New Love (1996) #4

New Love #4 doesn’t really have a feature story. There’s a “Letters from Venus,” where creator Gilbert Hernandez checks in on the latest drama surrounding the strip’s young protagonist, and it’s six pages (twice the length of any other strip); it just doesn’t feel like a feature. The episode’s a grab bag with some echoing throughout, but they’re either vague echoes or intentional non sequiturs.

For example, the first strip in the comic is three pages about some drunk dad who doesn’t want to go home to the wife and kids. He knows he should want to go home, so he’s going to give up drinking for sure this time. Shame someone offers to buy him unlimited drinks. It’s a very stylized story, with Beto absurdly (literally, intentionally absurdly) visualizing the characters only to tighten them into “real people” at the end.

That story echoes with one later on about a concerned dad confronting his teenage daughter about her going out with her lowlife friends. He gets drunk in a bar to get his courage up. Beto’s art on this story is very dark, very inky, very moody. There’s that single echo back to the first strip because of the bar, but otherwise, it’s entirely separate. It’s a particularly depressing story; Beto’s somewhat bearish on humanity this issue.

The comic’s got eight one-page or less strips. A one-pager starring Venus and Fritz, the last strip directly nods back to another four-panel strip. But their content is entirely different. The four-panel strip is Beto playing with art and how to focus attention. The Venus and Fritz strip is a flashback to Fritz’s high school days (I can’t remember, did Beto establish teenage Fritz looks like one of the cover suspects on Love and Rockets #1 in that series). It’s all story, with Beto giving the narration to Venus so the reader wouldn’t have to translate Fritz’s lisp.

The other short strips range from black comedy gags to parables to history lessons, at least the ones written by Beto. Gary Groth and Seth contribute a talking heads script discussing modern pop culture and literacy. Beto draws them like superheroes. Some of the conversation ages OK; the part where one of them goes on about how great it was people loved their Bibles in the eighteenth century is, frankly, messed up. It’s not a matter of aging poorly; it’s a matter of the poop getting stinkier every year since publication.

That conversation will echo into the last of the three pages strips, which is about a well-meaning man who accidentally profits off the ramblings of an unhoused person and tries to make things right. There’s some talk about pop and art in the strip, which the Groth and Seth conversation set up. That story, entitled “Roy,” is probably the best in the comic. It’s the most consistently ambitious gesture.

There’s a history strip about a Black boxer, which strangely becomes all about (white boxer) Jack Dempsey. Good art. A child abduction black comedy strip. Then there’s another comedy strip with some exquisite line work. The oddest strip is the one about racism, which is somewhat noncommittal.

The best of the short strips is the “Origin of the Mosquito,” which is really funny.

The “Letters from Venus” story seems to resolve the de facto love triangle between Venus, mom Petra, and comic book store clerk Carlos. Petra’s been shagging Carlos on the side, which Venus unconsciously might know but also doesn’t. She is aware something’s wrong with mom and step-dad (I think this issue’s the first time she’s mentioned the step), but not what exactly because it’s all focused around her crush on Carlos. Venus’s crush, not Petra’s.

It’s a good entry, with very nice character work for step-dad David (the first time Beto’s really given him anything), and the plotting’s neat; it just doesn’t have much oomph overall. Some excellent art, of course.

Finally, there’s a nude self-portrait from Beto. Presumably just because.

By definition, it’s a looser New Love than usual (or ever), but Beto’s got just enough theme crossover to make it work as a package.

New Love (1996) #3

Creator Gilbert Hernandez starts the issue with the “Letters From Venus” entry, the second feature (as in the second half of a double feature). At six pages, it’s the second-longest story. Besides the A feature, “Venus” is the only other story longer than a page. Beto’s got two and a half other single-page strips in the issue. The half because one of the stories is a montage sequence.

“Venus,” both the story and the character, introduces the cast of characters to the issue. Venus won’t be around for most of the main feature (for good reasons, I’ll mention in a moment), but her observations kick everything off for the comic. Her story starts with Sergio—Pipo’s football star son—arriving to drive Venus home. Venus has been hanging out at Pipo’s for the day, but she’s too busy to take her home. Of course, once we find out what Pipo’s too busy doing, it seems like she could’ve run the kid home, but whatever.

