Superboy and the Legion of Super-Heroes (1977) #240

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So Howard Chaykin doing layouts of a teen superhero book without being pervy. All the dudes look about forty-five. It’s hilarious. It’s not good, but it’s hilarious. There’s only one female Legionnaire in the story—Phantom Girl—who’s not as scantily clad as Cosmic Boy, so not the salacious Chaykin one might expect. Also, he’s just doing layouts (over Alan Kupperberg’s layouts, according to Kupperberg), with Bob Wiacek finishing. And maybe Al Milgrom, who’s got editor credit, doing more inks (according to Milgrom, not the credits).

Not good art. Like. There are some cool ideas for visuals—Colossal Boy holding up a bridge and various future stuff—but it’s a patriarchal decorum story set in a cool-looking sci-fi future. The patriarchal decorum thing is the subtext; the main plot is about a bad guy named “Grimbor the Chainsman” hunting down the Legion because they locked up his lady love, Charma (whose power was to charm men), and she died in prison. Because they put her in a lady jail and ladies hate Charma; the power she had over men worked in reverse over ladies. Everyone’s really boringly straight in the future.

Including Cosmic Boy, who’s bummed out because he misses the Legionnaires who just got married and left. He’ll never get married and leave, though, he assures Superboy, who’s all up in his business; Legion over ladies.

Superboy and Phantom Girl have that patriarchal decorum thing going; he wants to make sure Cosmic Boy’s not lollygagging over missed friends and failed romances. If you’re going to be a Legionnaire, your head’s got to be in the game. Meanwhile, Phantom Girl’s made at Colossal Boy about something he did last issue, and her subplot is about not being allowed to have feelings if they go against the boys.

Cool.

Jack C. Harris scripts from Paul Levitz’s plot. The plot’s better than the script, though only slightly. After spending the issue setting up a second part, they wrap it up in a few pages anyway, so there’s at least a wasted page forecasting a future adventure. They’ve also got the problem the bad guy’s got a real motive–shame it was too early for them to call the story The Wrath of Grimbor. The “chainsman” stuff is weird, though maybe it’s all a metaphor for a bunch of vanilla straights bullying bondage enthusiasts.

And the story comments on how Legionnaires are cast based on how their powers will combine to resolve plot points, which is a little on the nose.

The backup, however, is a visual delight. James Sherman on pencils, Bob McLeod on inks, it’s absolutely gorgeous. The art sustains for the whole story, all twelve pages, with some standouts even on the last page. It’s great-looking superhero art, just phenomenal.

The story’s about how Dawnstar’s a stuck-up b-word who needs to learn to play well with others. She’s one of those uppity Native American descendants gone to space who became navigational mercenaries, and she’s only in the Legion because she gets paid. She’s not some nerd who wants to be a superhero.

She and three other trainees need to go on a real mission, only she’s pissed everyone off, and no one wants to work with her. Will she survive on her own? Will she learn a valuable lesson about teamwork?

What’s funny is how the setup for Dawnstar being the focus is team leader and trainee trainer Wildfire asking her out on a date. Mind you, he’s a complete asshole in addition to not having a physical form outside his super-suit. So there’s a considerable power dynamic thing going on, but, obviously, the comic will not acknowledge it. Please.

Again, truly great art, so it doesn’t matter. Levitz plots, Paul Kupperberg scripts. The dialogue’s much better than the feature. Not great—it’s also not a great dramatic arc—but much better.

That Sherman and McLeod art, however, is divine.

The Punisher: Long Cold Dark (2007-08)

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I’m going to go out on a limb and say having Howie Chaykin do an issue of art—the fiftieth Punisher MAX, so for the collectors’ who got anniversary issues–having Howie fill-in was a mistake.

Maybe if the rest of it weren’t regular artist Goran Parlov, like if it’d been all guest artists. But Howie ends up being a distraction. Sure, he’s doing the least connected material; his issue’s all first act stuff, with Barracuda back to attack Frank through his friends. Except it turns out Frank really does only have the one friend but Garth Ennis’s script has a surprise twist on that front. Meanwhile, Frank’s having a bad few weeks as he tries to shake off a dream about being a mundane white guy in his sixties, which is where the Howie art really comes through. Parlov’s going to visualize Frank and Barracuda as giant monsters in the real world, the monstrosities of toxic masculinity and patriarchy (whether Ennis wants to acknowledge it or not—he just uses bad dads, PTSD, and good dads for his terminology), but Howie makes them real. As real as anything else in Howie art anyway. And it lacks the energy Parlov’s going to bring later. Ennis actually coins it—“dark enthusiasm.” There’s a dark enthusiasm to the horrible violence and terror in Parlov’s rendering of Barracuda and Frank’s constant showdowns, as Barracuda (and Ennis) figure out a way to make Frank hurt. Howie doesn’t have it. His fight scenes are just fight scenes. He does much better with horny old man Frank getting it on with dream old lady Angie.

Because, you know, it’s Howie.

