A Walk Through Hell has a surprisingly affective final issue. Not because anything in it connects, but because everything in it does not, and then it becomes clear writer Garth Ennis isn’t just having a laugh; he put thought into it. And it all comes out bad. For most of the issue, Hell #12 feels like the talky conclusion to a lousy movie starring Patton Oswalt and Charlize Theron, like Ennis had a script in a drawer and turned it into a comic.

Something from when he was primarily known for writing Preacher. Think Seven meets the most realistic, not funny parts of Preacher. It’s talky, disappointing, a little sad, but not off the rails. The stakes are all theoretical.

But then it gets very, very current with Ennis making all sorts of commentary on 2018 politics and becomes a spiritual sequel to his old series, 303 (when Bush was president). Hell’s a significant downgrade from that series. Worse, Ennis has the perfect ending to the comic, and he doesn’t see it. He’s got the moment in his grasp to at least make the last couple of issues pay off. Not the whole, disastrous waste of money, but at least the finish would be effective.

He misses it, of course. Of course, he misses it. Walk Through Hell’s the hells of missed opportunities and bad plot choices.

Only it’s not over. There’s the final punchline: Ennis pretends he wrote a good comic with great characters, and it’s wretched. Especially since Goran Sudžuka’s art looks like he’s drawing stylized toys, not people. It’s a lousy finish to an already lousy series.

It’s been a long time since Ennis has made anything quite this bad. I hope it’s a long time until he does it again.

Goran Sudžuka made it until issue eleven to rush the art. Before, when he stopped putting effort into the inks, it was noticeable and unfortunate because Walk Through Hell lost its greatest asset. It wasn’t bad; it just lost the charm. Though, obviously, it’s not clear anything could’ve brought Walk “charm.”

Anyway.

This issue Sudžuka’s done putting in the work. He’s got to illustrate a cavern full of skeletons a couple times, then a room of snakes; he’s not putting the time into the figures or the faces. There’s a prologue flashing back to Agent Shaw’s dysfunctional childhood (which has zilch to do with the issue), and Sudžuka does an excellent job with it. Then the rest of the issue, with Shaw yelling at her iPhone in response to off-screen, now damned for all time McGregor’s text messages, is not excellent. Given writer Garth Ennis’s bewildering understanding of smartphone coverage in Hell, which includes text-to-speech and ghostly voice chat, it seems impossible anyone could’ve done well.

And so, it’s a nothing issue, even more than the usual Walk nothing issues. Writer Garth Ennis is burning through twenty pages to make the twelve-issue limited series count. Nothing else. Nothing significant this issue happens outside some unnecessary explanation, and Ennis closing a red herring from a couple issues ago. Nothing’s necessary for the comic. It’s just more pages.

No wonder Sudžuka didn’t want to put in the effort.

There’s only one more issue of Walk Through Hell. The series is definitely worse than I thought it would be—so much for it being a World War I war comic, as I’d assumed for some reason, but I don’t know if it’s ending worse than its lowest point. I mean, it probably will. I’m predicting Ennis has got a couple twists before he’s done.

I wonder how bad they’ll be.

I’m not sure this issue takes more than five minutes to read—there’s a lot of dialogue to pad it out—and, at this point in A Walk Through Hell, it’s fine. The shorter the read, the better.

It’s a flashback issue to FBI agent McGregor’s high school years and something terrible. But the something terrible isn’t the point; instead, it’s the follow-up to the something terrible, so another flashback to some years later. It’s an authentic look at futility and man’s inhumanity to man, but it’s also utterly pointless.

As Shaw watches this flashback unfold—it’s unclear how she’s experiencing the flashback, though McGregor is changing shape and age in front of her—she pleads with Patton Oswalt John Doe to make it stop. He keeps telling her he’s not in control of people being shitty to one another.

The flashback’s maybe unpredictable for people who haven’t ever watched a TV show, movie, or read a story about straight people being shitty to gay people. But it’s relatively standard—going back to the eighties at this point—and writer Garth Ennis doesn’t bring anything new to it. The flashback doesn’t inform McGregor at all, though Shaw defending him is… I don’t think it rises to interesting, but it’s something. Though it’s something Ennis uses to fill out another forty-five seconds of read time.