Instead, heartthrob Sergio will take her home; he just needs to stop along the way a few times. The first time is in a bad neighborhood, the second time is with some New Age goons, the third ties back to Pipo, then finally Venus gets home. As usual, Beto does a fantastic job using Venus as the protagonist and narrator, and the story’s chill. It’s got some “growing up” moments–like realizing “just because they’re nice to you” white ladies can be garbage racists—and it’s gritty but genial.

Then comes two of the one-pagers. First, we get a recap of Doralis’s popular television show—I wonder how New Love read without having read Love and Rockets; Doralis’s rise to TV fame was a significant subplot in that comic. Then the next one-page strip is a scene with Fritz and Petra hanging out with Doralis and realizing her TV show isn’t just a variety dance show anymore, but sort of an investigative reporting dance variety show now. It’s a nice strip, with Beto extending the traditional comic strip beats out to nine panels.

The feature story is called “Mama’s Boy” and is about Sergio and Pipo. And what people think of Sergio and Pipo, with Beto using documentary interviews as a framing device. Along the way, we find out Sergio’s side of the opening “Venus” story, but Beto also plays with the timeline a bit. For instance, the opening story has Sergio interacting with Fritz and Petra, but this feature story does a lot to retroactively inform those interactions.

Beto maintains a triple-layered narrative throughout the story (thirteen pages but really twelve and a cover), occasionally dipping into a fourth flashback layer. They all progress chronologically, with it eventually becoming clear the “Venus” story takes place in between one of them. There’s more character work for Pipo than Sergio; Sergio’s got to remain somewhat obtuse not to give away the narrative device too soon.

It’s also a really sexual story, with Beto using gag nudity for emphasis. But basically, everyone’s got the uncontrollable hots for Sergio and Pipo, and they’re mostly happy to put out.

But there’s also a subplot about Pipo vindictively targeting a TV critic who doesn’t like her show, which might give the most guidance to sorting out the three action streams and how they fit with each other.

The story’s more about Beto’s inventive plotting and less about the characters, but it’s still quite good. It’s just not as effective as the “Letters From Venus,” which has the more sympathetic protagonist. There’s nothing unsympathetic about Sergio; he’s just beefcake.

The issue doesn’t end with his story, either. Beto brings it back for a one-pager with Venus and her family (mom Petra, dad, little brother), waiting for Fritz and Doralis to come over. Nine panels and it ties back to most of the stories in the issue, including the one-pagers, as they inform Venus’s perception of Doralis compared to the adults’ take. It’s a really nice way to finish the issue, which otherwise would read like a somewhat random anthology. It’d just Luba’s Friends and Family without the closer; with it, the issue does encapsulate the opening, Sergio-related theme.

Reading the issue is kind of just like reading Love and Rockets, which is also completely wonderful.

New Love (1996) #2

It’s a very religious issue. Creator Gilbert Hernandez does four saint pin-ups, each with a text paragraph describing their lives and sainthood. Beto calls the series “A Gallery of Humanitarians and Beloved Martyrs” and leans so heavily into it, the angry atheist protagonist of the final feature story is a big surprise. The pin-ups are the issue’s only recurring element, and they set some of the mood, which Beto further explicates with the final pin-up’s saint and story placement.

But while there’s religiosity at play—including in the story about some prehistoric humans (well, with some caveats)—Beto also includes some secular humanitarians. The first strip of the issue is about the iron lung; in a nine-panel grid (minus one for the title), Beto establishes the medical need for the device, how it works, problems in its development, and then the eventual success. It’s history comics in a page. Very impressive stuff and more successful than the later “Beto’s Notes” version of Moby Dick, which is a fine strip, but the iron lung strip is didactic; the Moby Dick one is instead a neat trick.

The issue has three feature stories.

First, there’s another “Letters from Venus,” which has Venus learning more about her parents—and how other people, specifically Aunt Fritz, see them. There’s also a nice “growing up” anecdote in there, albeit one with a lot more family drama than it’d be if Venus’s mom weren’t a Love and Rockets character.

