The Jetsons is really serious. It’s about a damaged Earth about to be struck with another disaster. There’s only so much time left with your kids. Hug them.
I’m not sure why writer Jimmy Palmiotti thinks anyone is going to care–past not wanting to see the Earth blow up or whatever (I’ll admit, it’s a weird sensation)–because his revision of “The Jetsons” cast sure isn’t going to get much sympathy.
Dad George Jetson looks about sixteen. Artist Pier Brito isn’t ready for a mainstream comic. His scenery is fine. His people are not. Past George looking like a kid, his part is to be freaked out his mom euthanized herself to become the family’s robot maid.
Wife Jane is an important scientist who knows the world is going to end soon. Or might end soon. Brito can’t keep a constant set of features for her. It’s like he can’t be bothered with facial details, much less expressions.
Daughter Judy has nothing to do. Except look younger than her dad. Jane doesn’t get the youthful appearance, at least nothing like George does.
Son Elroy is at that awkward age where he doesn’t like girls yet (but they like him) and he’s just trying to impress his dad. Who looks like his little brother. And has no scenes with him.
The script’s mediocre, the dialogue’s not even mediocre (Palmiotti can’t seem to figure out how to have George talk), the art’s disappointing.
We’ve met George Jetson. No more please.
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