Goran Sudžuka’s art is smoother than usual, even with the thinner lines. He’s gotten a handle on it, even as the series has meandered in circles.

Of course, there is no resolution to last issue’s cliffhanger, but I’m guessing Ennis will do another big surprise reveal cliffhanger at the end of next issue, only to reveal it’s not really what’s up in the final issue.

I don’t think A Walk Through Hell was supposed to refer to reading the comic, but it comes close. While not a complete failure, it’s a waste of time and expense, just not incompetent.

Umm.

I feel bad for writer Garth Ennis. I feel bad he did this issue. There are desperate ways to stretch out a series, to pad an issue, to make the right count for a trade. But somehow, Ennis surpasses all of them with this unconditional waste of time issue.

I feel bad for Goran Sudžuka having to draw it. Either this issue will mean a little something for Director Driscoll’s character development, or it’ll mean nothing for her character development. She’s the best character Ennis has created for the series, but it’s not a high bar to clear.

This issue’s a flashback to Driscoll getting the dirt on the bad guy from extra-curricular sources. It’s less information than we got about the bad guy during his “confession” last issue, and having Driscoll be able to verify those statements will either matter or it won’t. Probably won’t.

So why do an issue all about it? To get to twelve for the series.

Doing redundant issues in a limited series is bad enough, but to do them one after the other is beneath Ennis. Or ought to be.

Despite all those complaints, Sudžuka’s art is better than it has been for ages. Maybe locking him in a dark warehouse or an interrogation room isn’t the best use of his talents. He and Ennis could do a killer “lady FBI boss and the shitty sexists she works with” procedural.

It’s such a waste of an issue; however, it helps the series somewhat. Ennis basically axed an issue, making the already tedious series one issue shorter, albeit one you still bought, still read, but can just chalk up to being suckered by comic credits.

Only three to go.

It’s a very talky, very unpleasant issue. Walk Through Hell has been gross before, it’s been mean before, but this issue, writer Garth Ennis turns it up to eleven. The bad guy—who maybe thinks he’s the Anti-Christ (we don’t get there yet, which will seem like burying the lede)—recounts his life history, starting with killing his family and heading off to juvenile detention, where all sorts of bad things happen.

Ennis puts a lot of work into the writing. He structures it as a confession to the FBI agents, with the McGregor guy reacting when it’s time to tone down the intensity or at least take a break. It becomes a recurring narrative pattern, which sets up the cliffhanger, though it’s the first time I wasn’t ready for a Walk to end. The reveals are, if not actually engaging, interesting enough after sitting through the previous six issues. Something might finally matter.

There’s a flashback scene for female FBI agents Shaw and Driscoll, where they talk about the 2016 election—possibly as a sign it’s time for the Old Gods to return and destroy the world (I mean…)—and some day drinkers try to pick them up. It’s an odd bit of professionalism drama in the comic, though it later makes sense why Ennis was doing it. And it nicely passes Bechdel until the intrusive dudes.

But Walk is clearly never not going to be a mess. Ennis is bound and determined to create another comic George Clooney would toss aside with a “who would ever want to read that,” only not one where Ennis is going to prove him wrong. It’s an exercise in measured excess, not really pushing the envelope, just doing different shocks.

The Goran Sudžuda art is fine. The content’s so intentionally revolting it’d be weird if the art visualizing it were better.

Even as I’m curious about what Ennis’s got up his sleeve, I can’t wait for this one to finish up. It’s tedious being so constantly horrified.

When I started this profoundly underwhelming Walk Through Hell, I observed sometimes writer Garth Ennis makes a radical save after some lackluster first issues.

He doesn’t make any such save in Hell, but he does turn out to have a vaguely interesting twist, which comes way too late in the comic. We’re just over halfway through, and he’s introducing end of issue one material. He’s revealing the genre of horror, which first seems like he’s doing some Old Gods of Cthulhu business, but then quickly veers back into Preacher or Wormwood territory.

It’s too late, but it’s better than I was expecting.

He also focuses a lot on the FBI boss, Driscoll, as she enters the warehouse and starts to see its horrors. She’s a better protagonist than anyone else in the comic and a better subject for Ennis’s narration. But, of course, she’s not trying to hide anything like Shaw, or basically comic relief promoted to a more important role like MacGregor.

