Somehow, Williamson can turn an exciting cliffhanger resolution into a boring comic. I mean, it’s interesting. Even if Henderson doesn’t get as much good to draw as usual because there’s the cliffhanger resolution and then another scene in the same location. Then it’s a bunch of interiors–the sheriff’s house, where Williamson works on his B plot involving the local preacher, and the school bus, the issue’s ostensible A plot.
That A plot is just to get Williamson to another big cliffhanger, presumably one he’ll resolve quickly next issue and not just not offer any resolution but also use to get hostile about the idea of the reader connecting with the comic.
Nailbiter is far too removed from itself; Williamson doesn’t want to focus on his main characters because he’s bored with them. Everyone else is far more interesting. Hopefully, he’ll be able to refocus the comic on something engaging.
Somehow, Williamson can turn an exciting cliffhanger resolution into a boring comic. I mean, it’s interesting. Even if Henderson doesn’t get as much good to draw as usual because there’s the cliffhanger resolution and then another scene in the same location. Then it’s a bunch of interiors–the sheriff’s house, where Williamson works on his B plot involving the local preacher, and the school bus, the issue’s ostensible A plot.
Ryan North fits a lot of story into this issue of Squirrel Girl. Not only does he set up Squirrel Girl as a crime fighter, introducing her new life as a regular college student, he introduces her roommate, a possible love interest and gives her a great fight with Kraven.
Fox gets to do a lot on the art. There’s a lot of drama to the Earth stuff; between it and the adventures of the barbaric Captain Victory taking down a big monster, Fox gets to shine. Less, of course, with the subplot involving the guys on the ship. It’s really annoying this issue, with Casey desperately filling their dialogue with expository details.
Williamson and Henderson deliver a lot more in the mood of the issue than anything else. Between Williamson’s eerie town history and Henderson’s eerier art, Nailbiter succeeds in creating a wondrous setting. It also ends up hurting the reading experience because Williamson’s writing often feels like it doesn’t take full advantage of that setting.
Garth Ennis goes somewhat modern with the latest War Storiese arc, jumping to the late sixties and the story of an Israeli tank commander. He’s got a flashback to WWII, with the same tank commander getting a tour of a Panzer from a German tankie.
My goodness, isn’t Ant-Man likable? Given the economics of the comic book industry, Big Two or not, it’s interesting how Marvel models their comics after the movies, even though the audience for the two is completely different.
Williamson keeps improving with Birthright. He never loses what he’s already done, but he develops further–and not with his flashbacks to fantasy land, which get tiresome (something the father realizes too, in a great scene). Instead, he’s able to reveal things about the family without having to use a flashback. It comes up in the conversation, with the older brother reminding Conan of their lives before fantasy land.
Seeing Robocop run–he gets upgraded–reminds of two things. First, it’s like running zombies. Second, it’s a little like Batman on ice skates. It’s just too much. Magno’s art is stronger than it has been in the last few issues so he’s able to tone it down and keep the action grounded, but it’s still too much.
Even though there’s sensational material in the issue, the issue itself isn’t sensational. Brubaker is very measured. He’s meticulous in the plotting, giving just enough hints and just enough callbacks to the previous issues to get to some big surprises. By the time the issue ends, The Fade Out is something of a different comic than it was before.
It’s a fairly strong issue, with only one weak story–a retelling of Frankenstein, only in Mega-City One; the other three stories are good.
Rocket Salvage has a lot of information and nothing going on. The story, from Yehudi Mercado, is a future world out of the The Phantom Menace and a handful of other really popular movies or TV shows. Nothing original there.
Abigail and the Snowman feels very familiar. Roger Langridge does a beautiful job with the artwork, which has a bunch of great montage sequences and sight gags. The art is great. And a lot of the writing is good. Really good. All of the writing is good, occasionally it’s really good.
A lot of Faith, the comic, not the character, comes down to her boyfriend, Torque. Being majorly behind on Harbinger, I had no idea they were dating. I never liked the character and they seem like a questionable fit, which is what the comic turns out to be–Faith realizing her place in the world.
It’s strange, but the best thing about Star Trek/Planet of the Apes: The Primate Direction so far is Rachael Stott’s artwork. And her artwork isn’t particularly good. She does okay with people in action sequences, less with the spaceship stuff, but her talking heads are particularly interesting. She doesn’t go for photo referencing the cast of the original “Star Trek,” but she does capture the actors’ expressions.
Not to be too reductive, but the proper response to They’re Not Like Us appears to be “OMG! It’s like a real life X-Men.” Only, apparently, the gifted youngsters don’t use their powers for good, but for selfish reasons. Writer Eric Stephenson sort of foreshadows said youngsters–really a collection of twenty something hipsters–using their powers to harm others. Just like Professor X, the leader has rules… the first being to kill everyone who you knew before you join the team.
Well. A She-Hulk versus Titania issue. With Volcana thrown in for good measure. It’s sort of fun, seeing Pulido do a huge fight sequence. He uses double-page spreads, half double-page spreads; it all looks pretty great.
Lovable. Star-Spangled War Stories and G.I. Zombie are lovable. I’m not sure if it’s what Gray and Palmiotti intend–I assume so, since they go out of their way to make the comic read like a familiar, pleasantly inventive amusement. It’s the genial procedural of comic books.
The Stop Button 