Detective Comics (1937) #465

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I’ve never heard of writer David Vern before, but I hope it’s a while before I read another of his comics. The Batman feature’s not the worst thing in the world, but it’s pretty annoying thanks to the Ernie Chan and Frank Giacola art.

Also, the story’s written like a Hostess Fruit Pie advertisement, like they’re targeting the eight-year-olds, which is about as old as you can get without the art grating.

The story’s about Commissioner Gordon and Batman’s plan for when hoods kidnap Gordon and demand to know Batman’s identity. There’s a flashback explaining Batman gave Gordon the name to say, which would then trigger a response from the Caped Crusader. It’s a delayed response, but it’s pre-smart phones; what can you do?

In the present, a mysterious man visits the offices of this red herring, which then triggers a video call to Wayne Tower, where Bruce and Alfred watch agog. Bruce immediately realizes it also means Gordon’s been kidnapped and gets into his long johns. Only he’s got to do some investigating to figure out who’s got Gordon, which means going to “The Boards.” At first, I thought Vern was going to do a Sherlock Holmes and the Baker Street Irregulars thing, but it’s just a throwaway device to get Batman on the right track.

And for the only Black guy in the comic to try to mug a white lady. Cool.

After starting with an emphasis on the detective work, the story quickly just becomes a series of poorly illustrated fight scenes, with accompanying bad exposition and dialogue. When Chan’s clearly penciled some atrocious physiology, it’s obvious what’s wrong with the art. The rest of the time, there’s just something off-putting about it, which might be “thanks” to Giacola’s inks.

The backup’s another in the Calculator series, written by Bob Rozakis (no Laurie helping him here), with pencils from Chan and inks from Terry Austin. There’s a good panel in the story. A good panel. A reaction shot of Sue Dibney (Calculator is messing with Elongated Man this time). With better art—and maybe more pages—the story ought to work; Calculator makes Elongated Man’s elongating powers contagious, just as Ralph goes to a Comic-Con with a bunch of cosplayers. So it’s these various not-heroes dressed as DC heroes elongating and mad about it.

It’s a bad story, but what else would it be in this comic? And that one panel’s good. I didn’t think there’d be one in the comic when I saw Chan was on the backup too. But I was wrong.

There’s one.

Luba (1998) #9

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What an issue.

Creator Beto Hernandez outdoes himself, starting the issue with a series of one-page strips, catching up with the cast. Though they’re occasionally part of longer stories; for example, the first story is about Ofelia and Doralis visiting Socorro at her genius school. The first page is them getting ready to go, establishing Ofelia and Luba are still fighting, the second page is catching up with Socorro, and the third page is Luba and Ofelia. Connected but separate, which is how Beto’s treated this whole series as an anthology.

The following single-page strip, which has Marciela meeting Khamo at a fire, echoes right back to the Luba and Ofelia portion of the opening three pages, but also Socorro (Maricela’s sister) and the contrasting relationships with mom Luba. It’s so good and quick; Beto then aims it forward with Marciela talking to her girlfriend about the experience.

There are three longer stories, though the first feels a little like an extended single-page strip. It’s Pipo and Fritz, now dating, talking about how they need to dump their (male) lovers. Pipo and Fritz’s romance gets the most page time in this issue, with the third long story almost entirely focused on it and its fallout for the cast. But that first strip feels like a moody, dreamy Beto piece rather than the inciting incident.

Beto then flexes again with Venus and Hector thinking their way through a one-pager about Petra’s first kickboxing match. It’s cute and in no way forecasts the next time Hector and Venus get a strip in the issue, which is the final one and the gut punch.

There’s then a Fortunato story, which is actually an Ofelia story, but with the reveal she too has bedded the seductive merman. Also, all of Luba’s daughters. It’s a beautiful story and probably where Beto winds up for the final punch so much. Much like earlier, there’s then a “separate” but intricately related postscript strip with Luba and Khamo.

The Fritz and Pipo story about them breaking up with their lovers runs eight pages, with Beto still employing the one-page strip device. Everyone in the supporting cast from this storyline gets an appearance, with Guadalupe getting a surprising subplot. Even though the series has been very much about Pipo, Guadalupe’s Luba’s low-key protagonist. It ends on one kicker, as Petra gets more and more exhausted hearing about Pipo’s abusive behavior from Fritz before going into the “things will never be the same” finish.