It also takes place just after life on Mars has been discovered, something Venus muses about in her thought balloons as she roams around a festival where everyone’s in a costume. It’ll be interesting to see if Beto’s including that otherworldly detail as a throwaway or if it’ll actually figure into the strip going forward.

Beto does an eight-panel, two-by-four layout on most pages. He’s got fantastic pacing, and Venus is a great narrator. The art does require a lot of attention. Beto’s got no time for stragglers, with the big twist being a tiny movement in one of the panels.

It’s quite good.

And in no way prepares for the next story, the prehistoric human one. Specifically prehistoric men. Except they know about things like brain chemistry—without understanding it, they just know about it—and their world is full of strange creatures, like giant teddy bears and model airplane-shaped birds. Two guys are jealous of another’s fishing and hunting prowess; they also aren’t thrilled with him because he’s from another tribe.

The story’s thoughtfully paced and somewhat gruesome. There’s religiosity to it, although just at the base level. As a parable, it’s excellent.

The last story is where all the built-up religion comes out. The story is set in a toy land, where a jack in the box and his music box ballerina argue about his bad mood. The jack in the box, Bolo Cereal, is sick of racist, misogynist Republicans who claim they’re Christian without following any of Christ’s teachings. So wind-up ballerina girlfriend Fléchette suggests they go to church and see if it makes Bolo feel any better.

It does not and leads to a tragic, then mildly baffling, conclusion. The art’s fantastic on the story, but the art’s fantastic on the entire issue. There’s such a wide range of settings—modern-day California, prehistoric whatever, toy land—with Beto telling each story a different way, it ends up just being a showcase of Beto’s varied talents.

The Venus story could’ve been longer—but only because Venus is such a good protagonist—otherwise, there’s nothing to gripe about. New Love #2 is great comics.

New Love (1996) #1

I was unclear about a couple things when I started New Love. First, I thought it would be Gilbert and Jaime Hernandez splitting like the old days, but it’s just Beto.

Which tracks. Beto was more about the Love than Rockets.

Then I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to remember the main character from the first story from somewhere else. She’s an opera singer who, after leaving the opera, finds herself pulled over in a park by a walking owl creature. They have sex, and the owl creature transforms into a human, and the singer becomes an owl creature. Since I just read Beto’s porno comic, Birdland, it really didn’t come off too weird. Other than not being sure if I should remember the lead character from somewhere else.

It’s a good little strip—not really a story—with Beto doing a lot of stylized, art deco-ish art.

Then there’s an actual three-panel comic strip about Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. It’s funny and dirty and reminds of Beto’s excellent Frida biography from Love and Rockets: Volume One.

The issue’s got two main stories, one Luba Family—focusing on her tweenage niece, Venus (daughter of Petra, who appeared in Birdland and it also threw me)—and one Palomar. Or at least Palomar Extended Universe; it’s never explicitly Palomar, but it’s got the vibe.

Beto structures Venus’s story as a letter to her cousin, recounting an experience involving her mom, Aunt Fritz, a record store, and a gay porno comic. It’s only six pages, but it’s chockfull of dialogue establishing Venus as a protagonist to be reckoned with. She’s got an adoring best friend, Yoshio; they’re too cool for school—the scene with Fritz has them hanging out in a coffee shop, smoking cloves and drinking de-caf.

Eventually, it turns into this really touching story about Venus and Petra, with a lot of humor and profound embarrassment at one’s parent along the way. It’s a good one; no matter what else Beto did in the issue, the Venus story is enough to make New Love #1 a success.

Since it’s Beto, however, the second feature story—which is longer but has a lot less dialogue and a lot more mood—is also excellent. A femme fatale arrives in a rural, Palomar-y town and immediately captivates a local man, who happens to have a hunchback, an overbearing mother, and who communicates with a supernatural force living in a tree.

Beto plots it like a fairy tale, with the unnamed hunchbacked man consulting the force to accomplish various tasks, usually to garner favor with the femme fatale. The lead never speaks. His mom yells at him, the children mock him, the femme fatale’s rude to him—and the spirit talks a lot.

It’s a tidy little fable, very noir-ish, with occasional hints at tenderness. Not as good as the Venus story, but very good comics.

Then there’s a short (but not three-panel) strip crossing Fritz over with the opera singer. It’s got a great punchline.

