of The Activity #1, though, is Mitch Gerads’ art. It feels like a mixture between Adam Hughes and Chris Sprouse; the faces and attention to detail of Hughes, but with that slight edge in the line that is a hallmark of Sprouse. When the book opens showing the team finishing a mission in Mexico City, it just looks fantastic; the water from the sprinklers raining down on the characters in the meticulously drawn cafe, the Omaha team members looming over the target, the shift to outside with the gentle glow of lights against the night air. As each new setting appears, Gerads has a new look for it; crisp and dry for the desert, gleaming and shiny for the offices in Fort Belvoir, bright and sunny in Rome. In some ways it’s Gerads’ art that makes me overlook the gaps in the story; everything just looks so great that it’s hard to find yourself worrying too much about what we’re still in the dark.

The Activity #1 is a good first issue, but the missing pieces of the story (what exactly the team is up to, or characterization for the bulk of the team) need to be addressed in future installments. Still, it’s refreshing to see a covert operations story focusing on just that, avoiding any additional trappings to try and drag in additional readers. In terms of writing, that alone is enough to sell me on checking out a second issue. Fortunately, with art as great as Gerads’, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll be on board for another helping. Edmondson has a knack for working with great artists like Tonci Zonjic and CAFU, and Gerads definitely qualifies for that adjective as well. I’ll be curious to see where this goes next.

Paul Grist is a creator on my "buy everything he works on" list. His police drama Kane was a dark drama with hysterically funny moments interspersed throughout (and I live in eternal hope of more material), and his Jack Staff comic was a wonderful explosion of old-time [...]]]> By Paul Grist
32 pages, color
Published by Image Comics

Paul Grist is a creator on my "buy everything he works on" list. His police drama Kane was a dark drama with hysterically funny moments interspersed throughout (and I live in eternal hope of more material), and his Jack Staff comic was a wonderful explosion of old-time superheroics set in Britain, taking familiar concepts and twisting them into his own unique ideas. (A fifth collection for my bookshelf would be much appreciated, incidentally.) He’s now unveiled a new series, Mudman, and so far? It’s another winner.

Mudman is beginning with a slow build; we meet Owen Craig, a teenager who has a crush on the new girl, tags with spray paint the old abandoned home in town, and might be finding himself with the ability to transform into mud and back. What’s great about Mudman is that there’s no rush from Grist to leap right into the middle of things. So while the book starts with a fast-paced sequence, from there we get a glimpse of Owen’s home and personal life, interspersed with daydreams that might be more prophetic than Owen realizes. Grist keeps it interesting, though; he switches scenes and plunges us back into the middle of the action right when we least expect it.

More importantly, Grist brings to the page the strangeness and wonder of it all. Presumably there aren’t any other active super-heroes in the world of Mudman, and so instead of instantly thinking he must be one of them (like you’d see in a larger superhero setting), we’re getting Owen amazement and disbelief when it comes to each of the different situations he’s placed in. There’s also a certain level of creepiness to the entire affair, from Owen first finding his hands turning into mud, to his dream of being swallowed by the mud. Wonder and fear are two different sides of the same coin, and Grist flips back and forth between those two halves effortlessly.

Grist is one of the first artists that I saw regularly using a stripped down, simpler style and over the years he’s proven to be a master of the look. I love some of the simple tricks he uses in his art, like how Owen’s legs vanish into the darkness of the old house (making it feel that much more dark and creepy), or the little "splut" sound effect as Owen is hit by the car and flips over its hood. And when Owen’s having his nightmare, well, it’s suitably eerie with the rings of mud hovering around his body, sucking him in. His storytelling is great, too; that final page and how it’s a single image but split into three panels draws attention to first the dialogue, then the "uh oh" moment, and then the nothingness that is perfect for a "to be continued" moment. He’s a master of his craft, easily.

Image Comics has been turning out great new series after great new series lately, and Mudman is no exception to that rule. I know in the past some of Grist’s series have had problems with timeliness, but hopefully we’ll get more of this and soon. This is too much fun to have to wait too terribly long for the next installment. More Mudman, please.

