I’m going to regret making this statement…

The last issue of Phonogram is great.

Gillen retroactively pretends the series was about people and he sells it effectively. Instead of all his music-based “modern fantasy” special vocabulary, he just tells a story about a egoist who ends up doing something good and helping people. It’s fantastic.

But, because I can’t resist—the first half of the issue is spent on the cult set from An American Werewolf in Paris. Not sure if Gillen or McElvie is responsible for that particular homage. Even with that derivative setting though, the action taking place is fantastic. It’s like Gillen had to talk himself into actually writing a good story (if this series were good, overall, it would have ran four issues—a good first, then basically issues four through six as published).

So, while I don’t recommend the series, this issue is singular.

Wait, this whole musical movement they’re talking about in Phonogram is Oasis? Those guys who were bigger than the Beatles, so they proclaimed, and then they disappeared in like two years? I remember them being awful too.

This issue might be the best of the series–like the last issue, it approaches being a reasonable comic book. Instead of Gillen spewing his music snobbery and cultural elitism (over Oasis), he’s got a story. It’s a little mystery, it’s a little quest, it works.

Having a totally unlikable protagonist is something of a problem, but not too much. There isn’t a single person of any redeeming quality in Phonogram and the protagonist is far from the worst.

I’m glad I stuck with it; not because I think Gillen will have a single honest moment, but it’s interesting to see him just write a weak Image comic and not something utterly dreadful.

It’s got a cliffhanger. A genuine cliffhanger. It’s like Gillen’s writing a serialized narrative.

How exciting.

Before I actually start saying nice things about Gillen (for a change), let me keep with the standard of saying something nasty. Gillen makes a big reference to Dante’s Inferno—the protagonist’s guide is Virgil, same as Dante. Well, I’ve read Inferno and I didn’t get the reference. Because it doesn’t look like a Roman poet, it looks like a British guy. But score one for Gillen, he’s a smartypants.

That slight at his readership aside, this issue’s easily the best one so far. Gillen doesn’t have all his inane music babble or gender politics in here. The protagonist is in this past (a literal trip to memory lane) and it’s falling apart.

In other words, Phonogram finally has a point.

It’s not perfect (or even good), but it’s not terrible or uselessly prentious.

In this issue, Gillen introduces time travel. Well, it’s not exactly time travel and I shouldn’t say Gillen introduces it. It’s basically the time travel device out of Somewhere in Time.

Has anyone else noticed I keep coming up with movie references to describe plot points in Phonogram? It’s possibly because Gillen doesn’t have a single original event in the entire comic book. He’s got some mildly original characters—though the “modern fantasy” takes off this issue and it gets pretty lame—but none of the actions are original. It’s a mix of other people’s ideas, with some pretentious music talk laid over it.

Of course, it’s not pretentious music talk. People who don’t care more about music than anything else—we learn—are total lames. I’m shocked Gillen didn’t come up with a vocabulary for the thing, like it’s Harry Potter.

McKelvie’s got more to draw, which is nice.

Gillen describes Phonogram—in his pointless, self-indulgent essay at the end—as “modern fantasy.” Meaning, presumably, there really are ghosts of people who aren’t supposed to be dead and the protagonist is really haunted by an ex-girlfriend who’s become “the goddess.” She possesses people and sends him on missions. It’s kind of like a lamer Sixth Sense, mixed with that awful movie Human Traffic.

Phonogram is quickly becoming one of those comics I’m not sure why I’m reading. I don’t have anything nice to say about it. It’s trite and insincere. Gillen’s apparent attempt at sincerity—this ex-girlfriend who haunts the protagonist—is lame.

Maybe because it’s “modern fantasy.” I don’t think I’d ever heard the phrase before and it makes less sense than “hard sci-fi.” And “hard sci-fi” is at least funny.

Even McKelvie’s artwork is getting a little boring with these empty panels.

Calling Phonogram pretentious would be a little like calling the sun hot when asked for its exact temperature in Kelvin. Between the endless glossary (which features some of Gillen’s best writing in the issue) and the story itself, Phonogram reads a little like that friend who knows oh so much more about music than you do and tells you about it at every opportunity. Of course, Gillen’s sort of making fun of that sort of person… but he doesn’t do it in an interesting way.

His protagonist, David, uses his musical insight to have casual sex with strangers. It’s Swingers meets High Fidelity, without a thoughtfully written protagonist. What’s Gillen’s solution for having an underwritten protagonist—he narrates a lot. Very pop first person narration. It’s like a Tarantino script.

But Phonogram does have McKelvie’s art and it’s nice.

And it is mildly amusing to read a hipster comic book.