Call it heresy, but I think I enjoyed Ed Brubaker’s issues of Captain America that starred Cap-replacement Bucky Barnes in the outfit more than when Steve Rogers was in the suit. And with Rogers helming Captain America once more an inevitability, I’m glad that [...]]]> Written by Ed Brubaker
Art by Butch Guice
32 pages, color
Published by Marvel

Call it heresy, but I think I enjoyed Ed Brubaker’s issues of Captain America that starred Cap-replacement Bucky Barnes in the outfit more than when Steve Rogers was in the suit. And with Rogers helming Captain America once more an inevitability, I’m glad that us Bucky Barnes fans are getting our fix in the new series Winter Soldier. And so far, it’s exactly what I want from such a series: a mixture of black ops and crazy Marvel mayhem.

Brubaker’s origin for the Winter Soldier, when first introduced a few years ago, was that Bucky Barnes had not only been brainwashed by the Soviets, but put on ice and then thawed whenever they had a mission for him. It makes perfect sense, then, for Bucky to not have been the only killer on ice, and Winter Soldier #1 opens with him trying to track down three recently discovered sleepers. From there we’ve got casinos, Soviet agents in America’s heartland… oh, and a gorilla armed with heavy artillery that shouts anti-American phrases in Russian.

And to me, that sums up everything that works with the whole idea of Winter Soldier #1. Similar to Greg Rucka and Marco Checchetto’s revival of The Punisher, Winter Soldier is taking a mostly more-serious, grounded tone… but still reveling in all of the craziness that the Marvel Universe offers, like talking Communist gorillas, or cyborg Prime Ministers. I like that he’s taking established Marvel villains like the Red Ghost and his Super Apes and keeping their same spirit alive, but at the same time making them feel a bit more dangerous, for lack of a better word. The overall grounded feel for Winter Soldier doesn’t exclude the fantastic, it just makes them fit better into the book’s particular world view.

Speaking of views, the view of the world through Butch Guice’s pencils is a lovely one. Guice penciled some issues of Captain America starring Bucky as the main character, so he and Brubaker already had a history of working together. The art here looks just fantastic; carefully crafted, fine-detailed portraits of characters that look like they’re ready to step right off of the page. He and colorist Bettie Breitweiser work well together on some of the trickier moments, like the slightly granulated look for a video projection, only to shift back to a more subdued, gentler look in the next panel as we snap back into reality. Even some of the smaller moments, like the establishing images of the casino on the first page, come across classy and slick thanks to Guice; who knew a playing card and a few poker chips could look so intriguing?

Winter Soldier has only just begun, but considering it’s spun directly out of multiple years of Captain America, it’s not like we don’t already have somewhat of a good idea what we’re in store for. If you’ve never read stories with the character before, though, this is a solid entry point. Winter Soldier continues to remind us that what had sounded laughable (Bucky Barnes is alive and a Soviet assassin!) could be top-notch story material in the right hands. I’m along for the ride, absolutely.

One the most dependably good comic series being published is Ed Brubaker’s and Sean Phillips’s Criminal. A series of crime comic mini-series, whenever a new Criminal comes down the pike you know you’re in for something good. With their new collection, Criminal: The Last [...]]]> Written by Ed Brubaker
Art by Sean Phillips
112 pages, color
Published by Marvel

One the most dependably good comic series being published is Ed Brubaker’s and Sean Phillips’s Criminal. A series of crime comic mini-series, whenever a new Criminal comes down the pike you know you’re in for something good. With their new collection, Criminal: The Last of the Innocent, Brubaker and Phillips not only keep their comic well-rooted in the dark and slightly depressing real world, but also give us flashbacks to a slightly more idyllic setting, one that comic-book readers might be especially familiar with.

I suspect for most readers, the first time that Brubaker and Phillips shift Criminal: The Last of the Innocent into a flashback that is straight out of Archie comics, it’ll come as a surprise, and then feel like a gimmick. But what’s great about Criminal: The Last of the Innocent is that this storytelling turn is anything but a gimmick. Brubaker uses these familiar character tropes for something bigger, more than just "when Archie characters go dark." Instead we’re getting a story about how even those growing up in small-town America can end up in a darker, more dangerous adulthood… and that perhaps even as teens they were less than the innocent ones that they showed to the rest of the world.

Riley Richards is our main character, and as Criminal: The Last of the Innocent plays out, we get a long hard look at a man that was everyone’s role model, but ended up in a loveless marriage and up to his ears in gambling debts. Brubaker doesn’t just take the easy way out of "Archie marrying Veronica equals disaster" though; instead we see just how things would have gone sour, through both glimpses at Felix’s teenage years (and how even then she was more heartless than Riley perhaps caught on) as well as how both Riley and Felix would have drifted apart as Riley ended up breaking away from everything that he held true. Riley in a soul-crushing office job makes perfect sense in the setting that Brubaker has provided, and while at first some of Riley’s darker moments are a little jarring, Brubaker makes sure to always give us a perfectly reasonable (in Riley’s head) explanation for them.

