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Shadows on the Grave (2016) #6

Shadows has a nice rally this issue. It works out even when the stories are too long (or too slight). They’ve all got eight pages, but creator Richard Corben and (especially) first story writer Mike Shields pace them out beautifully. Also, there aren’t any stories on repeat this issue, which is nice.
Although, that first story does open with a con man approaching a small, isolated town, ready to score off the yokels. It quickly becomes a comedy of errors, with the townspeople mistaking the con man for someone else, and he’s all too happy to pretend, so long as he can still get out ahead. The story feels like it’s at least twelve pages. Another page in the resolution would’ve probably made it feel like sixteen; Shields is writing a feature story and getting all the Corben art he can for his script.
It’s a standard, not-unpredictable story, but it’s still awesome.
Then the second story—Corben writes the rest in the issue—is this fantastic art piece about a trapper on a snowy mountain hunting the wrong kind of animal. Corben goes from whiteouts to blackouts, with lots of playing with the narrative distance as the trapper gets increasingly afraid. It’s a simple story, maybe three events, and Corben draws the heck out of it to fill the eight pages.
The third story combines talking heads and a graveyard scare story. A guy’s in with his therapist, talking about his recurring nightmare of a zombie stalking him through a cemetery–lots of good scary art, excellent talking heads composition, and a familiar but solid twist ending. Again, Corben uses empty space to pace out the story but also takes the twists into account to change the reading pace. The trapper story’s better because the art’s got more places to go, but Corben’s story is tighter here.
And then the Greek epic chapter is back on track. Corben does a slightly different style for one of the scenes, and it nicely turns it into a prologue, though the chapter benefits from a second read, thanks to the reveal. But the story gets back to the main characters, throwing them on an unexpected story arc. I’m still confused why the ninja isn’t around; I guess she’s not coming back, which is a shame.
Corben gets to do an Ancient Greece subterfuge sequence followed by a hack-and-slash fight scene. Great pacing, plus a glorious two-page action spread.
I’m not sure if this issue’s the best overall, but it’s a serious contender. It’s an awesome start to finish.
Oh, the bookend one-pagers. There’s a creepy eating thing with Corben and co-writer Beth Corben Reed showing off how gross certain words can be to read; then there’s another food-related punchline color strip for the back page. Good stuff too, but the meat’s inside.
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Legion of Super-Heroes (1980) #260

Writer Gerry Conway finds his tone for Legion of Super-Heroes and it’s Silver Age homage. The issue has Joe Staton and John Calnan on the art; it’s not great, but it doesn’t have to be for a Silver Age homage. Obviously, the costumes are different, and it’s hard to imagine Wildfire having his temper tantrum in an older book, but the story’s silly Silver Age.
So, in the future, the only thing no one in the galaxy thought about doing except humanity is circuses. The circuses take up giant space stations, but their content is the same as always, which will be important when the Legion goes undercover. But first, there’s this very deliberate Legion action sequence where Conway showcases how the individual heroes’ powers come together to Voltron out and defeat the bad guy.
Or, in this case, save the intergalactic circus barker from a crashing spaceship. It’s implied the spaceship is trying to kill him, but they never actually confirm it. It could’ve been a coincidence.
The main action involves the Legionnaires pretending to be circus attractions to ferret out the assassin. Some of it is just regular circus stuff, only with the occasional alien around. For some reason, Conway draws attention to how circus “oddities” don’t make much sense in the future when people aren’t shitty to each other but then leverages them anyway.
There’s also Staton’s best page in terms of composition, with annoying bro Timber Wolf—pretending to be an acrobat—recovering from a fall. Glorious splash page. It’s still weird looking because it’s a strange mix of Silver and Bronze Ages, but it’s the first time Staton has come through with movement.
The story ends with a cliffhanger—the Legion (thanks to now fully reformed Brainiac 5’s intellect) has their prime suspects, but is there someone even more nefarious behind the circus-hating villainy? Sadly, yes, we’re going to have another circus issue.
But it’s better than I was expecting. Maybe Conway really did just hate having Superboy around.