New Love’s off to a fine start. Of course, it’d be surprising if it weren’t.

Whoa, Nellie! (1996) #3

Leave it to Jaime Hernandez to get me tearing up for a wrestling story.

But he’s got a great finale reveal, which ties the series together as well as echoes back to Love and Rockets Prime. Even after deliberating establishing reveals are going to be a thing in the issue, the last one comes as a perfect surprise. Jaime plays around with time a bit here. He’ll have a person going to talk to someone, they’re there immediately having the conversation, but time has passed in between. It’s all about what’s happening off-page, between the panels.

And, of course, the wrestling. There’s a whole lot of wrestling this issue, starting with the second half of Xochitl’s first fight as Texas champion. It does not go well, and it turns out her rise to the championship was just a way for the wrestling organization to give their pick a suitable venue for the win. Worse, everyone knows about it except Xo and Gina. It’s a coming of age story for Gina, her first real glimpse into the sadness of experience.

There are some great scenes for Xo and Gina. Jaime also gives Vicki an emotional life chapter closing scene; he writes the hell out of it. He draws it beautifully as well, but the writing acknowledges the gravity of the character. Vicki’s been an almost literal superhero in Love and Rockets. Jaime does it well.

The comic’s serious, but Jaime uses foreground and background action to maintain humor throughout. The way the wrestling open works—how Jaime dissects the impact of a fight scene in a comic, how the presentation controls how it’s read; it’s an outstanding, masterful comic book. It also just happens to be pretty funny, emotionally impactful, and just wild, wonderful women’s wrestling.

The issue ends with a wrestling exhibition, where Jaime gleefully introduces multiple wrestlers before they start pairing off to fight. There’s a ring commentator—catchphrase, Whoa, Nellie!—who handles all the exposition, which Jaime writes really well. He finds the character’s voice immediately. Then he works up this momentum of the announcer’s fight narration, against the actual fight, against the contextual information the reader might not have. It’s exceptionally well done.

Whoa, Nellie! is not the comic I was expecting. But it’s very much exactly what I needed.

Whoa, Nellie! (1996) #2

While I wasn’t “worried” about Whoa, Nellie! last issue, I was concerned creator Jaime Hernandez didn’t have enough story, just the impulse to do a bunch of women’s wrestling art. After this issue, two of three, I’m very sad there’s not a fourth because Jaime gets the story going, and it’s good. He also brings back Maggie from Love and Rockets to support the issue but still acknowledges she’s still a protagonist. I could make a comparison to a television spin-off, but it’d distract from what Jaime actually does with Maggie here.

The issue opens with backstory on Xochitl and Gina (finally). Xochitl was Gina’s babysitter, approximately ten years before Nellie! (and Rockets, because Gina being seventeen or eighteen puts a spin on things from that series too). They were great pals, and burgeoning artist Gina drew the duo as superheroes. Then one day, Xochitl wants to watch Aunt Vicki on the TV, and Gina gets a look at real-life lady superheroes. From there, Gina gets the idea they can be a wrestling team someday and sticks with it through to being a teenager, when they head off to Vicki’s training gym, where they become supporting cast in last big Maggie, well, Perla, story in Love and Rockets: Volume One.

So Jaime gives all the contextualizing he needs to give. They’re a team; they’re lady superheroes; nothing can break them up.

Except their first tag-team fight is a disaster, they get their butts kicked. Xochitl goes home to her family, Gina goes to high school, the mundane instead of the dreamed fantastic.

Maggie (Perla) is visiting Aunt Vicki, who tells her the whole family history of wrestling—which, again, informs Love and Rockets: Volume One to a degree—and how Perla was supposed to be the next great wrestler. That destiny allows Jaime to do a page and a half Maggie daydream a la Rockets; he’s doing character development on the star of his last series, who isn’t a regular in this series. It’s very holistic.

Because Vicki’s also got a character development arc. In fact, even though Gina and Xotichl have the action scenes—the wrestling—they’re not the focus. Vicki and Maggie sort of take over the comic, but all for Xotichl and Gina’s benefit. Maggie being there helps get Vicki to the character development precipice she’ll need to be in. If the comic’s going to be about Vicki’s expectations—or lack thereof—of Xotichl as the family wrestler successor.