Criminal: The Last of the Innocent also still has Brubaker’s trademark smarts throughout the story. When Riley decides it’s time to try and kill someone, we get a methodical, carefully plotted out strategy that not only gives Riley a strong alibi, but also squarely plants the blame on someone else. Watching it play out is engrossing, in part because Riley has set everything up so well, but also because it is that much more grim when you realize how many other people’s lives Riley is destroying in his quest to kill someone. It’s bad enough that someone will die, of course, but the callous nature in which even friends get ground to a pulp as collateral damage gives us that much more of a realization of Riley’s sociopathic nature.

Phillips draws Criminal: The Last of the Innocent with his usual excellence; I love his rough, scratchy style that he draws all of the main narrative in. It’s expressive and it makes the story feel real because of his strong attention to detail on both his characters as well as the backgrounds. Phillips shifts his style for the flashback sequences in this mini-series, though, and it was a great surprise to see that Phillips can draw Archie-style, too. With the clean lines and uncluttered pages, it paints a rosy picture of those earlier days, even if you’ve somehow never encountered an Archie comic before and aren’t picking up on the homage. Best of all, though, is how comparing the characters from one to the other, there’s no doubt whom you’re reading about. The two styles might have a huge gulf between them, but it’s that consistency from one to the other that makes it all work.

Criminal: The Last of the Innocent is a strong return to form for Brubaker and Phillips; it’s one of my favorite Criminal stories to date. Even if you don’t make the connection to Archie comics, this is a strong, well-crafted story that hangs tightly together from start to finish. And if you do get all of the in-jokes that reference that long-running all-ages comic? Well, it’s that much more entertaining as a result. If you’ve never Criminal before, this is as great a place as any to begin. Highly recommended.

Purchase Links: Amazon.com | Powell’s Books

When it comes to characters who have had an extremely varied range of depictions at Marvel, the Punisher is probably somewhere near (if not at) the top of the list. [...]]]> Written by Greg Rucka
Penciled by Marco Checchetto (#1-5) and Matthew Southworth (#6)
Inked by Marco Checchetto (#1-5) and Matthew Clark (#6)
32 pages each, color
Published by Marvel

When it comes to characters who have had an extremely varied range of depictions at Marvel, the Punisher is probably somewhere near (if not at) the top of the list. Some takes have had him fighting cheesy super-villains like Stilt-Man, punching a polar bear, or getting turned into a Frankenstein’s monster. Others were grim and serious, going up against human-trafficking and a distinct absence of super-heroes in a "for mature readers" title. Greg Rucka’s new take on the character is on the more serious side of things (having replaced the admittedly-fun monsters of Marvel title), and in many ways it distills a lot of the different takes into a unified front.

Under Rucka’s pen, The Punisher is a book where the titular character is more often than not a silent force of nature; he doesn’t have a single word of dialogue in the first issue, sweeping in during the second half as a mute angel of death. As the book has progressed we’ve gotten some narration and dialogue from him, but he’s still by no means a chatterbox. Rucka writes him as a serious, driven man haunted by his demons even as he continues to push forward with a relentless focus. In many ways it reminds me of Garth Ennis’s long run on the character; he’s not joking or silly like some renditions, instead a fairly accurate take on what a person in real life would be like if they went down this path.

Unlike Ennis’s Punisher MAX series, though, this version is set within the Marvel Universe, and so we’ve gotten at least one glimpse of a super-powered being in the form of the Vulture. At first the idea seems a little jarring—this is a comic that up until now had been focusing on a massacre at a wedding, and a police detective being coerced into giving information to the Punisher—but Rucka takes the idea of a character whose big power is to fly and handles it with a dangerous, grim mood. The Vulture isn’t a joke or a throwaway here; he’s a nasty creature who gets sicced on our protagonist and does some serious damage. If anything, it ends up providing one of the things I found myself liking the most about this new The Punisher series; the idea that injuries will take time to heal. We get this at first with Rachel, the bride who survived the shoot-out at her wedding, as we see her slowly move from hospital to physical therapy. But we even get that with the Punisher himself, forced to lie low for several months after his encounter with the Vulture and slowly get back up to full strength. It’s a tactic that we so rarely see in superhero universe books, and it helps further root The Punisher in a slightly more serious take on the character.