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Hansan: Rising Dragon (2022, Kim Han-min)
About half of Hansan is a naval battle. The second half. The first half is a combination history lesson, period espionage and turgid war thriller, and naval warfare theory symposium. The film’s about Admiral Yi Sun-shin, who kicked the invading Japanese navy’s ass in the sixteenth century. Despite being in command, lots of folks questioned Yi, and then he also was trying new tactics and types of warships. Park Hae-il plays Yi. He’s almost indistinguishable from a wax sculpture; Yi was a pensive, reserved fellow, but Park plays him without any personality whatsoever. Not because Park’s bad, but because director and co-writer Kim Han-min doesn’t do character. Hansan’s utterly absent memorable characters, which is something else for a war movie.
It’s also fine because Hansan is a history lesson. There’s a compelling but narratively problematic prologue with Japanese admiral and general dick Byun Yo-Han inspecting a destroyed warship. The Korean navy has some kind of “turtle ship” with a Dragon head on it, which terrified the ship’s crew as it destroyed the vessel. Now, there have been numerous movies about mystery vessels; at least three James Bonds and maybe a Godzilla. Except there’s no mystery. It’s just Park’s latest idea, though he doesn’t like the dragon head.
Kim and co-writer Yun Hong-gi pull back on the narrative distance so incredibly far their characters lose all perspective. Despite Hansan’s first hour being about Byun wondering what Park’s going to do, while Byun’s allies give him shit and Park’s allies give him shit, and they both try to spy on one another, no one ever learns anything in the film. It’s a history movie with the cause and effect removed.
It also doesn’t matter because the second half is a thrilling naval war movie about the application of firepower on sea-going vessels. Hansan shows its hand in the first half; Park drills the Korean navy with the tactics he’s going to use in the second half. The movie shows off the shark first thing (relatively) but still gets plenty of mileage out of it in the battle. There are some surprises, of course, which unfold the same way as the rest of the film’s reveals. A character is alone, remembering a plot twist a few scenes before, completely changing the nature of their subplot. The film does it at least three times, possibly four, saving a major—but not—reveal for the finale.
But it all still works because Kim pulls off the sea battle. There are some land battles too, which he does okay with, but clearly, the thought went into the warships, and it shows.
The best performance is easily Byun, who gets to relish in unrestrained villainy while almost everyone else has to show some decorum. Kim Sung-kyu is good as an enemy prisoner who coincidentally encountered Park in the flashback. Park Ji-Jean has a fun part as the shipbuilder. Park’s okay; the movie doesn’t ask him to do anything, just stand there. Admittedly, there aren’t many options when you’re just supposed to be watching some quiet thinking guy quietly think.
The technicals are all solid. Han Hyun-gun and Lee Gang-here’s editing is a little impatient in parts—there’s a three or four-minute history lesson montage after the prologue, and it’s too hurried. After threatening dozens of characters, Hansan boils down to like six people before the sea battle. Kim and Yun get way too complicated. Once it settles into the espionage subplot, with actual players, it works much better.
But, again, doesn’t matter so long as the sea battle pays off. The movie starts promising a great sea battle, then delivers it. Along the way, there’s some good filmmaking, decent acting, and compelling history, if not character drama.
Hansan’s a qualified, impressive success.
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Tomb of Dracula (1972) #27

Great art in this issue. Like, top five Gene Colan and Tom Palmer Tomb of Dracula so far. Not just the strange variety of things—seventies British romantic thriller, zombie vampire movie, Ray Harryhausen picture. It’s a lot, and it’s glorious.
Unfortunately, writer Marv Wolfman goes overboard with his religiously-tinged script. He started it last issue because it was about a guy finding some magic statue from his Yeshiva student son’s perspective. This issue it makes sense if you remember last issue, but then it turns into this weird “Co-Exist” thing with Wolfman lecturing Dracula for being bad in the second person. It’s not You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch, obviously, but also because Dr. Seuss wasn’t chastising the Grinch for not being churchy. Or, in this case, synagoguey.
But Dracula’s religious failings are the finale. First, we’ve got to resolve last issue’s cliffhanger, which had a still unseen new Bond villain dumping holy water on a caged Drac. Dracula escapes, of course, using two of his superpowers. Even with the nicely paced visuals from Colan, Wolfman plods through in the narration explaining how Dracula rolled a five so he could do the mist conversion.
Except, he’s just like misting out of a room. It doesn’t need to sound so hard.