There’s a lengthy talk about the 2016 election while Shaw and MacGregor are on stakeout, with Ennis presenting more depth than before. It’s not particularly deep, though—identity politics are bad because white supremacists don’t worry about their identity politics—and it’s got a terrible “punchline,” possibly the worst in the series so far.

Given the potentially sensational nature of the big reveal, I’m surprised they didn’t open with it. Instead, they went with tedious police procedural with dramatically suffocating flashbacks. Then again, Ennis’s editor apparently thinks corpses grow hair, so why expect a better creative decision.

There are two cliffhangers—one with Shaw, MacGregor, and the Patton Oswalt version of Seven’s John Doe (just with Christian blood magic thrown in), then one with Driscoll. Presumably, next issue will engage with one resolution and bore with another, which is one more engaging plot than usual for this Walk.

Goran Sudžuka also appears to be sticking with the finer lines in his art, which continues to disappoint. Panels often threaten to have personality, then just don't.

Either writer Garth Ennis or editor Mike Marts doesn’t know corpses don’t grow hair.

At least Ennis ought to know corpses don’t grow hair.

Google’s free, people. I’ll bet it’s even on Bing.

The issue opens with McGregor noticing he’s got facial hair, which would’ve taken a few weeks to grow, meaning they’re still alive somehow. Only Shaw hasn’t had her period, so time’s not passing; corpses just grow hair. I suppose they could be going for Shaw being wrong, not knowing some very basic “old wives’ tale” human anatomy stuff you’d hope an FBI agent would know. But McGregor doesn’t know anything about it either.

Anyway, it’s not really their issue; it’s their boss’s issue. Their boss, Driscoll, gets to the warehouse two hours after they went in. Still no sign; the cops aren’t willing to go in. So she goes in on her own and starts having a weird text exchange with one of the other FBI agents. It’s middling at best and nowhere near creepy enough to maintain its own subplot. Especially since it’s not part of the cliffhanger.

The cliffhanger ties into a story Driscoll tells McGregor and Shaw about a Nazi she once knew, who told her an anecdote about Notre Dame during World War II. The scene–Driscoll framing the story for McGregor and Shaw, the Nazi in the flashback–is one of the better ones in the series. It’s simple and peculiar but sincerely presented. Here’s this information, it’ll be relevant, who knows how.

The rest of the issue’s bridging. Shaw and McGregor, mildly angry bantering, walking through the Hell warehouse towards a light. It’s tedious.

Gorman Sudžuka’s still got his thin lines, which aren’t as noticeable this issue. They don’t slow the comic down like before; they’re the new, unfortunate normal. But he does an all-right job overall.

The cliffhanger suggests something’s finally going to start happening, but six issues is a way too long lead-up.

The art changes so much in the first few pages I thought Goran Sudžuka either left the book or got an inker. Nope, he’s just doing a slightly different style. His lines are thinner, sharper, and with less personality.

The end of the issue promises we’re going into “Book Two” next, which will apparently be more of the same. Again, FBI agents running around an empty warehouse, discovering various horrors, convinced it all has something to do with a probable child murderer.

The issue opens with a new character, Goss, who we’ve seen in some flashbacks. He’s the dopey white guy FBI agent with the Black partner, who tries to go along and get along, putting him at odds with the protagonists. Well, McGregor anyway. Goss probably doesn’t get along particularly well with Shaw because she’s a lady. Though it actually never comes up, just the other FBI agents make fun of Goss for not hating Twitter.

Profound cultural observation from writer Garth Ennis this issue. Hell’s about as deep as a puddle.

We find out Shaw’s big secret, which comes with Sudžuka’s skinny lines. The lines aren’t at fault for the scene, which is a ho-hum, heavily foreshadowed reveal. Ennis wasn’t saving anything for it. Ditto Goss, who’s running through the warehouse scared of unimaginable childhood horrors. Sudžuka eventually imagines them. They’re not particularly exciting, kind of interestingly designed, and not poorly executed, but not an unimaginable horror.