I wasn’t familiar with Marco Checchetto’s art before this title, but I’m a convert now. He draws the characters in a realistic, rough-hewn style. The way he draws the Punisher in the first issue alone made me a fan; the shadows around his eyes so that you can’t see then, that evil little smile right before he pulls the gun away. He’s dangerous and it lets us see him from the villains’ perspective, that unstoppable force. It’s a great contrast to later on when he draws a bedraggled, healing Punisher; his hair is stringy and longer, facial hair has come in, and at a glance he doesn’t look that dangerous… until you see his eye glinting in anger and you realize that even a beaten down Punisher is still deadly. Matthew Southworth and Matthew Clark step in for art on The Punisher #6, and it looks well in line with what Checchetto produced for the first five chapters; it’s also nice to see the pair still bring their own little flair to the comic.

The first six issues of The Punisher are set to be collected in March 2012, and it’s a satisfying chunk of story. While Rucka’s telling a bigger story that will continue beyond this point, it’s a good first taste as anything. The Punisher has always been a slightly odd and varied title, but I feel like Rucka’s found a way to bring a little something for everyone into the title. (Well, maybe not the really strange stuff.) This is definitely a title worth checking out.

Purchase Links: Amazon.com | Powell’s Books

Generation Hope‘s first twelve issues were, on the whole, a fun little book about a young girl named Hope Summers who is prophesied to be the mutant messiah, as well as a handful of new young mutants whose powers recently manifested. Written by Kieron [...]]]> Written by James Asmus
Art by Ibraim Roberson
32 pages, color
Published by Marvel

Generation Hope‘s first twelve issues were, on the whole, a fun little book about a young girl named Hope Summers who is prophesied to be the mutant messiah, as well as a handful of new young mutants whose powers recently manifested. Written by Kieron Gillen, it tied in closely with Uncanny X-Men and rocked out smaller stories that focused much more on character growth than plot-of-the-month. With issue #13, though, the book’s been handed off to James Asmus and Ibraim Roberson, and I can’t help but feel like this book is different enough that it warranted a name change.

The debut issue for Asmus and Roberson has Hope’s squad going up in battle against a handful of X-Men. Presumably it’s to let new readers (coming on board because of the "Regenesis" banner, perhaps) see what the kids can do, but it comes across as a bit blatant and overly standard super-hero. And that, in a nutshell, is the big problem with Generation Hope #13; it feels like any other super-hero title, only a little too blatant. Characters far too often act out of character to make a point (like Magneto ripping Kenji apart without knowing he’d survive), and there’s an almost random level with its plotting. So when we get a new member in the form of Martha Johansson (aka the floating brain from Grant Morrison’s New X-Men run) with no rhyme or reason? Sure, why not.

The most painful part is the dialogue, though, which states things in a way to dole out exposition, but instead just serves to sound awkward. "Every time I use my powers, I’m burning faster and faster into my old age!" It’s clumsily written, and it’s stating a fact to characters who already know it all too well. (The later line about being a teenage boy is even worse, if that’s possible.) The sad thing is that the basic plotting isn’t that bad—the team finding out about Sebastian Shaw but not realizing it’s him—although it does require the Stepford Cuckoos to act a bit more dim than normal for it to happen. And if there’s one thing that almost all of these characters weren’t up until now, it’s dim.

The part that does work is Roberson’s pencils, which are a contrast to past artists on Generation Hope but still feel at home with the title. It’s a smooth, shaded style; I like how Gabriel is starting to look a little older under his pencil, and Kenji’s powers feel that much more grotesque and monstrous when Roberson draws him, an unholy match of man and machine. There’s an energy in his drawings too; when Hope and Teon are running out of the Cerebra room, I actually felt like we could see them in action. And when Noriko looks bored out of her skull while Kenji flirts with Martha, it’s what could be a throw-away moment that just looks awesome.

Generation Hope doesn’t feel at all like its past year, to the point that I’m wondering why (if Marvel likes the concept) they’re sticking with the name. The book’s sales are already rather low, and it might have been smarter to just relaunch the characters into a brand-new book and hope for a sales bump. As it is, I can’t help but feel like #13 might be alienating those who enjoyed the tone of the past twelve issues. This doesn’t feel like a good match of title and creator, and if it lasts for a full second year I’ll be surprised.

If I had to make a "top five comics from Marvel that have caused some long-time readers to go into a tailspin over the past several years" list, S.H.I.E.L.D. would certainly be on that list. Jonathan [...]]]> Written by Jonathan Hickman
Art by Nick Pitarra, Zachary Baldus, Kevin Mellon, and Gabriel Hernandez Walta
48 pages, color
Published by Marvel

If I had to make a "top five comics from Marvel that have caused some long-time readers to go into a tailspin over the past several years" list, S.H.I.E.L.D. would certainly be on that list. Jonathan Hickman and Dustin Weaver’s stories of ancient history in the Marvel Universe (showing the S.H.I.E.L.D. organization spanning thousands of years, complete with alien invasions dating back to the time of the Egyptian Pharaoh Imhotep) mix our history with that of the fantastical from Marvel, and it seems at times almost designed to ruffle feathers. The idea of a S.H.I.E.L.D. Infinity issue sounded interesting, then, taking a break between the first and second volumes to let some other artists step in and draw vignettes from Hickman about the S.H.I.E.L.D. organization. But while I enjoyed it, I was a tiny bit disappointed in that as a potential jumping-on point, S.H.I.E.L.D. Infinity is anything but.