I don’t think we actually find out how his escape resolves, either. It’s a mystery for next time and the Bond villain. Dracula comes to out by the highway just in time to intercept Yeshiva student David and his familiar, Shiela, who is low-key seducing David to get the magic stone tail away from him. Dracula assumed Shiela would tell David he was aiding in Dracula’s (actual) plan to conquer the universe with this Infinity Statue. Instead, they all bicker in the middle of the street, and Dracula sends a fire demon to scorch India.
Why India?
Dracula’s just a dick.
But it hits Taj, who’s moping around about still being on his endless subplot about visiting his wife and kid. He beats his wife. Not sure what he does to the kid. I think I remember, but no spoilers.
We also check in on Frank Drake, who’s down in Brazil, being a colonizing white guy. There’s a funny moment when Chastity the fixer gets off the plane and kisses Frank’s old rich pal hello, and the guy tells Frank he’s next. But no. They’re not going to be a throuple. Bummer.
Meanwhile, back in England, Rachel’s moping over Frank leaving her (not thinking he’s banging his way to South America), and Quincy has a new gadget.
It’s a packed issue; there are lots of varied scenes for Colan and Palmer to excel in rendering.
Just not a great script.
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Hereditary (2018, Ari Aster)
For better or worse, once the film proper starts, Hereditary doesn’t have a single wasted moment. Every little thing is important in the end, whether it’s how dead grandma wanted favorite grandchild Milly Shapiro to be a boy or Toni Collette’s justified fears of hereditary schizophrenia. I mean, the title’s Hereditary and she’s got a first act monologue about her brother suffering when he was in high school. And, wait, isn’t Collette’s son, played by Alex Wolff, about the right age for a similar ailment?
Maybe it’s Hereditary.
There are three big plot “twists” in the film, but writer and director Aster wants everyone on the lookout for more. Colin Stetson’s music sets them up, scene after scene. When the film’s building through the first and second acts, it seems like it’s heading somewhere unexpected. By the third act, it’s clear the film’s heading exactly where it said it was heading and why would anyone get distracted by the red herrings, especially since they usually involve dad Gabriel Byrne being suspicious and Byrne’s a red herring himself.
But the red herrings aren’t wasted moments. They’re in the film to confuse both the characters and the audience. It seems to work on the characters, though they have help from Aster intentionally casting doubt on them, but once Hereditary is on the horror movie rails it gets on, it never deviates. The third act’s rote, duplicating story beats from other films in the same sub-genre. It also upends the regular cast, meaning Hereditary doesn’t give Collette a great role. She gives a great performance, but it’s not a great role.
The film opens with its only superfluous moment—an obituary for dead grandma, introducing the characters by name and some general ground situation stuff. Collette’s eulogy covers the same material, so it’s just for mood, only then not. It’s just there to be ominous, not figure into a late-second-act character thread, like everything else in the film. It also stands out because it’s not visual, and director Aster is all about the visuals. Collette’s an acclaimed miniaturist who makes scenes from her tragic, terrifying life as dioramas for wealthy New Yorkers. The film shot in Utah, but there’s no specific location mentioned (if there’s a Mormon subtext besides them being secret Satanists, it’s too subtle).
Anyway.
Aster does a great job transitioning between the doll house rooms and the actual rooms of the house, maintaining the same narrative distance and style throughout. Hereditary’s a great-looking film, with cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski and Aster always gently implying the uncanny. While Stetson’s music hammers in the uncanny. Besides the music (and maybe Jennifer Lame and Lucian Johnstown’s cuts), the film’s pieces are all subtle. Brought together, they’re anvils.
So while Collette’s trying to reconnect with daughter Shapiro, she’s also got this weird relationship with Wolff, which gets explained somewhere in the second act, but by then, it’s a little too late. The film obscures the ground situation for later impact; it ought to be able to cover for it, thanks to the quality of the filmmaking and then Collette and Wolff being terrific, but then they’re stuck with Byrne.
Byrne’s fine. It’s the part. He’s got no chemistry with any of the family members. Aster writes him as detached and obtuse, but he’s actually doting. It’s a weird fail. Fixing Byrne’s part might fix the movie. It also might not.
Shapiro’s good. It’s a slightly less thankless part than Byrne’s, but only slightly. Ditto Ann Dowd as Collette’s new friend from grief anonymous.
Hereditary looks and sounds great, with seventy percent of a phenomenal Collette showcase, but it is very much what it is and not an iota more.
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