I’ve always been a big fan of the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund (which defends comic creators and retailers against freedom of speech lawsuits), so when they started producing a Liberty Annual every year, I was on board. It features a wide range [...]]]> Edited by Bob Schreck and Greg Tumbarello
48 pages, color
Published by Image Comics

I’ve always been a big fan of the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund (which defends comic creators and retailers against freedom of speech lawsuits), so when they started producing a Liberty Annual every year, I was on board. It features a wide range of top-talent creators old and new, from Matt Wagner and Fred Hembeck to J.H. Williams III and Carla Speed McNeil. While a lot of anthologies for a charity are slightly cringe-inducing (a mixture of good and bad because everyone was let in because of the charity nature of the book), it’s nice to have a comic like Liberty Annual 2011 that you can recommend with a clear conscious because it’s good.

This year’s Liberty Annual is a curious mix in terms of themes; some go for the traditional free speech route, others pick up the "it gets better" message in regards to the bullying of LGBT teens, and a few just go their own way entirely. Wagner, for instance, goes for the it gets better message in a Grendel story, where a young kid gets a bit of encouragement from an older mobster who was almost killed for being gay but saved by Grendel. It’s a strange story the more you look at it, though; the mobster survives because Grendel uses the old "do you really follow everything else that the Bible tells you?" chestnut, but from there he’s forever on the run and looking over his shoulder to keep from being killed. Even Wagner clearly gets that this isn’t a terribly happy ending, as the main character follows his it gets better phrase with, "Even if it’s a bit hard to tell at times." Still, with such beautiful art from Wagner—whose craft is always exquisite—it’s the sort of high quality where the strange stumble is ultimately saved by everything surrounding it.

The two best stories to take that theme are from Michael Vincent Bramley and Fred Hembeck, and from Kazim Ali and Craig Thompson. Bramley and Hembeck tell a short, silent two-page story about aliens where one is ostracized for being different, only to finally find someone else who is the same way. It’s a thoroughly simple story, but it’s got a sweetness about it that makes it click in such a short amount of time. The final panel, where the two aliens (who "speak" in a word balloon with a right-pointing blue arrow, rather than the left-pointing red arrow of everyone else) share a heart-shaped word balloon is great, with Hembeck’s trademark simple style providing a real tenderness.

Ali and Thompson’s story runs seven pages is a little deeper, about a man who struggles with his Muslim faith and trying to reconcile it with his homosexuality. Ali’s script is thoughtful and non-judgmental, telling of the narrator’s personal journey to understand who he is and how he fits in. It comes beautifully to life thanks to Thompson, with rich illustrations that leap off the page. For people who haven’t been ready to leap into Thompson’s massive new graphic novel Habibi, you can look at this story as a primer for Thompson’s big return to comics. Just staring at the final panel with the garden is amazing, and seeing Dave Stewart color his pencils is an added bonus.

A.J. Lieberman and Riley Rossmo have the best story when it comes to basic censorship, with their characters from Cowboy Ninja Viking coming across the ALA’s list of banned and challenged books. Those who aren’t familiar with some of the challenges over the years (my all-time favorite is The Diary of Anne Frank over being "a real downer") will probably be shocked, and while the story is mostly about the main characters talking about the various bannings, it’s still entertaining thanks to the way in which Lieberman writes the script. Also noteworthy is Dara Naraghi and Christopher Mitten’s piece, in which Naraghi talks about living in Iran and having a school principal try to force him to convert a classmate that practiced Baha’i instead of Islam. It’s a creepy story the more you think about it, and Naraghi’s pleasantly conversational script makes you feel like you’re sitting down with him at a cafe and chatting.

The last category of just unrelated stories has a couple of winners, too. J.H. Williams III’s "It’s Not a Trick" is a peculiar little story about a card trick, and while there’s not much plot, the reveal at the end managed to tickle my fancy. And of course, even a two-page spread focused on a deck of cards as drawn by Williams still looks great. Carla Speed McNeil’s "Dunce" with an autobiographical story about what it’s like to have a child with Down Syndrome. It’s a surprisingly personal piece, about being a little squeamish about disability, the repurposing of words to be negative if they describe something we don’t like, and her own understanding about what her son is going through. McNeil’s light, cartoony art style for this story might lull readers into a false sense of security, but it’s a strong piece that will undoubtedly get people to stop and think.