If the penultimate story ends on a kick to the shins, the last one knocks the reader down and pummels them, with the teaser for the next issue and the color back page pinup the final hits. It’s devastating.

Hell of a comic. Need to stop thinking about it before I cry.

Beto’s so damn good.

Detective Comics (1937) #464

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I went into this issue expecting the back-up—Black Canary versus the Calculator, continuing writer Bob Rozakis’s back-up from last issue—to be better than the feature, which wraps up guest star vigilante the Black Spider’s first appearance. I was wrong. While the feature is not good at all, the back-up is even worse.

The feature starts with writer Gerry Conway resolving the last issue’s cliffhanger, which had Batman about to be run over by a passenger jet. Luckily, the jet didn’t run him over; tres exciting. After some quick fisticuffs with the Black Spider, ending with Black Spider beating Batman once again—without the “gunshot wound to the shoulder” excuse because Black Spider takes him out with a kick to the knee—Batman has to figure out where the vigilante will strike next.

Luckily, Batman has some streetwalkers he can ask. The story’s take on the informant is simultaneously objectifying and moralizing. Most amusing, when she tells Batman giving him information will result in her death, he’s okay with it, continuing Conway writing Batman as a dick. In his one scene with Alfred and two with Commissioner Gordon, Batman’s more concerned with the problem of vigilantism than being rude to them this issue, however. There’s lots of soapboxing from Bats about why vigilantes are dangerous, but deputy policemen like him are jim-dandy.

The thread is a strange attempt from Conway to give the comic some heft. Apparently, the editors and Conway didn’t realize they could just as well not address it, but the reveals on Black Spider aren’t enough to fill pages. Frank Castle Jr., he ain’t. Black Spider is, as predicted, a Black man; he had a friend who got hooked on junk and went from one tragedy to another.

There’s a moment where Batman’s confused at junkies having other qualities to hammer in more moralizing. Again, Conway could’ve skipped the moment—he had that ability—but instead, he just reinforces the problems with the story.

Ernie Chan and Frank McLaughlin’s art isn’t as bad as last time, but only because Batman doesn’t have as many action sequences. Conway’s finale for the issue seems more appropriate for a Spider-Man, though Black Spider doesn’t have any webs. It’s a slight, severely undercooked story.

And leagues better than the back-up, which is six pages of atrocious dialogue and storytelling. It starts with Black Canary blowing off the Atom reporting on last issue’s adventures because she’s got better things to do. Except then, the Calculator immediately ambushes her, and she realizes she should’ve paid attention.

The Rozakises (Bob got an assist from wife Laurie) write Black Canary like an asshole but then have Calculator be a sexist piece of shit to her. His supervillain plan for this story’s goofy but also barely explained. Instead, there’s just fighting and misogyny.

The art, from Mike Grell and Terry Austin, is good… way better than the script deserves. It ends, like last time, with Calculator plotting his next move from a jail cell; presumably, they won’t explain the prison escape next time either.

Besides the Grell and Austin art, the issue’s the pits.

Detective Comics (1937) #463

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The feature has art by Ernie Chan and Frank McLaughlin. Chan’s figure drawing is rough. Batman looks silly and uncomfortable, contorting his way through the story. Gerry Conway’s got the script credit, so when the mystery villain turns out to be a Punisher clone called the Black Spider… well, at least they got Conway to write it?

I’m assuming the Black Spider turns out to be a Black guy. Not because of the name, or at least not entirely because of the name; Black Spider rants about the superfly drug dealers who need a Black Spider to eat them up. He doesn’t want to fight Batman, who’s already injured, and can escape their first encounter.

The story starts with Batman interrupting a drug deal and getting shot in the shoulder. The injury will plague him the rest of the story—the fight with Black Spider and against other assorted thugs—and maybe it’s why he’s such a dick to his friends. When Commissioner Gordon shows up at the scene of the drug bust, after saving Batman from a pissed-off city official who wants to arrest him, Batman’s condescending to his old pal. Who even gets a thought balloon thinking about how shitty Batman’s being to him.

When Batman’s similarly shitty to Alfred, a few pages later, Alfred gets no thought balloon.

Not sure why Batman’s got to be a prick, but Conway’s fully invested in it.

After the big fight with Black Spider, Batman gets in more trouble with Gordon and the city official (Arthur Reeves, who I’m pretty sure recurs), then heads off to the cliffhanger.

If the art were good, it’d probably be fine. But the art’s not good, so it’s tiring. And it’s tiring at eleven pages.