And despite a return guest star in Howie’s issue, it’s all new cast later on, with Frank having to pretend to be human again. Ennis has a very lyrical take on Frank’s first person, with the occasional poetic flex too far, but for the most part he makes it. Especially after Parlov shows up. The first chapter, while Barracuda’s terrorizing and Frank’s moping as much as he’s allowed to mope, has this exquisitely executed history of Vietnam-era rifles, with acerbic commentary from Frank as he fires off rounds to clear his head. The sequence does a lot of work later on, not exactly softening Frank but widening the potential for his first person narration let’s say, which has been Ennis’s whole trip on Punisher MAX.

I don’t think I’ve read Long Cold Dark since the floppies a decade plus ago. Maybe I read a trade. But I don’t think so. So I don’t know if, at the time, it was the first time Ennis had ever gotten me to tear up on a Punisher comic. Now it’s old hat. He got me sobbing with the last Vietnam flashback limited. Long Cold Dark only got me verklempt and teary-eyed and not even about the tragedy of Frank Castle. It’s over someone else, one of Ennis’s MAX originals, who Ennis has layered throughout the series to amazing effect before and even more amazing effect post-Long Cold Dark. It was during that sequence I realized just how unfair giving Howie the first chapter turns out to be, given how good Parlov has to be to execute the finale. Like, they got a guest artist, gave him the easiest stuff, then gave Parlov a whole big thing with no fanfare. Ennis asks a whole lot more of Parlov in Long Cold Dark than he asks of Howie, which is just one of the facts of the comics trade, but still.

The story itself is mostly split between action and Frank’s self-reflection; there are occasional talking heads sequences, sometimes exposition dumps, sometimes just there to get Frank’s first-person narration to the right place. Ennis isn’t using Barracuda for broad comic relief here either. Barracuda becomes a—conditional—tragedy. There are frequent flashbacks for both Frank and Barracuda and Ennis has a nice way of tying the characters and their shared history of Vietnam without worrying about an alter ego thing. It’s one of those “Frank is Barracuda’s nemesis but Barracuda isn’t Frank’s nemesis” things. Frank doesn’t have a nemesis, something Ennis has tried to drive home from the start of MAX.

And Long Cold Dark does feel like a leveling up for the series, not just because it got me teary, but where Ennis has moved the character and how to think about him. Having Barracuda—arguably Ennis’s most glaring misstep in the entire run of the series so far—be so successful doesn’t exactly make up for the previous slogs, but it does show Ennis is able to fix something he was wrong about, which is a fairly singular quality for a comic book writer. I misremembered the content of the story, thinking some of it was later on in the series, and wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.

Shows what I know. Howie’s guest art spot being completely out of sync aside (and terribly misprinted in the Punisher MAX Volume 2 Omnibus, beware), Long Cold Dark is outstanding.

The Ruff & Reddy Show (2017) #6

It’s over. It’s really, really over. Finally. In what’s got to be the best issue since the first–I can’t go back and look, I don’t want to remember too much about the experience of reading Ruff & Reddy. I’m ready to forget. Ha.

So this issue has very little of writer Chaykin trying to offer commentary on show business. There’s talk about commentary on show business, but it’s bluster. The bluster works better than when Chaykin’s actually trying. This issue opens with a pseudo-Ain’t It Cool News website page. Because Ruff & Reddy apparently thinks AICN is a thing still. But other than that painful exposition tool? There’s not a lot of nonsense here. When Ruff and Reddy go on TV, Chaykin sticks it out and has a real scene.

And on it goes, with the character development Chaykin’s avoided for four issues, before a nice, sort of funny finish. I mean, if it weren’t vaguely homophobic. It might have actually been a good start to the series but, no, Chaykin plotted the thing out disastrously and it’s possible the only reason I’m a wee bullish on the finale is because it is the finale.

I never have to read Ruff & Reddy Show again.

I can’t believe I read it this time.

Nice enough art from Rey. He really deserves a better project than this one.

The Ruff & Reddy Show (2017) #5

The Ruff & Reddy Show continues. It continues to get more and more embarrassing for writer Chaykin, who apparently decided to add some commentary on Hollywood sexual assault and harassment. Only not really, just for the opening summary page.

Then the issue is a series of not funny scenes with Ruff and Reddy in various television pilots. They’re all terrible modern television shows. Chaykin handles it all dispassionately. He’s just churning through. The reader, the writer, they get to churn through the pages without dwelling. Poor Rey has to illustrate this nonsense.

Chaykin finishes the comic with an almost decent scene at Comic Con with Ruff and Reddy getting into a fight. It’s not a decent scene, but it’s almost decent.

Barely almost.

I can’t believe I’ve made it through five of these comics.

The Ruff & Reddy Show (2017) #4

Ruff & Reddy has turned a corner. It’s now abjectly pointless. Chaykin has a big twist–which doesn’t come off like a big twist because artist Rey doesn’t make important panels bigger, in fact they’re usually smaller. But it’s also a really lame big twist.

Instead of doing the bickering cartoon animals shtick, Chaykin concentrates on a condemnation of the entertainment industry. Unfortunately, the cartoon animals are a terrible entry into that condemnation–and Chaykin really doesn’t have anything to say about the entertainment industry.