Something Xochitl doesn’t know anything about.

It’s not a high drama comic. The wrestling’s pretty intense, but the combination family and vocational ambition drama—the stakes themselves aren’t high (yet), but the potential emotional repercussions for the characters is beaucoup. Jaime does a phenomenal job setting things up. I’ve got no doubt he can pull it off with just one more issue, but I still want more of this comic. It’s a delight. And has depth.

The Gina and Xotichl backstory stuff is phenomenal. Like, Gina’s lady superhero observation riffs on Jaime’s entire oeuvre to this point. It’s really cool how this series echoes back to Rockets. It’s not a spin-off. It’s… well, I guess it’s a Love and Rockets comic book like the cover says.

And, as usual, a darned good one.

Whoa, Nellie! (1996) #1

Whoa, Nellie, one issue in, is just a Love and Rockets spin-off. There’s nothing wrong with it being “just” a spin-off; creator Jaime Hernandez has a great time with the wrestling scenes. The comic’s about would-be tag team women’s professional wrestlers Xochitl and Gina Bravo. They’re wrestler’s professional wrestlers; they’re just not a tag team. They fight each other. And Gina’s better. But she wants to do the tag team thing and refuses to give up on Xochitl.

Xochitl’s aunt, Vicki Glori, manages them. She wants Gina to do better and tries to engineer a path forward for Gina without Xochitl. Only Gina doesn’t want to do it. The biggest twist in the comic is when Vicki’s supposed to fight Gina—and elevate her—and instead has to fight Xochitl.

There’s some character material with Xochitl, who’s married with kids, and her kids don’t understand how wrestling works as far as the good and bad wrestlers. It drives a couple fun scenes. Vicki’s also got her character arc about being forced to betray niece Xochtil in favor of Gina. Gina doesn’t have much to do other than be a good friend to Xochitl.

Gina and Xochtil came into Love and Rockets relatively late in the series, and both had their initial story arcs mostly resolve (as I recall).

Jaime’s favorite material is clearly the wrestling matches, a combination of “realistic” (for wrestling) and comic strip pacing. He sets up sight gags, follows through, sets up some more. It’s a lot of fun and has a great pace. Doesn’t have any real drama so far—even with Xochitl and Gina getting in over their heads for the finale—but it’s really… nice. Even if you aren’t pre-inclined to a Love and Rockets spin-off, it’s about being good friends and trying to be a good mom and so on. There’s no malice, despite the chair-breaking wrestling matches. It’s very easy to like the characters and sympathize with them. Though, I suppose Vicki might seem like the villain unless you know her history.

But only might. Jaime gives her the most character development drama in her arc.

It’s a delightful read. Kind of slight so far, but also, who cares. The art’s great, with Jaime’s fun and enthusiasm welcome to the reader as well. The matches are great action. Yay, Nellie!.

Birdland (1994) #1

Birdland Volume Two is a comic for all the people who thought Gilbert Hernandez couldn’t do an entire issue of people screwing and still have it land with some kind of deeper impact. The last series ended winking at profundity, and the mood cares into this issue. Beto opens the comic the dawn of time, zooming in to Earth, where a couple dinosaurs are getting it on, and you find out what a T-Rex with a dong looks like.

Thanks, Beto.

Nearby, a couple of cave people get it on, then they become another set of people—straight to the modern age, Beto doesn’t keep with it and go through all three ages–and then another set of people and another set of people and so on. There are scenes in the psychiatrist’s office and a different doctor using the magic necklace from the last series. Fritz’s horny hypnotizer or whatever.

The new psychiatrist might be a Palomar or Luba, like, she looks familiar. But all of Beto’s beefcakes and cheesecakes look the same, just with different hairstyles and bra sizes, so keeping track of the many participants would be time-consuming and not really worth the effort. Because the story’s got nothing to do with them. Beto goes an entirely different route—taking a healthy jaunt through what appears to be a tie-in to the finale of the previous series—and ends up on a simple, visually evocative (but not at all pornographic) epilogue.