The backup has good art—Mike Grell pencils, Terry Austin inks—and it’s better. Bob Rozakis scripts: it’s the Calculator out to get a college professor during a lecture. Luckily for that college professor, his good friend the Atom is in the audience and able to protect him from the Calculator. Except the Calculator knows the Atom’s weaknesses.

Just as writing, Rozakis’s exposition is only slightly better than Conway’s, but Rozakis isn’t writing a dick Batman and jive-talking thugs. Instead, he’s just doing an action bit about the Atom trying to save his friend, who gives a boring lecture. And the art’s real good; superior superhero action in only six pages.

The backup’s cliffhanger reveals next time the Calculator will be fighting Black Canary, so it’s a villain backup. Novel enough for the seventies.

Batman: Year 100 (2006) #4

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Despite an exceedingly dull finale, a disappointing motorcycle chase sequence, and numerous pointless teasers, this issue ends better than it begins. The first scene is Batman 2039 trying to convince one of his allies he’s not the problem, he’s the solution. There will be a similar sequence at the end for another character, who can’t decide if they should trust him, but there’s at least action going on somewhere else juxtaposed for that dilemma. Unfortunately, the opening one is just talking heads, and all of it’s boring.

It resolves with Batman finally meeting up with Jim Gordon via hologram, and they agree to work together. Gordon knows the federal cops are lying about Batman, so he trusts him. Gordon’s also just finished reading his grandpappy’s file on the original Batman and now knows all the secrets of the proverbial Batcave. Should Gordon’s knowledge of these secrets affect how Batman 2039 treats him? Yes. But creator Paul Pope saves that “reveal” for the last few pages when he finally gives some clues to the Bat-Man’s identity. Sort of.

If Pope did Batman: Year 100 because he was trapped in a contract with DC for a Batman comic and decided to just bullshit his way through it with references and reveals, it wouldn’t be any different than what he came up with. Instead, after three issues of teasing the Bat-cycle, Pope does the issue’s only notable action set piece around it, and it’s boring. Not just the story parts of it, not just the writing on the chase and the twists he gives away or the twists he forecasts, but the art. It’s a boring Paul Pope motorcycle chase scene. I never wanted to see that kind of thing. Icky bad.

The finish has Batman explaining the comic's plot to the bad guys, at least one of whom knows the comic’s plot, but Pope’s been keeping it from the reader. So Batman’s gonna explain it to everyone, including Gordon, who’s a wallflower because he’s got nothing to do. The idea of him having something to do was a red herring; Gordon’s even less important to the comic than Batman’s sidekick… who apparently has never heard of Robin before. Except, you know, the sidekick’s name is Robin.

Maybe he thought the kid in tights was named John Blake or something.

In addition to the boring action and tedious exposition, the character writing is bad. It’d be better read without any reflection, just the feeling of minor disappointment; examining all of Pope’s fails through the comic is depressing.

Pope doesn’t even come up with a good finale, visually speaking. It’s humdrum. They should’ve at least hired him a ghostwriter, though maybe writing it was part of the deal. He wanted to guarantee no one would ever think Batman: Year 100 could’ve been a good idea.

It’s a sixteen-year-old comic, and I still want my six bucks back.

Luba (1998) #8

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I'm getting worried I was supposed to be reading Luba's Comics and Stories simultaneously to Luba. The last two issues have had ads for the other comic, which makes me wonder what creator Beto Hernandez's version of the Superman shield with the reading number would be… probably something amazingly obscene.

Hopefully.

This issue's almost entirely about Doralis's show going off the air, only it's not about Doralis. She figures in a couple times, both times with huge revelations, but she's never the protagonist of the stories, rather a dramatic punchline. The first time it's in Boots's recollection of the final straws on the show, as Doralis and Pipo lash out at one another. Boots protects Doralis and her secret, which Beto then shares with the reader. It's a surprise, though also not entirely unexpected. So keeping Doralis at a distance makes sense.

That story's the second in the issue. Before it, there's Luba going to a leather and latex club with Pipo and Fritz. This issue establishes—across most of the stories—Pipo and Fritz secretly dating and repercussions on the cast, which is one of the reasons I'm worried I should've been reading Comics and Stories. The last time Beto covered Pipo's romantic pursuit (and forward advances) of Fritz in Luba, Fritz wasn't interested.