Only a small handful of pieces feel like a misfire. Kevin McCullough and Dave Cooper’s one pager feels juvenile rather than funny, and a tiny pointless; likewise, Judd Winick, Thiago Micalopulos, and Rodney Ramos’s piece goes for humor but for whatever reason never quite hit the mark for me. Considering this adds up to 3 pages out of a 48-page comic, that’s a success rate I’m more than pleased with. I could have done without the random pin-ups along the way, but if they draw more readers into buying the comic, well, I’m not going to complain.

Liberty Annual 2011 has a strong showing, overall; a nice reminder that yes, charity comic anthologies can actually be good and not just a fundraiser where you ignore substandard pieces because of where the moneys are going. If you haven’t been picking up the Liberty Annual comics, this is a good a place as any to begin. Check it out; not just because it’s for a good cause, but also because it’s a good comic.

I know I’m not the only person who, back in the day, sent away for the free Charles Atlas guide to become a muscle man. I never actually read it, mind you; my sisters found out I’d ordered it and teased me so [...]]]> Written by Justin Jordan
Art by Tradd Moore
24 pages, color
Published by Image Comics

I know I’m not the only person who, back in the day, sent away for the free Charles Atlas guide to become a muscle man. I never actually read it, mind you; my sisters found out I’d ordered it and teased me so mercilessly that it got thrown out, unopened. But if you’ve ever read old comics, or issues of Boy’s Life (for all us former Cub Scouts/Boy Scouts), or anything else from back in the day, you’ll know about the allure of those advertisements. That’s what’s so great about the first issue of The Strange Talent of Luther Strode; Justin Jordan and Tradd Moore have taken boyhood dreams and turned them into something distinctly creepy.

The idea is simple enough at first; skinny, gawky Luther Strode sends away for a book called The Hercules Method that promises to make him buff. Only thing is, it becomes rapidly clear to the reader that the people behind the book have some less than savory connections. But as Luther starts using the book, the impossible begins to happen… and that’s when things at school start getting really crazy.

Jordan starts the book off just right; after the opening three pages taking place (presumably) near the end of the story, giving us a glimpse of just how powerful and out of control Luther Strode will become, we jump to the powerless Luther. Jordan gives us little flashes of Luther’s life, and why he’d want to get The Hercules Method in the first place. There’s the obvious part where Luther’s being bulled by the jocks at school, but I like some of the less in-your-face pieces of the story. While it’s never outright stated, Luther’s desire to protect his mother (presumably from his father, who appears to be both abusive and currently locked up) is an important part of his character, and it becomes increasingly clear that he’d want to be physically strong to keep her out of danger. When Luther starts talking about needing to make a change in his life, you can see where he’s coming from.

Not quite as developed are Luther’s friend Pete and his hopefully girlfriend-to-be Petra, but at this stage they serve their purposes. I like that Petra’s got the sharp tongue that Luther presumably would want to have, whipping out sharp lines and insults in the face of danger without batting an eye. You can see almost instantly why Luther’s fallen for her, and more importantly, that she’s a good match for him. Pete is more of a sounding board right now, but his presence lets Jordan get exposition about Luther’s home life to the reader without making it feel forced, which is always a good thing.

Moore’s art is great, a mixture of adorable and powerful, depending on what Jordan has him draw. The skinny, underdeveloped Luther looks perfect under Moore’s pencil; his t-shirt hangs off of him, his arms are like twigs, and there’s a perpetual look of doubt on his face. Compare that to when Paul refers to Petra as Luther’s girlfriend, and we get that wonderfully dazed and deliriously happy expression on Luther’s face (complete with hearts dancing around it). Not only is it cute, but Moore has Luther’s face practically light up with energy. His day has only just begun but it feels like a new man, perplexed getting swapped out with radiant.