Thanks to the route, the ending’s more than fine; it’s nice. It helps the art’s phenomenal on the two or three panels. It’s like Beto wanted to show he could still deliver concisely after spending an issue of bombastic pornography. He’s even figured out how to make it ambitious, having one sequence where everyone morphs into their partner mid-coitus, and the visuals on the transformations are excellent.

Bang Bang has a future story, which means sex, spacesuits, and rocket ships. The whole thing plays like a musical montage, and only Beto knows the exact music. It seems like there’d be a lot of chanting, actually. He tries to make it audial with one of his art devices. It’s actually kind of interesting.

Like, if the first volume had been done the same way, it wouldn’t have needed three issues or so many non-sex scenes.

The first volume was a curiosity. This (twenty-eight years and counting) single issue volume is closer to being worth a look for, pardon the expression, art wanks.

Birdland (1990) #3

I think this issue of Birdland is the best? I mean, I haven't really worked out what constitutes "best" for a porn comic, but Gilbert Hernandez has got a lot of variety in the art here. Like, combinations-wise. Literal orbiting orgy with issue's entire cast.

Though not the series's cast. One of the characters from last issue has disappeared.

It's also the best written, but for some particular reasons. First, there aren't any of the bickering siblings scenes for Petra and Fritz. So Fritz doesn't come off like a villain. Also, it's about people with their crushes, so some of the drama has this hint of sincerity. Finally, there's a transactional nature to the sex to further the plot.

Obviously, it's unclear how much effort Beto's putting into the story over the art.

But there are some excellent dramatic moves in the issue. The ending is a deus ex machina out of Plan 9—everyone just follows everyone else onto a flying saucer, but Beto hasn't got the pages to show everyone filing on, so there's some surprise instead. And there's an epilogue suggesting a bit more playfulness with the narrative, along with an Errata Stigmata appearance. Not really a cameo because she's just there for texture and effect.

All told, Birdland does have enough character drama for a comic. Almost. The epilogue changes things a bit and skips a resolve for the existing cast as we know them… but there's enough drama.

Like, Petra and Simon not realizing they're perfect for each other is tragic. Their star-crossed crushes on their siblings-in-law are sad. It's fine. They're very sympathetic. Well, Simon's sympathetic.

However, sympathetic character drama is also not the point of Birdland. Birdland's about the porno, not the story, regardless of the epilogue's potential profundity, which seems to be Beto flexing philosophical at the very last minute when he doesn't have to do anything else with the material.

Birdland (1990) #2

Oh, good grief. Either I missed it, or creator Gilbert Hernandez didn’t make it clear enough—the guy in love with Fritz is her brother-in-law. It’s important to this issue because it turns out the brother-in-law, Simon, is carrying on with Fritz’s sister, Petra, who’s in love with Mark. Mark being Fritz’s husband and Simon’s brother.

Also, Simon is fooling around with Inez.

The issue starts with Inez worried about Bang Bang, who’s not at work and has been missing a few days. We don’t actually find out what Bang Bang was doing between last issue and this one, but we get some hints in a reveal. Presumably, Beto will clear it up next issue, though also maybe not; there are a couple of things he established last issue he doesn’t continue with this issue. I also don’t remember him trying to rhyme so many ribald remarks. Lots of rhyming ribald remarks this issue.

But once Bang Bang returns, another dancer—La Valda—is watching her and Inez’s show to seize up the competition. La Valda might have been in the last issue. There are so many characters, and they’re just saying the same names over and over. It’s challenging to keep track and doesn’t seem to matter.

La Valda’s Mark’s ex-wife, and they get together before she gets together with Bang Bang. I think Inez is mooning over Simon? Or at least wants Simon to give her a job. I mean, the narrative’s obviously just a bunch of slight gags to string together the sex.

I also think it’s a better issue? Like, Simon and Petra are star-crossed (just not to each other), making them more sympathetic. Though Beto does acknowledge Fritz is basically a Republic serial villain as she hypnotizes her male patients into sex. Still, I’ll bet she doesn’t get in trouble for it next issue.

It’s fine? Like, there’s some good art. It’s a little weird when the non-sex setups feel like regular Love and Rockets though. I kept expecting Petra to be worried about her niece’s fitness empire or whatever.