Of the four stores in S.H.I.E.L.D. Infinity, only the first can stand in a vacuum and introduce people to Jonathan Hickman’s take on S.H.I.E.L.D.. Starting in 1497 Florence, it quickly jumps back in time to 226 BC, where a giant alien Kree is attacking Rhodes, and it comes down to Archimedes to power up the Colossus of Rhodes and use its massive size and power to beat down the invading enemy. In a nutshell, it’s the perfect example backdrop for S.H.I.E.L.D. as a whole, with Hickman taking established facts about both our world (the massive Colossus of Rhodes statue, one of the Ancient Wonders of World that stood over the entrance of Rhodes’ harbor) and the Marvel Universe (the Kree and their invading technology) and mashes them into a single unit. Reading S.H.I.E.L.D. means you need to accept the idea of these two concepts colliding, adding all of this fantastical technology not just during the eras in which the comics were published, but far into the past and retroactively making it a world of wonders. Hickman and artist Nick Pitarra knock this chapter out of the park, evoking the sense of awe that S.H.I.E.L.D. so often gives to the reader, and it helps that Pitarra’s art is a great cross between Arthur Adams and Geoff Darrow. Archimedes piloting the Colossus of Rhodes is one of the funnier things I’ve seen in a while, and I love all the gears, cogs, and pulleys that Archimedes uses to pilot it, even as the Kree threatens to destroy the Colossus once and for all.

Once this particular chapter is over, though, the remaining pieces serve more as gap-fillers for people who already read S.H.I.E.L.D. Volume 1. "The Hidden Message" from Hickman and Zachary Baldus is probably my favorite of these, thanks in part due to Baldus’s watercolor inspired pieces. The backgrounds shift from panel to panel between fully detailed, and a smear of color as the three infiltrators break into the Vatican. It’s a great overall look, and every page has a burst of excitement in the art. And while it’s a prologue to another story, it stands well enough on its own to still give the reader enjoyment if it was read in a vacuum.

Less successful are the remaining two stories. "Life, the End of the World, and the Key" (with art by Kevin Mellon) has no pretenses of standing on its own at all. It’s very much part of S.H.I.E.L.D. Volume 1′s story, giving us more information its villain and his plans getting set in motion. As a story it’s just lukewarm—I’m not sure it gives us anything of particular interest, old or new reader alike—and the art is just all right, a sketchy style which doesn’t seem to fit with the other stories here or S.H.I.E.L.D. as a whole. It’s the most standard art style on display here, one that ultimately suffers in comparison rather than through any fault of its own.

"The Apple," wrapping up S.H.I.E.L.D. Infinity, is another story that doesn’t bring terribly much to the big picture, once again filling in a small gap of story as Gottfried Leibniz and Isaac Newton face off against one another. The high point here is Gabriel Hernandez Walta’s art, but only in certain scenes. He’s at his best in the flashback scenes, drawn to look like woodcuts and presenting stark, deadly moments of Newton’s killings. It’s the action sequences in the "present" story that don’t work quite as well; for example, it takes a second to realize that Leibniz is tossing an apple to Newton, not holding out a still hand and causing the apple to levitate above it. There’s no good sense of movement here, and that’s a shame because it makes the climactic scene of "The Apple" to look staged and lifeless, not fast and deadly.

Overall, S.H.I.E.L.D. Infinity is an interesting sidestep for the series, giving Weaver an extra two months off to prepare for S.H.I.E.L.D. Volume 2 and letting Hickman tell some shorter stories set in the greater scheme of his comic. I just wish that, given the opportunity, it might have worked a bit better as a true stand-alone issue, not for all intents and purposes S.H.I.E.L.D. Volume 1 #7. For readers of S.H.I.E.L.D., definitely pick this issue up, it’s clearly as much a part of the series as any other. But for potential new readers? You’re probably better off by way of introduction with the first issue of the comic, or the collection that’s around the corner. S.H.I.E.L.D. is a great comic, but this is a less than idea first taste.