The way that Moore draws action is also good, here. The dodge ball game works in no small part because you can visually feel the ball whipping back and forth across the court; something as simple as lines to show the arc of Luther’s hand and another set to delineate the path of the ball ends up extremely powerful in Moore’s hands. I appreciate that when the ball hits Paul in the face, the lines tremble a bit to help you sense the impact that just occurred. And when the really, really violent scenes show up? Well, without spoiling anything, let’s just say that I’m glad these aren’t real and that I’m not on clean-up duty.

The Strange Talent of Luther Strode #1 is a strong debut to this mini-series. What initially looks to be sweet and fun has a promise for dark and dangerous, without ever feeling like we’ve gotten a bait-and-switch. The story is strong and flows from one moment to the next, and the art is likewise attractive and pulls you along. Jordan and Moore might be new names to comics now, but anyone who reads The Strange Talent of Luther Strode won’t forget Jordan and Moore’s names. This book twists an icon of masculinity and turns it into something creepy, and I for one love it. Highly recommended.

There’s something rather odd in my head about Doug Murray (best known for writing Marvel’s war comic The ‘Nam) and Frank Cho (best known for his buxom blondes and comic strip Liberty Meadows) writing a comic together. The two come [...]]]> Written by Doug Murray and Frank Cho
Art by Axel Medellin
28 pages, color
Published by Image Comics

There’s something rather odd in my head about Doug Murray (best known for writing Marvel’s war comic The ‘Nam) and Frank Cho (best known for his buxom blondes and comic strip Liberty Meadows) writing a comic together. The two come from such different pasts, in terms of comics, that 50 Girls 50 #1 became a "must read." Not because I was necessarily dying to read it, but rather because I wanted to see just what a synthesis of the two together would end up looking like.

The basic idea behind 50 Girls 50—a ship manned by 50 women looking for new resources, because anyone with a Y chromosome dies going through the wormhole—is a small stretch on how to come up with an entirely female cast, but considering how many all-male casts in space operas we’ve had over the years, it’s easy to nod and move on. Since the ship is about to return to Earth, that’s where the drama kicks in as a jump back through the wormhole takes them to another planet, and before long we’ve got two of the women trapped on a planet of massive bugs. It’s not a bad idea, and with two big exceptions it’s a fun little story about how to come up with an inventive way to escape a planet that actively destroys all non-organic material brought to its surface. While Cho and Murray clearly have a bigger story to tell about Oksana, her guarded and "mysterious" comments come off a little forced, and her sudden bursting into tears doesn’t help us warm to the character. Even with the hints in the final panel about why she’s acting so strange, it doesn’t make me sympathize with her or want to see her suddenly succeed, but rather see her toughen up a bit. Vulnerable is one thing, but Murray and Cho make their lead character act weak far too often.

The other big exception has to do with what appears to be little more than an excuse for the leads to go from space suits to g-strings in a matter of pages. I’d figured with Cho only co-author rather than artist, the book would focus less on female curves and flesh, but 50 Girls 50 quickly proved me wrong. I’m sure I’m not the only person who started rolling his eyes when the girls ended up with 90 to 95% of their clothing gone in the blink of an eye, and while the challenge to actually escape the planet was well done, there’s still no reason for it to have gone after the clothing so much other than sheer titillation. (Otherwise we could have just as easily had them wearing cotton under the space suits, for example.) And considering at one point the solvent is only supposed to dissolve plastic, the wiping out of the clothing comes across even more crass. It’s hard to take the book too seriously as a result.

Alex Medellin won a contest to be chosen as the artist for 50 Girls 50, and his art is all right in places, but could use some serious work. The biggest issue I had with his art was that aside from different hair styles, all of his women look the same. Look at the panel when the ship first jumps out of the wormhole and they aren’t in orbit over Earth. We’ve got three different women with a look of surprise on their faces, and aside from different hair (blonde, black, red) they’re identical. Same gasp, same nose, same eyes, same everything. Then, add in that women the two women on the planet are down to scraps of clothing, they often look strangely compressed and gangly. It’s an odd look, like someone tried to mix a supermodel with a competitive bodybuilder and the result doesn’t fit in either camp. Between the sameness of his characters and the far-too-often butt shots, Medellin’s art has some refining to do. It’s not bad for just a pin-up (some of the time) but as soon as it starts to tell a narrative and brings in more than a single character, the weaknesses shine through.