Now they're basically together. Of course, Fritz's still got her boyfriends, including Sergio. All those boyfriends take a back seat, though–Fortunato's around and seduces a bunch of the ladies this issue. He'll figure into almost all of the strips, including a cameo in Sergio's later.

This issue might be where Doralis loses her show, but it's the Fortunato issue.

So, the first story is Luba at the club, Sergio trying to convince her to tell his mom, Pipo, to stop being immature and slutty, especially around his girlfriend, Fritz. Only then Fortunato shows up, and all the ladies flock to him.

Second story is Boots's recounting of the last days of Doralis's show. Guadalupe and Sergio's drama figures in late in the story, with Sergio again declaring his love and Gato showing up to throw a wrench in their moment. Or at least their possibility of a moment. It's most interesting because the story—running for pages—starts with Guadalupe being an observer, then protagonist enough to fill the pages with thought balloons, only to turn out to be Boots's story entirely. It's deft work from Beto.

The epilogue is Gato hanging out with the rest of the people who helped ruin the show—a gossip publisher and the girl who worked on the show but conspired against it. It's an excellent one-pager for Gato; we've been hearing about this plot since New Love and Beto spent most of Luba resolving it in the background, but he's never shown this side of the story. It's brief and perfect.

Then it's back to Fortunato. We get another chapter in his origin—he'd already told Pipo he was fished from the sea, but in flashback, and then Doralis's story about Atlantians with legs hinted at his fantastical lineage. This time Boots is telling the story (as Pipo's told her). It's got a couple great punchlines. Boots is Beto's finest device in Luba; she's a close but distant narrator, always ready with a great joke or a surprise.

Fortunato, Pipo, and Fritz also figure into the following story. It's a Sergio story; at six pages, it's the longest in the issue (though the first three or four stories do sort of run together). He's mad at mom Pipo for mooning over Fortunato and making a fool of herself with Fritz, so he rushes off to the airport and his next match. Unfortunately, he runs afoul of football hooligans and rich men's wandering wives while having a minor breakdown about his home situation. Everyone thinks it will ruin his football, but he's determined not to let it.

It's a good story for Sergio. It's been a while since he's had one, and he's usually only sympathetic when someone's very maliciously wronging him, which I suppose also happens here, but still. Beto employs different pacing; most of this issue has been conversations (and Fortunato), so the mood change here is nice.

The next strip is a one-pager with Guadalupe thinking about her life. Doralis and the show figure in, but it's otherwise a dozen-plus panels of Guadalupe thinking. It's good… but if there's a reason for Guadalupe to think people think so poorly of her… I don't remember it. It'd be from Love and Rockets, but no, don't remember her being terrible, which makes her very sympathetic though it's kind of not her story even though she thinks her way through it.

The last story is another Luba story; four pages. It's the finale of the Doralis cancellation fallout, but the middle's more about Fritz. Then the finish is Luba and Ofelia getting into a nasty fight for the first time in ages. As the last story, it's both a non sequitur and not.

Overall, Beto's more ambitious in the second half of the issue than in the first. The first's very complicated and intricate, so it's forgivable. But then the best thing—in this comic where everyone's been talking about Fritz, but it's been ages (issues) since she's gotten to be a protagonist—is the back cover color strip. It's just different images of Fritz in the different areas of her life, with the different people. It's fantastic, and probably the most successful Beto's ever been tying the seemingly unrelated back cover strips to the main content.

Batman: Year 100 (2006) #3

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Year 100 started with Jim Gordon (named after granddad) not knowing anything about “The Bat-Man of Gotham” and thinking it was an unlikely urban legend in the first issue to revealing he was the warden of Arkham Asylum. And it was filled with super-villains. And then he let the federal police kill them all, getting his job at Gotham PD as a reward.

Wouldn’t you want a good reward for allowing such a thing? Not, you know, being the last good cop in a corrupt dystopia?

Gordon does his confessing to the doctor lady, who was helping Batman 2039 with his federal morgue break-in but turned off comms to patch up Gordon. At multiple points during their scene, it seems like he’s going to say something meaningful or revelatory, but instead, he just says, “wow, Batman’s real, huh,” repeatedly. Or at least twice.

Considering he spends the second half of the issue at granddad Commissioner Gordon’s cabin upstate looking at pictures of the old Batman, this current Gordon didn’t know there was a real Batman because he had his head up his ass. Especially since he knows all the rogue’s gallery’s names.

So dumb.