Purchase Links: Amazon.com | Powell’s Books

This is going to sound strange, but I feel a little bad for Daniel Way, Jason Pearson, and Karl Story. Stepping onto Astonishing X-Men—a book that was once the flagship title of the X-Men family, but has since fallen in stature [...]]]> Written by Daniel Way
Penciled by Jason Pearson
Inked by Karl Story
32 pages, color
Published by Marvel

This is going to sound strange, but I feel a little bad for Daniel Way, Jason Pearson, and Karl Story. Stepping onto Astonishing X-Men—a book that was once the flagship title of the X-Men family, but has since fallen in stature due to increasing delays and stories drifting further away from the other titles—has got to feel like a bit of a poison pill. Expectations are simultaneously high and low, and after watching the wheels fall off on the book over the past few years, they just have to know that most readers are going to assume more of the same.

So with that in mind, reading the start of their run on the comic? It’s surprisingly average. Way’s working with a reduced cast (Cyclops, White Queen, Wolverine, and Armor) as he and Pearson mix a story about Armor returning to Japan after the death of family members, with one involving the Roxxon corporation deciding to drill for oil underneath nearby Monster Island. It’s not a bad idea, but in a trend that is happening with increasing regularity these days, this first issue is slow. I’m not against a comic taking its time and building up to a crescendo, but this comes across more as the pacing being slightly off. For a book promising a lot of monsters, we’re getting cameos and a final-page looming silhouette. This in its own right might not be so bad, but the other half of the title—Armor’s return to Japan—feels just as glacially paced.

The thing is, I think there’s a spark here that shows a lot of potential. Way’s reducing the cast is a smart move, doubly so with using the shortened number of characters as an attempt to focus more on Armor. Considering she’s been a member of the title for several years now, she’s still a blank slate. Way is giving her a past, a family, and examining how else her power could be used. They’re all obvious steps, nothing revolutionary, but it’s more attention than she’s been paid by previous writers Joss Whedon or Warren Ellis. So if nothing else, it’s a start.

I am happy to see Pearson attached to the book; he’s one of those artists that pops up every now and then (I’ve loved his art ever since Legion of Super-Heroes in the ’90s, and he’s continued to improve since then) but not often enough. For the most part, he and inker Story do a solid job here. Pearson’s pencils are open and clean, with a slight cartoonish exaggeration as part of his style. There are moments in here which really sing; Cyclops and the White Queen giving each other "oh really?" looks, for instance, or Wolverine turning around to show off a Brood-infection.

On the other hand, some moments don’t work quite as well. When Armor breaks down in the Danger Room, it’s supposed to be a dramatic two-thirds page image as her three teachers stand over her crumbled form, with nothing but the dent in the wall for a background. It sounds great, until you look a little closer and notice that Wolverine isn’t looking at Armor, but instead staring at some point on the horizon, or maybe even the ceiling. It’s these kinds of little glitches throughout the comic that keep it from shifting from good to great.

Here’s the truly strange thing about the new Way and Pearson team on Astonishing X-Men, though; someone editorially seems to have lost a bit of faith in it, or at least their timeliness. So after part two of this story, the comic will alternate between issues by Way and Pearson, and a new storyline by Christos Gage and Juan Bubillo (and starring Storm, Colossus, Shadowcat, and Beast). And once again, I feel a little bad for Way and Pearson. I understand that Marvel wants to keep this book on a regular schedule again, but this looks like something that will ultimately undercut the creative team’s new position. With all of the delays leading up to this moment on Astonishing X-Men, surely there was enough time to line up a creative team and give them plenty of breathing room to finish their run?

At the end of the day, Astonishing X-Men #36 is a strange comic, in part because it feels like it’s moving far too slowly out of the gate, and in part because Marvel seems to have started backing away from it before things even began. I wish Way and Pearson luck, and I think they’ve got some strong potential here to deliver a thoroughly entertaining book, but if this review was a Magic 8-Ball it would be stating, "Outlook Cloudy."

Stan Lee and Jack Kirby’s 102-issue run on Fantastic Four is fairly legendary, and with so many options now available to read those original issues (hardcover and softcover full-color Marvel Masterworks reprints, plus black and white Essential [...]]]> Written by Stan Lee
Penciled by Jack Kirby
Inked by Dick Ayers and Steve Ditko
304 pages, color
Published by Marvel Comics

Stan Lee and Jack Kirby’s 102-issue run on Fantastic Four is fairly legendary, and with so many options now available to read those original issues (hardcover and softcover full-color Marvel Masterworks reprints, plus black and white Essential Fantastic Four volumes) it seemed like a good a time as any to start catching up on my Marvel history. Like my recent dip into Marvel Masterworks: The Avengers, though, I found a fairly wide range of material here; some good, some extremely dated.