50 Girls 50 #1 is a disappointing debut. There’s potential here in the basic concept, but it could use some refinement in all of its aspects. Right now it serves as an early draft rather than a finished product, and I’d expected something a bit more polished. There are still three more issues to go in this introductory mini-series, but I think for now these fifty women will be continuing their quest without me.

There are times when the description of a book and the reality of it don’t match. Take, for example, Gladstone’s School for World Conquerors. A comic about future villains learning how to be evil sounds like it could quite easily be dark [...]]]> Written by Mark Andrew Smith
Art by Armand Villavert
40 pages, color
Published by Image Comics

There are times when the description of a book and the reality of it don’t match. Take, for example, Gladstone’s School for World Conquerors. A comic about future villains learning how to be evil sounds like it could quite easily be dark and mean and overly violent. It’s a reasonable assumption to make. Then you pick up a copy of Gladstone’s School for World Conquerors #1 and the reality? In a word: adorable.

Gladstone’s School for World Conquerors opens with an nine-page sequence explaining the history of the school, and the hard-luck villain whose name graces its halls. In just those pages, Mark Andrew Smith quickly establishes the overall tone of the book; a little silly in places, but clever and fun. From there, we move forward to the current class, and in a matter of pages all I could find myself thinking was, "It’s what would happen if prep school students had super powers."

There are a lot of students introduced fairly quickly, most of them give a brief hook to introduce them. So Kid Nefarious is annoyed that he’s not getting handed everything on a silver platter because of his super-villain lineage, Mummy Girl is hopelessly crushing on Kid Nefarious, the Skull Brothers are bullies, and so on. They’re all good hooks, but there are also so many characters that get such a short sketch of a personality that I do hope Smith expands on them in future issues. There’s certainly the temptation to keep introducing more and more characters—quite a few of them are in the backgrounds—but I’d like to see it slow down a bit and focus more on a select core, at least initially. I’d like to know more about Ghost Girl aside from the fact that she’s Korean and like bi bim bap for lunch.

Smith does leave one big piece of the story until the last few pages, and for me it ultimately sold the comic. It’s a twist that isn’t used very often, but it makes the overall world of Gladstone’s School for World Conquerors that much more interesting, and I hope that Smith explores the idea a great deal in the issues to come. It’s the sort of game-changer that quietly turns everything on its head and makes it stand out from other superhero worlds.

Armand Villavert’s art in Gladstone’s School for World Conquerors is part of the reason why the comic comes across so adorably. In many ways, his super villains look less like horrible people and more like kids dressed up (in some truly fantastic costumes) for Halloween. Kid Nefarious’s childlike face as he shouts his demands is hysterical, and his following strut down the hall once class is over just screams, "spoiled kid." (Let’s face it, we’ve all seen his type before.) It’s some of the smaller touches in the character designs that I love, though, like Mummy Girl’s bandages holding her pencil and paper to take notes during class, or Ghost Girl’s white hair/green skin combination. Even the background characters look great, like the girl whose body is breaking down into a cloud of bats, or the kid riding around on a floating jellyfish. Everyone in this book just looks visually fantastic, and the staging of the images are just as strong. From the angles that the kids are hoisted into the air by the plants, to the hypnotic spirals behind Eye Eyes, this is a sharp looking comic.

Gladstone’s School for World Conquerors #1 is a strong debut, one that makes a good impression in a matter of pages. If Smith and Villavert can keep this up while also expanding and building on the ideas laid down here, we’re in for a great ride. Gladstone’s School for World Conquerors, consider me ready to enroll.