It raises the question—did DC editorial not care about a better script because it’s Paul Pope or because they knew no one cared about a Batman comic being good, actually. Or even sensible. Also, the comic seems to be reversing course on the continuity to Frank Miller, instead implying Batman’s a series of guys, like James Bond actors or something.

While Gordon’s on his information quest, Batman 2039 is getting into major fights with the cops, who lock down the city after he escapes again. Unfortunately, it’s not a particularly great escape sequence. There’s a fight scene with a psychic cop, but it’s boring, and every time the story’s begging for some gorgeous Pope art… Pope instead cuts to Gordon discovering something or having a pat epiphany.

The issue’s also got a lengthy talking heads sequence where the angry doctor lady yells at Batman for being irresponsible, but Pope doesn’t want to give away any details about the characters, so the argument’s pointless. It’s noisy, it takes up pages, and there’s nothing else to it.

Obviously, there’s some good art in the comic, though the new “Batmobile” (the Batcycle, like, come on, it’s a motorcycle, it’s not a mobile) is disappointing. Pope put a lot of thought into the design but not into what the thing might do.

The comic feels incredibly slight—with only one issue to go—and I’m remembering why I almost immediately forgot Paul Pope ever did a big Batman project.

Batman: Year 100 (2006) #2

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About a third of this issue is talking heads. First, it’s unnamed Batman 2039 and his team—including a new Robin, who starts the issue working on a bitchin’ motorcycle for Bats—talking through what led up to last issue’s issue-long chase sequence, and then it’s cop Gordon and his gang looking through the archives for information on “The Bat-Man.”

Both sequences are strange, though for different reasons. The Batman one because creator Paul Pope is trying to avoid doing any character introductions and instead focus on their conversation about the dead cop and Batman’s inability to remember enough details. It’s a briefing with occasional personality (usually from Robin 2039). It’s not interesting, but it’s also not grating like Gordon’s sequence.

So the Gordon sequence. They’re going through the archives—remember, last issue, no one had any idea there was a “Bat-Man” a hundred years ago, and even the modern incarnation was a surprise to Gordon. In Year 100 continuity… Detective Comics #27 is in continuity, something something something in the sixties in continuity, The Dark Knight Returns is in glowing continuity. Then maybe something from Dark Knight Strikes Back. I didn’t read Strikes Back so I don’t know if it’s what Pope’s talking about. The most attention goes to the DKR stuff, which means in Year 100 continuity, Batman in Dark Knight was at least seventy, not fifty-five or whatever. Also, Zorro would be out.

It’d be better if Pope weren’t just overtly winking and nodding to Frank Miller. But, it still wouldn’t be good. No one knows about there being a Batman in Gotham City for eighty years because the records were destroyed. It also means no one in Gotham in 2039 remembers anything from twenty years before. Seems like mass amnesia would have more repercussions.

The other two-thirds of the comic are action procedural. Gordon goes to the crime scene to see what the federal cops are lying to him about; Batman breaks into the federal cop morgue to look at the guy he supposedly killed.

Exquisite art on all of it, though obviously better on the action. Pope doesn’t make the talking heads sequences interesting visually; he matches the monotony and tediousness of the dialogue. Appropriate, but also, why do the scenes if you’re not interested in doing the scenes. Especially since the first issue established Year 100 can run on pure adrenalin. Contriving reasons to be reticent during exposition dumps….

The second half of the comic does a lot to redeem the first, though it’s clear Pope doesn’t actually have a good story, which is foreboding given there are two issues to go.

Luba (1998) #7

This issue came out over a year after the previous one, and creator Beto Hernandez does some deck cleaning, mostly for Luba and Khamo’s so-far series-long arc about him being in trouble with the police.

But first, there’s a Steve Stransky story; Steve’s been in Luba before (and maybe New Love) as Guadalupe’s friend, but he’d been in Love and Rockets too. Only I kind of forgot. Or I had the thought he was a returning character but didn’t think it was relevant enough to look up. So this story has a bunch of Steve Stransky antics and some other returning characters from Rockets.

It also reveals Fritz was married (and divorced) at least twice, the first time to a gangster of some kind, the second time to a deadbeat musician who Steve knows. Beto’s characterization of Fritz is very different this issue than usual. It’s a little strange how Beto’s brother Jaime did a secret husband reveal in his Rockets spin-off, and now Beto’s doing it here. Or is he? If I forgot Steve Stransky, did I forget Fritz’s husband? Beto doesn’t cover character histories in the roll call.