Or, if he does, it’s so bland, predictable, and familiar, the eyes gloss over it. In fact, mine glossed over so much I couldn’t help but notice Rey’s word balloons look funny this issue. Maybe they look funny every issue, but I haven’t noticed until now.

There are two more issues.

I don’t know if I can make it. Not because it’s too bad to read, but because it’s too bland to read.

The Ruff & Reddy Show (2017) #3

This issue Ruff and Reddy are tragic and sweet and sympathetic. Meaning Chaykin has changed it up yet again. Three issues, three starts to the comic.

Unless the different approaches are just the gag. Maybe they’re just the point of the comic. We’ll get to the end and the story never gets started; Chaykin will have introduced at least three new subplots and dismissed six by then. There’s something like a subplot development this issue but it doesn’t work. Chaykin hasn’t been working on the subplot at all, so it’s just a cheap twist.

Maybe not even cheap. Cheap’s a determination. Chaykin’s not determined on Ruff & Reddy.

Rey still does quite well with the art. He’s drawing the same things over and over again, but he does them well. Chaykin puts more time into his one-panel talk show spoofs than he does the issue itself. Sorry. Sorry. I was trying to be positive about Rey’s art.

It’s not enough to keep this book going though. Reading it feels like more effort than Chaykin put into writing it.

The Ruff & Reddy Show (2017) #2

The second issue of Ruff & Reddy might as well be the first. By the time it’s over, the series is basically in at the point where it should’ve been at the end of the first issue. Or the beginning of this one.

Instead Chaykin plots out this long issue featuring Ruff and Reddy have to go to a pop culture con and sign autographs. They’re being hounded by the young agent but don’t really want to sign on the dotted line yet. They’re too proud.

Even though they’re sad and miserable. The comic goes on forever, without a lot of content. Rey’s digital art is fine, it’s just not at all interesting when all he’s visualizing is the anthropomorphic leads standing or sitting around alone and sad.

Maybe if Chaykin turns out to have a story in mind, the series will recover. From this issue, however, it doesn’t look like he’s got a story in mind at all.

The Ruff & Reddy Show (2017) #1

The Ruff & Reddy Show is off to a dark start. It’s a solid, strong dark start, but it’s a dark one. Writer Howard Chaykin lays out the backstory in this issue. There’s some modern day at the end, but the rest is a history lesson. Ruff and Reddy, a cat and dog, respectively, who had a big hit TV show in the fifties. They were canceled by the sixties, revealed to be bickering, drinking foul mouths.

Oh, it’s also a Roger Rabbit world. They’re not toons, they’re celimates. Ruff and Reddy go from being friendly celimates to welcome into the home on the television to the worst example of them.

They go from TV fame to bad movies to worse movies to dinner theatre to Walmart greeters. Apparently celimates don’t age, which raises all sorts of other issues, but at the end–in the modern day–Ruff and Reddy are still able, just not interested.

Along comes a young talent agent who’s become a big fan. What will happen next issue? Fame and fortune? Who knows. Chaykin doesn’t give any hints. He’s just been setting up the checkers.

Mac Rey’s art is a nice fit. It looks “animated” but with a solid sense of composition. Chaykin keeps it moving so fast none of the minor pitfalls make an impression.

Ruff & Reddy, the event series; bring it on.

Satellite Sam 15 (July 2015)

Satellite Sam #15 Satellite Sam comes to a close. A colorful one.

Fraction doesn’t exactly take the story somewhere unexpected or surprising–though there are a couple, post-big revelations last issue surprises (at least one anyway)–and, in many ways, it’s a gentle finish to the series. Chaykin doesn’t get anything lascivious to draw; they are just hints.

The not exactly surprising finish has a lot to do with the television industry. Fraction finishes up all the character plots and still has time for the history lesson. He does a great job with it; Chaykin too. The issue moves beautifully; the series works just as well without all the menace the creators have been imbuing it with.

But that success is the surprise. Fraction and Chaykin quietly created this great cast underneath a sensational story. So when the sensation finished, Sam stands on its own for the characters. It’s rather fantastic work.

CREDITS

Dead Air; writer, Matt Fraction; artist, Howard Chaykin; letterer, Ken Bruzenak; editor, Thomas K.; publisher, Image Comics.

Satellite Sam 14 (May 2015)

Satellite Sam #14 And this issue is a perfect example of how you do a comic book. One thing Chaykin brings to Satellite Sam–even when he’s having an off issue, which he isn’t this issue–is a real understanding of how to make a comic book a comic book. You never read Sam and feel like Fraction’s itching for a movie option or whatnot. The way the story beats work, they only work in a comic.

And there are a lot of big story beats this issue. Fraction deals with all of the major plot lines, along with a couple nods–sometimes with just those Italian language word balloons–to major subplots. These plot lines aren’t resolved (well, probably one of them), but they’re getting close. Fraction and Chaykin pack a lot into the issue and its story threads.

Sam is going out on a rather high note, which is only appropriate.

CREDITS

Bad Actors; writer, Matt Fraction; artist, Howard Chaykin; letterer, Ken Bruzenak; editor, Thomas K.; publisher, Image Comics.