These days, Robert Kirkman is certainly best known for his comics The Walking Dead and Invincible. They’re both aimed squarely at teenagers and older, though, so it’s nice to see that his new comic Super Dinosaur is meant to be read by [...]]]> Written by Robert Kirkman
Art by Jason Howard
32 pages, color
Published by Image Comics

These days, Robert Kirkman is certainly best known for his comics The Walking Dead and Invincible. They’re both aimed squarely at teenagers and older, though, so it’s nice to see that his new comic Super Dinosaur is meant to be read by all ages. And trust me when I say this in the most positive way possible: reading the first two issues of Super Dinosaur makes me wonder when the action figures and play sets are going to be available.

So far, Super Dinosaur reminds me a lot of the afternoon cartoons I watched growing up. Semi-serials like Transformers and Thundercats had a mixture of crazy science, bigger than life ideas, explosions, and personal drama, and that’s what Super Dinosaur does too. A recent Free Comic Book Day origin special devotes itself to flashbacks, as Derek explains to the two teenage girls now living at the secret Dynamo Dome just who Super Dinosaur is, and how a talking dinosaur in battle armor fighting for good came about. It’s a slightly silly and crazy origin, to be certain; after all, it involves a hollow earth, dinosaurs, evil scientists, and lots of high-tech weapons. It’s so out there, though, that it somehow all clicks together—perhaps because something this big has each piece distracting the reader from all the other pieces simultaneously—and by the end of the issue you’re chuckling at the sheer chutzpah of it all.

But as for the ongoing series itself, it’s got a good mix of adventure and drama. We get the setup for our cast of characters fairly quickly, and ideas that seem like they could have been stretched out for years (for example, Derek secretly helping his father Doctor Dynamo ever having a brain injury) are instead given forward process immediately. It’s a smart move; dragging things out forever is hardly a way to win an audience for a new book, and it makes it feel like things are never going to get stale.

As for the characters, they’re all a bit stereotyped in places, for better or for worse. Erin and Erica Kingston, the twin daughters of newly-arrived mechanics Bruce and Sarah, are probably the least fleshed out; Erin’s the nice one who clearly likes Derek, with Erica and the grouchy and disdainful one who would rather move back to home. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before, and while I understand that all ages books often paint the character in broad strokes for the younger readers to latch on, it still feels like there could be more depth brought to them. At the opposite end of the spectrum, though, there’s Tricerachops, easily my favorite character to date. I appreciate that she’s neither hero nor villain, working on her own to stop Maximus but not automatically teaming up with Derek and Super Dinosaur, either. It’s more complex than many all ages comics would be (although even then it’s not that difficult, but having someone who doesn’t fall into either camp is still refreshing) and it holds a lot of story possibilities for down the line.

It’s Jason Howard’s art that I think I’m digging the most, though. His character designs are fun (and based on the Super Dinosaur Origin Special! I’m dying to see him start drawing more of Squidious) and are immediately eye-catching. We’ve already seen him dream up two different suits of armor for Super Dinosaur (both a regular suit and now a winter weather edition), and somehow I suspect we’re going to get a lot more. And as silly as the idea of a bipedal triceratops wielding an axe sounds, Howard nails it into a character that looks like enough fun that I could see a toy version just flying off of the shelves. Even characters that sound silly based entirely off of the script, like the Exile, end up looking interesting and making me want to see more. It’s that clean, animation-style art of Howard’s that just gives Super Dinosaur that final extra edge of interest.

With two issues (plus the Free Comic Book Day origin special), Super Dinosaur has already enchanted me, and I suspect I’m not alone. It’s hard to go wrong with dinosaurs, but Kirkman and Howard have taken that innate attraction and amplified it even stronger. It would be great to see Super Dinosaur do as well as The Walking Dead and Invincible. It’s certainly got the star power to be a hit. This is one of those comics that is, truly, fun for the whole family.