So a meteor is going to hit the planet and presumably wipe out human life. Everyone’s acting a little weird and calling in old debts; for Steve Stransky, it means getting Fritz to meet up with her ex, who wants some money from her. The ex also knows Igor, and Igor suddenly knows Fritz, and I really don’t remember these storylines intersecting before. It’s okay, though, even if Fritz’s character’s different (there’s some continuity, however, with her model boyfriend, Enrique, showing up in a wordless part).

Even if Fritz is sympathetic to her ex, her sister Petra is very much not. Steve has a crush on both Fritz and Petra. And also Guadalupe, who’s around but without any story for herself. Because it’s a Steve story. The meteor crisis kind of lets Beto do whatever he wants. With this first story, anyway. The second is a different beast.

The second story is about Luba and Khamo’s bewildering experience regarding his criminal connections. In the last issue, Beto did a big twist: Khamo’s helping one gang against another, not the cops, and his handlers have plans for Luba. It raised many questions and made Khamo seem suspicious in ways dangerous to Luba.

If this story’s resolution holds, Beto’s not going to be doing anything with those threads. The story’s strange and discomforting, but it’s effectively done. Beto introduces one weird thing after another before wrapping up; it feels like a defeat, but the arc seemed written into a corner anyway.

The last story is about Hector. His ex-girlfriend, looking different than his first appearance where he hallucinated her, is getting a restraining order against him. Petra doesn’t like him being forgiving, while Fritz is all of a sudden upset Hector isn’t still into her, even though she gave him to Petra.

There’s a brief Venus appearance and gag at the start of the story, but it’s all Hector, including a courtroom scene where he thought balloons his way through the proceedings. The art and narrative are so disconnected it feels like Beto was doing an experiment with the Marvel Method, drawing from a plot, then adding the dialogue to the finished art. It’s also got the meteor’s impending arrival in the background.

The issue ends up being strongest for Petra, who gets a surprisingly (but maybe not unexpected) arc.

Also making the issue seem weird is the lack of Pipo, who appears but doesn’t have any lines because she doesn’t speak English and—besides Luba—no one speaks Spanish in the issue. I guess it feels more Love and Rockets than Luba.

It’s good, of course. But it’s not as good as the rest of the series has been.

Batman: Year 100 (2006) #1

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This first issue of Batman: Year 100 is an all-action issue. It’s the future, so people can get around pretty quickly, including federal cops flying around in, I don’t know, hovercraft. Helicopter cabins without rotors or skids. But the future’s also got its low-tech; the first sequence has a pack of police dogs chasing “The Bat-Man of Gotham” across the rooftops. They’ve got retina cameras to make them futuristic, but initially, it’s just a dog pack chasing the vigilante scene.

Actually, it’s too bad creator Paul Pope doesn’t show how the dogs operate on the rooftops. I’m sure it’d be awesome.

Because even though there’s minimal story, barely any characters, and the most writing comes in the opening and closing “news” briefs (courtesy future Reuters) on the front and back inside covers, Batman: Year 100 is divine. It’s forty-eight pages of detailed, thoughtful, exuberant Pope art. Who cares what it’s about.

The issue sets up Bat-Man a little; he’s been in Gotham long enough to make an ally with the police coroner, but copper Jim Gordon doesn’t know anything about him. The comic’s set in 2039 (a hundred years after Detective Comics #27), and the previous century’s Bat-Man has become an urban legend. No one even believes the new one exists until he gets caught on the various cameras; a federal police officer has been killed, and Bat-Man is the prime suspect.

The comic does get to the investigation. It starts with the dog chase, then a people chase as the federal cops descend on a Gotham building, and cuts to the federal cops in Washington having a slightly comedic bicker session, freaking out about the situation. Lots of great expressions from Pope in that scene. It ends with a special cop being called in, Tibble. That special cop doesn’t hunt Bat-Man yet; he just gives Gordon shit because jurisdiction tropes.

So Pope is, you know, building a narrative. It just doesn’t matter as much as the action. The comic’s about the rush of reading it, of experiencing the movement in Pope’s panels as the Bat-Man and the story hurl forward. Like the opening chase sequences, the issue’s a race, with Pope trying to maintain momentum until the last panel.

I read Year 100 when it came out and remember it being a disappointment overall, but damn if this issue isn’t a thrill.

Oh, and the José Villarrubia colors are gorgeous. The whole thing’s gorgeous.