With this run of issues on Fantastic Four (#11-20, plus Annual #1), Stan Lee and Jack Kirby are already starting to branch out and pull away from the sameness that permeated a lot of the first ten issues of the series. Instead of repeated appearances by Namor and Doctor Doom, we start getting some new villains brought onto the scene, like the Red Ghost, the Mad Thinker, Rama-Tut, and the Impossible Man. New faces are ultimately essential for Fantastic Four at this stage in the game; the book is at its most interesting when it’s going for something big and crazy, and another appearance by the same foe rarely brings that to the table. When Namor and Doctor Doom do appear, here, they’re actually some of the least interesting stories in the volume.

I appreciate that the Fantastic Four comics here often have the team winning through out-thinking their opponents rather than simply smashing them to bits. With the Thing and the Human Torch, there’s certainly a lot of firepower on the team, so a simple bust-em-up ending wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility. But even when the out-thinking solution feels a little too random or out of the blue (like in the case of the Mad Thinker), it’s still preferable to a simple punch to the head providing the answer. Stories like the team going up against Molecule Master and the Impossible Man are two of the best examples of that here, providing a logical series of steps for the Fantastic Four to remain victorious.

On the other hand, there is an extraordinary amount of deus ex machina on display in Marvel Masterworks: Fantastic Four Vol. 2. The books seems to regularly write itself into a corner, and then have to resort to the ridiculous in order to wrap things up. The Rama-Tut issue is probably the worst offender in that category, between a completely random "the Egyptian sun and some radiation somehow changes the Thing back into human form" sequence, and then the reasoning for why they can’t use the discovered cure for blindness on Alicia Masters. Either one of these moments would feel like a cheat, but paired together it’s cringe worthy. Even a story that uses good logical steps, like the Molecule Master issue, often resorts to a sudden last-second deus ex machina (in this case the Watcher cleaning up the mess and keeping the team from another confrontation with the villain) so that everything is reset back to normal.

In the introduction to this volume, Stan Lee says one of his goals was to make the Invisible Girl an essential part of the team here, but I’m afraid I’m just not seeing it. She still comes across depressingly ineffectual, her powers used more often than not to hide above all else. With such a passive power set it’s easy to see why later issues expanded her abilities (to turn other things invisible and also to project force shields), but it’s a shame that the only character motivation that stick out for her is the developing love triangle between her, Reed, and Namor. The boys aren’t exactly the most three-dimensional characters either, but poor Sue is left holding the short end of the stick.

Still, Kirby’s pencils look dynamite here, there’s no doubt about that. He draws such wonderful, expressive characters, and that’s not limited to just the leads. Minor characters like Dorma (looking mightily pissed-off) and the Thinker (the perfect depiction of a schemer) are given just as much attention, and in general everyone’s got a lot of energy and power. Even simple things like a right on the Moon against the Red Ghost and his apes look awesome, here, or something as normal as Sue sitting on a lounger while talking to the rest of the team. Kirby is an artist whose works I came to appreciate over time, and now that I’m seeing his work here with fresh eyes it looks that much more exciting and imaginative.

Master Masterworks: Fantastic Four Vol. 2 is certainly a handsome collection, with a re-created cover based off the original Kirby design, and some additional sketches and notes at the end. It’s a fun book, but at the same time there are still some elements (the slightly limited but expanding rogue’s gallery, Lee’s inability to write interesting female characters, the regular deus ex machina to get them out of a jam) that keep it from hitting great. I’ll certainly pick up some additional volumes soon, but I can’t help but feel that I haven’t gotten to the true, classic Fantastic Four issues just yet.

Purchase Links: Amazon.com | Powell’s Books

Ozma of Oz was one of my favorite books when I was growing up. I’m not sure where our copy of the book came from, but I must have read it fifty or more times. The third [...]]]> Written by Eric Shanower
Based on the novel by L. Frank Baum
Art by Skottie Young
32 pages, color
Published by Marvel

Ozma of Oz was one of my favorite books when I was growing up. I’m not sure where our copy of the book came from, but I must have read it fifty or more times. The third Oz novel, it’s actually only the second one to feature Dorothy, who after a sea voyage comes awry ends up journeying to Oz’s neighboring country of Ev, as well as meeting her old friends again and embarking on a brand-new adventure. Quite frankly? I think it blows The Wonderful Wizard of Oz out of the water.

I think part of what makes Ozma of Oz stand out for me so much is that right from the start, L. Frank Baum has upped the level of crazy, different things. Sure, the original book had the Munchkins, a talking Scarecrow, and (left out of the movie) a land of porcelain people. But everything was still more or less recognizable as things from our own world, just tweaked slightly different. Here, in a matter of pages we’re seeing trees that grow lunch baskets and dinner pails, as well as the dreaded Wheelers who have wheels instead of hands and feet. It’s fun and different, and unlike Dorothy’s trip to Oz, here she doesn’t have any locals offering up advice immediately upon landing. Ozma of Oz continues that trend the whole way through the book, and each new creation and idea is bigger than the one before. It’s a big jump forward just in terms of stronger plotting and creativity for Baum, and I think it’s the book that shows he was more than just a flash in the pan.