Most of the issue is Goss running and the narration explaining he’s a coward. Or it’s McGregor and Shaw bickering about their current situation, including Shaw very obviously lying to McGregor, which doesn’t help her confession seem legit.

I think we’re far enough to assume Ennis is never going to crack Hell. There’s nothing to crack, just a product to churn.

So, this comic has an editor (Mike Marts). He looked at this script and said, “yep, that’s a comic.”

Here’s the story: FBI agents Shaw and MacGregor are sitting in the hell warehouse, where Shaw is going to tell MacGregor a secret about their investigation into a child murderer. There’s going to be a scene where Shaw reminds MacGregor he helped her frame the guy, which should be some kind of reveal but isn’t because writer Garth Ennis’s script is plotted so poorly. But the whole thing is about Shaw telling MacGregor something he doesn’t know and him telling her everything she’s telling him he already knows.

Spoiler, no spoiler: she never gets around to telling him anything new this issue. She just reminds him of various events he participated in or witnessed, while he protests he already knows all about them. Over and over again.

It’s not decompressed storytelling, it’s not a bridging issue, it’s craven water-treading. I guess it’s only a four-dollar comic. For some reason, I was expecting it to be five dollars for absolutely nothing.

I guess there’s some decent art from Goran Sudžuka. Still, it’s not four dollars worth of art, especially not when the story is telling you to hang on another month for what’s already going to be a scant detail and nothing actually important. Not the way this comic’s paced.

It’s not a good sign Ennis is doing a “blathering” issue four in. He obviously didn’t have enough story for twelve issues, but does he even have enough for six. It’s not tripe; Sudžuka’s too good, and Ennis’s writing on a handful of scenes is okay. It’s just literally, intentionally a waste of time and money.

There’s not even a police procedural angle because Shaw’s not narrating it for expository reasons—MacGregor already knows it all, and she knows he knows it all. I hope the creators at least enjoyed whatever they bought with their paychecks since they didn’t give a crap about the comic they were making.

Hey, maybe next issue. But, also, maybe not.

If Ennis keeps it up another seven issues, though, just more and more filler, it might be impressive. Like as a gag.

If it weren’t for the Goran Sudžuka art, you could probably convince me I was reading a Warren Ellis Avatar comic from the early aughts. It’s a time-warped FBI procedural with a supernatural but not ghost element. I keep waiting to see when it will feel like a Garth Ennis comic, and there’s nothing.

It feels, actually, like Garth Ennis trying to convince someone he can write a Netflix show. Like a supernatural “Mindhunter”-type deal. It’s thorough and competent, writing-wise, but it’s also desperately dull. It takes until the last page for anyone to show any enthusiasm in the dialogue; I had to reread the word balloon three times. It’s not even good dialogue; it’s just got oomph.

Or more oomph than the rest.

Though Ennis introduces the tough-as-nails FBI boss lady, who our heroes both admire, it’s weird how woke dude McGregor genders it. Beyoncé’s everyone’s Beyoncé, bro.

The issue opens with McGregor and Shaw still trapped in the weird warehouse of horrors, talking about what they’re going to do next, arguing. They talk around last issue’s cliffhanger, which had Shaw getting a terrifying message about someone they both know—a suspect, presumably, in their child abduction cases.

It takes this issue about half its pages to give the name of said person, which is not a particularly exciting name. He gets introduced right at the end of the issue for the cliffhanger. The flashbacks are pretty good police procedural; the lady boss is fighting with the beancounters, giving briefings, and if Garth Ennis wants to write “Criminal Minds: Dublin” or whatever, they’d be lucky to have him.

The warehouse back and forth is less engaging. It’s a lot of padded, mysterious exposition as Ennis tries to drag this series out to twelve issues. It’s early days, though. It’s not impossible Ennis will surprise me. When he flops, it’s usually after a strong start, not a tepid one.

The book also might click more if Sudžuka got to draw something besides a cop procedural. He’s real good at it; we got it. Now, something else, please.

There’s also a horrific gross-out thing going on (a la Se7en), and it’s entirely pointless. Again, feels like an aughts Avatar, just without the blood and guts.

I wish Ennis would find something to get excited about other than making the plot points run on time. Unfortunately, he’s not just wasting his own time or the readers’ time; he’s also wasting Sudžuka’s.