Xombi (1994) #21

So David’s poor fiancée never gets a single line. She never even gets to mention he looks twenty-five years younger than the last time she saw him.

Rozum’s not just shortening the series this issue; double-sized or not, he’s hurrying up the storyline. At one point he inexplicably shifts perspective in a way to trick the reader. In addition to creating some tension, he’s also able to hurry things along a great deal.

The beginning of the issue, with David and the Rabbi journeying through the paranormal world (paranormal is what Rozum decides on to call all the magic and supernatural stuff), is lovely. There’s a lot of great details; one wishes Rozum could take the time. A series called Xombi seems the wrong place.

For the last few pages, Rozum returns to his superior first-person narration from David and fakes a satisfying finish to the series.

Xombi (1994) #20

Maybe Rozum should have just written a novel. This issue has David meeting his essentially immortal future love—they won’t get together for eighty years, which is then the lifespan of the series’s potential present action—and the Rabbi going around her castle seeing a bunch of funny supernatural people.

Rozum has names for everything and everyone, but he never comes up with a good term for the goofy, sometimes creepy inhabitants of Xombi. It’s unfortunate.

It’s also unfortunate he spent most of this arc on David’s future love interest. She’s out of the book now (for eighty years) so why waste three of the five last issues on her?

The book’s imminent cancellation is briefly discussed on the letters page, so clearly, Rozum could have made a move to not waste issues until the series was on safer ground.

Anyway, the issue’s as competent and troubled as always.

Bound (1996, Lana and Lilly Wachowski)

I always thought Gina Gershon got top billing for Bound–even though she’s only the lead for the first third or so–but it’s actually Jennifer Tilly, which is somewhat more appropriate. I say somewhat because at a certain point, Tilly too loses the spotlight. For a good twenty minutes in the middle, the film belongs to Joe Pantoliano.

Pantoliano’s performance here is probably his best; even though it’s firmly in his oeuvre of slimy weirdos… there’s something singular about this one. He’s always scary, even before he’s supposed to be, because his character is so clearly disturbed (he’s a dissatisfied middle-level mobster).

But Pantoliano doesn’t take over until almost halfway through–Bound takes place over a week or so, following Gershon getting a job renovating the apartment next to Tilly’s–and during the Gershon and Tilly romance, it’s got to be perfect and it is perfect.

While the film definitely has its roots in film noir, the Wachowskis break certain rules. Making it about a lesbian couple isn’t one of those rules. In fact, their carefulness in showing that relationship–especially exploring Tilly’s role in it–is what makes Bound different and some of what makes it great. The dialogue in these scenes is superior.

There’re some great supporting performances–John P. Ryan, Christopher Meloni.

It has a small cast in a small film. Bound’s the greatest play adapted to screen (of an original screenplay).

Bound is brilliant–so brilliant, I didn’t even make any Speed Racer jokes.

★★★★

CREDITS

Directed by Lana and Lilly Wachowski; written by the Wachowskis; director of photography, Bill Pope; edited by Zach Staenberg; music by Don Davis; production designer, Eve Cauley; produced by Stuart Boros and Andrew Lazar; released by Gramercy Pictures.

Starring Jennifer Tilly (Violet), Gina Gershon (Corky), Joe Pantoliano (Caesar), John P. Ryan (Micky Malnato), Christopher Meloni (Johnnie Marzzone), Richard C. Sarafian (Gino Marzzone) and Mary Mara (Sue the Bartender).


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Bound (1996, The Wachowskis)

There’re some great supporting performances–John P. Ryan, Christopher Meloni.

It has a small cast in a small film. Bound’s the greatest play adapted to screen (of an original screenplay).

Bound is brilliant–so brilliant, I didn’t even make any Speed Racer jokes.

Girl (1996) #3

Milligan brings Girl to its unexpected and fantastic finish.

In some ways it’s the least visually outlandish issue of the series. Fegredo is confined to a very realistic rendition now. The result is something a little more visually engaging than the other issues. Because the reader finally knows exactly what Fegredo’s supposed to be drawing so he or she can appreciate it better.

Milligan comes up with a great narrative for the issue—it takes place over a couple days—and he still manages to surprise the reader every few pages. Once he sets up the last issue, he still has a couple more revelations in store for the reader and for Simone, the protagonist.

Simone, a first person female narrator written by a man, is one of the strongest female comic book characters I can think of. Milligan doesn’t just masterfully write a comic, he masterfully writes a person.

Girl (1996) #2

Milligan delivers an outstanding issue. One of the greatest things about Girl is how unpredictable he makes the narrative. But it’s more than just coming up with a great cliffhanger to this issue, it’s coming up with a great resolution to the previous issue’s cliffhanger.

In between, Milligan fills in a bunch more about main character Simone’s life. He doesn’t spend a lot of time implying history, more giving her a revealing situation to move through. The final revelation (of this issue)—which Milligan even foreshadows, before playing with the idea of foreshadowing it—forces the reader to reexamine Simone.