In being adapted into a comic book, Eric Shanower paces out the story well for having it be eight issues that all require cliffhangers. Here, Shanower uses Baum’s build-up well; first bring Dorothy and Billina to Ev, then showing us the strange trees as well as a warning about the Wheelers, and finally using the attack of the Wheelers as the cliffhanger for the first issue. The whole issue flows smoothly in pacing, and as someone who could probably recite entire passages of Ozma of Oz back from memory, it feels like Shanower’s managed to fit everything into the comic with great ease. That’s not an easy task for an adaptation from one form of media into another, but Shanower makes it feel like a piece of cake.

Skottie Young’s art continues to look beautifully inventive and energetic. From the very first page, with the panicked and bug-eyed looks of the passengers as the ship goes into a storm, to the top-hat wearing, green-faced Wheelers, everyone jumps off the page toward the reader and looks fantastic. Dorothy herself looks on point for how Baum had described her; young, sweet, but determined. And Billina’s big eyes? A riot. It’s some of the smaller details in Ozma of Oz #1 that stood out at me as being especially nice, though. I love the misshapen crescent moon hovering up in the sky, looking almost like a person’s face, for instance, or the huge letters carved into the sand on the beach. Young’s art is quirky and fun, just like the Oz books themselves.

People who have seen the movie Return to Oz starring Fairuza Balk will recognize a lot of Ozma of Oz, which the script-writers lifted from liberally. It’s no small wonder they wanted to use so many elements of Ozma of Oz; it’s a great book, and so far Shanower and Young are three-for-three on creating a great adaptation. I hope this one does as well as the previous two in terms of sales, because I’ve yet to read any of the Oz books that came next. Comic adaptations by Shanower and Young of Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz, The Road to Oz, and beyond? Why yes, please. Sign me up. If Shanower and Young work on a comic together, you know it’s going to be excellent. In the meanwhile, make sure to buy the first two collections. You’re in for a treat.

Purchase Links (Vol. 1): Amazon.com | Powell’s Books
Purchase Links (Vol. 2): Amazon.com | Powell’s Books

New comics in the X-Men family are a dime a dozen; often, with no warning, they just appear, seemingly spinning off characters at random. With Generation Hope, though, we’ve got two distinct differences from many other recent spin-offs. First, there isn’t an "X" anywhere [...]]]> Written by Kieron Gillen
Art by Salvador Espin
40 pages, color
Published by Marvel

New comics in the X-Men family are a dime a dozen; often, with no warning, they just appear, seemingly spinning off characters at random. With Generation Hope, though, we’ve got two distinct differences from many other recent spin-offs. First, there isn’t an "X" anywhere in the title (although perhaps out of desperation, the logo creator put an X in Hope’s "O"). And second, this comic has actually spun directly out of a storyline, and appears to be moving forward with one of the big storylines happening in Uncanny X-Men and company. And so, as a result? I think this title has a real chance of succeeding.

For those who haven’t been reading the X-Books over the past few years, the number of mutants on the planet has (mystically) been reduced to less than 200, and no new mutants were being born. Now, the only mutant to arrive post "M-Day" (who is already a teenager instead of a baby, but that’s a long story) is Hope, destined to become a mutant messiah. With her arrival have been the detection of five new mutants, and Hope and the X-Men have already tracked down the first four, with Hope having the power to stabilize their mutant abilities. And so, now, Hope and her new charges are heading towards Tokyo, seeking out the fifth and final brand new mutant, and that’s when things start to get difficult.

Kieron Gillen, who recently had a stint on Thor as well as being the new co-writer on Uncanny X-Men (and whose comic Phonogram was one of the best comics of 2009), is heading up Generation Hope and it’s a good, solid first issue. Gillen assumes that no one’s read the stories leading up to this point, and he introduces each of the new characters in a swift but effective manner, getting into their heads and letting us see how they tick. So while it’s a quick character sketch for all (Idie in particular gets a strong focus), it’s enough to keep you feeling like you know what’s happening. He also shifts the tone that was previously set in Uncanny X-Men; there, the discovery of each of the "five lights" was an upbeat, positive thing. Here, it’s much darker and dank, and for the first time we’re getting the distinct impression that not all of the discovered mutants are necessarily going to be heroes.

Gillen’s script also deliberately contains a massive homage to Akira in the form of Kenji, the artist whose new mutant power is surging out of control and mutating his body. It’s a fun nod to the seminal comic by Katsuhiro Otomo, with limbs and machinery surging out of control in the same way that Tetsuo’s power rips through his body. We’ve seen up until now some hints that these mutant powers aren’t all blessings (Teon’s greatly reduced intelligence, or Gabriel’s power having some possible bad side-effects) but this takes it full tilt into that arena. If anything, it gives extra import to the title of Generation Hope; after all, if everything is cheerful and rosy, it’s rather easy to be hopeful.