With three writers and four artists attached to the first issue, it would be understandable if you thought that Blue Estate was an adaptation of a movie, or perhaps a [...]]]> Story by Viktor Kalvachev and Kosta Yanev
Script by Andrew Osborne
Art by Viktor Kalvachev, Toby Cypress, Nathan Fox, and Robert Valley
24 pages, color
Published by Image Comics

With three writers and four artists attached to the first issue, it would be understandable if you thought that Blue Estate was an adaptation of a movie, or perhaps a video game. As it turns out, it’s not, but rather a comic that shifts its visual style on a regular basis, while telling a present day crime noir, (semi-)hardboiled detective story. And while it’s it not a bad debut, I do worry that at times Blue Estate #1 feels like it’s trying to get a little too clever for its own good.

Blue Estate #1 opens with a series of classic crime noir elements; the private detective, the beautiful (and secretly famous) woman entering the office, the dangerous husband. Viktor Kalvachev and Kosta Yanev’s story clearly understands what it’s doing there, evoking all of the archetypes so that you know exactly the kind of story you’re getting yourself into. At the same time, though, Kalvachev and Yanev (along with scripter Andrew Osborne) pokes a bit of fun at it, using the Law & Order opening narration and then giving a verbal swerve away from those classic phrases. Suddenly the detective is playing a Wii, and instead of the tall thin and craggy detective we’ve got the short, dumpy, nerdy guy.

The problem is that the tone of the comic is a little too "gotcha!" and a little less, "We’re using a different kind of set-up than you’re used too." It comes across as incredibly self-aware and pleased, and it’s a distraction from the rest of the comic. I appreciate that Kalvachev, Yanev, and Osborne are trying something different here, but the point could have been made without the goofy expression as Roy gets pulled out of his chair, or the "Dun Dun" jokes regarding the Law & Order signature two-tone. It’s a joke that’s set up, executed, and then slaps you in the face in case you weren’t paying attention.

Part of the problem is that at the end of the first issue, it’s all just prologue. We’re introduced to a cast of characters, but no one is on-panel long enough for you to get more than the absolute basic stereotypes from them. Roy’s a big geek. Bruce is the dangerous husband. Marcellus and his partner are the muscle. And so on. And so on. I understand that the economics of the comics industry are such that having each issue at 32 pages might have been too expensive for a brand-new title, but as a debut issue if there was ever a time for some extra pages, this was it. It’s hard to find things to latch onto this early in the game and make you dying for more. You can see a lot of promise in Blue Estate—Kalvachev, Yanev, and Osborne clearly love the genre—but in some ways this feels less like a first chapter and more like a movie trailer. We’re getting lots of snippets to catch your eye, but there’s not a whole story or even a substantial chunk of one just yet.

With four different artists drawing a 24 page comic, chances are high that there’s going to be a lot of inconsistency, but it’s to Kalvachev’s credit (who is also listed as the art director) that he’s assembled four artists who work together so well. While none of them seem to particularly draw like one another, they all follow the same basic look for the series. It admittedly helps that Kalvachev colors not only his but the other contributors, but all four have a certain dark, murky look to their art. Everyone has a slight element of cartoonish nature to their art, too, and it’s those small exaggerations which keep the book lively. Still, readers will be able to tell the moment the book shifts from one artist to the next. Nathan Fox (whose art I’m used to thanks to DMZ and Runner’s World) thanks to the little squiggles in his art that show up in a character’s hair or around the edges of their face, for example. And each artist in general has their own slightly different takes on the cast; Rachel, for instance, shifts slightly in age, and style of dress (especially the amount of cleavage being shown off) from one artist to the next. Having four artists draw each issue is an interesting approach, and all four clearly have talent, but I do wonder if it might’ve been better to just have each artist tackle a different issue rather than jumping from one to the next.

Blue Estate #1 is an interesting book; it’s on the right path to doing a lot of things right, but it keeps taking little swerves in either direction. In some ways it feels like it’s just trying too hard. If the book stopped playing the self-aware game and shifted down the number of artistic jumps in a single issue, I think it could click together perfectly. Right now, though, it falls into the realm of promising. For fans of crime noir, it’s definitely worth a gander. For those not already predisposed to love the title, though, it’s a comic that has some final polishes ahead. Hopefully it’ll get there quickly.