Still, with an issue left, Girl is still somewhat up in the air. Milligan’s second issue is even better than his first, so I’m very anxious to see what he does in the third.

Fegredo excels again, making the people outlandish but real. Not to mention his fantastic panel design.

Girl (1996) #1

I suppose there is a little sensationalism in Girl. It takes place in a town called Bollockstown and there’s a lengthy dream sequence and a couple mammals going out a window and plummeting to their deaths.

But Milligan makes the whole thing feel everyday. The comic’s about a–you guessed it–girl named Simone. Her family’s awful, so’s the town and she’s fifteen and stuck there. So her self-awareness generally hinders more than helps.

Though this issue ends on a big moment, the rest of the issue is rather quiet, even when she’s doing something loud. It opens in a flash forward, about two weeks after the majority of the issue; I’m guessing the series will fill in the difference. It’s a big open, but even it’s a little quiet.

Fegredo’s artwork is wonderful, giving Simone’s reality a lot of grim, but occasionally showing comfort.

It’s a great read.

Trees Lounge (1996, Steve Buscemi)

I suppose it would be possible for Trees Lounge to be more depressing. It’s a character study; the epical part of the narrative forces the protagonist (writer, director, star Buscemi) to realize he does not just dislike himself, he’s never really liked himself, and he’s not just hurting people now, he’s always been hurting people.

Maybe the most stunning thing about the film–besides Buscemi’s direction of actors–is how he inserts humor into the mix. There’s a running gag with a kid never getting ice cream and when Buscemi falls asleep drunk at a wake, it’s played humorously. The first part is more “cleanly” funny (it also foreshadows how people in general do not think about how events effect others–something very important in the narrative towards the end), while the second is awkward. The film’s full of desperate alcoholics and occasionally Buscemi makes them funny, giving the viewer little warning.

Buscemi juxtaposes his character’s arc against Mark Boone Junior’s. The difference is in the self-realization (Trees Lounge might even have a happy ending, there’s about a fifteen percent chance).

He spends the first forty-five minutes of the film exploring the ground situation, then introduces one event to stir up the pot. It’s a lovely plot structure, made perfect by the excellent dialogue.

Amazing supporting performances abound–Boone is great, as is (especially) Chloë Sevigny. Daniel Baldwin and Mimi Rogers have superb small parts. Samuel L. Jackson is outstanding in a cameo.

It’s a fantastic, depressing film.

★★★★

CREDITS

Written and directed by Steve Buscemi; director of photography, Lisa Rinzler; edited by Kate Williams; music by Evan Lurie; production designer, Steve Rosenzweig; produced by Chris Hanley and Brad Wyman; released by Orion Classics.

Starring Steve Buscemi (Tommy), Mark Boone Junior (Mike), Chloë Sevigny (Debbie), Anthony LaPaglia (Rob), Elizabeth Bracco (Theresa), Michael Buscemi (Raymond), Eszter Balint (Marie), Daniel Baldwin (Jerry), Mimi Rogers (Patty), Carol Kane (Connie), Debi Mazar (Crystal), Kevin Corrigan (Matthew), Samuel L. Jackson (Wendell) and Seymour Cassel (Uncle Al).


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Dark Horse Presents (1986) #116

Unfortunately, it’s a very loose issue.

Musgrove’s installment of Fat Dog Mendoza here is a big improvement over his previous work. Musgrove goes for cheap sight gags and a less narration while doing some decent artwork. It’s painless, occasionally amusing, but never funny.

Without the dogfighting element, Trypto is lost. There’s a space alien element introduced, which is a whole lot less interesting than what Mumy and Ferrer were doing earlier. Again, they give Leialoha a script he can’t render coherently. I’m assuming the ending—with dog and his boy owner kidnapped by aliens—means something will happen next time.

As for Rennie and Langridge’s Dr. Spin? The joke’s old and it’s only the second installment. Langridge’s art keeps the story going to some degree, but making fun of crossover events and grim and gritty comics needs some structure. Rennie just has it pop up everything. It’s a disappointing development.

Dark Horse Presents (1986) #115

Wow, what a downer.

Arcudi’s The Creep returns (with O’Connell on art this time). It’s a very depressing story about him hanging out with a prostitute. It’s utterly fantastic. It still shocks me Arcudi can be so subtly devastating.

Trypto has a happy installment though; the dog rescues his owner from a drug cartel. Again, Leialoha’s art doesn’t convey the story well. Mumy and Ferrer’s emphasis has changed… it’ll be interesting to see where they go now.

Rennie and Langridge’s Dr. Spin is a bunch of fun too—it’s an anti-superhero comic superhero comic. It’s a lot of fun, with Rennie getting in a lot of jabs at the industry in general. Langridge is a little more restrained than usual, but excellent.

Then there’s Lowlife. It’s Brubaker writing from a girl’s perspective about her unhappy romances and perpetuating them. Some hiccups in the perspective, but it’s an effective downer.