Salvador Espin draws Generation Hope #1, and it’s a nice, dark look for the title. The early scene where Kenji’s tentacles attack is creepy looking, using shadows and outlines to help create a visual that stands out almost instantly. Even when drawing slightly less stylized, such as the scenes with the kids aboard the plane, all of them stand out in their own special way, and it shows that he can draw lighter scenes that are no less crisp and attractive.

Espin also does a great job of aping Otomo’s art for the Akira homages; I mention that specifically because while Espin makes no bones about what it’s supposed to remind you of (this isn’t a hidden swipe going on here), it’s still drawn in his own style and doesn’t come across as a simple tracing or lightbox. It’s the best kind of homage, at the end of the day, and as someone who first started reading Akira over 20 years ago, it was a delight to see it show up so lovingly.

Unlike a lot of new titles these days, I feel like Generation Hope #1 hit the ground running in a way that kept my attention and made me want to read a second issue. That’s not something that happens too terribly often, quite frankly. It’s great to see such a strong debut, and hopefully it’s going to translate into equally strong sales. And, for those readers of Uncanny X-Men, it’s also a strong reassurance that his coming on board as co-writer shouldn’t be feared. There is, indeed, hope for the future of mutant kind.

One of my absolute favorite comics last year was Incognito, Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips’s mini-series about a super-villain forced to live in a witness protection program. There were twists and turns galore, and in general just getting into the mind of Zack [...]]]> Written by Ed Brubaker
Art by Sean Phillips
32 pages, color
Published by Marvel Comics

One of my absolute favorite comics last year was Incognito, Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips’s mini-series about a super-villain forced to live in a witness protection program. There were twists and turns galore, and in general just getting into the mind of Zack Overkill was a surprisingly interesting experience. Brubaker and Phillips have now returned to Zack with Incognito: Bad Influences, and now that the first issue is out? It’s not at all what I had expected from these creators.

Incognito: Bad Influences #1 picks up a year after the previous mini-series, with Zack now signed up with the "good guys" from the SOS in exchange for keeping his powers. But even getting to use them to beat up the bad guys, having a casual relationship with Zoe Zeppelin, and having a new secret identity, life is less than thrilling. And so, itching for something different, that chance inadvertently presents itself when a surprise attack opens up a new chance for Zack to go undercover with the bad guys in search of a missing mole. It sounds good in theory, but the actual execution? It doesn’t quite live up to the original Incognito mini-series.

Part of the problem could be that this is all set-up for the rest of the mini-series, showing us how Zack’s new life is unsatisfactory to him, adding in a "will he/won’t he" question for when he tries to infiltrate the super-villain organization. After all, Zack’s going legit was hardly under the best of circumstances or even entirely willing, so you can see where Brubaker is trying to lead the audience. (And to his credit, I don’t think there’s a simple answer waiting for us.) And presumably, Brubaker is heading in a different direction than he and Phillips did in Sleeper, their other comic about an undercover mole in a super-villain group. But so far, this still feels slightly unsatisfactory. So watching Zack chafe at the good guy lifestyle might be necessary for the rest of the mini-series, but it’s also slightly boring. The "something different" factor from Incognito is, at least temporarily, missing in action. Brubaker still writes a good standard superhero, but at the end of the day it’s just good rather than great, and it’s great that readers have come to expect with Incognito.

The art from Phillips is likewise good, but that’s about it. Phillips isn’t doing anything out of the ordinary here; no playing with form or structure here like in some of his other titles; it’s very straight-forward and to the point. That said, even when sticking to a no-gimmick storytelling structure there’s still things to praise. I love how Phillips draws average, ordinary looking people as his characters. They’ve got slightly goofy and cartoonish faces, and they just seem every-day and human. Scenes with Zack lounging in bed with Zoe are great because they sell the scene as two people having a disagreement, not two larger-than-life demi-gods. Phillips also occasionally breaks out an especially good mood piece, like the one glimpse we see of Lazarus, the Returned Man as a hooded figure over a neon sign landscape. It’s very pulp adventure in its style, and I love how well it turns out there.

Incognito: Bad Influences #1 isn’t bad, but it is disappointing, and I think that was a real obstacle in front of this new mini-series the second it was announced. Incognito did well in part because of its different point of view and style; trying to replicate that again, especially after the conclusion of the first mini-series, was going to be difficult at best. It could still easily pull up and enter the heights of the original mini-series, but getting something that’s just good instead of great the second time around is still ultimately a bit of a let-down.

Purchase Links: Amazon.com | Powell’s Books